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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/18489-8.txt b/18489-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..562c019 --- /dev/null +++ b/18489-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6498 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Court of Inquiry, by Grace S. Richmond + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Court of Inquiry + +Author: Grace S. Richmond + +Release Date: June 2, 2006 [EBook #18489] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A COURT OF INQUIRY *** + + + + +Produced by Jacqueline Jeremy, Suzanne Shell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + +[Illustration: "'We four,' declared the Skeptic, 'constitute a private +Court of Inquiry into the Condition of Our Friends'"] + + + + +A COURT +OF INQUIRY + +By GRACE S. RICHMOND + +Author of "Red Pepper Burns," "Mrs. Red Pepper," +"Second Violin," Etc. + +[Illustration] + +WITH FOUR ILLUSTRATIONS + + +A. L. BURT COMPANY, PUBLISHERS + +114-120 East Twenty-third Street--New York + +PUBLISHED BY ARRANGEMENT WITH DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & CO. + + + + +_Copyright_, 1909, 1916, _by_ +DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY + +_All rights reserved, including that of +translation into foreign languages, +including the Scandinavian_ + +COPYRIGHT, 1901, BY PERRY MASON COMPANY +COPYRIGHT, 1902, BY THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY +COPYRIGHT, 1907, BY PERRY MASON COMPANY +COPYRIGHT, 1908, 1909, BY THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY + + + + +TO + +C. R. P. AND M. B. P. + + + + +CONTENTS + + +PART I + + PAGE + + I. Althea 3 + II. Camellia 16 +III. Dahlia 31 + IV. Rhodora 44 + V. Azalea 58 + VI. Hepatica 72 + + +PART II + + I. Dahlia and the Professor 87 + II. Camellia and the Judge 102 +III. Azalea and the Cashier 117 + IV. Althea and the Promoter 131 + V. Rhodora and the Preacher 146 + VI. Wistaria--and the Philosopher 162 + + +PART III + + I. Sixteen Miles to Boswell's 181 + II. Honour and the Girl 220 +III. Their Word of Honour 241 + IV. "Half a League Onward" 261 + + + + +PART I + + + + +A Court of Inquiry +and Other Tales + +I + +ALTHEA + + Nothing impaired + but all disordered. + --_Midsummer Night's Dream._ + + +There are four guest-rooms in my house. It is not a large house, and how +there came to be so many rooms to spare for the entertaining of friends +is not a story to be told here. It is only a few years since they were +all full--and not with guests. But they are nearly always full now. And +when I assign each room it is after taking thought. + +There are two men's rooms and two for women. The men's rooms have +belonged to men, and therefore they suit other men, who drop into them +and use their belongings, and tell me they were never more comfortable. +The third room is for one after another of the girls and women who +visit me. The fourth room---- + +"Is anybody really good enough to sleep in this place?" + +It was the Skeptic, looking over my shoulder. He had chanced to be +passing, saw me standing in the doorway in an attitude of adoration, +and glanced in over my head. He had continued to look from sheer +astonishment. + +"I should expect to have to take off my shoes, and put on a white +cassock over my tennis flannels before I could enter here," he observed. + +"You would not be allowed to enter, even in that inappropriate costume," +I replied. "I keep this room only for the very nicest of my girl +friends. The trouble is----" + +"The trouble is--you're full up with our bunch, and have got to put Miss +Althea here, whether she turns out to be the sort or not." + +I had not expected the Skeptic to be so shrewd--shrewd though he often +is. Being also skeptical, his skepticism sometimes overcolours his +imagination. + +"Suppose she should leave her slippers kicking around over those +white rugs, drop her kimono in the middle of that pond-lily bed, +and--er--attach a mound of chewing-gum to the corner of the mirror," +he propounded. + +"I should send her home." + +"No--you could do better than that. Make her change rooms with the +Philosopher. He wouldn't leave a speck the size of a molecule on all +that whiteness." + +"I don't believe he would," I agreed. As the Skeptic went laughing away +downstairs I turned again into the room, in order that I might tie back +the little inner muslin curtains, to let the green branches outside show +between. + + * * * * * + +Althea arrived at five. The Skeptic, in tennis flannels, was lounging on +the porch as she came up the steps, and scanned her critically over the +racquet he still held, after a brisk set-to with the Gay Lady, who is +one of my other guests. (We call her the Gay Lady because of her +flower-bright face, her trick of smiling when other people frown, and +because of a certain soft sparkle and glow about her whole personality, +as indescribable as it is captivating). The Gay Lady had gone indoors to +dress for the evening, and the Philosopher had not returned from the +long daily tramp by which he keeps himself in trim. The Lad was on the +porch mending some fishing-tackle--my Lad, with the clear young eyes +which see things. + +Althea gave the Skeptic a glance, the Lad a smile, and me a hearty +embrace. I had never seen her before, and her visit had been brought +about by a request from her mother, an old friend, who was anxious to +have her daughter spend a pleasant vacation in the absence of most of +the girl's family. + +It was impossible not to like my new guest at once. She was a healthy, +hearty, blooming sort of girl, good to look at, pleasant company to have +about, and, as I soon learned, sweet-tempered to a degree which it +seemed nothing could upset. She followed me upstairs, talking brightly +all the way, and made her entrance into the white room as a pink +hollyhock might drop unconcernedly into a pan of milk. + +"What a lovely, cool-looking room!" she cried, and dropped her coat +and umbrella upon the bed. + +The Lad, following with her handbag, stopped to look at his tennis shoes +before he set foot upon the white rug, and dusted off the bag with a +somewhat grimy handkerchief before he stood it on the white-tiled +hearth. The Lad knows how I feel about the room, and though he races +into his own with muddy feet, stands in awe of the place where only +girls are made at home. + + * * * * * + +I have but two maid-servants, both of whom must be busy in kitchen and +dining-room when the house is full of guests. So I always make the +rounds of the bedrooms in the evening, to see to lights and water, and +to turn down the coverings on the beds. The Skeptic's room needed only a +touch here and there to put it in order for the night. The Philosopher's +needed none. The Gay Lady had left her pretty, rose-hung quarters +looking as if a lady lived in them, and had but dropped a dainty +reminder of herself here and there to give them character--an +embroidered dressing-case on the bureau, an attractive travelling +work-box on the table by her bed, a photograph, a lace-bordered +handkerchief, a gossamer scarf on a chair-back ready for use if she +should need it for a stroll in the moonlight with the Skeptic. The +closet door, ajar, gave a glimpse of summer frocks, hanging in order on +padded hangers brought in a trunk; beneath, a row of incredibly small, +smart shoes stood awaiting their turn. Even the Gay Lady's trunk was +clad in a trim, beflowered cover of linen, and looked a part of the +place. I smiled to myself as I turned down the white sheets over my best +down-filled quilt of pale pink, and thought of the Gay Lady's delightful +custom of keeping her room swept and dusted without letting anybody know +when she did it. + + * * * * * + +I felt my way across Althea's room to light the lamp--there are no +electrics in my old country home. As I went in I stumbled over a rug +whose corner had been drawn into a bunch by the edge of a trunk which +had been pulled too far toward the middle of the room. I encountered +a chair hung full with clothing; I pushed what felt like a shoe out +of my path. + +It took some time for me to find the match-box, which ordinarily +stands on a corner of the dressing-table. My groping hand encountered +all sorts of unfamiliar objects in its quest, and it was not without +a premonition of what I was about to see that I finally lit the lamp +and looked around me. + +Well--of course she had unpacked hurriedly, as hurriedly dressed for +dinner, and she had been detained downstairs ever since. I should not +judge in haste. Doubtless in the morning she would put things to rights. +I removed a trunk-tray from the bed, hung up several frocks in the +closet, cleared away the rest of the belongings from the counterpane, +and arranged Althea's bed for the night. I did the rest of my work +quickly, and returned to lower the light. + +It couldn't be--really, no--it couldn't be! There must be some other way +of accounting for those scratches on the hitherto spotless white wall, +now marred by five long, brown marks, where a match had been drawn again +and again before it struck into light! + +It _couldn't_ have been Althea. Yet--those marks were never there +before. It was full daylight when my guest had arrived; she could have +had no need for artificial light. Wait--there lay a long, black object +on the white cover of the dressing-table--a curling iron! + +In the hall I ran into the Skeptic. + +"I beg your pardon," he cried under his breath. "I came up for her +scarf. She said it was just inside her door, on her trunk. May I go in?" + +"I'll get it for you," said I, and turned inside. The Skeptic stood +outside the door, looking into the dimness. I could not find the scarf. +I would not turn up the light. I searched and searched vainly. + +"Let me give you something to see by," said the Skeptic, and before I +could prevent him he had bolted into the room and turned up the lamp. +"Here it is," said he, and caught up some article of apparel from the +dressing-table. "Oh, no--this must be--a sash," said he, and dropped it. +He stood looking about him. + +"Go away," said I sternly. "I'll find it." + +"I don't think you will," said he, "in this--er--this--pandemonium." + +I walked over to the dressing-table and put out the lamp. "Now will you +go away?" said I. + +"You were expeditious," said he, making for the hall, and stumbling over +something as he went, "but not quite expeditious enough. Never mind +about the scarf. I think I'll let the Philosopher take the Girl Guest to +walk--the Gay Lady's good enough for me. I say"--as he moved toward the +staircase and I followed--"don't you think we'd better move the +Philosopher in to-morrow?" + +"To-morrow," said I with assumed conviction, "it will be different. +Please reserve your judgment." + +I tried to reserve my own. I did not go into Althea's room again until +the next evening at the same hour. I found ten articles strewn where +five had lain before. A bottle of something green had been tipped over +upon the white embroidered cover of my dressing-table. A spot of ink +adorned the edge of the sheet, and the condition of the bed showed +plainly that an afternoon nap upon it had ended with some letter +writing. I think Althea's shoes had been dusted with one of my best +towels. I did not stay to see what else had been done, but I could not +help noting three more brown scratches on my white wall. + + * * * * * + +At the end of the week Althea went away. When she had gone I went up to +her room. I had been at work there for some time when a tap at the door +interrupted me. The Skeptic stood outside with a hoe and a +bushel-basket. + +"Want some help?" offered he. + +"It's not gentlemanly of you to notice," said I weakly. + +"I know it," said he. He came in and inverted the bushel-basket on the +hearth and sat down upon it. "But the door was always open, and I +couldn't help seeing. If it wasn't shoes and a kimono in the middle of +the floor it was a raincoat and rubber boots. Sometimes I stopped to +count the things on that dressing----" + +"It was _very_ ungentlemanly of you!" + +"Guilty," he admitted again--but not meekly. There was a sparkle in his +eye. "But it isn't often, you see, that a man gets a chance to take +notes like this. An open door--it's an invitation to look in. Now, the +Gay Lady doesn't leave her door open, except by chance, but I know how +it looks inside--by the Gay Lady herself." + +"How?" I questioned, my curiosity getting the better of me. "I mean--how +can you tell by the look of the Gay Lady that she keeps her room in +order?--for she certainly does." + +"I knew it," said he triumphantly. + +"But how?" + +"And I know that you keep yours in order." + +"But _how_?" + +"Oh, you think we are creatures of no discernment," said he. "But we can +see a few things. When a woman, no matter how pretty, pins the back of +her collar with a common brass pin----" + +I felt of the back of my white stock. Of course I never use them, but +his eyes are so keen and---- + +He laughed. "The Philosopher liked Miss Althea." + +"She has many lovely qualities----" I began. + +"Of course. That sort always have. It's their beautiful good-nature that +makes them so easy on themselves. Er--by-the-way----Well, well----" + +The Skeptic's gaze had fallen upon the brown marks on the white wall, +above the lamp. There were now twenty-seven in all. He got up from his +bushel-basket and walked over to them. He stood and studied them for a +minute in silence. Finally he turned around, looked at me, made a dive +for the bushel-basket and the hoe, and hurried out of the door. + +"I'll bring up a pail of whitewash," he called. + + * * * * * + +I shall ask Althea again some time. She really has a great many lovely +qualities, as I said to the Skeptic. But there is a little room I have, +which I do not call a guest-room, into which I shall put Althea. It has +a sort of chocolate paper on the walls, on which I do not think the +marks of matches would much show, and it has a general suitableness to +this particular guest. I have sometimes harboured small boys there, for +the toilet appointments are done in red on brown linen, and curling +irons could be laid on them without serious damage. And I've no doubt +that she would like that room quite as well. + + + + +II + +CAMELLIA + + You thought to break a country heart + For pastime, ere you went to town. + --_Tennyson._ + + +"Did you say Camellia is going to stop here on her way home?" asked the +Gay Lady. + +"For a few days," I assented. + +The Gay Lady was standing in front of the closet in her room, in which +hung a row of frocks, on little hangers covered with pale blue ribbon. +She sighed pensively as she gazed at the garments. Then she looked at me +with a smile. "Would you mind if I keep to my room while Camellia is +here?" she asked. + +"I should mind very much," said I. "Besides, I've only two good dresses +myself." + +I went down to the porch. "Camellia is going to stop and make us a short +visit on her way home from the South," I announced. + +The Skeptic sat up. "Great guns!" he ejaculated. "I must send all my +trousers to be pressed." + +"Who's Camellia?" queried the Philosopher, looking up calmly from +his book. + +"Wait and see," replied the Skeptic. + +"Probably I shall," agreed the Philosopher. "Meanwhile a little +information might not come amiss. Sending all one's trousers to be +pressed at once sounds to me serious. Is the lady a connoisseur in +men's attire?" + +"She may or may not be," said the Skeptic. "The effect is the same. At +sight of her my cravat gets under my ear, my coat becomes shapeless, my +shoes turn pigeon-toed. We have to dress for dinner every night when +Miss Camellia is here." + +"I won't," said the Philosopher shortly. + +"Wait and see," chuckled the Skeptic. He looked at me. "Ask her," +he added. + +The Philosopher's fine blue eyes were lifted once more from his book. It +was a scientific book, and the habit of inquiry is always strong upon +your scientist. "Do _you_ dress for dinner when Miss Camellia is here?" +he asked of me. "That is--I mean in a way which requires a dinner-coat +of us?" + +"I think I won't--before she comes," I said. "Afterward--I get out the +best I have." + +"Which proves none too good," supplemented the Skeptic. + +"It's July," said the Philosopher thoughtfully. He looked down at his +white ducks. "Couldn't you wire her not to come?" he suggested after +a moment. + +The Skeptic grinned at me. I shook my head. He shook his head. + +"We don't want her not to come," he said, more cheerfully. "She's worth +it. To see her is a liberal education. To clothe her would be ruin and +desolation. Brace up, Philo--she's certainly worth all the agony of mind +she may cause you. I only refrain from falling head over ears in love +with her by keeping my hand in my pocket, feeling over my loose change +and reminding myself that it's all I have--and it wouldn't buy her a +handkerchief." + +The Gay Lady spent the morning freshening her frocks--which were +somehow never anything but fresh, no matter how much she wore them. It +was true that there were not very many of them, and that none of them +had cost very much money, but they were fascinating frocks nevertheless, +and she had so many clever ways of varying them with knots of ribbon and +frills of lace, that one never grew tired of seeing her wear them. + +The Skeptic sent several pairs of trousers to be pressed and a bundle of +other things to be laundered. I got out a gown I had expected to wear +only on state occasions, and did something to the sleeves. The +Philosopher was the only person who remained unaffected by the news that +Camellia was coming. We envied him his calm. + + * * * * * + +Camellia arrived. Three trunks arrived at the same time. Camellia's +appearance, as she came up the porch steps, while trim and attractive, +gave no hint to the Philosopher's eyes, observant though they were, of +what was to be expected. He had failed to note the trunks. This was not +strange, for Camellia had a beautiful face, and her manner was, as +always, charming. + +"I don't see," said the Philosopher in my ear, at a moment when Camellia +was occupied with the Skeptic and the Gay Lady, "what there is about +that to upset you all." + +"Don't you?" said I pityingly. Evidently, from what he had heard us say, +he had expected her to arrive in an elaborate reception gown--or +possibly in spangles and lace! + +Camellia went to her room--the white room. This time I had no fears for +the embroidered linen on my dressing-table or for the purity of my white +wall. I repaired to my own room--_to dress for dinner_. As I passed the +porch door on my way I looked out. The Gay Lady had vanished--so had the +Skeptic. The Philosopher was walking up and down--in white ducks. He +hailed me as I passed. + +"See here," he said under his breath. "I thought you people were all +guying in that talk about dressing for dinner while--while Miss Camellia +is here. But the Skeptic has gone to do it--if he's not bluffing. Is it +true? Do you mean it? We--that is--we haven't been dressing for +dinner--except, of course, you ladies seem always to--but that's +different. And it's awfully hot to-night," he added plaintively. + +"Don't do it," said I hurriedly. "I don't know any reason why we +should--in the country--in July." + +He looked at me doubtfully. "But is the Skeptic going to--really?" + +"I presume he really is. You see--he has met Camellia before. He knows +how she will be looking when she comes down. He admires Camellia very +much, and he might possibly feel a little odd--in tennis flannels----" + +"It's queer," murmured the Philosopher. "But perhaps I'd better not be +behind in the procession, even if I wilt my collar." He fingered +lovingly the soft, rolled-over collar of his white shirt, with its +loose-knotted tie, and sighed again. Then he moved toward the stairs. + +We were all on the porch when Camellia came down. The Gay Lady had put +on a white muslin--the finest, simplest thing. The Philosopher, pushing +a finger between his collar and his neck, to see if the wilting process +had begun, eyed the Gay Lady approvingly. "Whatever she wears," he +whispered to her, "she can't win over you." + +The Gay Lady laughed. "Yes, she can," she declared. + + * * * * * + +She did. Camellia was a vision when she came floating out upon the +porch. The Philosopher was glad he had on his dinner-coat--I saw it in +his eye. The Skeptic's tanned cheek turned a reddish shade--he looked as +if he felt pigeon-toed. The Gay Lady held her pretty head high as she +smiled approval on the guest. Camellia's effect on the Gay Lady was to +make her feel like a school-girl--she had repeatedly avowed it to me +in private. + +Camellia never seemed conscious of her fine attire--that could always +truthfully be said. Although on the present occasion she was dressed as +duchesses dress for a lawn-party, she seemed supremely unconscious of +the fact. The only trouble was that the rest of us could not be +unconscious of it. + +The dinner moved slowly. We all did our best, including the Philosopher, +whose collar was slowly melting, so that he had to keep his chin well +up, lest it crush the linen hopelessly beneath. The Skeptic joked +ceaselessly, but one could see that all the time he feared his cravat +might be awry. The dinner itself was a much more formal affair than +usual--somehow that always seemed necessary when Camellia was one's +guest. We were glad when it was over and we could go back to the cool +recesses of the porch. + +The next morning Camellia wore an unpretentious dress of white--one +which made the thing the Gay Lady had worn at dinner the evening before +seem to her memory poor indeed. Later in the morning the Skeptic took +Camellia boating on the river, and she went up and dressed for it in a +yachting suit of white flannel. It was some slight consolation that she +came back from the river much bedraggled about the skirts, for the boat +had sprung a leak and all the Skeptic's gallantry could not keep her +dry. But this necessitated a change before luncheon, and some of us were +nearly unable to eat with Camellia sitting there in the frock she had +put on at the last minute. She was a dream in the pale pink of it, and +the Skeptic appeared to be losing his head. On the contrary, the +Philosopher was seen to examine her thoughtfully through the eyeglasses +he sometimes wears for reading, and which he had forgotten to remove. + +On the morning of the third day I discovered the Gay Lady mending a +little hole in the skirt of a tiny-flowered dimity, her bright eyes +suspiciously misty. + +"I'm a g-goose, I know," she explained, smiling at me through +the mist, "but it does make me absurdly envious. My things look +so--so--_duddy_--beside hers." + +"They're not duddy!" I cried warmly. "But I know what you mean. My +very best gown, that I had made in town by Lautier herself, seems +countrified. Don't mind. Our things will look quite right again--next +week." + +"What do you suppose she will wear to-night?" sighed she. + +"Heaven only knows," I answered feebly. + +What she wore was a French frock which finished us all. I had fears for +the sanity of the Skeptic. I was sure he did not know what he was +eating. He could not, of course, sit with his hands in his trousers' +pockets, from time to time giving his loose change a warning jingle, to +remind himself that he could not buy her handkerchiefs. But the +Philosopher appeared to retain his self-control. I caught his scientific +eye fixed upon the pearl necklace Camellia wore. It struck me that the +Philosopher and the Skeptic had temporarily exchanged characters. + +In the late afternoon, at the end of the sixth day, Camellia left us. +The Skeptic and the Philosopher came to dinner in flannels--it had grown +slightly cooler. The Gay Lady and I wore things we had not worn for a +week--and I was sure the Gay Lady had never looked prettier. After +dinner, in the early dusk, we sat upon the porch. For some time we were +more or less silent. Then the Skeptic, from the depths of a bamboo +lounging chair, his legs stretching half-way across the porch in a +relaxed attitude they had not worn for a week, heaved a sigh which +seemed to struggle up from the depths of his interior. + +The Philosopher rolled over in the hammock, where he had been reposing +on his back, his hands clasped under his head, and looked scrutinizingly +at his friend. + +"Don't take it too hard," he counselled gently. "It's not worth it." + +"I know it," replied the Skeptic with another sigh. "But I wish I were +worth--millions." + +"Oh, no, you don't," argued the Philosopher. + +The Gay Lady and I exchanged glances--through the twilight. We would +have arisen and fled, but the Skeptic caught at my skirts. + +"Don't go," he begged. "I'm not really insane--only delirious. It'll +wear off." + +"It will," agreed the Philosopher. + +"I suppose," began the Skeptic, after some further moments of silence, +"that it's really mostly clothes." + +"She's a very charming girl," said the Gay Lady quickly. "I don't blame +you." + +"Honestly," said the Skeptic, sitting up and looking at her, "don't you +think her clothes are about all there is of her?" + +"No," said the Gay Lady stoutly. + +"Yes," said the Philosopher comfortably. + +"Yes--and no," said I, as the Skeptic looked at me. + +"A girl," argued the Philosopher, suddenly pulling himself out of the +hammock and beginning to pace the floor, "who could come here to this +unpretentious country place with three trunks, and then wear their +contents----Look here"--he paused in front of me and looked at me as +piercingly as somewhat short-sighted blue eyes can look in the +twilight--"did she ever wear the same thing twice?" + +"I believe not," I admitted. + +"A girl who could come to a place like this and make a show figure of +herself in clothes that any fool could see cost--Cæsar, what must they +cost!--and change four times a day--and keep us dancing around in +starched collars----" + +"You didn't have to----" + +"Yes, we did--pardon me! We did, not to be innocently--not +insolently--mistaken for farm hands. I tell you, a girl like that would +keep a man humping to furnish the wherewithal. For what," continued the +Philosopher, growing very earnest--"what, if she'd wear that sort of +clothes here, would she consider necessary for--for--visiting her rich +friends? Tell me that!" + +We could not tell him that. We did not try. + +The Gay Lady was pinching one of her little flowered dimity ruffles into +plaits with an agitated thumb and finger. I was sure the Skeptic's +present state of mind was of more moment to her than she would ever let +appear to anybody. + +The Skeptic rose slowly from his chair. + +"Will you walk down the garden path with me?" he asked the Gay Lady. + +They sauntered slowly away into the twilight. + + * * * * * + +The Philosopher came and sat down by me. + +"He's not really hit," said he presently; "he's only temporarily upset. +I was a trifle bowled over myself. She's certainly a stunning girl. But +when I try to recall what she and I talked about when we sat out here +together, at such times as he was willing to leave her in my company, I +have really no recollection. When it was too dark to see her +clothes--or her smile--I remember being once or twice distinctly bored. +Now--the Gay Lady--don't you think she always looks well?" + +"Lovely," I agreed heartily. + +"I may not know much about it, being a man," said he modestly, "but I +should naturally think the Gay Lady's clothes cost considerably less +than Miss Camellia's." + +"Considerably." + +"Though I never really thought about them before," he owned. "I don't +suppose a man usually does think much about a woman's clothes--unless +he's forced to. During this last week it occurs to me we've been forced +to--eh?" + +"Somewhat." I was smiling to myself. I had never imagined that the +Philosopher troubled himself with such matters at all. + +"And I don't think," he went on, "I like being forced to spend my time +speculating on the cost of anybody's clothing.--How comfortable it is on +this porch! And how jolly not to have to sit up in a black coat--on a +July evening!" + +The Skeptic and the Gay Lady returned--after an hour. The Skeptic, as he +came into the light which streamed out across the porch from the hall, +looked decidedly more cheerful than when he had left us. Although it had +been too dark in the garden to see either the Gay Lady's clothes or her +smile, I doubted if he had been bored. + + + + +III + +DAHLIA + + O, weary fa' the women fo'k, + For they winna let a body be! + --_James Hogg._ + + +My neighbour Dahlia has returned. There is a considerable stretch +of lawn, also a garden and a small orchard, intervening between her +father's property and mine, not to mention a thick hedge; but in spite +of these obstructions it did not take Dahlia long to discover that +there were guests upon my porch. I think she recognized the Skeptic's +long legs from her window, which looks down my way through a vista +of tree-tops. At all events, on the morning after her arrival she +appeared, coming through the hedge, down the garden path and across +the lawn, a fresh and attractive figure in a pink muslin with ruffles, +and one of those coquettish, white-frilled sunbonnets summer-girls wear +in the country. + +Dahlia is very pretty, very good company, and likable from many points +of view. If only---- + +"Who's this coming to invade our completeness?" queried the Philosopher, +looking up from his book of trout flies. Fishing, in its scientific +aspect, presents many attractions to our Philosopher, although he spends +so much time in getting ready to do it scientifically that he seldom +finds much left in which to fish. + +The Skeptic glanced at the figure coming over the lawn. Then he made a +gesture as if he were about to turn up his coat collar. He hitched +himself slightly behind one of the white pillars of the porch. + +"Keep cool; you'll soon know," he replied to the Philosopher. "And once +knowing, you'll always know." + +The Philosopher looked slightly mystified at this oracular information, +and gazed rather curiously at Dahlia as she came near, before he dropped +his eyes to his trout flies. + +The Skeptic appeared to be absorbed in a letter which he had hastily +extracted from his pocket. It was merely a brief business communication +in type, as I could not help seeing over his shoulder, but he withdrew +his attention from it with difficulty as Dahlia paused before him. Her +first greeting was for him, although I had risen just behind him. + +"Oh--how do you do, Miss Dahlia?" cried the Skeptic, getting to his feet +and receiving her outstretched hand in his own. Then he made as if to +pass her on to me, but she wouldn't be passed until she had said +something under her breath to him, smiling up into his face, her fingers +clinging to his. + +"Been--er--horribly busy," I heard him murmur in reply. I thought his +hand showed symptoms of letting go before hers did. + +I greeted Dahlia, introducing her to the Gay Lady, who smiled at her +from over a handkerchief she was embroidering with my initials. I +presented the Philosopher, who immediately presented his trout flies. +She scanned him closely--the Philosopher is very good-looking +(almost--but not quite--better-looking than the Skeptic)--then she +dropped down upon one of the porch cushions by his side. He politely +offered her a chair, but she insisted that she liked the cushion better, +and we found it impossible to doubt that she did. At all events she +remained upon it, close beside the Philosopher, as long as he retained +his position; and she appeared to become absorbed in the trout flies, +asking many questions, and exclaiming over some of them in a way which +showed her to be of a most sympathetic disposition. + + * * * * * + +Finally the Philosopher seized upon an opportunity and rose. "Well," he +observed, "I believe I'll go and try my luck." + +Dahlia looked up at him. Her pretty face took on a beseeching +expression. + +The Philosopher regarded her uncomprehendingly. + +"You will excuse----" he began. + +But Dahlia did not let him finish. "I simply love to go fishing," she +said softly. + +"Do you?" said the Philosopher, blinking stupidly. "It is great sport, I +think, myself." + +Even then I believe he would have turned away. He is not used to it--at +least, in Dahlia's style. But she detained him. + +"Are you really not going to ask me?" she said, looking like a +disappointed child. + +I saw the Gay Lady look at her. The Skeptic glanced at the Gay Lady. I +observed the Skeptic. But the Philosopher rose to the occasion. He is +invariably courteous. + +"Why, certainly," he responded, "if you would really care to go. It's +rather a long walk to the stream and--I'm afraid the boat leaks +considerably, but----" + +"Oh, I don't mind that," she exulted, jumping up, her cheeks pink with +delight. "In fact, I know that boat of old----" She gave the Skeptic a +look from under her eyelashes, but he was looking at the Gay Lady and it +failed to hit him. "Are you ready? All right. And I've my +sunbonnet--just the thing. You shall see what we'll catch," she called +back to us, as the two walked away. + + * * * * * + +The Skeptic got the pillar between himself and the departing pair. His +face was convulsed with mirth. He slapped his knee. "I said he'd soon +know," he chuckled, holding himself in with an effort, "but I didn't +think he'd find out quite so soon. Smoke and ashes--but that was quick +work!" + +He turned about and looked up at the Gay Lady. "Will you go fishing?" he +inquired, still chuckling. + +"No, thank you," responded the Gay Lady, smiling at her embroidery +without looking up. + +"Will you go fishing?" + +The inquiry was directed at me. + +I shook my head. + +The Skeptic fell into an attitude of mock despair. Then he sat up. "I'm +going to go down and hide behind the big tree at the bend," he declared. +"I want to see Philo when she----" + +The Gay Lady spoke to me. "Do you think I'm getting that K too heavy?" +she asked. + +The Skeptic laughed, and strolled away--not in the direction of the +trout stream. + +Dahlia and the Philosopher came back just as luncheon was served. Dahlia +was looking pinker than ever, and I thought the Philosopher's tan had +rather a pinkish hue, also. I felt obliged to ask Dahlia to stay to +luncheon and she promptly accepted. Throughout the meal she was very +gay, sitting at my round table between the Philosopher and the Skeptic, +and plying both with attentions. It is a singular phrase to use, in +speaking of a girl, but I know no other that applies so well--in +Dahlia's case. + +After luncheon the Philosopher bolted. His movements are usually +deliberate, but I never saw a quicker exit made from a dining-room which +has only two doors. One door leads into the hall, the other to the +pantry. The rest of us went out the hall door. When we reached the porch +the Philosopher was missing. There is no explanation except that he went +out by the pantry door. + +On the porch the Skeptic said, "I must run down to the barn and look +after Skylark's foot. He cut himself when I was out on him yesterday." + +He hastened away down the driveway. + +Dahlia looked after him. + +"Is Skylark here?" she asked. "Oh, how I want to see the dear thing! +And he's cut his foot!--I'm going to run down to the barn, too, and +see him." + +And she hurried away after the Skeptic. + +"I think I'll go in and sleep a while," said the Gay Lady to me. Her +expressive lips had a curious little twist of scorn. + +"I should, too, if I hadn't a new guest," said I. + +We tried not to smile at each other, but we couldn't quite help it. + +The Gay Lady went away to her room. I heard her close the blinds on the +side that looked off toward the barn, and, glancing up, saw that she had +turned down the slats tightly. + + * * * * * + +I think it must have been well on toward four in the afternoon when the +white sunbonnet at last disappeared through the gap in the hedge. The +Skeptic came back up the garden path at the pace of an escaping convict, +and went tearing up the stairs to his room. I heard him splashing like a +seal in his bath. Presently he came out, freshly attired and went away +down the road, in the opposite direction from that in which lay the +house beyond the hedge. + +Dahlia came over at twilight that evening--to bring me a great bunch of +golden-glow. She was captivatingly arrayed in blue. She remained for an +hour or so. When she went away the Skeptic walked home with her. He was +forced to do it. The Philosopher had disappeared again, quite without +warning, some twenty minutes earlier. + +She came over the next afternoon. On the day following she practically +took up her residence with us. I thought of inviting her to bring a +trunk and occupy the white room. On the fourth night I accidentally +overheard a brief but pregnant colloquy which took place just inside the +library door, toward the last of the evening. + +"You've got to take her home to-night, old man." + +"I won't." It was the Philosopher. + +"You've got to. It's your turn. No shirking." + +"I'll be hanged if I will." + +"I'll be hanged if _I_ will. There's a limit." + +"I'd always supposed there was. There doesn't seem to be." + +"Come along--stand up to it like a man. It's up to you to-night. She +can't carry you off bodily." + +"I'm not so sure of that." The Philosopher's tone was grim. + +So far I had been transfixed. But now I hurried away. I was consumed +with anxiety during the next ten minutes, lest they come to blows in +settling it. But when they appeared I could tell that they had settled +it somehow. + +When Dahlia arose and said that she positively must go they both +accompanied her. The transit occupied less time than it had done on any +previous occasion. + + * * * * * + +From this time on there was concerted action on the part of our two men. +Where one was, the other was. The Gay Lady and I received less attention +than we were accustomed to expect--the two men were too busy standing by +each other to have much time for us. + +"I'm so sorry," said Dahlia, coming over after dinner on the tenth +evening, "but I'm going away to-morrow. I've an invitation that I'm +simply not allowed to refuse." + +The Philosopher's face lit up. He attempted to conceal it by burying his +head in his handkerchief for a moment, in mock distress, but his +satisfaction showed even behind his ears. The Skeptic bent down and +elaborately tied his shoe-ribbon. The Gay Lady regarded Dahlia sweetly, +and said, "That's surely very nice for you." + +"I think," observed Dahlia, looking coyly from the Skeptic to the +Philosopher, "that I shall have to let each of you take me for a +farewell walk to-night. You first"--she indicated the Philosopher. "Or +shall it be a row for one and a walk for the other?" + +She and the Philosopher strolled away toward the river. There had been +no way out for him. + +"The Englishman, the Scotsman and the Irishman," began the Skeptic, in a +conversational tone, "being about to be hanged, were given their choice +of a tree. 'The oak for me,' says the Englishman. 'The Scotch elm for +mine,' says the Scotsman. 'Faith,' says the Irishman, 'I'll be afther +takin' a gooseberry bush.' 'That's too small,' says the hangman. 'I'll +wait for it to grow,' says the Irishman contentedly." + +Whereat he disappeared. When Dahlia and the Philosopher returned he had +not come back. I was amazed at him, but my amazement did not produce +him, and the Philosopher accompanied Dahlia home. When they were well +away the Skeptic swung himself up over the side of the porch, from among +some bushes. + +"'All's fair in love and war,'" he grinned. "Besides, the campaign's +over. Philo's gained experience. He's a veteran now. He'll never be such +easy game again. Haven't we behaved well, on the whole?" he asked the +Gay Lady, dropping upon a cushion at her feet. + +"I don't think you have," said the Gay Lady gently. + +"We haven't! Why not?" + +She shook her head. "I refuse to discuss it," she said, as gently as +before, but quite firmly. + +The Skeptic sighed. "I'm sorry," he declared. "You really don't +know----" + +"I don't want to know," said the Gay Lady. "Isn't it a lovely, lovely +evening?" + +"Yes, it's a lovely evening," said the Skeptic, looking up at her. "It +would be delightful on the river." + +She shook her head again. + +"Not nicer than here," she answered. + +The Philosopher came back. When he was half-way across the lawn the +Skeptic jumped up and rushed forward and offered his shoulder for the +Philosopher to lean upon. + +"Clear out," said the Philosopher shortly. + +"I'm glad to hear it," rejoined the Skeptic. "I feared you might be +clear in." + +"It's not your fault that I'm not," grunted the Philosopher. + +He dropped down upon the porch step in an exhausted way. + +The Gay Lady rose. + +"The air is making me sleepy," said she in her musically sweet voice. +"Good-night." + +The Skeptic and the Philosopher looked after her retreating figure even +after it ceased to be visible, drifting down the wide, central hall. + +"The worst of it is," grumbled the Skeptic, "that an exhibition of that +sort of thing always makes the other kind draw off, for fear we may +possibly think they're in the same class." + +I, too, now said good-night, and went away to let them have it out +between them. + + + + +IV + +RHODORA + + Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm. + --_Gray._ + + +This morning we had a surprise. Grandmother and Rhodora drove over from +Langdale, ten miles away, to spend two days. Grandmother does not belong +to us exclusively--she is Grandmother to a large circle of people, all +of whom are glad to see her whenever they have the opportunity. Rhodora +is a new granddaughter of the old lady--by which I mean to say that +Rhodora never saw Grandmother till a fortnight ago, when the girl +arrived to pay her a visit. + +"I wanted to see you people so much," explained Rhodora, coming breezily +upon the porch a step or two in advance of the old lady, "that I thought +I'd drive over. Grandmother wanted to come too, so I brought her." + +Grandmother's dark eyebrows below her white curls went up a trifle. It +was quite evident that she thought she had brought Rhodora, inasmuch as +the carriage, the horses, and the old family coachman were all her own. +But she did not correct the girl. She is a tiny little lady, with a +gentle, somewhat hesitating manner, but her black eyes are very bright, +and she sees things with almost as keen a vision as Lad himself. + +The Gay Lady was charmed with Grandmother. She put the frail visitor +into the easiest chair on the porch, untied her bonnet-strings, smoothed +her soft, white curls, and brought a footstool for her little feet. Then +she sat by her, listening and talking--doing much more listening than +talking--leaving Rhodora to me. + +"I'm sorry our men are away to-day," I said to Rhodora, "and Lad is with +them. They went early this morning to climb Bluebeard Mountain, and +won't be back till night. It is rather quiet here without them." + +"Are they young and jolly?" inquired Rhodora. + +"They are extremely jolly. As for being young, that depends upon one's +point of view," said I. "They are between twenty-five and thirty-five, I +believe." + +"Pretty wide margin," laughed Rhodora. "And how old is Lad?" + +"Fifteen." + +"I've had the bad luck to be stuck off with old people all the while +lately," remarked Rhodora. She looked at me as she spoke. I wondered if +she considered me "old people." Then she glanced at the Gay Lady. + +"How old is she?" she inquired. + +"I have never asked her." + +"Looks like a girl, but I guess she isn't. A real girl would never +settle down like that to talk to an old lady like Grandmother," she +observed sagely. + +I opened my lips--and closed them. I had known Miss Rhodora only about +ten minutes, and one does not make caustic speeches to one's guests--if +one can help it. But one does take observations upon them. I was taking +observations upon Rhodora. + +She was decidedly a handsome girl--handsome seems the word. She was +rather large, well-proportioned, blooming in colour, with somewhat +strikingly modeled features. She wore sleeves to her elbows, and her +arms were round and firm. She sat in a nonchalant attitude in which her +arms were considerably in evidence. + +"Rhodora," said Grandmother, turning to look our way, "did I bring my +little black silk bag from the carriage?" + +"Didn't see it," replied Rhodora. "Which way is Bluebeard Mountain?" she +inquired of me. + +The Gay Lady and I arose at the same instant. I went into the house to +search for the bag, and when I could not find it the Gay Lady went away +down to the red barn to find if the black silk bag had been left in the +carriage. She came back bringing it. + +"Thank you, my dear," said Grandmother, with a smile which might have +repaid anybody for a much longer trip than that to the carriage. + + * * * * * + +After a time I managed to exchange places with the Gay Lady, feeling +that Rhodora very plainly did consider me an elderly person, and that, +in spite of her confidence that the Gay Lady was not "a real girl," as +girls of Rhodora's age use the term, she might take her as a substitute +for one. + +The Gay Lady took Rhodora down to the river, and out in the boat. I +understood from what I heard later that the Gay Lady, although a fine +oarswoman, did not row Rhodora about the river. Rhodora began by +dropping into the stern seat among the cushions, but the Gay Lady fitted +two sets of oars into the rowlocks, and offered Rhodora the position of +stroke. The Gay Lady is very sweet and courteous in manner, but I could +quite understand that when she offered the oars to Rhodora, Rhodora +accepted them and did her best. + +When they came back it was time for luncheon, and I took my guests to +the white room. + +"What a cool, reposeful room, my dear," said Grandmother. She patted her +white curls in front of the mirror, which is an old-fashioned, oblong +one, in which two people cannot well see themselves at the same time. +Rhodora came up behind her, stooped to peer over her shoulder, and +seized upon the ivory comb which lay on the dressing-table. Her elbow, +as she ran the comb through her fluffy hair, struck Grandmother's +delicate shoulder. The old lady turned and regarded her granddaughter in +astonishment. + +"Want the comb?" inquired Rhodora, having finished with it herself. + +Rhodora went over to the washstand, and washed and splashed, and used +one of the towels and threw it back upon the rack so that it overhung +all the other fresh towels. Grandmother used one end of Rhodora's towel, +and carefully folded and put it in place, looking regretfully at its +rumpled condition. She took a clean pocket-handkerchief out of her bag. +Rhodora caught sight of it. + +"Oh, Grandmother, have you got a spare handkerchief?" she cried. "I've +lost mine, I'm afraid." + +Grandmother handed her the little square of fine linen, exquisitely +embroidered with her own monogram, and took another and plainer one from +her bag. + +"Try not to lose that one, Granddaughter," she said, in her gentle way. + +Rhodora pushed it inside her sleeve. "Oh, I seldom lose two in one day," +she assured the handkerchief's owner. + +I fear it was rather a dull afternoon for Rhodora. The Gay Lady took +Grandmother away after luncheon into the quiet, green-hung library, and +tucked her up on the couch, and covered her with a little silk quilt +from her own room, and went away and played softly upon the piano in the +distance until the old lady fell asleep. Late in the afternoon +Grandmother awoke much refreshed, and found the Gay Lady sitting by the +window, keeping guard. + +"It does one's eyes good to look at you, my dear," were Grandmother's +first words, after she had lain for some time quietly observing the +figure by the window, freshly dressed in white. The Gay Lady got up and +came over to the couch and bent down, smiling. + + * * * * * + +Just in time for a late dinner our men came home, sunburned and hungry. +Seeing guests upon the porch they made for their rooms, and reappeared +presently in that irreproachable trim which the dustiest and most +disreputable-looking of them seems able to achieve, being given plenty +of water, in the twinkling of an eye. + +They were presented to Grandmother. At almost the same moment we were +summoned to dinner. The Skeptic gave the old lady his arm. The +Philosopher picked up her black silk bag from the porch floor, and +followed with it dangling from his hand. Just as she reached the table +she dropped her handkerchief, and the Lad sprang for it as a retriever +springs for a stick, and handed it to her with his best boyish bow. The +old lady beamed. Quite evidently this was the sort of thing to which she +was accustomed. + +At luncheon Rhodora had rather monopolized the conversation. At dinner +she found herself unable to do so. The Philosopher and the Skeptic were +too much occupied with Grandmother to be able to attend to Rhodora, +beyond lending a polite ear to her remarks now and then and immediately +afterward returning to the elderly guest. Grandmother was really a most +interesting talker when occasion required it of her, as it certainly did +now. We were all charmed with her clever way of putting things, her +shrewd observation, her knowledge of and interest in affairs in general. + +After dinner the Philosopher escorted her out to her chair on the porch. +The Skeptic sat down beside the Gay Lady on a wide, wooden settle close +by, and both listened, smiling, to the discussion which had arisen +between Grandmother and the Philosopher. It was well worth listening to. +The Philosopher, while wholly deferential, held his ground staunchly, +but Grandmother worsted him in the end. Her cheeks grew pink, her black +eyes shone. It was a captivating spectacle. + +I called Rhodora's attention to it. Finding nobody else to do her honour +she had entered into conversation with the Lad. Both looked up as I +spoke to them. + +"Yes, isn't she great!" agreed the Lad softly. "Nicest old lady I +ever saw." + +"It's too exciting for her, I should say," commented her granddaughter. +"I didn't think she ought to come. I could have come alone just as +well--I'd a good deal rather. She's getting pretty old." + +The Skeptic and the Philosopher each did his duty by Rhodora before the +evening was over. The Skeptic played four sets of tennis with her--she +is an admirable player--but he beat her until he discovered that she was +growing very much annoyed--then he allowed her to win the last set by a +game. The Lad, who was watching the bout, announced it to me under his +breath with a laugh. Then the Philosopher took Rhodora through the +garden and over the place generally. + +"I think you should have a shawl about your shoulders, Rhodora," said +Grandmother, when the girl and the Philosopher had returned and taken +their seats upon the steps of the porch. The twilight had fallen, and +the Gay Lady had just wrapped Grandmother in a light garment of her own. + +Rhodora shrugged her shoulders. "Heavens, no!" she ejaculated. "Old +people are always fussing," she remarked, in a slightly lower tone to +the Philosopher. "Because she's frozen is no reason why I should be." + +"One could almost pretend to be frozen to please her," returned the +Philosopher, in a much lower tone than Rhodora's. "She is the most +beautiful old lady I ever saw." + +"Goodness, I don't see how you can see anything beautiful about old +persons," said the girl. "They give me the creeps." + +The Philosopher opened his mouth--and closed it again, quite as I had +done in the morning. He looked curiously at Rhodora. By his expression I +should judge he was thinking: "After all--what's the use?" + + * * * * * + +The next afternoon Grandmother and Rhodora went home. When Grandmother +was in the carriage the Skeptic tucked her in and put cushions behind +her back and a footstool under her feet. Then the Philosopher laid a +great nosegay of garden flowers in her lap. She was so pleased she +coloured like a girl, and put out her delicate little old hand in its +black silk mitt, and he took it in both his and held it close for a +minute, looking at her with his blue eyes full of such a boyish +expression of affection as his own mother might have seen now and then, +years before. I think she would have liked to kiss him, and I am sure he +wanted to kiss her, but we were all looking on, and they had known each +other but a few hours. Nevertheless, there was something about the +little scene which touched us all--except Rhodora, who exclaimed: + +"Gracious, Grandmother--I suppose that brings back the days when you had +lots of beaux! What a gorgeous jumble of old-fashioned flowers that is, +anyhow. I didn't know there were so many kinds in the world!" + +The Skeptic hustled her into the carriage, rather as if she were a bag +of meal, handed her belongings in after her, shook hands with +Grandmother in his most courtly fashion, and stood aside. We waved our +hands and handkerchiefs, and Grandmother's fat old horses walked away +with her down the driveway. + +"It's a pity," said the Skeptic to me impatiently, when they were out of +sight around the corner, and we had turned to go back to the house, +"that a girl like that can't see herself." + +"Rhodora is very young yet," said I. "Perhaps by the time she is even as +old as the Gay Lady----" + +"You don't think it," declared the Skeptic, looking ahead at the Gay +Lady as she walked by the Philosopher over the lawn toward the house. +"The two are no more the same sort--than----" he looked toward the +garden for inspiration and found it, as many a man before him has found +it, when searching after similes for the women he knows--"than those +yellow tiger-lilies of yours are like--a clump of hepaticas that you +find in the woods in spring." + + * * * * * + +That evening the Gay Lady had left us, as she sometimes does, and gone +in to play soft, old-time melodies on my piano, while the rest of us sat +silently listening. The men know well enough that it is useless to +follow her in when she goes to play in the twilight--if they did she +would send them back again, or stop playing. And as it is worth much to +hear her play when she has a certain mood upon her, nobody does anything +to break the spell. Sometimes the listening grows almost painful, but +before we are quite overwrought she comes back and makes us gay again. + +"When I was a boy," said the Skeptic, very softly to me, after the music +stopped, "I used to pick out men to admire and follow about, and +consume myself with wishing that some day I could be like them. How +could a girl like that one we've had here to-day look at our Gay Lady +and not want to copy her to the last hair on her head?" + +"There are some things which can't be copied," I returned. "She is one +of them." + +The Skeptic gave me a grateful glance. "You never said a truer thing +than that," said he. + +Perceiving that he was in a sentimental mood, and that the Gay Lady had +stopped playing and was coming out again upon the porch, I turned my +attention to the Philosopher. In spite of the music he seemed not in a +sentimental mood. + +"You have a lot of girl company, first and last, don't you?" he queried, +when he and I had agreed upon the beauty of the night. + +"It happens so, for some reason," I admitted. + +He shook his head regretfully. "If I thought you were going to have +anything more like that to-day soon, I should take to the woods," +said he. + + + + +V + +AZALEA + + It all depends upon a consciousness of values, a sense of proportion. + --_Arthur Christopher Benson._ + + +"The heavens have fallen!" I announced in the doorway of the Gay Lady's +room. "Cook is ill--I had the doctor for her in the night. And my little +waitress went home just yesterday to her sister's wedding." + +"And breakfast to get," responded the Gay Lady, arriving instantly at +the point, as she always does. She had been dressing leisurely. Now she +made all speed and instead of white linen she slipped into a +blue-and-white-checked gingham. "Don't worry--I'll be down in three +minutes," she assured me cheerily. + +I found Lad building the kitchen fire--in the country we do not have gas +ranges. "I'll have her roaring in a jiff," he cried. "I learned a dandy +way camping last year." + +Breakfast came off nearly on schedule time. The Gay Lady's omelet was a +feathery success, her coffee perfect, my muffins above reproach. Lad had +helped set the table, he had looked over the fruit, he had skimmed the +cream. + +Azalea came in a little late. She had been my guest for a week, and a +delightful guest, too. She has a glorious voice for singing, and she is +very clever and entertaining--everybody likes her. + + * * * * * + +Of course, when I arose to take away the fruit-plates and bring on the +breakfast, the fact that I was servantless came out. To the Philosopher +and the Skeptic, who were immediately solicitous, I explained that we +should get on very well. + +"We'll see that you do," promised the Skeptic. "There are a few things I +flatter myself I can do as well as the next man--or woman. Consider me +at your service." + +"The same here," declared the Philosopher. "And--I say--don't fuss +too much. Have a cold lunch--bread and milk, you know, or something +like that." + +I smiled, and said that would not be necessary. Nor was it. For five +years after my marriage I had been my own maid-servant--and those were +happy days. My right hand had by no means forgotten her cunning. As for +both the Gay Lady's pretty hands--they were very accomplished in +household arts. And she had put on the blue-and-white gingham. + +"I can wipe dishes," offered the Philosopher, as we rose from the table. + +"It's a useful art," said the Gay Lady. "In ten minutes we'll be ready +for you." + +The Skeptic looked about him. Then he hurried away without saying +anything. Two minutes later I found him making his bed. + +"Go away," he commanded me. "It'll be ship-shape, never fear. You +remember I was sent to a military school when I was a youngster." + +From below, as I made Azalea's bed, the strains of one of the Liszt +Hungarian Rhapsodies floated up to me. Azalea was playing. We had fallen +into the habit of drifting into the living-room, where the piano stood, +every morning immediately after breakfast, to hear Azalea play. In the +evenings she sang to us; but one does not sing directly after breakfast, +and only second in delight to hearing Azalea's superb voice was +listening to her matchless touch upon the keyboard. I said to myself, as +I went about the "upstairs work"--work that the Skeptic, with all his +good will, could not do, not being allowed to cross certain +thresholds--that we should sorely miss Azalea's music when she should go +away next week. + +The Gay Lady and I managed luncheon with very little exertion, we had so +much assistance. Dinner cost us rather more trouble, for Cook's dinners +are always delicious, and we could not have a falling off under our +régime. But it was a great success, and our men praised us until we felt +our labours fully repaid. Still, we were a trifle fatigued at the end of +the day. Cook had needed a good deal of waiting upon, and though the Gay +Lady had insisted on sharing this service with me it had required many +steps and the exercise of some tact--Cook having been fully persuaded +all day that her end was near. + +"I have told her six times that people don't die of lumbago," said the +Gay Lady, "but her tears flow just as copiously as ever. I've written +three letters to her friends for her. To-morrow I suppose I shall have +to write her last will and testament." + + * * * * * + +But on the morrow Cook was enough better to be able to indite her own +documents, though as yet unable to come downstairs. It was well that she +did not require much of our time, however, for just before noon a party +of touring motorists drove up to our door and precipitated themselves +upon us with warm greetings--and hungry looks toward our dining-room. + +"Smoke and ashes!" cried the Skeptic, under his breath, appearing in the +kitchen, whither the Gay Lady and I had betaken ourselves as soon as we +had furnished our guests with soap and water and clothes-brushes, and +left them to remove as much of the dust of the road from their persons +as could be done without a full bath--"why didn't you send them on to +the village inn? Of all the nerve!--and you don't know any of them +intimately, do you?" + +I shook my head. "One of them was my dearest enemy in school-days," I +admitted, "and I never saw but one of the others. Never mind. Do you +suppose you could saddle Skylark and post over to town for some +beefsteak? I've sent Lad to the neighbours for other things. Beefsteak +is what they must have--porterhouse--since I've not enough broilers in +the ice-box to go around that hungry company." + +"Sure thing," and the Skeptic was off. But he came back to say in my +ear: "See here, why doesn't Miss Azalea come out and help? She's just +sitting on the porch, looking pretty." + +"Somebody ought to play hostess, since I must be here," I responded, +without meeting his inquiring eye. I did urgently need some one to beat +the oil into the salad dressing I was making, for there were other +things I must do. The Gay Lady was already accomplishing separate things +with each hand, and directing Lad at the same time. The Skeptic looked +at her appreciatively. + +"She mourns because she can't sing!" said he, and laughed quietly to +himself as he swung away. Yet he had seemed much impressed with +Azalea's singing all the week, and had turned her music for her +devotedly. + +We got through it somehow. "I thought they'd eat their heads off," +commented the Philosopher, who had carved the beefsteak and the +broilers, and had tried to give everybody the tenderloin and the white +breast meat, and had eaten drumsticks and end pieces himself, after the +manner of the unselfish host. + + * * * * * + +There were piles and mountains of dishes after that luncheon. They +looked the bigger to us because we had been obliged to leave them for +two hours while we sat upon the porch with our motorists, who said they +always took a good rest in the middle of the day, and made up by running +many extra miles at night. When they had gone, loudly grateful for our +hospitality--two of the men had had to have some more things to eat and +drink before they could get up steam with which to start--the Gay Lady +and I stood in the door of the kitchen and drew our first sighs over the +state of things existing. + +"If Cook doesn't get down pretty soon----" said I dejectedly, and did +not try to finish the sentence. Somehow that hasty cookery for five +extra people had been depressing. I couldn't think of a thing that +had been left in the house that would do for dinner--due now in three +short hours. + +But the Gay Lady rallied nobly. + +"There's plenty of hot water," said she, "and those dishes will melt +away in no time. Then--you're going to have a long sleep, whether we get +any dinner to-night or not." + +The Skeptic spoke from behind us. "Here's a fresh recruit," said he in a +jovial tone, which I understood at once was manufactured for the +occasion. We looked around and saw Azalea at his elbow. She was smiling +rather dubiously. I wondered how he had managed it. Afterward I learned +that he had boldly asked her if she didn't want to help. + +"I hope I shan't break anything," murmured Azalea, accepting a +dish-towel. The Skeptic took another. "Oh, no," he assured her. "That +delicate touch of yours--why, I never heard anybody who could play +_pianissimo_--_legato_--_cantabile_--like you. You wouldn't break a +spun-glass rainbow." + +Azalea did not break anything. I think it was because she did not dry +more than one article to the Skeptic's three and the Gay Lady's six. +Once she dropped a china cup, but the Skeptic caught it and presented it +to her with a bow. "Don't mention it," said he. "I'm an old +first-baseman." + +The Philosopher came through the kitchen with a broom and dustpan. He +had been attempting to sweep the dining-room floor--which is of +hardwood, with a centre rug--and had had a bad time of it. The Skeptic +jeered at him and mentioned the implements he should have used. Azalea +looked at them both wonderingly. + +"How in the world do you men come to know so much about housework?" she +inquired, wiping a single teaspoon diligently. The Gay Lady had just +lifted a dozen out of the steaming pan for her, but Azalea had laid them +all down on the table, and was polishing them one by one. + +"I find it comes in handy," said the Skeptic. "You never stay anywhere, +you know, that sooner or later something doesn't happen unexpectedly +to the domestic machinery. Besides, I like to show off--don't you? See +here"--he turned to me. There was a twinkle in his wicked eye. "See +here, why not let Miss Azalea and me be responsible for the dinner +to-night--with Philo as second assistant? You and the Gay Lady are +tired out. Miss Azalea can tell me what to do, and I'll promise to +do it faithfully." + +He had not the face to look at the guest as he made this daring +suggestion. His audacity took my breath away so completely that I could +make no rejoinder, but the Gay Lady came to the rescue. I don't know +whether she had seen Azalea's face, but I had. + +"I have a surprise for to-night," said she, picking up a trayful of +china, "and I don't intend anybody shall interfere with it. Nobody is +even to mention dinner in my presence." + +The Skeptic took the tray away from her. "There are some other things I +should like to mention in your presence," said he, so softly that I +think nobody heard him but myself, who was nearest. "And one of them is +that somebody I know never looked sweeter than she does this----" + +I rattled the saucers in the pan that nobody might catch it. The Gay +Lady was colouring so brilliantly that I feared the Skeptic might drop +the tray, for he was not looking at all where he was going. But she +disappeared into the pantry, and there was nothing left for him to do +but to place the tray on the shelf outside, ready for her to take the +contents in through the window. + + * * * * * + +The Gay Lady put me upon my own bed, tucked me up, drew the curtains, +and left me to my nap. She left a kiss on my cheek also, and as she +dropped it there I thought of the Skeptic again--I don't know why. I +wondered casually what he would give for one like it. + +When I awoke my room was so nearly dark that I was startled into +thinking it next morning. The Lad's voice, speaking eagerly through my +door, was what had roused me. He was summoning me to dinner. "It's all +ready," he was calling. + +I dressed dazedly, refreshed and wondering. I went down to preside at +the most delicious meal I had eaten in a month. The Gay Lady--in white +muslin, with cheeks like roses--seemed not in the least fatigued. The +Skeptic looked like a young commanding general who had seen his forces +win triumphantly against great odds. The Philosopher was hilarious. +Azalea seemed somewhat quiet and thoughtful. + +When the dishes were done and the kitchen in order--matters which were +dispatched like wildfire--we gathered upon the porch as usual. + +"There is nothing in the world I should like so much," said the Gay Lady +presently, from the low chair where she sat, with the Skeptic on a +cushion so near to her feet that in the shadow his big figure seemed to +melt into her slight one, "as some music. Is it asking too much, dear, +after all those dishes?" + +"I don't feel a bit like singing," answered Azalea. + +The Philosopher sat beside her on the settle, and he turned to add his +request to the Gay Lady's. + +The Skeptic spoke heartily from his cushion. + +"If you knew how much pleasure you've given us all these mornings and +evenings," he said, "never having to be urged, but being so generous +with your great art----" + +"Somehow it doesn't look so great to me to-night," said Azalea quietly. + +I almost thought there were tears in her voice. She has a beautiful +speaking voice, as singers are apt to have. + +Everybody was silent for an instant, in surprise--and anxiety. Azalea +was a very lovely girl--nobody had meant to hurt her. + +Had the Skeptic's shot in the kitchen gone home? Nobody would be sorrier +than he to deal a blow where only a feather's touch was meant. + +"It looks so great to me," said the Gay Lady very gently, "that I would +give--years of my life to be able to sing one song as you sing +Beethoven's '_Adelaide_.'" + +"Of course I can't refuse, after that," said Azalea modestly, though +more happily, I thought, and the Philosopher went away with her into the +half-lit living room. + +"May I say anything?" asked the Skeptic, looking up into the Gay Lady's +face, in the way he has when he wants to say things very much but is +doubtful how she will take them--a condition he is frequently in. + +She shook her head--I think she must have been smiling. It was so +evident--that which he wanted to say. He wanted to assure her that her +own accomplishments---- + +But the Gay Lady shook her head. "Let's just listen," she said. + +So we listened. It was worth it. But, after all, I doubt if the Skeptic +heard. + + + + +VI + +HEPATICA + + Here's metal more attractive. + --_Hamlet._ + + +The Gay Lady had gone away for a week and a day. Although four of us +remained, the gap in our number appeared prodigious. The first dinner +without her seemed as slow and dull as a dance without music, in spite +of the fact that we did our best, each one of us, not to act as if +anything were wrong. + +When we had escaped from the dining-room to the porch, Lad was the first +to voice his sentiments upon the subject of our drooping spirits. "I +didn't know her being here made such a lot of difference--till she got +away," he said dismally. "There's nobody to laugh, now, when I make a +joke." + +"Don't the rest of us laugh at your jokes, son?" inquired the +Philosopher, laying a friendly hand upon the Lad's arm as the boy stood +on the porch step below him. + +"You do--if she does," replied Lad. "Lots of times you'd never notice +what I say if she didn't look at you and laugh. Then you burst out and +laugh too--to please her, I suppose," he added. + +The Philosopher glanced at me over the boy's head. "Here's a pretty +sharp observer," said he, "with a gift at analysis. I didn't know before +that I take my cue from the Gay Lady--or from any one else--when it +comes to laughing at jokes. Try me with one now, Lad, and see if I don't +laugh--all by myself." + +Lad shook his head. "That wouldn't be any good. I'd know you didn't mean +it. She always means it. Besides--she thinks things are funny that you +don't. She's 'most as good as a boy--and I don't see how she can be, +either," he reflected, "because she isn't the least bit like one." + +"You're right enough about that," observed the Philosopher. "She's +essentially feminine, if ever a girl was." + +"Girl!" repeated the Lad. "She isn't a girl. That is--I thought she +was, till she told me herself she wasn't. She's twenty-seven." + +The Philosopher grinned. The Skeptic, who had lit his pipe and was +puffing away at it, sitting on the settle with his back to the +sunset--which was unusually fine that evening--gave utterance to a deep +note of derision at the Lad's point of view. I smiled, myself. If ever +there was an irresistible combination of the girlish and the womanly it +was to be found in our Gay Lady. As to her looks--even the blooming +youth of Althea, and the more cultivated charms of Camellia, had not +made the Gay Lady less lovely in our eyes, although she was by no means +what is known as a "beauty." + +"She's a whole lot nicer than any of those girls we've had here this +summer," the Lad went on. He seemed to have the floor. There could be no +doubt that the subject of his musings was of interest to all his +hearers. "And they weren't so bad, either--except Dahlia. I can't stand +her," he added resentfully. + +The Philosopher shook his head slightly as one who would have said "Who +could?" if it had been allowable. The Skeptic removed his pipe from his +mouth and gazed intently into its bowl. I felt it my duty to stand by +Dahlia, for the sake of the Lad, who must not learn to sneer at women +behind their backs. + +"There are a great many nice things about Dahlia," I said. "And she has +surely given you many good times, Lad. Think how often she has gone out +on the river with you--and helped you make kites, and rigged little +ships for you----" + +"Oh, yes," cried the Lad scornfully, "she'll take me--when she can't get +a man!" + +The Skeptic's shoulders heaved as he turned away to cough violently. +Evidently he had swallowed a pipeful of smoke. The Philosopher abruptly +removed his hand from the Lad's shoulder and dropped down on the porch +step, where his face was hidden from the bright young eyes above him. I +shook my head at Lad. Presently he ran off to the red barn to look after +some small puppies down there in the hay. + + * * * * * + +We three left behind settled down for the evening. At least I did, and +the others made a show of doing so. But the Skeptic was both restless +and moody, the Philosopher unsociable. Finally the Skeptic flung an +invitation to the Philosopher to go off for a walk. The Philosopher +consented with a nod, and they strolled away, taking leave of me with +formal politeness. I understood them, and I did not mind. A wise woman +lets a man go--that he may return. + +They came back just as twilight darkened into night, and sat down at my +feet on the step, shoulder to shoulder, like the good comrades that they +were. I wondered if they had been discussing the subject which the Lad +had introduced. + +"How much," inquired the Philosopher quite suddenly, "do you suppose it +would cost to dress a girl like Miss Camellia?" + +"I've really no idea," I answered, since the question seemed directed at +me. "It depends on a number of things. There are girls so clever with +their needles that they can produce very remarkable effects for a +comparatively small amount of money." + +"Is she one of them?" + +"I don't know." + +"I fancy you do," was his comment. Presently he went on again. "You see, +I don't know much about all this," he declared. "So I've had rather an +observant eye on--on these young ladies you've had here from time to +time this summer, and I confess I'm filled with curiosity. Would you +mind telling me what you think the average girl of good family, and well +brought up, has in her mind's eye as a desirable future--I mean for the +next few years after school?--I don't know that I make myself clear. +What I want to get at is--You see, the great thing a young chap thinks +about is what he is going to make of himself--and how to do it. It +struck me as rather odd that not one of those girls seemed to have any +particular end in view--at least, that ever came out in her +conversation." + +I couldn't help smiling, his tone was so serious. + +The Skeptic chuckled. He had put up his pipe, and was sitting with his +hands clasped behind his head, as he leaned against one of the great +pillars of the porch. "They have one, just the same," he vouchsafed. "He +who runs may read." + +The Philosopher regarded him thoughtfully, through the half-light from +the hall lamp. "I noticed you did a good deal of running, first and +last," he observed. "I suppose you read before you ran--unless you have +eyes in the back of your head. Well," he continued, "you can't make me +believe that all girls are so anxious to make a good impression, or they +wouldn't do some of the things they do." + +"For instance?" I suggested, having become curious myself. Never before, +in an acquaintance dating far back, had I heard the Philosopher hold +forth upon this subject. + +"They make themselves conspicuous," said he promptly--to my great +surprise. "As nearly as I can get at it, that's the cardinal fault of +the girl of to-day. Everywhere I go I notice it--in public--in private. +Wherever she is she holds the floor, occupies the centre of the stage. +If you'll pardon my saying it, every last girl you had here this summer +did that thing, each in her own way." + +I thought about them--one after another. It was true. Each had, in her +own way, occupied the centre of the stage. And the Gay Lady, than whom +nobody has a better right to keep fast hold of her position in the +foreground of all our thoughts, had allowed each one to do it. And +somehow, in every case, after all, the real focus for all our eyes, +quite without her being able to help it, had been wherever the Gay Lady +had happened to be. + +We all went to bed early that night. The Philosopher's observations, +though highly interesting, did not keep us from becoming very sleepy at +an untimely hour. It was the same way next evening. And the next. In +fact, up to the very night before the Gay Lady's expected return, we +continued to cut short our days of waiting by as much as we could +venture to do without exciting the suspicion that we were weary of one +another. + +On that last evening the Skeptic fastened himself to me. He insisted on +my walking with him in the garden. + +"So she comes back to-morrow," said he, as we paced down the path, quite +as if he had just learned of the prospect of her return. + +"I can hardly wait," said I. + +"Neither can I," he agreed solemnly. "I knew I should miss her, +but--smoke and ashes!--I didn't dream the week would be a period of time +long enough for a ray of light to travel from Sirius to the earth and +back again." + +"If she could only hear that!" said I. + +"She's going to hear it," he declared with great earnestness. "She's +kept me quiet all summer, but--by a man's impatience!--she can't keep me +quiet any longer. Do you blame me?" he inquired, wheeling to look +intently at me through the September twilight. + +"Not a bit," said I. "I've only wished she could stand still until Lad +grows up." + +"You must think well of her, to say that," said he delightedly. "And, on +my word, I don't know but she will continue to stand still, as far as +looks go. But in mind--and heart--well, the only thing is, I'm so far +below her I don't dare to hope. All I know is that, for sheer womanly +sweetness and strength, there's nobody her equal. And yet, when I try to +put my finger on what makes her what she is--I can't tell." + +"One can't analyze her charm," said I, "except as you've just done +it--womanly sweetness and strength. Hepatica is--Hepatica. And being +that, we love her." + +"We do," said he, half under his breath, and caught my hand and gave it +a grip which stung. + + * * * * * + +The next morning the Gay Lady came home. We had not expected her until +evening, and when we heard a light footstep approaching through the hall +as we sat at breakfast, we looked at one another in dumb astonishment +and disbelief. But the next instant she stood smiling at us from the +doorway. + +She was glad to see us, too. From Lad's ecstatic embrace she came into +mine, and I heard her eager whisper--"I'm so glad to get back to _you!_" +The Skeptic and the Philosopher wrung her hand until I know her little +fingers ached, and they stared at her, the one like a brother, the other +like--well, she must have seen for herself. No, they were not rivals. +The Philosopher had seen the Skeptic's case, I think, from the first, +and being not only a philosopher but a man, and the Skeptic's best +friend, had never allowed himself to enter the race at all. I had +detected a wistful light in his eyes now and then, and had my own notion +of what might have happened if he had let it, but--there was only a very +warm brotherliness in the greeting he gave the Gay Lady, and she looked +back into his eyes too frankly for me to think he had ever let her see +anything else. + +She sat down at the table with us for a little, while we finished, and +you should have seen the difference in the look of the room. It was +another place. She ran upstairs to her own room, and I followed her, and +from being a deserted bedroom with a lonely aspect it became a human +habitation with an atmosphere of home. She took off her travelling +dress, talking gayly to me all the while, and brushed her bright locks, +and put on one of the charming white frocks which her own hands had +made, and then came and held me tight, and laughed, and was very near +crying, and said there was never such another place as this. + +"There certainly never is when you are in it, dear," I agreed, and +received such a reward for that as only the Gay Lady knows how to give. + +All day she stayed by me, wherever I might be. The Skeptic watched and +waited--he got not the ghost of an opportunity. When I was upon the +porch with the others she was there--and not a minute after. + + * * * * * + +When evening fell it found the Gay Lady on a cushion close by my knee. +Presently the Philosopher went off with the Lad down to the river. The +Skeptic accompanied them part of the distance, then returned quite +unexpectedly by way of the shrubbery, and swung up over the porch rail +at the end at a moment when the Gay Lady, feeling safe in his absence, +had gone to that end to see the moonlight upon the river. + +"'All's fair in love and war,'" exulted the Skeptic, somewhat +breathlessly. It seemed to be a favourite maxim with him. I recalled his +having excused himself for eluding Dahlia by that same well-worn +proverb. "No--don't run! Have I become suddenly so terrifying?" + +"Why should you be terrifying?" asked Hepatica. "Come and sit down and +tell us what you've all been doing while I was away." + +Her back was toward me. There was a long window open close beside me. My +sympathy was with the Skeptic. I slipped through it. + +An hour later I went out upon the porch again. Nobody was there. I sat +down alone, feeling half excited and half depressed, and wholly anxious +to know the outcome of the Skeptic's tactics. I waited a long time, as +it seemed to me. Then, without warning, a voice spoke. I could hardly +recognize it for the Skeptic's voice, it was strung so tense--with joy. + +"Don't shoot," it said. "We'll come down." + +I looked toward the end of the porch, where the vines cast a deep +shadow. I could not see them, but they must have been there all the +time. And the shadow cast by the vines was not a wide shadow at all. + + + + +PART II + + + + +I + +DAHLIA AND THE PROFESSOR + + Amen + Stuck in my throat. + --_Macbeth._ + + +The Skeptic and his wife, Hepatica, being happily established in a +beautifully spacious flat in town, measuring thirty feet by forty over +all, invited me to visit them. As both had spent considerable time at my +country home in summer, they insisted that it was only just for me to +allow them, that second winter after their marriage, to return my +hospitality. This argument alone would hardly have sufficed, for winter +in the country--connected by trolley with the town--is hardly less +delightful to me than summer itself. But there were other and convincing +arguments, and they ended by bringing me to the city for a month's visit +in the heart of the season. + +On the first morning at breakfast--I had arrived late the night +before--there was much to talk about. + +"It's a curious fact," said the Skeptic, stirring a cup of yellow-brown +coffee with which his wife had just presented him, "as Hepatica and I +discovered only the other day, that three of those girls who visited you +that summer four years ago, when she and I were avoiding each other----" + +"You--avoiding!" I interpolated. + +"Well--I was trying to avoid being avoided by her," he explained. "Three +of those girls are married and living in town." + +"Yes, I know," said I. "At least I know Camellia and Althea are. Who +else? Azalea lives across the river, doesn't she?" + +"Yes. You haven't heard of the latest matrimonial alliance, then?" The +Skeptic chuckled. Hepatica looked at him, and he looked at her, and then +they both looked at me. "Dahlia was married yesterday," the Skeptic +announced with relish, "in a manse study, with two witnesses." + +I was astounded. I had just come from home, and Dahlia was my next +neighbour. She had been away more or less all winter, but there had +been no announcement of any engagement--nor sign of one. + +The Skeptic, enjoying my stupefaction, proceeded to give what he +considered an explanation. "I don't see why you should be so surprised," +he said. "You knew Dahlia's methods. Her net was always spread, and +though a certain wise man declares it in vain to spread it in the sight +of any bird, humans are not always so wary. A man who chanced to be +walking along with his head in the clouds might get his feet entangled +in a cunningly laid net. And so it happened to the Professor." + +"The Professor!" I ejaculated. "Not--our Professor?" + +The Skeptic nodded solemnly. + +"He was our Professor," he amended. "He's hers now. And day before +yesterday he was free!" + +He glanced at his watch, folded his napkin in haste, seized his coat and +hat, kissed his wife, patted her shoulder, nodded at me, and was gone. A +minute later we heard the whirr and slide of his car, and Hepatica, at +the window, was returning his wave. + +"He's looking extremely well," I observed. "He must be twenty pounds +heavier than he was that summer. Avoiding being avoided was probably +rather thinning." + +"He does seem to enjoy his food," admitted Hepatica, regarding the +Skeptic's empty plate with satisfaction. + +"Not much doubt of that," I agreed, remembering the delicately hearty +breakfast we had just consumed. + +"It's really quite dreadful about Dahlia and the poor Professor, isn't +it?" said Hepatica presently. "And it's just as Don says: he was +literally caught in her net. I presume he couldn't tell to-day precisely +how it happened." + +"I've no doubt she could," said I ungenerously. "I shall be anxious to +see them." + +"Oh, you'll see them. It's in the middle of term--he couldn't take her +away. And his old quarters are just two blocks below us. She knew you +were coming. You'll probably see them within forty-eight hours." + +We did, though not where we could do more than take observations upon +them. The Philosopher came in that evening--he had known of my coming +from the moment that Hepatica had planned to ask me. He was looking +rather less well-fed than the Skeptic, but quite as philosophical, and +altogether as friendly as ever. He looked hard at me, and wrung my hand, +and immediately began to lay out a programme for my visit. As a +beginning he had procured tickets for the Philharmonic Society concert +to be given on the following evening. + +We told him about Dahlia. He had not heard. He looked quickly and +dumbfoundedly at the Skeptic, and the Skeptic grinned back at him. "You +feel for him, don't you, Philo?" he queried. + +The Philosopher shook his head, and seemed, for a time, much depressed; +upon which the Skeptic rallied him. "You ought to be jubilant to think +it's not yourself," he urged his friend. "You know, there was one time +when you feared even to go home with her, though you were to be within +call from the porch all the way." + +But the Philosopher cheered up presently in the pleasure of talking over +old times at the Farm. He had spent the past summer tramping through +Germany, and he and I had not met for many months. + +We went to the concert next evening, we four, in a jovial mood. There +was considerable sly joking, on the Skeptic's part, concerning the +change of conditions which now made Hepatica my chaperon, instead of, as +in former days, my being alert to protect her from visiting philosophers +and skeptics. The Philosopher and I took it quite in good part, for +nothing could be more settled than the unimpassioned character of our +old friendship--as there could be nothing more satisfactory. + +We had not more than taken our seats when the Skeptic leaned past +Hepatica to call my attention to two people who had come down the aisle +and were finding their places just across it and in the row ahead of us. +I turned to the Philosopher. + +"There they are," I whispered. So our four pairs of eyes gazed +interestedly that way. + +As she settled into place, Dahlia, whose pretty, flushed face had been +turned in every direction over the house as she got out of her evening +coat, caught sight of us. She bowed and smiled with great cordiality, +and immediately called her companion's attention to us. The +Professor--eighteen years Dahlia's senior, but one of the best men who +ever walked the earth, as we had long since discovered--turned and +scanned us over his spectacles. Then he also responded to our smiling +recognitions with a somewhat subdued but pleased acknowledgment. Dahlia +continued to whisper to him, still glancing back at us from time to time +with looks of good-fellowship, and he appeared to lend an attentive ear, +though he did not again turn toward us. + +As for us, in the interest of our observation of the bridal pair, we +fell rather silent. I was conscious that the Philosopher, regarding them +somewhat steadily, drew a deep breath which sounded like a sigh of +dissatisfaction. Noting how thin the Professor's ash-coloured hair +seemed to be, over the crown of his head, in comparison with Dahlia's +luxuriant and elaborately dressed chestnut locks, I felt depressedly +that the disparity in age was more marked than is often seen. This, in +itself, of course, was nothing; but taken in connection with---- + +The Skeptic leaned forward again. + +"What'll you wager I couldn't get up a flirtation with her to-night, if +I happened to sit next her?" he challenged in a whisper. + +"Don!" murmured Hepatica; but she smiled. + +"I'm not anywhere near his age," continued the Skeptic. "My auburn +tresses are thick upon my head, my evening clothes were made a decade +later than his. If I were only sitting next her!" + +At this moment some more people came down the aisle and were shown to +the seats immediately beyond our friends. As the Professor and Dahlia +stood up to let them through, we saw that though the newcomers passed +the Professor without recognition, the young man exchanged greetings +with Dahlia. As they took their seats the man, a floridly handsome +person, was at Dahlia's elbow. + +For the third time the Skeptic leaned forward. "It's just as well, +perhaps," he whispered, "that my observations are to be made upon a +proxy. What do you think the new chap's chances are for fun on both +sides of him?" + +I did not condescend to answer. And without further delay the famous +conductor of a famous orchestra came commandingly to the front of the +stage, welcomed by an outburst of applause, and with the rest of the +audience we became silent. + +But amidst all the delights of the ear which were ours that evening, the +eyes of all of us would wander, from time to time, across the aisle. The +Professor sat, with arms folded and head bent, drinking in the beauties +of sound which beat against his welcoming ears. Next him, Dahlia, the +bride of three days, was vindicating the Skeptic's opinion of her +undiminished accomplishments. The young man upon her right proved an +able second. The girl on his other side, by the time the concert was +half over, was holding her head high, or bending it to study a programme +which I am sure she did not see, while her companion played Dahlia's old +game with a trained hand. + +"Can the Ethiopian change his skin?" breathed the Philosopher in my ear, +during an intermission. + +"I'm afraid not," I assented dubiously. "But, of course, she may make a +devoted wife, nevertheless. That sort of thing doesn't mean anything to +her, you know. She merely does it as a matter of habit." + +"It can't be precisely an endearing habit to a husband," protested the +Philosopher. "If she would address a remark now and then to the poor man +at her left one might excuse her. And if she could carry on a +conversation with the other one in an ordinarily well-bred, friendly +way--and confine it to the intervals between numbers--one might be able +to forget her, which would be a relief. But all those silly tricks of +hers--those smiles, those archings of the neck--those lengthy looks up +into the eyes of that fool----" + +"Don't look at them," I advised. + +"I can't help looking at them. Everybody else is looking at +them--including yourself." + +It was quite true--everybody was, even people considerably out of range. +If Dahlia herself was conscious of this--and I'm sure she must have +been--she probably ascribed it to the charm of her appearance. She is +even prettier than she used to be. But, as we were wont to say of her +when we had owned to all her attractiveness--"if only!" + +"After all," urged Hepatica, on the homeward way, "we've no right to +judge by seeing them under those conditions. Wait till we've had them +alone with us. Dahlia told me on the way out that they were planning to +come and see us very soon.--I suggested to-morrow night, so they will +come then." + +"I'll be there," accepted the Philosopher--quite before he was asked. + +So on the following evening we saw them, alone with ourselves. The dear +Professor seemed to us, more than before, the pitiable victim of a woman +in every way unsuited to him. Yet he looked at Dahlia as if he cared for +her very much, and was only a trifle bewildered by her manner with other +men. + +"What dear times we used to have on the river!" said Dahlia to the +Philosopher, at a moment when nobody else happened to be speaking. She +accompanied this observation by a glance. It was Dahlia's glances which +gave life to her remarks. + +"I haven't fished in that river for three summers," replied the +Philosopher, in his most unsentimental tone. + +"You used to have better luck when you went alone," said Dahlia. "Do +you remember how we could never stop talking long enough to lure any +fish our way?" + +"Nevertheless, there has been considerable fishing done on that river, +first and last," asserted the Skeptic, with a twinkle at the +Philosopher, who looked uncomfortable. The Professor's gentle gaze was +fixed upon each speaker in turn, and as he now waited upon the +Philosopher's reply I saw the latter person frown slightly. + +"I never considered the fishing on that river very good," said he. + +"Oh, it didn't need to be," cried Dahlia. "I can shut my eyes now and +see the water rippling in the moonlight! Can't you?" She appealed to +the Skeptic. + +"I can't," said the Skeptic. "I never noticed how it rippled in the +moonlight. The big porch is my favourite haunt at the Farm. The smoking +is good there--keeps away the midges." + +"Midges!" Dahlia gave a little shriek. "There aren't any midges in that +part of the country." + +"There are some kinds of little, annoying insects that come around in +the evening, then," persisted the Skeptic, "just when people want to +settle down and have themselves to themselves. The Philosopher was +always more annoyed by them than I. He has a sensitive skin." + +Once started on this sort of allusive nonsense it was difficult for us +to head off the Skeptic. But presently, noting the Professor's kindly +face assuming a puzzled expression as he watched his wife's kittenish +demeanour, the Skeptic desisted. It did not seem necessary for him to +demonstrate to us that, quite as of old, he could attract Dahlia to his +side and keep her there. Before the evening was over he found himself +occupied--also quite as of old--with keeping out of her way. Altogether, +it was certainly not Dahlia's fault if the Professor did not gain the +impression that both the Skeptic and the Philosopher were rejected +suitors of her own. + +When they had gone, and the door had closed upon the last of the bride's +backward looks at our two men, the Skeptic dropped into a chair. + +"Hepatica, will you kindly mix a few drops of soothing syrup for me?" +he requested. + +But the Philosopher fell to marching up and down, his hands in his +pockets, and a deeper gloom on his brow than we had ever seen there. +Although a decade the Philosopher's elder, the Professor had long +shared bachelor quarters with him in past days; it had been only +within a year or two that the necessities of their occupations had +caused them to separate. + +"Why did I ever let him go off by himself?" the Philosopher muttered +remorsefully. "Why didn't I keep an eye on him?" + +"It would have made no difference," the Skeptic offered dismally as +consolation. "'Whom the gods would destroy they first make mad!' You +couldn't have prevented his madness." + +"I could have seen to it that such deadly instruments as marriage +licences and irresponsible clergymen were kept out of his way," groaned +the Philosopher. + +"Come, cheer up!" cried Hepatica, making haste to light the spirit-lamp +under her tea-kettle. "I'm going to brew you all a cup of comfort with +lemons and sugar and things." + +"Look at her!" commanded the Skeptic, rallying, "and tell me if marriage +is a failure." + +The Philosopher paused. "You know well enough what I think of your +marriage," he owned. + + + + +II + +CAMELLIA AND THE JUDGE + + I am ashamed that women are so simple + To offer war when they should kneel for peace. + --_Taming of the Shrew._ + + +"We are invited to spend the week-end with Camellia," announced my +hostess at the breakfast-table one morning, glancing up from a note +which the hall-boy had just brought to the door. + +The Skeptic jumped in his chair. "Those same old sensations come over +me," he announced, digging away vengefully at his grapefruit. "What have +I to wear? My only consolation now is that Camellia married a man who +cares about as much what he wears as I do." + +"It's not Camellia's clothes that bother me now," said Hepatica +thoughtfully, "so much as the formality of her style of entertaining. +My dear, she has a butler." + +"How horrible!" I agreed. "Can I hope to please the eye of the butler?" + +"Camellia's husband is a downright good fellow," said the Skeptic +warmly. "The fuss and feathers of his wife's hospitality can't +prevent his giving you the real thing. Even Philo likes to go +there--particularly when Camellia is away. I presume Philo's +invited now?" + +"So she says," assented Hepatica, studying her note again, with a care +not to look at me which made me quite as self-conscious as if she had. +Why the dear people will all persist in thinking things which do not +exist! Of course I was glad the Philosopher was to be there. What +enjoyment is not the keener for his friendly sharing of it? But what of +that? Has it not been so for many years?--and will be so, I trust, for +all to come. + + * * * * * + +Hepatica and I packed with care, selecting the most expensive things we +owned. Hepatica scrutinized the Skeptic's linen critically before she +put it in. When we departed we were as correctly attired as time and +thought could make us. When we arrived we were doubly glad that this +was so, for the sight of the butler, admitting us, gave us much the same +feeling of being badly dressed that Camellia's own presence had been +wont to do. + +Camellia herself was as exquisitely arrayed as ever, but she looked +considerably older than I had expected. I wondered if constant +engagements with her tailor and dressmaker, to say nothing of incessant +interviews with those who see to the mechanism of formal entertaining, +had not begun to wear upon her. But she was very cordial with us, and +her husband, the Judge, was equally so. He was considerably her +senior--quite as much so, I decided, as the Professor was Dahlia's--but +on account of Camellia's woman-of-the-world air the contrast was not so +pronounced. + +We sat through an elaborate dinner, during which I suffered more or less +strain of anxiety concerning my forks. But the Judge, at whose right +hand I sat, diverted me so successfully by means of his own most +interesting personality and delightful powers of conversation, that in +time I forgot both forks and butler, and was only conscious of the +length of the dinner by the sense, toward its close, of having had more +to eat than I wanted. + +[Illustration: "Camellia herself was as exquisitely arrayed as ever"] + +"They have this sort of thing every night of their unfortunate lives, +to a greater or less degree," murmured the Skeptic in my ear, as the men +came into the impressively decorated room where Camellia and Hepatica +and I were talking over common memories. "The gladdest man to get into +his summer camp in Maine is the Judge, and the life of absolute abandon +to freedom he lives there ought to teach his wife a thing or two--if she +were wise enough to heed it. Why two people--but I've just eaten their +salt," he acknowledged in reply to what I suppose must have been my +accusing look, and forbore to say more. + +"I think I'll give a little dinner for you to-morrow night," said +Camellia reflectively, as we sat about. "A very informal one, of +course--just some of our neighbours." + +I felt my spirits drop. I saw those of Hepatica and the Skeptic and the +Philosopher drop, although they made haste to prop their countenances +up again. + +But the Judge protested. "Why give anything, my dear?" he questioned. "I +doubt if our friends would prefer meeting our neighbours, whom they +don't know, to visiting with ourselves, whom they do--however egotistic +that may sound." + +"I want to make things gay for you," explained Camellia; "and the +Latimers and the Elliots are very gay."--The Judge only lifted his +handsome eyebrows.--"And the Liscombes are lovely," went on Camellia. +"Mrs. Liscombe sings." + +The Judge ran his hand through the thick, slightly graying locks above +his broad forehead. He did not need to tell us that he did not enjoy +hearing Mrs. Liscombe sing, and doubted if we should. + +"Harry Hodgson recites--we always have him when we want to make things +go. Oh, he's not a professional, of course. He only gives readings among +his special friends. I believe I'll run and telephone him now. He's so +likely to have engagements." Camellia hastened away. + + * * * * * + +We could hardly tell the Judge we fully agreed with his feeling about +to-morrow's proposed festivities, neither could we discuss his wife's +tastes with him. He and we talked of other things until Camellia came +back, having made her engagement with Mr. Harry Hodgson, and so having +sealed our fate for the succeeding evening. + +The Skeptic and the Philosopher spent much of the following day--it was +a legal holiday--with the Judge in his private den up on the third +floor. This, as Camellia showed us once when the men were away, was a +big, bare room--this was her characterization--principally fireplace, +easy-chairs, books and windows. I liked it better than any other place +in the house, for it was unencumbered with useless furniture of any +sort, and the view from its windows was much finer than that from +below stairs. + +"But we're not invited up here, you observe," was Camellia's comment. "I +don't come into it once a month. The Judge spends his evenings +here--when I don't actually force him to go out with me--and I spend +mine down in the pleasanter quarters. I have the Liscombes and the +Latimers in very often, but he never comes down if he can avoid it. They +understand he's eccentric, and we let it go at that." + +She spoke with the air of being a most kindly and forbearing wife. +I followed her downstairs, pondering over points of view. +Eccentric--because he preferred wide fires and elbow-room and +outlook to Camellia's crowded and over-decorated rooms below, and +his books to Mrs. Liscombe's music and Mr. Harry Hodgson's "readings." +I felt that I knew Mrs. Liscombe and Mr. Hodgson and the rest quite +without having seen them. + + * * * * * + +I found, the next evening, that my imagination had not gone far astray. +Camellia's friends were certainly quite as "gay" as she had pictured +them, and gorgeously dressed. I felt, as I attempted to maintain my part +among them, like a country mouse suddenly precipitated into the society +of a company of town-bred squirrels. + +Mrs. Liscombe sang for us. I could not make out what it was she sang, +being unfamiliar with the music and unable to understand the words. She +possessed a voice of some beauty, but was evidently determined to be +classed among the sopranos who are able to soar highest, and when she +took certain notes I experienced a peculiar and most disagreeable +sensation in the back of my neck. + +"I wonder if we couldn't bring in a stepladder for her," murmured the +Skeptic in my ear. "It gives me a pang to see a woman, alone and +unassisted, attempt to reach something several feet above her head!" + +Mr. Hodgson recited for us with great fervour. He fought a battle on the +drawing-room floor, fought and bled and died, all in a harrowing tenor +voice. He was slender and pale, and it seemed a pity that he should have +to suffer so much with so many stalwart men at hand. From the first +moment, when he drew his sword and leaped into the fray, our sympathies +were with him, although he personified a doughty man of battles, and led +ten thousand lusty followers. There were moments when one could not +quite forget the swinging coat-tails of his evening attire, but on the +whole he was an interesting study, and I was much diverted. + +"Dear little fellow!"--it was the Skeptic again. "How came they to let +him go to war--and he so young and tender?" + +I exchanged observations with Mr. Hodgson after his final reading; I +can hardly say that I conversed with him, for our patchwork interview +could not deserve that name. At the same time I noted with interest the +Philosopher's expression as he and Mrs. Liscombe turned over a pile of +music. If I had not known him so well I should have been deceived by +that grave and interested air of his--a slight frown of concentrated +attention between his well-marked eyebrows--into thinking him deeply +impressed by the lady's dicta and by her somewhat dashing manner as she +delivered them. But, familiar of old with the quizzical expression which +at times could be discovered to underlie the exterior of charmed +absorption, I understood that the Philosopher was quietly and skilfully +classifying a new, if not a rare, specimen. + +When the guests had lingeringly departed I saw, as I went to my room, +three male forms leaping up the second flight of stairs toward the +Judge's den. + +"Don't you envy them the chance to soothe their nerves with a pipe +beside the fire up there?" I asked Hepatica as, with hair down and +trailing, loose garments, she came into my room through the door which +we had discovered could be opened between our quarters. + +"Indeed I do. They went up those stairs like three dogs loosed from the +leash, didn't they? Can one blame them?" + +"One cannot." + +Hepatica gazed at me. I stared back. But we were under our host's roof. + +"Mrs. Liscombe really has quite a voice," said Hepatica, examining the +details of the tiny travelling workbag I always carry with me. + +"So she has." + +"It was a wonderful dinner, wasn't it?" + +"It was, indeed. Would you mind having quite specially simple things to +eat for a day or two after we go back?" + +"I've been planning them," admitted Hepatica. + +"Mr. Hodgson's readings were--entirely new to me; were they to you? I +had never heard of the authors." + +"Few people can have heard of them, I think. Several were original." + +"Indeed!" + +"Would you mind taking off your society manner?" requested Hepatica, a +trifle fractiously. "I'm a little tired of seeing you wear it so +incessantly." + +"I shall be delighted," I agreed. + +I sprang up and she met me half-way, and seizing me about the neck +buried her face in my shoulder. I felt her shaking with smothered +laughter, and had great difficulty in keeping my own emotions under +control. + +We went home on Sunday afternoon, the Skeptic pleading the necessity of +his being up at an early hour next morning. By unanimous consent we went +to the evening service of a church where one goes to hear that which is +worth hearing, and invariably hears it. The music there is also worth a +long journey, though it is not at all of an elaborate sort. + +"There, I feel better after that," declared the Skeptic heartily, as we +came out. "It seems to take the taste of last evening out of my mouth." + +Nobody said anything directly about our late visit until we had reached +home. Then the Skeptic fired up his diminutive gas grate--which is much +better than none at all--and turned off the electrics. We sat before +the cheery little glow, luxuriating in a sense of relaxation. + +"It seems ungracious, somehow to discuss people, when one has just left +their hospitality," suggested Hepatica, as the Skeptic showed signs of +letting loose the dogs of war. + +"Not between ourselves, dear," affirmed the Skeptic. "We four constitute +a private Court of Inquiry into the Condition of Our Friends. When I +think of the Judge----" + +"He has his own way, after all, when it comes to refusing to join in the +sort of thing that pleases Camellia," said I. + +"Of course he does. He's too much of a man not to have it. But living +upstairs while my wife lives downstairs isn't precisely my ideal of +married happiness." + +The Philosopher shoved his hands far down into his pockets and laid his +head back, gazing up at the ceiling. "What puzzles me," he mused, "is +the attraction such a woman has, at the start, for such a man." + +"Camellia was a most attractive girl," said I. + +"You mean her clothes were most attractive," amended the Skeptic. "They +even befuddled me for a few brief hours, as I remember--till I +discovered that not all is gold that----" + +"You didn't discover that yourself," the Philosopher reminded him. "We +had to do it for you. You don't mind our recalling his temporary +paralysis of intellect?" he questioned Hepatica suddenly. "It was all +your fault, anyhow, for retiring to the background and allowing the +fireworks to have full play." + +Hepatica smiled. The Skeptic put out his hand and got hold of hers and +drew it over to his knee, where he retained it. "She knows I never +swerved a point off my allegiance to her," he declared with confidence. + +"Do you suppose," suggested Hepatica, "if the Judge and Camellia were to +lose all their money and had to come down to living in a little home +like this, it would help things any?" + +The Skeptic shook his head. The Philosopher shook his, thoughtfully. +"It's too late," said the latter. "Her ideals are a fixed quantity now, +to be reckoned with. So are his. Under any conditions there would be +absolute diversity of tastes." + +"I don't think there's any ideal more hopelessly fixed than the fine +clothes ideal." The Skeptic looked at his wife. + +"I like nice clothes," said she, smiling at him. + +"So you do," he rejoined; "thank heaven! A woman who doesn't is +abnormal. But when we walk down certain streets together you can see +something besides the shop-windows." + +"I look away so I won't want the things," confessed Hepatica. + +The Skeptic laughed, and the Philosopher and I joined him. + +"I passed Mrs. Hepatica the other day when she didn't see me," said the +Philosopher to me. "She was staring fixedly in at a shop-window. I stole +up behind her to see what held such an attraction for her.--It often +lets a great light in on a friend's character, if you can see the +particular object in a shop-window which fixes his longing attention. +When I had discovered what she was looking at I stole away again, +chuckling to myself." + +"What was it?" I asked. + +"I'll wager half I own that the wife of our friend the Judge wouldn't +have given that window a second glance," pursued the Philosopher. + +"It was probably a bargain sale of paper patterns," guessed the Skeptic. +But we knew he didn't think it. + +"A bargain sale of groceries, more likely," said Hepatica herself. + +"It was no bargain sale of anything," denied the Philosopher. "It was a +most expensive edition of the works of Charles Dickens." + +"Good for you, Patty!" cried the Skeptic. + + + + +III + +AZALEA AND THE CASHIER + + A mother is a mother still, + The holiest thing alive. + --_S. T. Coleridge._ + + +"I am to spend the day with Azalea to-morrow," I announced, as I said +good night, one evening, "and I shall not come back until so late that +you mustn't sit up for me. Azalea couldn't ask me to stay all night, on +account of using the guest-room for a nursery during the winter, but +she's very anxious to have me there in the evening, for it's the only +chance I shall have to see her husband." + +"Remain late enough to see her husband, by all means," urged the +Skeptic. "I want to hear what sort of man had the courage to marry a +musical genius who could wipe only one teaspoon at a time." + +"Azalea was a lovely girl," said Hepatica warmly. "It couldn't take much +courage to marry her." + +"All right--we'll hear about it when our guest comes back. And I'll be +over to bring you home, if you'll telephone about an hour before you'll +be ready to start." + +"Thank you--it really won't be necessary for you to come," I replied. + +The Skeptic eyed me narrowly. Then he glanced at Hepatica and grinned. +"Good night," said I, again, and walked away to my room. + +"Good night," the Skeptic called after me. "But don't hesitate to call +me if anything should detain Philo." + +I arrived at Azalea's home early next morning, having been earnestly +asked to come in time to see the babies take their bath. There is +nothing I like better than to see a baby take a bath, and to see two at +once was a bribe indeed. + +Azalea met me at the door of her suburban home, the larger of her two +children--the two-year-old--on her arm. He was evidently just ready for +his bath, for he was wrapped in a blanket, and one pink foot stuck +temptingly out from its folds. Azalea greeted me with enthusiasm, +pushing back the loose, curling locks from her forehead as she did so, +explaining that Bud had just pulled them down. She did not look in the +least like the girl who had sung for us, but it occurred to me that, +enveloped in the big flannel bath-apron, she was even more engaging than +she had been upon the porch at the Farm. + +I don't know when I have enjoyed anything so much as I enjoyed seeing +Azalea give that bath. The little baby was asleep in her crib when we +went into the nursery--which had been the guest-room before the second +baby came--so Azalea gave Bud his splash all by himself. He was plump +and dimpled and jolly, and he cried only once--when his mother +inadvertently rubbed soap in his eyes while talking with me. When he +smiled again he was a cherub of cherubs, but he had waked his small +sister, and Azalea gave me permission to take her up while she finished +with Bud. She was six months old, and she was afraid of me only for a +minute or two, and I held her and cuddled her and wanted to take her +away with me so fiercely that I had all I could do to give her over to +Azalea for her bath. Boy babies are delightful, but girl babies are +heavenly! + + * * * * * + +We had a busy day--made up of babies, with more or less talk between, +which didn't matter in the least. Late in the afternoon Azalea put +everything straight in the rooms, more or less upset by Bud during the +day; and dressed herself for the evening. She dressed both children, +also, making them fresh as rosebuds. I saw her putting flowers on the +table in the dining-room, lighting a special reading-lamp at a table in +the corner of the living-room, and pulling an easy chair to stand close +beside it. There was a small grand piano in the room. It had been closed +all day, for Bud's fingers could just reach the keyboard. Azalea opened +it. + +"You haven't had time to-day," said I, "but I'm looking forward to +hearing you sing this evening." + +"It's my husband you are to hear sing," said Azalea contentedly. "He has +a splendid voice." + +"I shall be delighted," I agreed; "but surely you will sing too." + +"My voice seems to wake up the children," said she, "Arthur's never +does. It's odd, for his voice is much heavier, of course. But I can +never take really high notes without hearing a wail from either Bud or +Dot. And that's not worth while." + +"Won't you sing now, then," I begged, "while they are awake? I really +can't go away without hearing you. And you know when the Philosopher +comes he will be so anxious to have you sing." + +"The babies will go to bed before dinner," she insisted, "so I can't +very well sing for the Philosopher. But I'll sing for you now, of +course." + +She laid little Dot in my lap, but Dot was already sleepy and protested. +So Azalea went to the piano with Dot on her arm. Bud, seeing her go, +followed and stood by her knee--on her trailing skirts. I don't know how +she managed to play her own accompaniment, but she did--at least subdued +chords enough to carry the harmony of the song. There were no notes +before her on the rack, and she looked down into one or the other of the +two small faces as she sang. And, of course, it was a lullaby which +fell like notes of pearl and silver from her lips. + +When she finished, I could only smile at her through an obscuring mist. +Never, in all the times I had heard her sing, had she reached my heart +like this. But, somehow, the picture of her, sitting in the half light +at the grand piano, with the babies in her arms and at her knee, singing +lullabies and leaving the fine music for her husband to sing by and by, +was quite irresistible. Somehow, as I listened, I was troubled by no +doubts lest she had not learned deftly to wipe ten teaspoons at once. + +Her husband came home presently; a tall, thin, young bank cashier, with +a face I liked at once. He was plainly weary, but his eyes lit up with +satisfaction at sight of the three who met him at the door, and the +welcome his young son gave him showed that Bud recognized a play-fellow. +I heard the pair romping upstairs as the Cashier made dressing for +dinner a game in which the little child could join. + +[Illustration: "The picture of her, sitting in the half light at the +grand piano, with the babies in her arms and at her knee ... was quite +irresistible"] + +But before we sat down to dinner both babies had been put to bed. The +Cashier remained with me while Azalea was busy at this task, but he +excused himself toward the last, and went tiptoeing upstairs, where I +think he must have offered his services in getting the children tucked +away. While he was gone the Philosopher arrived. + +I let him in myself, motioning the maid away. It was a small house, and +I knew she was needed in the kitchen. "Don't make a bit of noise," I +cautioned him, as he came smiling into the little hall. "The babies are +going to bed." + +"Babies!" whispered the Philosopher, in an awestruck way. "I didn't know +there were any babies." + +"Of course you knew it," I whispered back, leading him into the room. +"If you would only store away really important facts in that capacious +mind of yours, instead of limiting it to----" + +"Tell me how many babies, and of what sex--quick!" commanded the +Philosopher, "or I shall say the wrong thing. And how on earth do they +come to know enough to put their babies to bed before they ask a +bachelor to dine, anyhow?" + +I hastily set him straight upon these points, adding that Azalea had +developed wonderfully. + +"You mean she can soar to high Q now, I suppose?" interpreted the +Philosopher. + +"Not at all. I mean that she's----" + +But they were coming downstairs together. The Cashier's arm was about +his wife's shoulders; he removed it only just in time to save his +dignity as he entered. + +"I'm disappointed not to see the boy and girl," declared the Philosopher +genially. The Cashier took him by the shoulders and turned him toward +the light, laughing. "That was bravely said," he answered. "How did you +know but we might go and wake them up for you to see?" + +The dinner was quite unpretentious, but very good. Evidently Azalea had +a capable servant. We talked gaily, the Cashier proving an adept at +keeping the ball in the air, and keenly appreciative of others' attempts +to meet him at the sport. + +By and by, when we were back in the room where the grand piano stood, +and conversation had reached a momentary halt, Azalea went to the piano. +"Come, Arthur," she said, sitting down at it and patting a pile of +music, "I want our friends to hear 'The Toreador.'" + +The Cashier looked up protestingly. "You are the one they want to hear, +dear," he declared. + +She shook her head. "They've heard me often, but never you, I think. +Besides, it wakes the babies, you know, for me to sing." + +"You don't need to sing high notes, Azalea," I urged. "I'd like nothing +so well as the lullaby you sang to the babies." + +But she shook her head again. "That's their song," she said. "You were +specially privileged to hear it at all. But I can't do it for company. +Come, Arthur--please." + +So the Cashier sang. The Philosopher and I found it necessary to avoid +each other's eyes as he did it. The Cashier could roar 'The Toreador,' +no doubt of that. The voice of the bull of Bashan would have been as the +summer wind in the trees beside it. Where so much volume came from we +could not tell, as we looked at the thin frame of the performer. Why the +babies did not wake up will ever remain a mystery. Why Azalea did not +desert her accompaniment to press her hands over bursting ear drums I +cannot imagine, for it was with difficulty that I surrendered my own to +the shock. But Azalea played on to the end, and looked up into the +Cashier's flushed face at the last note with a smile of proprietary +triumph. Then she turned about to us. + +"That fairly takes me off my feet!" cried the Philosopher. I groped +hurriedly for a compliment which would match the equivocal fervour of +this, but I could not equal it. + +"How much you must enjoy singing together," I said, "when the babies are +awake,"--and felt annoyed that I could have said it, for I could really +not imagine the two voices together. + +Azalea glowed. The Cashier grinned. He is as quick-witted as he is +good-humoured. "You're a clever pair," he chuckled. + +"I've trained him myself," said Azalea. "When I knew him first he'd +never thought of singing. I only discovered his voice by accident. It +needs much more work with it, of course, but it's powerful, and it has a +quality that will improve with cultivation." + +The Cashier patted her shoulders. "Now you sing some soft little thing +for them, my girl," he commanded--and looking up at him again, Azalea +obeyed. She chose an old ballad, one with no chance in it to show the +range of her voice. She sang it exquisitely, and the Cashier stood by +and turned her music as if he considered it a high privilege. Yet, +half-way through, the little Dot woke up. Azalea broke off in the middle +of a bar, and fled up the stairs. + +"The truth is, I'm afraid," said the Cashier, looking after her with an +expression on his face which indicated that he wanted to flee, too, +"nothing really counts in this house but the babies." + +"They--and something else," suggested the Philosopher gently. + +The Cashier looked at him. He nodded. "Yes--and something else," he +agreed with his bright smile. + +We came away rather late. The Philosopher looked up at the house as the +door closed upon the warm farewells which had sent us out into the +night. "It's a little bit of a house, isn't it?" he commented. + +I looked up, too--at the nursery windows where the faintest of +night-lights showed. "Yes, it's very small," I agreed. "Yet quite big +enough, although it holds so much." + +"One would hardly have said, four years ago, that anything smaller than +the biggest musical auditorium in the city would have been big enough to +hold Azalea's voice," he mused. + +"If you could have heard her sing her lullaby to those babies," I +replied, as we walked slowly on, "you would have said her voice would be +wasted on a concert audience." + +"It seems a pleasant home." + +"It _is_ one." + +"Somehow, one distrusts the ability of musical prodigies to make +pleasant homes." + +"I wonder why. Shouldn't the knowledge of any art make one appreciative +of other arts?" + +"It took some time for a certain exhibition of the domestic art to +strike in, at your home, that summer," said the Philosopher. "But I +believe Azalea came to envy our Hepatica at the last, didn't she?" + +"Indeed she did. And she's never got over envying her her +accomplishments. She asked me ever so many questions to-day about +Hepatica's housekeeping. I wish I had had a chance before I went to tell +her that I was sure her will to succeed would make her home as dear a +one as even Hepatica's could be." + +"One thing is sure--as long as she lets the Cashier do the singing in +the limelight, while she looks after the babies, there'll be no occasion +for their friends to demand more music of an evening than is good for +her pride of spirit," chuckled the Philosopher. "What--are we at our +station already? I say--let's not make a quick trip by train--let's make +a slow one, by cab." + +"By cab! It would take two hours! No, no--here comes our train." + +"This is the first time we've gone anywhere since you've been here +without two alert chaperons--younger than myself," grumbled the +Philosopher. + +"The more reason, then, that we should give them no anxiety on my +account." + +"I'd like to walk the whole way," said he. + +I laughed as I obeyed the signal of an impatient guard and rushed upon +the train. "Now, talk to me," said I, as we took our seats. + +"My lungs weren't built for the Toreador song," he objected. + + + + +IV + +ALTHEA AND THE PROMOTER + + What an interesting fellow our host is! He is almost more + interesting because of the qualities he does not possess, than + because of the qualities that he does possess. + --_Arthur Christopher Benson._ + + +"'_Be it ever so humble_,'" quoted the Skeptic under his breath to me, +"'_there's no place like_----'" + +Hepatica turned and gave him a smiling look which nevertheless conveyed +warning. He needed it. The Skeptic was in a mad and merry mood to-night, +and no glance shot at him which, being interpreted, meant that we were +under our hosts' roof, had thus far been of avail. "We are not under +their roof," he argued defiantly, in reply to one of these silent +remonstrances. "This isn't their roof. This is the roof of the Hotel +Amazon. That's a very different thing. So different that if I lived +under it I'd----" + +But the Promoter was approaching us again, with the news that dinner +had just been announced as served. He immediately led the way with me, +Hepatica followed with the Philosopher, and Althea and the Skeptic +brought up the rear. It was on the great staircase that the Skeptic, +pausing to gaze upward, at a command from the Promoter, who had just bid +him observe certain mural decorations done by the distinguished hand of +some man of whom I fear none of us had ever heard, murmured the +well-known words concerning the humble home. + +"I always like to walk down this staircase when I'm not in a hurry," I +had heard Althea saying to the Skeptic behind us, "to get the effect +from the landing. Isn't it wonderful?" + +We all paused upon the landing, which was about thirty feet square. The +Skeptic, leaning against the marble balustrade, gazed out over the scene +with an air of prostrating himself before a shrine. Awe and wonder +dominated his aspect. Only we who were familiar with a certain curving +line over his left eyebrow knew that he was longing to break into an +apostrophe on the magnificence before him which would have alienated +Althea and her husband forevermore. + +"These columns are of the purest (something) marble," declared the +Promoter, laying his hand upon one of them. He rather mumbled the name, +and I think none of us were able to recognize it. + +"Indeed!" said the Skeptic, and laid his hand upon the column. "It +seems stout." + +"It's the same that is used in the Royal Palace at Athens," added +the Promoter. + +"That must be why it feels so Greece-y to the touch," murmured the +Skeptic; but, luckily, nobody heard him but myself. + +In due course of time, proceeding across a gorgeous lobby and traversing +an impressive corridor, passing lackeys in livery and guests in evening +finery, we arrived at the doorway of the most elaborately ornate dining +hall I had ever seen. The Promoter paused in the doorway to let the +first impression sink in. + +"I could have had our dinner served in a private dining-room, of +course," said he to us, "but Althea and I decided that you would enjoy +this better. There's nothing like it anywhere. It's absolutely +cosmopolitan. People from all over the world are dining here +to-night--are every night. Every tenth man is worth his millions. Notice +the third table on the right as we go by. That's Joseph L. Chrysler, the +iron magnate. With his party is a French actress--worshipped on both +sides the water. Keep your eyes peeled." + +A bowing potentate motioned us forward. A bending waiter put us in our +places. Orchids decorated our table. An extraordinarily expensive +orchestra celebrated our arrival with strains from a popular opera then +raging. People all around glanced at us and immediately away again. I +suppose we showed by our appearance that we were the possessors neither +of millions nor of world-renowned accomplishments. + +The Promoter leaned back in his chair with the demeanour of a large and +puffy young frog on the edge of a pool. He settled his white waistcoat +and looked from side to side with the superior glance of a man who owns +the whole thing. Althea, in her place, also wore a self-conscious air of +being hostess to a party which must appreciate the privilege of dining +under such auspices. + +Our table was a circular one, and the Skeptic sat upon my right. The +Promoter at my left occupied himself with Hepatica much of the +time--Hepatica had never looked lovelier than to-night, though her +simple, white evening frock was not cut half so low as Althea's pink, +embroidered one, nor cost half so much as my plain pale-gray. Althea +devoted herself to the Philosopher--she and the Skeptic had never got on +very well. Meanwhile the Skeptic was saying things into my ear, under +cover of the orchestra and the loud hum of talk. + +"This is a crowd," he commented. "This certainly is a crowd! Men of +millions, and men who don't know how they're going to meet the next note +due, but bluffing it through. Somebodies and nobodies. Kingfish and +minnows--and some of the kingfish are going to swallow the minnows at +the next gulp----What in the name of time is this we're eating now?" + +I expressed my ignorance. + +"And what's this we're to have with it?" he pursued. "Look out!" + +He had known I would thank him for the warning. I shielded my glass from +an imminent bottle. It was the third time already, and the dinner was +not far on its way. I saw Hepatica shield hers--also for the third time. +A tiny flush was beginning to creep up Althea's cheeks. She had refused +only the first offering of the waiter. + +The Promoter turned and viewed my empty glasses with ill-disguised +contempt. "We'll have to get you to stay in town long enough to overcome +those notions of yours," said he. "Look around you. I'll wager there's +not another in the room." + +If I flushed it was not for either of the reasons which caused the +brilliant cheeks I saw all about me. "I think you are quite right," said +I, as I looked. I saw a garrulous lady at the table on my right, whose +high laughter was beginning to carry far; I observed a sleepy one at my +left, who had spilled champagne down the front of her elaborate corsage +and was nodding over her ices. I glanced at Hepatica. Her pretty head +was held high; her eyes, too, sparkled, but not with wine. + +The Promoter began to talk of investments, telling stories of great +_coups_ made by men who had the daring. + +"Not necessary for them to have the money, I suppose?" queried the +Philosopher. + +"Not at all," agreed the Promoter. "Life's a game of poker. If you're +not afraid to sit in, and have the nerve to bluff it through, you can +win out with a hand that would make a quitter commit suicide." + +Althea listened with pride to her husband's discourse. "He's a man of +the world," one could see she was thinking, "who is making the eyes drop +out of the heads of these simple people." + +"I'm so impressed," said the Skeptic to me, "that I can hardly eat. +Think of living in a place like this--having this every day--common, +like the dust under your feet. Can I ever eat creamed codfish and +johnny-cake again, think you? Hepatica must name the hash by a French +name and serve me grape juice with it, or I can't condescend to eat it. +I say--the smoke is getting a bit thick here for you ladies, isn't it?" + +We had been late in coming down, and at many tables people were nearing +the end of the dinner. For some time the odour of expensive cigars had +been growing heavier throughout the room; a blue haze hung over the more +distant tables. + +"I don't think my lungs mind it so much as my feelings," I answered. "I +shall never be able to make it seem to me just--just----" + +"Try to subdue the expression which dominates your countenance at the +present moment," counselled the Skeptic gently, "or you will be quietly +led away from the scene as dangerous to your fellow-men." + +After what seemed like many hours we reached the end of the dinner. I +felt that I should be glad to reach the quiet and comparative purity of +air to be found in the room in which our hosts had received us--a +private drawing-room. But this was not to be. We were taken from place +to place about the hotel, to look in on this or that scene of +entertainment, of banqueting, of revelry. Gorgeousness upon gorgeousness +was revealed to us. Althea, now very gay and sparkling in manner, her +carefully dressed hair a little loosened, her mind full of schemes for +our diversion, took the lead, showing off everything with that air of +personal possession I have often observed in the frequenters of +hostelries like the Amazon. + +Hepatica, in spite of evident effort to maintain her part, grew a trifle +silent. As I regarded her I was reminded of a white dove in the company +of a pair of peacocks. The Philosopher adjusted his eyeglasses from time +to time as if they did not fit well; he seemed to feel his vision +growing distorted. I became intensely fatigued with it all, and found +myself longing for a quiet corner and a book. As for the Skeptic--but +the Skeptic was incorrigible. + +"How much does it cost, do you say," he inquired of the Promoter, "to +buy a postage stamp at the desk here? I want to put one on a letter I +have in my pocket. May I slip it into the post-box myself, or do I have +to call a flunkey, present him with a dollar, and respectfully request +him to insert it in the slit for me?" + +The Promoter smiled. "Oh, people make a joke of the Amazon," said he. +"But I notice they're the same ones who breathe deep when they go by +it, hoping to inhale the atmosphere free of charge." + +The Skeptic inflated his lungs. "I'm going to do it here, inside," said +he, "where it's more highly charged." + +At length they took us to their own rooms. I have forgotten how many +floors up they were, but it didn't matter, in a luxurious elevator, +padded and mirrored. In one of the mirrors I caught the Philosopher's +eye regarding me so steadily that I felt a sudden sense of relief at the +realization that some time we should be out and away together in the +fresh air again. It seemed to me a long while since I had been able to +see things from the Philosopher's point of view. + +We looked at our hosts' private apartments with interest. As the Skeptic +passed me on his way to inspect a system of electrical devices on the +wall, to which the Promoter was calling his attention, he was softly +humming an air. It was, "_Be it ever so humble_," again. + +The rooms were very elaborately furnished; the hangings were heavy and +sumptuous. A massive oak mantelpiece harboured a fire of gas-logs. +There were a few--not many--apparently personal belongings about the +rooms; _bric-à-brac_ and photographs--the latter mostly of actors and +opera singers. In Althea's bedroom we came upon a dressing-table which +reminded me of my own, upon the occasion of Althea's visit to me, a few +years before. Althea calmly stirred over everything upon it in the +effort to find a small jewel-case whose contents she wished to show me. +She found it in the end, although for a time the task seemed hopeless. + +We sat down in the outer room and listened again to the Promoter's tales +of the great strokes of business he had brought off--"deals," he called +them. The stories contained much food for thought in the shape of +revelations of character in this or that man of prominence. What we +should have talked about if he had not thus held the floor I could not +guess. I had noted that there were upon a ponderous table six popular +novels, as many magazines, and piles of the great dailies. Nowhere could +I descry even a small collection of books of the sort which may furnish +material for conversation. I tried to imagine the Philosopher drawing a +certain beloved book of essays from his pocket, settling himself +comfortably with his back to the drop-light, and beginning to read aloud +to us, as he is accustomed to do in the Skeptic's little rooms. Here was +not even a drop-light for him to do it by, only electric sconces set +high upon the walls, and a fanciful centre electrolier. He must, +perforce--for he needs a strong light for reading--have stood close +under one of the sconces to read from his book of essays. I tried to +fancy Althea and the Promoter politely listening--or appearing to +listen. This really drew too heavily upon my imagination, and I gave it +up. + +At a late hour we escaped. I learned afterward that before we left the +Promoter took our men aside and offered them one more thing to drink. +This really seemed superfluous, and--judging by the straightforward gait +of our escorts, to say nothing of my knowledge of their habits--there is +no doubt that it was. + +Outside the hotel the Philosopher, looking away from it and from +the other great buildings which surrounded us on every side, sent +his gaze upward to the starry winter's sky. He drew in deep breaths +of the frosty air. + +"Getting the Amazon out of your blood?" inquired the Skeptic. "Amazon's +a mighty good name for it. It thinks it's sophisticated and refined--but +it isn't. It's a great, blowsy, milkmaid of a hotel, with all her best +clothes on, perpetually going to a fair." + +"I'm not so much re-filling my insulted lungs," said the Philosopher, +"as drawing breaths of relief that I got away without buying a block of +stock in something, or putting my name down to be one of a company for +the development of something else." + +"Oh, we were safe enough," the Skeptic declared. "This was a private +dinner with ladies present; the Promoter gave us only a delicate sample +of what he could do. Wait till he gets you at luncheon with him in the +grill-room, all by yourself--then you can find out what he is when he's +after game. Unless you're tied to the mast, so to speak, with your ears +stopped with wax, you'll land on the shore of the enchanted country he +pictures for you. He's deadly, I assure you. That's why he can afford to +live at the Amazon." + +"I wonder how Althea likes it?" speculated Hepatica. + +"Likes it down to the ground--and up to the roof," asserted the Skeptic. +"That's plain enough. It saves housekeeping--and picking up her room," +he added softly to Hepatica--but I heard him. Hepatica did not reply. + +"Let's not stop at this station," proposed the Skeptic as we walked on, +"but keep on up to the next. A fast walk will do us all good after that +feast of porpoises." + +"I suppose they call that living," said the Philosopher, as we turned +aside into quieter streets. + +"Of course they do, and so does everybody else at those tables +to-night--with four exceptions." + +"Oh, come," demurred the Philosopher, "possibly there were a few other +wise men in that company besides ourselves. Who would have known from +your appearance as you sat there gorging with the rest, that you were +inwardly protesting, and greatly preferred the simple life? Don't +flatter yourself that you had the aspect of an ascetic. There were +moments during that meal when any unprejudiced observer who didn't know +you would have sworn that you were deeply gratified that no other +engagement had prevented you from dining in your favourite haunt." + +"Don't throw stones," retorted the Skeptic. "I saw you when you caught +sight of some particularly prosperous looking people at another table +and bowed convivially to them as one who says, 'You here, too? Of +course. Our set, you know!'" + +"Quits!" admitted the Philosopher. "Well then--it's the ladies who did +succeed in looking like visitants from another world." + +This was rather poetical for the Philosopher, and of course it led us to +wonder wherein he thought we differed. Hepatica asked anxiously if she +really had looked so very old-fashioned in the white evening frock which +had been three times made over. + +"Hopelessly old-fashioned," assented the Philosopher. "Hopelessly +old-fashioned. But not so much in the matter of the frock as in some +other things. Heaven forbid that it should be otherwise!" + +"Amen!" responded the Skeptic fervently. + + + + +V + +RHODORA AND THE PREACHER + + When the fight begins within himself + A man's worth something. + --_Robert Browning._ + + +The Skeptic brought up the letter with him as he came home to dinner; it +had arrived in the last mail. The Philosopher happened to be dining with +us that night, so we four were together when the news came upon us. As +Hepatica read it aloud we stared at one another, astonished. + +The letter was from Grandmother, inviting us to Rhodora's wedding, which +was to take place under her roof. Rhodora herself had been practically +under Grandmother's roof for four years now, except as she had been sent +to a school of Grandmother's selection. Rhodora had no mother. Her +father, an absorbed man of business, had, at Grandmother's suggestion, +been glad to let her have the girl to bring up--or to finish bringing +up--according to her own ideas. When we had first seen Rhodora there +could be no question that she sadly needed bringing up by somebody. To +that date she had, apparently, only come up by herself. + +"I, for one, have never seen her since that none-too-short visit she +made you, that summer," said the Skeptic reminiscently. "It has never +occurred to me to long to see her again. She was a mere lusty infant +then. And now she's to be married. How time gets on! What did you say +was the name of the unfortunate chap?" + +"'The Reverend Christopher Austen,'" re-read Hepatica from the letter. + +"He will need all the fortitude the practice of his profession can have +developed in him, if my recollections can be depended upon to furnish a +basis for the present outlook," said the Skeptic gloomily. + +"You don't know that he will, at all," I disputed. "Rhodora was only a +girl when you saw her. She has been four years under Grandmother's +influence since then. Can you imagine that has accomplished nothing?" + +The Skeptic shook his head. "That would be like a dove attempting the +education of a hawk. The girl has probably learned not to break into the +conversation of her elders with an axe," he speculated, "nor to walk +ahead of Grandmother when she comes into a room. Any girl learns those +things--in time--unless she is an idiot. But there are other things to +learn. You can't make fine china out of coarse clay." + +"But you can make very, very beautiful pottery," cried Hepatica. "And +the lump of clay that came into contact with Grandmother's wheel----" + +She paused. Metaphors are sometimes difficult things to handle. The +Philosopher, musing, did not notice that she had not finished. + +"It's rather curious that I should be asked," he said. "I never saw +either of them but once." + +"You made a great conquest on that one occasion, though," said the +Skeptic. + +"Nonsense!" The Philosopher coloured like a boy. "That girl----" + +"Not that girl," explained the Skeptic. "The Old Lady. She has never +ceased to ask after you whenever we have seen her or heard from her. As +I remember, you presented her with a bunch of garden flowers as big as +your head, and looked at her as if she were eighteen and the beauty she +undoubtedly once was.--Well, well--a preacher! What has Rhodora become +that she has blinded the eyes of a preacher? Not that their eyes are not +easily blinded!" + +"Why do you say 'preacher?'" inquired his wife. "Grandmother's letter +says a young clergyman." + +"He's no clergyman," insisted the Skeptic. "He's not even a minister. +He's just a preacher--a raw youth, just out of college--knows as much +about women as a puppy about elephant training. Rhodora probably sang a +hymn at one of his meetings and finished him. Well, well--I suppose this +means another wedding present?" He looked dubiously at Hepatica. + +"It does, of course," she admitted. + +"Send her a cut-glass punch-bowl," he suggested, preparing savagely to +carve a plump, young duck. "Anything less adapted to the use of a +preacher's family I can't conceive. And that's the main object in buying +wedding gifts, according to my observation." + +The day of Rhodora's wedding arrived, and we went down together to +Grandmother's lovely old country home--a stately house upon the banks of +a wide, frozen river. Our train brought us there two hours before the +one set for the ceremony, and we found not only Grandmother but Rhodora +and the Preacher in the fine old-time drawing-room to greet us. The +wedding was to be a quietly informal one, and such of the other guests +as had already arrived were in the room also, having a cup of tea before +they should go upstairs to dress. + +Rhodora herself was pouring the tea, and the Preacher was helping hand +the cups about. It was a beautiful opportunity to observe the pair +before their marriage. + +Grandmother gave us the welcome only Grandmother knows how to give. In +her own home she looks like a fair, little, old queen, receiving +everybody's homage, yet giving so much kindness in return that one can +never feel one's self out of debt to her hospitality. Her greeting to +the Philosopher was an especially cordial one. + +"I ventured to ask you," she said to him, "because I have always wanted +to see you again--not merely because I have heard of you in the world +where you are making a name for yourself. And I wanted, too, in justice +to my granddaughter, to have you see her again." + +Before the Philosopher could formulate an appropriate reply, Rhodora +herself, leaving her tea-table, and crossing the room with a swift and +graceful tread, was giving us welcome. + +It was amusing to see our two men look at Rhodora. Hepatica and I had +been, in a way, prepared to see a transformation, having heard sundry +rumours to that effect; but the Skeptic and the Philosopher, having +classified Rhodora once and for all, had since received no impression +sufficient to efface or modify the original one. I can say for them that +to one who did not know them well their surprise would have been +undiscoverable, yet to Hepatica and me it was perfectly evident that +they considered a miracle had been wrought. + +As to personal appearance, Rhodora had developed, as she had promised to +do, into a remarkable beauty. If she had kept on as she had begun, she +would have become one of those exuberant beauties who look as if they +had but lately quitted the stage and must shortly return thither. Even +yet, it would have taken but an error in dress, a reversion to a certain +type of manner which too often goes with looks like these, to make of +the girl that which it had seemed she must become. But, somehow, she had +not become that thing. + +Rhodora presently turned and beckoned to the Preacher, and putting down +his teacups he came to her side. She presented him, and we saw that he +was, indeed, no clergyman, no minister even--in the sense that the +Skeptic had differentiated these terms--but a preacher--and an embryo +one at that--a big, red-cheeked, honest-eyed boy, a straightforward, +clean-hearted, large-purposed young fellow, who meant to do all the good +in the world, in all the ways that he could bring about. He was but +lately graduated from his seminary, had yet to preach his first sermon +after the dignities of his ordination, but--one could not tell how--one +began to believe in him at once. + +"No, I haven't a bit of experience," he owned to me, as we stood talking +together, getting acquainted. "Not a bit--except a little mission work a +few of us went in for this last year. I'm as raw a recruit as ever put +on a uniform and fell in with the rest of the company for his first +drill. But--I mean to count one!" + +"I'm sure you will," said I, regarding him with growing pleasure in +the sight. + +"And Rhodora will count two," said he, his eyes following her. "One and +two, side by side, you know, stand for twelve." + +"So they do," said I. "And seeing Rhodora as she looks now, I should +think she would make an efficient comrade." + +His face glowed. Together we observed Rhodora, standing close by +Grandmother's side. The two, with Hepatica and our two men, made a +group, of which not the bride-elect, but Grandmother, was the precise +centre. The moment Rhodora had reached Grandmother's side she had put +herself in the background. Although she towered above the little old +lady she did not overwhelm her, and Grandmother herself had never seemed +a more gently dominating figure than now, in her sweeping black gown +with its rare laces, her white hair, in soft puffs, framing her delicate +face. And as, at a turn in the conversation, Grandmother looked up at +Rhodora, and Rhodora, bending a little, smiled back at her, answering in +the most deferential way, it was clear to me that the most efficient +element in the education of the girl had been her intercourse with this +old-time gentlewoman. + +"It was seeing those two together," said the Preacher rather shyly, in +my ear, "that attracted me first. I never knew that Youth and Age could +set each other off like that till I saw them. And I saw at once that a +girl who could be such friends with an old lady must be very much worth +while herself. They are great chums, you know--it's quite unusual, I +think. And it's a mighty fine thing for any one to know Grandmother. +I've learned more from Grandmother than from any one I ever knew." + +"She's a very rare and adorable old lady," I agreed heartily. "We all +worship her--we all feel that to be near her is a special fortune for +any one. She has plainly grown very fond of Rhodora--she will miss her." + +"No doubt of that," he agreed--but, quite naturally, more with triumph +than with sympathy. + +We went upstairs presently to make ready for the wedding. When we were +dressed, we met, according to previous agreement, in the big, square, +upper hall, with its spindled railing making a gallery about the quaint +and stately staircase. It was a little too early to go down, and we drew +some high-backed chairs together and sat down to look at one another in +our wedding garments. + +"I'd like to get married myself again to-night," declared the Skeptic, +forcibly pulling on his gloves with a man's brutal disregard for the +possible instability of seams. He eyed his wife possessively. "Tell +me--will the Preacher's bride put her in the shade?" + +"Don!" But Hepatica's falling lashes could not quite conceal her +pleasure in his pride. + +"Not for a minute." The Philosopher's benevolent gaze approved of his +friend's wife from the top of her masses of shining hair to the tip of +her white-shod foot. "At the same time, I don't feel quite such a +dispirited compassion for the Preacher himself as I did on the way down. +Can that possibly be the same girl who treated Grandmother as if she +were an inconvenient, antique family relic, and the rest of us as if she +endured but was horribly bored by us?" + +"I have never supposed grandmothers," said the Skeptic thoughtfully, "to +be particularly influential members of society. Evidently ours is +different. But there must have been other elements in the metamorphosis +of Rhodora." + +"Miss Eleanor Lockwood's school," suggested Hepatica. + +"You mention that with bated breath," said the Skeptic, "precisely as +every one, including its graduates, mentions it. I admit that Miss +Lockwood's school is a place where rich young savages are turned out +polished members of society. But there's been more than that." + +"The Preacher himself?" I suggested. + +The Skeptic looked at me. "Do you mean to imply," said he, with raised +eyebrows, "that any woman would admit the possibility of +acquaintanceship with any particular man's having had a formative +influence on her character? After school-days, I mean of course." + +"Why not?" I inquired. "What influence could be greater?" + +The Skeptic looked at the Philosopher, who returned his gaze calmly. + +"Did you ever expect to hear that?" asked the Skeptic. + +"I should not think of denying the influence of woman upon man," replied +the Philosopher. "Why should not the rule work both ways?" + +"I never heard it thus flatly formulated before," declared the Skeptic. +"It does me good, that's all. So you think the Preacher has had a hand +in the reformation?" + +"You have seen the Preacher," said I. "You know the family from which +he comes--he's of good stock. You've only to hear him speak to see +that he's a man of purpose, of action, of training--boy as he looks. +How could he fail to have a strong influence upon a girl who cared +for him?" + +The Skeptic looked at Hepatica. "Do you agree with her?" he inquired. + +"Of course I agree with her," responded Hepatica, looking from him to +me--and back again. "You are only pretending to doubt us both. It's very +clever of you, but we know perfectly that you understand how far--very +far--we are affected by your ideals, your judgments, your whole estimate +of life. Therefore--you must be very careful how you use your influence +with us!" + +The Skeptic gave her back the look he saw in her eyes. "Ah, you two +belong to the wise ones!" he said. "The wise ones, who, magnifying our +hold on you, thus acquire a far more tremendous hold on us! Eh, Philo?" + +The Philosopher smiled--inscrutably. Probably he felt that an +inscrutable smile was his safest means of navigating waters like these. + +We went down to the wedding. The Preacher stood up very straight while +he was being married, and though his boyish cheek paled and reddened +again as the ceremony proceeded, his responses were clear-cut. Rhodora +made a bonny bride. The absurd vision I had had of her, ever since I +had heard she was to be married, of her taking the officiating +clergyman's book out of his hand and steering the service for herself, +melted away before the vision of her serious young beauty as she made +her vows, and turned from the clergyman's felicitations, at the +conclusion of the service, to take Grandmother into a tender embrace. + +"I owe it all to you," she said to Grandmother by and by, in my hearing, +as we three happened to be for a little alone together. She turned to +me. "I was a barbarian when she took me," she said. "A barbarian of +barbarians. If it hadn't been for Grandmother I should be one yet, and +he"--her glance went off for an instant toward her young husband--"would +never have dreamed of looking at me." + +"You were not very different, my dear," said Grandmother, in her gentle +way, "from many girls of this day." + +"Forgive me, dear," responded Rhodora, "but I was so much worse that +only a grandmother like you could have shown me what I was." + +"I never tried to show you what you were," said Grandmother. "Only what +you could be. And now--I must lose you." + +The Preacher came up, the Skeptic by his side. The Philosopher and +Hepatica, seeing the old magic circle forming, promptly added +themselves. + +It fell out, presently, that the Philosopher and I, a step away from the +others, were observing them as we talked together. The Philosopher had +adjusted his eyeglasses, having carefully polished them. He seemed to +want to see things clearly to-day. + +"This is a scene I've witnessed a good many times, first and last," said +he. "Each time it impresses me afresh with the daring of the +participants. Brave young things, setting sail upon a mighty ocean, in a +small boat, which may or may not be seaworthy--some of them, it seems, +sometimes, with neither chart nor compass--certainly with little +knowledge of the crew. It's a trite comparison, I suppose." + +"You talk as if you stood safely on the shore," I ventured. "Is life no +ocean to you, then--and do you never feel adrift upon it?" + +The Philosopher stared curiously at me. It was, I admit, a strange +speech for me to make to him, but I had not been thinking of him. I had +been thinking of Lad, my big boy, now away at school, and of the day +when he should reach this experience for himself, and I should have to +give him up--my one near tie. I should surely feel adrift in that +day--far adrift. + +"Does it seem to you like that?" he asked, very gently, after a minute. + +I looked up, and saw a new and quite strange expression in his kindly +eyes. "No, no," I said hastily. "How could it--with so many and such +good friends?" + +I think he would have questioned me further, but the Skeptic at that +moment turned my way, and I laid hold upon him--figuratively +speaking--and did not let go again till all danger of a discussion with +the Philosopher on the subject of my loneliness was past. + + + + +VI + +WISTARIA--AND THE PHILOSOPHER + + Friendship needs delicate handling. + --_Hugh Black._ + + +"After all this dining and wine-ing of you," said Hepatica suddenly one +morning, toward the close of my visit, "you are not to escape without +our giving a dinner for you." + +"Oh, my dear," I began, "after all you have done for me, surely that +isn't necessary. I have had----" + +"Yes, I know. You have had dinners and dinners, including the +Philosopher's bachelor repast, which might or might not be called by +that name, but was certainly great fun. But I want to give you a dinner +myself." + +"Better let her," advised the Skeptic, who was putting on his overcoat +at the time, preparatory to leaving us for the day. "It won't be like +anything of that name you have ever tried before. Besides she wants you +to meet Wistaria." + +"Who is Wistaria?" I asked. + +They both looked at me. Then they looked at each other. + +"Hasn't Philo told you about Wistaria?" inquired the Skeptic, in evident +surprise. "Wasn't she at his----Oh, that's right--she was out of town. +Well, she's back, and you must meet her. She's a mighty fine girl--or, +if not exactly a girl, woman. Philo admires her rather more than he +condescends to admire most women, I should say. Any errands for me, +Patty? All right--good-bye, dear." + +He kissed her and ran for his car. I stood looking out of the window +after him. It struck me rather suddenly that it was a gray day outside, +with heavy clouds threatening to make the sky even darker. There was a +touch of gloom in the whole outer aspect of things. + +Hepatica immediately set about making preparations for her dinner. It +would be most informal, she assured me, and as I heard her giving her +invitations over the telephone I recognized from their character that +it would be so, even though I heard her inviting quite a party, +including Camellia and the Judge, Dahlia and the Professor, Althea and +the Promoter, and Azalea and the Cashier. A strange man, a Mining +Engineer, was included in the list, to make the tale of numbers evenly +divided. I judged he was likely to fall to me in the final disposition +of the guests at Hepatica's table, and inquired what he was like. + +"He's delightful," replied Hepatica enthusiastically. "You'll be sure to +like him. He lost his wife about five years ago, but hasn't re-married, +and lives mostly at his club, as he has no children. He's devoted to his +work, and has a good, big reputation, though he's still in the early +forties." + +Hepatica would not tell me what she meant to have for her dinner, but on +the appointed day shut herself up in her kitchen with a young woman whom +she had engaged, and would allow me only to set her table for her. As I +laid the required number of forks and spoons I realized that she meant +to be true to her word and serve a quite simple dinner. For this I was +thankful. For some reason, which I could not just understand myself, I +was dreading that dinner more than anything that had happened for a long +time. + +The evening came. I dressed without enthusiasm, putting on the pale-gray +frock which Hepatica had insisted upon, and pinning on a bunch of +violets which arrived for me at almost the last moment, without any card +in the box. Hepatica had three magnificent red roses at the same time. +It was like the Skeptic to be so thoughtful. + +The guests arrived--Camellia superbly attired, Althea gorgeously so, +Dahlia in youthful pink and white, Azalea in a demurely simple dress +whose laces were just a thought rumpled about the neck, and had to be +straightened out by my assisting fingers. Little Bud, she explained, had +insisted on hugging her violently at the last moment, before he would +allow her to come away. + +Wistaria came last, so that, as we all stood grouped about the little +rooms I had a fine chance to see her arrival. She had to go through the +room in which we were to reach Hepatica's bedroom, and I saw a tall and +graceful figure, all in black under a white evening cloak, and caught a +glimpse of a pair of brilliant dark eyes under the white silken scarf +which enveloped her hair. But when she came out, in Hepatica's company, +I saw, undisguised, one of the most attractive women I had ever met. + +"She's unusual, isn't she?" said the Skeptic in my ear, as, having +welcomed the new guest, and watched Hepatica present her to me, he fell +back at my side. Wistaria had greeted the Philosopher with the quiet +warmth of manner which means assured acquaintance, and the two had +remained together while we waited for the serving of the dinner. + +"She is very charming," I agreed. "It is her manner, quite as much as +her face, isn't it? She must be well worth knowing." + +"We think so," said he. He seemed to be regarding me quite steadily. I +wondered uneasily if I were not looking well. The rooms seemed rather +over-warm. The presence of so many people in such a small space is apt +to make the air oppressive. Also I remembered that the effect of +pale-gray is not to heighten one's colouring. + +Wistaria, all in filmy black, from which her white shoulders rose like +a flower, wore one splendid American Beauty rose. Somehow I felt, quite +suddenly, that pale-gray is a meaningless tint, the mere shadow of a +colour, of less character than white, of immeasurably less beauty than +simple black itself. I caught the Philosopher's eye apparently fixed for +a moment upon my violets, and I wondered, with a queer little sensation +of disquiet, if even they seemed to be without character also. + +Then dinner was announced, and I shook myself mentally, and looked up +smiling at my Mining Engineer, who was truly a man worth knowing and a +most pleasant gentleman besides, and went to dinner with him determined +that if I must look characterless I would not be characterless, nor make +my companion long to get away. + +Wistaria and the Philosopher sat exactly opposite. The Mining Engineer +on my one side, and the Judge on my other, kept me too busy to spend +much time in noting Wistaria's captivating presence or the Philosopher's +absorption. Yet, at moments when some sally of the Skeptic's, who sat +upon Wistaria's other side, brought the attention of the whole company +to bear upon that quarter of the table, I found myself unable to help +noting two things. One was that I had never seen the Philosopher so +roused and ready of speech; the other, that I had never quite +appreciated how distinguished he has, of late years, grown in +appearance. Possibly this was because I had not had the chance to +view him under just these conditions; possibly, also, it was because +he literally was growing distinguished in the world of scientific +research, and his name becoming one cited as an authority in a certain +important field. + +The dinner itself I cannot describe, for the sufficient reason that I +cannot now recall one solitary thing I ate. But the impression remains +with me that it was really an extraordinarily simple dinner, that +everything was delicious, and that one rose up from it with a sense of +having been daintily fed, not stuffed. I'm sure I could not pay it a +higher or a rarer compliment. + +After dinner the Promoter told stories of "deals," to which the +Professor listened curiously, watching the speaker as he might have +gently eyed some strange specimen in the world of insects or of birds. +The Judge and the Cashier hobnobbed for a while; then the Judge made his +way to the side of Wistaria and remained there for an indefinite period, +both looking deeply interested in their conversation. The Engineer +attempted to make something of Althea, but presently gave it up, spent a +few moments with Camellia, and came back to me. By and by Azalea and the +Cashier sang a duet for us, and after some persuasion Azalea then sang +alone. Altogether, the evening got on somehow--it is all very hazy in my +mind, except for one singular fact--I did not spend a moment with the +Philosopher. How this happened I do not know, and it was so unusual that +it seemed noteworthy. It was not because he was not several times in my +immediate vicinity, but I was always at the moment so engaged with +whomever happened to be talking with me that I had not time to turn and +include the Philosopher in the interview. + +When our guests departed they went together, having one and the same car +to catch. All but Wistaria, who had come in her own private carriage, +which was late in arriving to take her home. The Philosopher had +remained with her, and he took her down to her carriage. I cannot +remember seeing anything more attractive than Wistaria's personality as +she said good night, her sparkling face all winsome cordiality, her +white scarf lying lightly upon the masses of her black hair, the crimson +rose nodding from the folds of her long, white cloak. + +"Pretty fine looking pair, aren't they?" observed the Skeptic, with an +expansive grin, the moment the door had closed upon Wistaria and the +Philosopher. He threw himself into a chair and yawned mightily. +"Wistaria's almost as tall as Philo, isn't she? A superb woman." + +"I never saw her looking so well," agreed Hepatica, straightening chairs +and settling couch pillows, trailing here and there in her pretty frock +with all the energy of the early morning, as if it were not half-after +eleven by the little mantel clock. "Didn't you like her, dear?" She +threw an eager glance at me. She was in the restless mood of the hostess +who wishes to be assured that everything has gone well. + +"I was charmed with her," said I--I had not meant to take a seat again; +I was weary and wanted to get away to bed--"I never knew how beautiful +an American Beauty rose was till I saw it beneath her face." + +The Skeptic turned in his chair and looked at me. "Well done!" he cried. +"Couldn't have said it better myself. We must tell Philo that speech. +He'll be deeply gratified. He has every confidence in your taste." + +"The dinner was perfect," I went on. "I never imagined one so cleverly +planned. And everybody seemed in great spirits--there wasn't a dull +moment." + +"You dear thing!" said Hepatica, and came and dropped a kiss upon my +hair. "It's fun to do things for you, you're so appreciative. Didn't you +enjoy your Mining Engineer?" + +"He was so entertaining," said I, "that if it had been any other dinner +than that one I shouldn't have known what I was eating." + +"Hear, hear!" applauded the Skeptic. "Bouquets for us all! Didn't I make +an ideal host?" + +"Your geniality was rivalled only by your tact," I declared. + +They laughed together. Then the Skeptic sat up. He got up and strode +over to the window and peered down. "Philo is taking a disgracefully +long time to see the lady into her carriage," he observed. "I supposed +he'd be back, to talk it over, as usual. The best of entertaining is the +talking your guests over after they've gone--eh, Patty, girl? I don't +seem to see the carriage. Perhaps he's gone home with her." + +I laid my hand upon the door of my room. "I don't know why I am so +sleepy," I apologized. "It only came over me since the door closed. But +you must both be tired, too--and we have to be up in the morning at the +usual hour." + +Hepatica looked regretful, but she did not urge me to remain. I felt +guilty at leaving a wide-awake host and hostess who wanted to talk +things over, but really I--the perfume from my violets had been stealing +away my nerves all the evening. I felt that I must take them off or grow +faint at their odour, which seemed stronger as they drooped. I opened my +door, turned to smile back at the pair, and shut it upon the inside. A +moment later I was standing by my window which I had thrown wide, and +the winter wind was lifting the violets which I had already forgotten to +take off. + +I heard the murmur of voices in the room outside, but it soon ceased. +With no third person to praise the feast it was probably dull work +congratulating each other on its success. By and by--I don't know when +it happened--I heard the electric entrance-bell whirr in the tiny hall, +and the Skeptic go to answer it. Then I heard voices again--men's +voices. There was an interval. Then came a small knock at my door. I +opened it to Hepatica. + +"The Philosopher has come back," she whispered. I had not lit my +light--I had closed my window and had been sitting by it, my elbows on +the sill. Hepatica put out her hand and felt of me. "Oh, you haven't +undressed," she said. "Then won't you go out and see him? He seemed so +disappointed when Don said you had gone. It seems he's called out of +town quite suddenly--he's afraid he may not be back before you go--he +says he didn't have a chance to tell you about it this evening." + +There was no help for it--I had no excuse. I did not dare to snap on my +light and look at myself. I put my hands to my hair to feel if it was +still snug; then I went. + +Hepatica had mercifully turned off all the lights but the rose-shaded +drop-light on the reading-table and two of the electric candles in the +dining-room. It was a relief to feel the glare gone. The air from the +window had freshened me. The Philosopher stood by the reading-table, +upon which he had laid his hat. His overcoat was on a chair. Evidently +he was not waiting merely to say good-bye and go. + +The Skeptic, upon my entrance, immediately crossed the room to the door +of the hall, upon which his own room opened. "You people will excuse +me," he said. "I don't know _why_ I am so sleepy." His tone was +peculiar, and I recognized that he was quoting my words of a half-hour +before. "It only came over me since the door closed on our guests. And I +have to be up in the morning at the usual hour. But don't let that hurry +you, Philo, old man." And he vanished. + +The Philosopher looked as if he did not mean to let it hurry him. He +drew his chair near mine, facing me, after a fashion he has, and looked +at me in silence for a minute. + +"You are tired," he said. + +"A little. The rooms were very warm." + +"They were. They made the violets droop, I see." + +I put up my hand. "Yes. I meant to take them off." + +"Perhaps you don't like violets. If I could have found a bunch of +sweet-williams to send you instead, like those in your own garden, I +should have preferred it. I know what you like among summer flowers, but +with these florist's offerings I'm not so familiar. I'm afraid I'm not +much versed in the sending of flowers." + +"Did you send these?" I put my hand up to them again. They certainly +were drooping sadly. Perhaps if they had known who sent them---- + +"To be sure I did." + +"There was no card. I thought it was Don--and forgot to thank +him--luckily. Let me thank you now. They have been so sweet all the +evening." + +"Too sweet, haven't they? You looked a bit pale to-night, I thought." + +"It was my frock. Gray always makes people look pale." + +"Does it? I've liked that frock so much--and I had an idea gray and +purple went together." + +"They do--beautifully. And to-morrow, after the violets have been in +water, they'll be quite fresh--and so shall I. To tell the honest truth, +so many dinners--well, I'm not used to them. I'm just a little bit glad +to remember that spring is coming on soon, and I can get out in my old +garden and dig and rake, and watch the things come out." + +"Yes--you're one of the outdoor creatures," said the Philosopher, +leaning back in his chair in the old way--he had been sitting up quite +straight. "I understand it--I like gardens myself. And your garden most +of all. Do you realize, between your absences and my long stay in +Germany, it's three summers since I've strolled about your garden?" + +"So long? Yes, it must be." + +"But I mean to be at home this summer. Do you?" + +[Illustration: "And so we renewed the old vow"] + +"I? Yes, I think so. After so long a winter outing--or inning--I +couldn't bear to miss the garden this year. And Lad will be home--his +first vacation. He is fond of the old garden, too." + +"May I come?" asked the Philosopher rather abruptly. + +"To stroll about the garden? Haven't you always been welcome?" + +"I want a special welcome--from you--from my friend. When a man has only +one friend, that one's welcome means a good deal to him." + +"Only one! You have so many." + +"Have I? Yes, so I have, and pleasant friends they are, too. But +friendship--with only one. Come, Rhexia--you understand that as well as +I. Why pretend you don't? That's not like you." + +He was looking at me very steadily. He leaned forward, stretching out +his hand. I laid mine in it. And so we renewed the old vow. + + + + +PART III + + + + +I + +SIXTEEN MILES TO BOSWELL'S + + +"One passenger off the five-thirty, coming up the hill," announced Sue +Boswell, peering eagerly out of the Inn's office window. "That makes +nine for supper. I'll run and tell mother." + +"Nine--poor child," murmured Tom Boswell, behind the desk. "That's +certainly a great showing for a summer hotel, on the fifteenth day of +July. If we don't do better in August--the game's up." + +He stared out of the window at the approaching guest, who, escorted by +Tom's brother Tim, was climbing the road toward Boswell's Inn at a pace +which indicated no pressing anxiety to arrive. As the pair drew nearer, +Tom could see that the stranger was a rather peculiar-looking person. Of +medium height, as thin as a lath, with a nearly colourless face in which +was set a pair of black eyes with dark circles round them, the man had +somewhat the appearance of an invalid; yet an air of subdued nervous +energy about him in a measure offset the suggestion of ill-health. He +was surveying Boswell's Inn as he approached it in a comprehensive way +which seemed to take in every feature of its appearance. + +Across the desk in the small lobby the newcomer spoke curtly. "Good +room and a bath? I want an absolutely quiet room where I get no +kitchen noises or ballroom dancing. Windows with a breeze--if you've +got such a thing." + +"I can't give you the bath," Tom answered regretfully, "because we +haven't got one that goes with any room in the house. But you can have +plenty of hot and cold, in cans. The room will be quiet, all right. And +we always have a breeze up here, if there is one anywhere in the world. +Shall I show you?" + +"Lead on," assented the stranger. He had not offered to register, though +Tom had extended to him a freshly dipped pen. + +"He's going to make sure first," thought Tom, recognizing a sign of the +experienced traveller. He led the way himself, feeling, for some +reason, unwilling to hand young Tim the key and allow him to exploit the +rooms. As they mounted the stairs, Tom was rapidly considering. He had +brought along three keys--rather an unusual act on his part. It was hard +to say why he felt it necessary to bestow any special attention upon +this guest, who certainly was by no means of an imposing appearance, and +whose hot-weather dress was as careless as his manner. + +He opened the door of the first room, and the stranger looked in +silently. "I'll show you another before you decide," said Tom hurriedly, +without waiting for a comment. + +This was not his best empty room, and he felt somehow that the man who +wanted a room with a bath and a breeze knew it. He led the way on along +the hall to a corner room in the front. This was his second best. Tom +always preferred to reserve his choicest for a chance millionaire or a +possible wealthy society lady--though Heaven knew that, during the six +weeks the Inn had been open, no guest distantly resembling one or the +other of those desirable types had approached the little mountain +hostelry. + +"Anything better?" inquired the thin man, his extraordinarily quick +glance covering every detail of the room like lightning, as Tom felt. + +"Sure--if you want the bridal suit." Tom pronounced it proudly, as it +were a claw-hammer and white waistcoat. + +"Bring her on." + +Tom marched ahead to the two rooms opening on the little balcony above +the side porch, a balcony which belonged to the "bridal suite" alone, +and which commanded the finest view into the very heart of the mountains +that the house afforded. Seeing his guest--after one look around the +spotless room with its pink and white furnishings, and into the small +dressing-room beyond--stride toward the outer door, Tom threw it wide. +The guest stepped out on to the balcony. Here he pulled off his hat, +which he had not before removed, and let the breeze--for there was +unquestionably a breeze, even on this afternoon of a day which had been +one of the hottest the country had known--drift refreshingly against his +damp brow. The zephyr was strong enough even to lift slightly the thick +locks of black hair which lay above the white forehead. + +"Price for this?" asked the stranger, in his abrupt way, turning back +into the room. + +Tom mentioned it--with a little inward hesitation. The family had +differed a good deal on the question of prices for these best rooms. In +his opinion that settled upon for the bridal suite was almost +prohibitively high. Not a guest yet but had turned away with a sigh. For +a moment he had been tempted to reduce it, but he had promised the +others to stick by the decision at least through July. So he mentioned +the price firmly. + +The guest glanced sharply at him as he did so. There was a queer little +contraction of the stranger's thin upper lip. Then he said: "I'll take +'em--for the night, and you may hold 'em for me till to-morrow night. +Tell you then whether I'll stay longer." + +Tom understood, of course, that it was now a question of a satisfactory +table. But here he knew he was strong. Mother Boswell's cooking--there +was none better obtainable. He was already in a hurry to prove to this +laconic stranger who demanded the best he had of everything, including +breezes, that in the matter of food Boswell's Inn could satisfy the +most exacting. Not in elaborately dressed viands of rare kitchen +product, of course--that was not to be expected off here. But in +temptingly cooked everyday food, and in certain extras which were Mother +Boswell's specialties, and which the few people now in the Inn called +for with ever-increasing zest--though they seldom deigned to send any +special word of praise to the anxious cook--Boswell's needed to ask +forbearance of nobody. + +"I'll send your stuff up right away," said Tom, as the other man cast +his straw hat upon a chair and went over to a washstand, where hung +several snowy towels. "Have some hot water?" + +"Yes--and iced." + +"All right." Tom was off on the jump. It was certainly something to have +rented the bridal suite even for the night, but he felt more than +ordinarily curious to know who his guest was. + +"Might be a travelling man," he speculated, when he had given Tim his +orders, "though he doesn't exactly seem like one. But he looks like a +fellow who's used to getting what he wants." + +When the new guest came downstairs, at the peal of a gong through the +quiet house, Tom saw him cast one keen-eyed glance in turn at each of +the other occupants of the lobby, as they clustered about the door of +the dining-room. Seven of these were women, and of that number at least +five were elderly. Of the two younger ladies, neither presented any +special attractiveness beyond that of entire respectability. The eighth +guest was a man--a middle-aged man who was reading a book and who +carried the book into the dining-room with him, where he continued to +read it at his solitary table. + +Tom Boswell was at the elbow of the latest arrival as he entered the +dining-room, a long, low, but airy apartment, as spotless and shining in +its way as the bedroom upstairs had been. There was no head waiter, and +Tom himself piloted the new guest to a small table by a window, looking +off into the mountains on the opposite side of the house from that of +the bridal suite. The women boarders were all behind him, the solitary +man just across the way at a corresponding small table. Certainly the +proprietor of Boswell's Inn possessed that great desideratum for such +an official--tact. + +Sue Boswell, aged fifteen, in a blue-and-white print frock and white +apron so crisp that one could not discern a wrinkle in them, waited on +the new guest. She did not ask him what he would have, nor present to +him a card from which to select his meal. She brought him first a small +cup of chicken broth, steaming hot; and though he regarded this at first +as if he had no appetite whatever, after the first tentative sip he went +on to the bottom of the cup. When this was gone, Sue placed before him a +plate of corned-beef hash, an alluring pinkness showing beneath the +gratifying upper coat of brown. A small dish of cucumbers--thin, iced +cucumbers, with a French dressing--accompanied the hash; and with these +he was offered hot rolls so small and delicate and crisp that, after +cautiously sampling the butter with what seemed a fastidious palate, the +guest took to eating rolls as if he had seldom found anything so well +worth consuming. + +Something made of red raspberries and cream followed, and then half a +large cantaloupe, its golden heart filled with crushed ice, was placed +before him. Last appeared a cup of amber coffee. As the guest tasted +this beverage, a look of complete satisfaction overspread his pale face, +and he drained the cup clear and asked for more. + +Presently he strolled out into the lobby. Here Tom awaited him behind +the desk. The hotel register was open, and Tom's fingers suggestively +held a pen. The guest obeyed the hint. At an inn so small, it certainly +would be a pity for any guest not to add his name to the short list. + +For it was a very short list. Although a full month had gone by since +the first arrival had written her name, the bottom of the page had not +been quite reached when this latest one scratched his in characters +which looked quite as much like Arabic as English. When Tom came to +examine the name later, he made it out to be Perkins, though it might +quite as easily have been Tompkins, or Judson, or any other name which +had an elevated letter somewhere in the middle. The initials were quite +indecipherable. But Perkins it turned out to be, for when Tom +tentatively addressed the newcomer by that appellation there was no +correction made, and he continued to respond whenever so accosted. + +Mr. Perkins spent the evening smoking upon the porch, his head turned +toward the mountains. The next morning, when he had eaten a breakfast +which included some wonderful browned griddle-cakes and syrup--another +of the Inn's specialties--he strolled away into the middle distance and +was observed by various of the guests, from time to time, perched about +among the rocks, in idle attitudes. + +"He's a queer duck," observed Tom in the kitchen that day, describing +Mr. Perkins to his mother. Mrs. Boswell seldom appeared beyond her +special domain--that of the kitchen--but left the rest of the +housekeeping to her daughters Bertha and Sue; the management of the Inn +to Tom and Tim. "Silent as an owl. Seems to like his food--nothing +strange about that. He doesn't act sick, exactly, but tired, or bored, +or used up, somehow. Eyes like coals and sharper than a ferret's. I +can't make him out. He won't talk to anybody, except now and then a word +or two to Mr. Griffith. Never looks at the ladies, but I tell you they +look at him. Every one of 'em has a different notion about him. Anyhow, +he's taken the bridal suit for two weeks. Goes down to the post-office +for his mail--gave particular orders not to have it sent up here. That's +kind of funny, isn't it? Oh, I meant to tell you before: he's paid for +his rooms a week in advance." + +"It helps a little," said his sister Bertha. She was twenty-five years +old, and if any one of this family had the responsibility of the success +of Boswell's Inn heavily and anxiously at heart, it was Bertha. "But it +can't make up the difference. Here's July half over, and not a dozen +people in the house. What can be the matter? Isn't everything all +right?" + +"Sure it's all right," insisted Tom. "We just haven't got known, +that's all." + +"But how are we going to get known, if nobody comes? Our advertisement +in the city papers costs dreadfully, and it doesn't seem to bring +anybody." + +"Now see here," said Tom firmly, "don't you go to getting discouraged. +This is our first season. We can't expect to do much the first season. +We're prepared for that." + +But he realized, quite as clearly as his sister, that they had not been +prepared for so complete a failure as they were making. Boswell's Inn +stood only sixteen miles away from a large city, a great Western +railroad centre, into which, early and late, thousands of tourists were +pouring. The road out into the mountains was a good one, the trip easy +enough for the owners of motor cars, of whom the city held enough to +make a continuous procession all the way if only they could be headed in +the right direction. But how to head them? That was what Tom couldn't +figure out. + +On the third evening after Mr. Perkins's arrival, Tom, strolling +gloomily out upon the porch to see if any one was lingering there to +prevent his closing up, discovered Perkins sitting alone, smoking. There +had not been a new arrival that day; worse, one of the elderly ladies +had gone away. She had departed reluctantly, but her absence counted +just the same, and Tom was missing her as he had never expected to miss +any elderly lady with iron-gray curls and a cast in one eye. + +"Nice night," observed Tom to Mr. Perkins. + +"First-class." + +"Getting cooled off a bit up here?" + +"Pretty well." + +"Are, you--having everything you want?" + +Tom asked the question with some diffidence. It was a matter of regret +with him that he couldn't afford yet to put young Tim into buttons, but +without them he was sure the lad made as alert a bellboy and porter as +could be asked. + +"Nothing to complain of." + +Tom wished Mr. Perkins wouldn't be so taciturn. The proprietor of the +Inn That Couldn't Get a Start was feeling so blue to-night that speech +with some one besides his depressed family was almost a necessity. He +couldn't talk with the women; Mr. Griffith, though kindly enough, had +his nose forever buried in a book. Perkins looked as if he could talk if +he would, and have something to say, too. Tom tried to think of an +observation which would draw this silent man out. But quite suddenly, +and greatly to Tom's surprise, Mr. Perkins began to draw Tom out. Even +so, his questions were like shots from a gun, so brief and to the point +were they. + +"Doing any advertising?" broke the silence first, from a corner of the +thin mouth. Perkins's cigar had been shifted to the opposite corner. He +did not look at Tom, but continued to gaze off toward a certain curious +effect of moonlight against the rocky sides of the canyon. + +"We have a card in all the city papers." + +"Any specials? Write-ups?" + +"Well, this is our first season, and we didn't feel as if we could +afford to pay for that." + +"No pulls, eh?" + +"You mean----?" + +"No friends among the newspaper men?" + +"I don't know one. They don't seem to come up here. I wish they would." + +"Ever ask one?" + +"I don't know any," repeated Tom. + +A short laugh, more like a grunt, was Perkins's reply. Tom didn't see +what there was to laugh at in the misfortune of having no acquaintance +among the writing fellows. He waited eagerly for the next question. It +was worth a good deal to him merely to have this outsider show a spark +of interest in the fortunes of Boswell's Inn. + +"When did you open up?" It came just as he feared Perkins was going to +drop the subject. + +"The third of June." + +"Own the house?" + +"No--lease it, cheap. It's an old place, but we put all we could afford +into freshening it up." + +"Cook a permanent one?" + +The form of the question perplexed Tom for an instant, but it presently +resolved itself, and he was grinning as he replied: "Sure she is. It's +my mother. Do you like her cooking?" + +"A-1." + +Ah, Tom would tell his mother that! The young man flushed slightly in +the darkness of the porch. It was almost the first compliment that had +been paid her, and she worked like a slave, too. + +"Little waitress your sister?" + +"Yes. Sue's young, but we think she does pretty well." + +"Delivers the goods. Housekeeper a member of the family, too?" + +"Yes--and Tim's my brother. Oh, it's all in the family. The only +trouble is----" he hesitated. + +"Lack of patronage?" + +"We can't keep open much longer if things don't improve." The moment the +words were out Tom regretted them. He didn't know how he had come to +speak them. He hadn't meant to give this fact away. Certainly there had +been nothing particularly sympathetic in the tone of Perkins's choppy +questions. But the other man's next words knocked his regrets out of his +mind in a jiffy. + +"Could you entertain a dozen men at supper to-morrow night if they came +in a bunch without warning?" + +"Give us the chance!" + +"Chance might happen--better be prepared. I expect to be away over +to-morrow night myself, but have the tip that a crowd may be coming out +to sample the place. It may be a mistake--don't know." + +"We'll be ready. Would they come by train?" + +"Don't ask me--none of my picnic. Merely overheard the thing suggested." +And Perkins, rising, cast away the close-smoked stub of his cigar. +"Good-night," said he, carelessly enough, and strolled in through the +wide hall of the old stone house. Tom looked after him as he mounted the +stairs. The young innkeeper's spirits had gone up with a bound. A dozen +men to supper! Well--he thought they could entertain them. He would go +and tell his mother and Bertha on the instant; the prospect would cheer +them immensely. He wondered how or where Perkins had overheard this +rumour. At the post-office, most likely. It was a gossipy place, the +centre of the tiny burg at the foot of the mountain, an eighth of a mile +away, where a dozen small shops and half a hundred houses strung along +the one small street, at the end of which the two daily trains made +their half-minute stops. + + * * * * * + +The dozen men had come and gone. There were fourteen of them, to be +exact, and they had climbed out of a couple of big touring cars with +sounds of hilarity which made the elderly ladies jump in their chairs. +They had swarmed over the place as if they owned it, had talked and +laughed and joked and shouted, all in a perfectly agreeable way which +woke up Boswell's as if it were in the centre of somewhere instead of +off in the mountains. They had scrawled fourteen vigorous scrawls upon +the register and made it necessary to turn the page, this of itself +affording the clerk a satisfaction quite out of proportion to the +apparent unimportance of the incident. Then they had gone gayly in to +supper, had sat about two stainless tables close by the open windows, +and had been waited upon by both Sue and Tim in such alert fashion that +their plates arrived almost before they had unfurled their napkins. + +Out in the kitchen, crimson-cheeked and solicitous, Mrs. Boswell had +sent in relays of broiled chicken, young and tender, browned as only +artists of her rank can brown them, flanked by potatoes cooked in a way +known only to herself. These were two of her "specialties," which the +elderly ladies were accustomed to enjoy without mentioning it. Pickles +and jellies such as the fourteen men had tasted only in childhood +accompanied these dishes, and the little hot rolls came on in piles +which melted away before the delighted attacks of the hungry guests; so +that the kitchen itself became alarmed, and cut the elderly ladies a +trifle short, at which complaints were promptly filed, though it was the +first time such a shortage had occurred. + +Other toothsome dishes followed and were partaken of with such zest and +so many frank expressions of approval that Sue and Tim carried to the +kitchen reports which forced their mother to ask them to stop, lest she +lose her head. When the amber coffee with a fine cheese and crisp +toasted wafers ended the meal, the guests were in such a state of +satisfaction that Tom, though he did not know it, had acquired with them +his first "pull." + +He did not know it--not then. He only knew that they were very cordial +with him, asking him a good many interested questions, and that one +requested to be shown rooms, remarking that his wife and children might +like to run out for a little while before the summer was over. Most of +them looked back at the Inn as the automobiles bore them away, and one +waved his cigar genially at Tom standing on the top step. + +He was standing on the top step again the next morning when Mr. Perkins +returned. Tom was wishing Perkins had been there the night before, to +see confirmed the truth of the rumour he had reported. + +"Well, we had the crowd here last night," was Tom's greeting, as +Perkins's sharp black eyes looked up at him from the bottom step. + +"So I see." Perkins held up a morning paper. The inevitable cigar was in +his mouth. His face indicated no particular interest. He went along into +the house as Tom grasped the paper. So he saw! What did Perkins mean by +that? It couldn't be that any of that party of men had, unsolicited, +taken the trouble to---- + +But they had, or one of them had. In a fairly conspicuous position on +one of the local pages of the best city daily was an item of at least a +dozen lines setting forth the fact that a party of prominent men, +including several newspaper men, had taken supper the night before at +Boswell's Inn, Mount o' Pines, and had found that place decidedly +attractive. The paragraph stated that such a supper was seldom found at +summer hotels, added that the air and the view were worth a long trip to +obtain when the city was sweltering with heat, and ended by speaking of +the prime condition of the roads leading to the Inn. Altogether, it was +such an item as Tom had often longed to see, and the reading of it went +to his head. When, ten minutes later, Tim, coming up from the +post-office with the mail and another of the morning papers, excitedly +called Tom's attention to a second paragraph headed, "Have You Had a +Supper at Boswell's Inn?" Tom became positively delirious. + +"It pays to set it up to a bunch like that," was Perkins's comment when +Tom showed him this second free advertisement. + +"But I didn't treat them. They paid their bills," cried the young host. + +"Charge your usual price?" + +"Sure. We didn't have anything extra--except the cheese. Tim drove ten +miles for that." + +"Usual price was all the treat those fellows needed." + +"Do you mean you don't think I charge enough?" Tom's eyes opened wide. +He had felt as if he were robbing those men when he counted up the sum +total. + +"Ever dine at the Arcadia?--or the Princess?" + +"No." + +"They do." + +Tom did not know the prices at these imposing popular hotels in the +nearby city, but he supposed they were high. He felt as if he were the +greenest innkeeper who ever invited the patronage of city guests. + +"Would you advise me to put up the price?" Tom asked presently, with +some hesitation. + +Perkins glanced at him out of those worn, brilliant, black eyes of his, +which looked as if they had seen more of the world than Tom's ever would +see in the longest life he could live, though Perkins himself could +hardly be over forty, perhaps not quite that. + +"Not yet, son," said he. "By and by--yes. But keep up the quality +now--and then." + +That evening a young man, whom Tom recognized as one of the party of the +night before, the one who had waved to him as he had driven away, +appeared again. He came in a runabout this time and brought two women, +who proved to be his mother and sister. The young man himself--Mr. +Haskins--smiled genially at Tom, and said by way of explanation: + +"I liked your place so well I brought them up to see if my fairy tales +were true." + +Upon which Tom naturally did his best to make the fairy tales seem true, +and thought, by the signs he noted, that he had succeeded. + +During the following week three or four others of the men of the +original fourteen came up to Boswell's or sent small parties. Evidently +the flattering paragraphs in the two dailies had also made some +impression on people eager to get away from the intense heat of a season +more than ordinarily trying. They found the air stirring upon the +porches and through the rooms at the Inn; and they found--which was, of +course, the greater attraction--a table so inviting with appetizing +food, and an unpretentious service so satisfactory, that mouth-to-mouth +advertising of the little new resort, that most-to-be-desired means of +becoming known, began, gradually but surely, to tell. + +Strange to say, several more paragraphs now appeared: brief, crisp +mention of the simple but perfect cooking to be had for the short drive +of sixteen miles over the best of roads. These inevitably had their +effect, and at the end of the third week Tom declared to Perkins that +he was more than making expenses. + +"Much more?" inquired that gentleman, his eyes as usual upon the view. + +"Enough so we're satisfied and won't have to close up. Why, there's been +from one to three big autos here every day this week." + +One of Perkins's short laughs answered this--Tom never could tell just +what that throaty chuckle indicated. Presently he found out. + +"What you want, Boswell," said Perkins, removing his cigar--an unusual +sign of interest with him--"is a boom. I'd like to see you get it. +Gradual building up's all right, but quick methods pay better." + +"A boom! How on earth are we to get a boom?" Tom felt a bit +disconcerted. + +He had noticed for several days an increasing restlessness in the silent +guest. Instead of sitting quietly upon the porch with his cigar, Perkins +had fallen to pacing up and down with a long, nervous stride. At first +he had seemed moody and fatigued, now he had the appearance of a man +eager to be at something from which he was restrained. + +When Tom asked his startled question about the desirable boom, Perkins +got out of his chair with one abrupt movement, threw one leg over the +porch rail, and began suddenly to talk. He could not be said really to +have talked before. Tom listened, his eyes sticking out of his head. + +"Bunch of motoring fellows down in town--Mercury Club--want to get up an +auto parade, end with supper somewhere. Hotels at Lake Lucas, Pleasant +Valley, and half a dozen others all crazy to get 'em. Happen to know a +chap or two in town who could swing it out here for you if you cared to +make the bid, and could handle the crowd. Chance for you, if you want +it. Make a big thing of it--lanterns, bonfires, fireworks, +orchestra--regular blow-out." + +Tom's breath came in gasps. "Why--why----" he stammered. "How could +we--how could we--afford----What----? How----?" + +Perkins threw away the stub of his cigar, chewed to a pulp at the mouth +end. His eyes had an odd glitter. "I've what you might call a bit of +experience in that sort of thing," he said in a quiet tone which yet had +a certain edge of energy. "Going away next week, but might put this +thing through for you, if you cared to trust me." + +"But--the money?" urged Tom. + +"Willing to stand for that--pay me back, if you make enough. +Otherwise--my risk. Something of a gambler, I am. Club'll pay for the +fireworks--that's their show. Bonfires on the mountains around are easy. +Lanterns cheap. Get special terms on the music--friend of mine can. +Supper's up to you. Can you get extra help?" + +"We can manage the supper," agreed Tom, his round cheeks deeply flushed +with excitement. "Say, you're--you're awfully kind. I don't know +why----" + +Perkins vaulted over the porch rail. From the ground below he looked +back at Tom. For the first time since he had come to Boswell's Inn Tom +caught sight of the gleam of white teeth, as an oddly brilliant smile +broke out for an instant on the face which was no longer deadly white +but brown with tan. "Son," said Perkins, preparing to swing away down to +the post-office, "I told you I was a gambler. Gambler out of work's the +lamest duck on the shore. Game of booming the Inn interests me--that's +all." + +Tom watched the lithe, slim figure in the distance for a minute before +he went in to break the plan to the force of Boswell's. "He's no +gambler," said he to himself, "or I couldn't trust him the way I do. +He's queer, but I don't believe he has any other motive for this than +wanting to help us." + +With which innocent faith in the goodness of the man who had already +seen more of the world than Tom Boswell would ever see, he rushed in to +tell Bertha and the rest of his excited family the astounding talk he +had just had with Perkins. + + * * * * * + +"Mother Boswell, you've got to come out on the porch--just one +minute--and look." + +"No, no, child, I can't. I----" + +"Not where the folks are--just out on Mr. Perkins's balcony. He told me +to take you." + +"But I can't leave----" + +"Yes, you can. Everything's all right. Come--quick. The first autos are +coming--you can see 'em miles off." + +With one glance about the kitchen, where two extra helpers were busy +with the last preparations, over which Mrs. Boswell had kept a +supervising eye to the smallest detail, herself working harder than +anybody, the mistress of the place suffered herself to be led away. Up +the back stairs, through Mr. Perkins's empty rooms, out upon the +balcony, Sue hustled her mother, and then with one triumphant "There!" +swept an arm about the entire horizon. + +"My goodness!" burst from the lady's lips, and she stood gazing, +transfixed. + +At the foot of the mountainside, where lay the little village street +with its row of shops and houses, glowed a line of Chinese lanterns, +hung thickly along the entire distance. The winding road up to the Inn +was outlined by lanterns; the trees about the Inn held out long arms +dancing with the parti-coloured lights; the porch below, as could be +told by the rainbow tints thrown upon the ground beneath, was hung with +them from end to end. + +"My goodness!" came again from Mrs. Boswell, in stupefied amazement. +"There must be a thousand of those things. How on earth----?" + +But her ear was caught by a distant boom, and her eyes lifted to the +surrounding mountain heights. In a dozen different places bonfires +flashed and leaped, with an indescribable effect of beauty. + +"They're firing dynamite up on West Peak!" explained Sue. "Jack +Weatherbee offered to do that. Tim's got boys at all those places to +keep up the fires--and put 'em out afterward. Oh, look!--now you can see +the parade beginning to show!" + +Down upon the distant plain, across which lay the winding road out from +the city, one could discern a trail of light--thrown by many +searchlights--and make out its rapid advance. The sight moved Mrs. +Boswell instantly to action again. + +"I must get back to the kitchen!" she cried, and vanished from the +balcony. + +"If you could only see the Inn from outside!" Sue called after her, but +uselessly. Mrs. Boswell felt that the entire success of the "boom" +depended upon the kitchen. They might string lanterns from Boswell's to +Jericho, but if the supper shouldn't be good--the thought sent her down +the back stairs at a speed reckless for one of her years. But she +reached the bottom safely, or this story would never have been told. + +The first cars in the procession came up the steep road with open +cut-outs. The bigger cars made nothing of it; the smaller ones got into +their low gears and ground a bit as they pulled. In fifteen minutes from +the first arrival, the wide plateau upon which the Inn stood looked like +an immense garage, cars of every description having been packed in +together at all angles. Up the Inn steps flowed a steady stream of +people: men in driving attire and motor caps; women in long coats and +floating veils, under which showed pretty summer frocks; a few children, +dressed like their elders in motoring rig, their faces eager with +interest in everything. In the hall, behind a screen of flags and +evergreen, the orchestra played merrily. It presently had to play its +loudest to be heard above the chorus of voices. + +In less time than it takes to tell, every table in the airy dining-room, +lit by more Chinese lanterns and hung with streamers of bunting, was +filled. Reservations had been made by mail and telephone for the past +three days, and with a list in his hand Tom hurried about. He could +never have kept his head if it had not been for young Haskins at his +elbow. Haskins was secretary of the Mercury Club and knew everybody. He +was a genial fellow, and if anybody attempted to tell Tom that a mistake +had been made, and certain reservations should have been for the first +or second table, instead of the third, Haskins would cut in with a joke +and have the murmurer appeased and laughing in a trice. + +As for Perkins--but where was Perkins? Up to the last minute before the +first car arrived, Perkins had been in evidence enough--in fact, he had +been everywhere all day, personally supervising every detail, working +like a fiend himself and inspiring everybody else to work, proving +himself the ablest of generals and a perfect genius at effective +decoration. The Inn, inside and out, was a fairyland of light and +colour--even the sated eyes of the city people, accustomed to every +trick of effect in such affairs, were charmed with the picturesque +quality of the scene. But now Tom could see nothing of Perkins +anywhere. Tim, hurriedly questioned, shook his head, also puzzled. + +Late in the evening there came a moment when Tom could free himself long +enough to run up to Perkins's room. He was uneasy about his guest--and +friend--for that the stranger seemed to have become. Perkins certainly +didn't look quite strong--could he have overdone and be ill, alone in +his room? After one hasty knock, to which he got no answer, Tom turned +the knob. Through the open balcony door he saw a leg and shoulder--and +smelled the familiar fragrance of the special brand. + +"Hello, son!" was Perkins's greeting. + +"You're not sick?" + +"Never. Things going O. K.?" + +"Oh, splendid! Such a crowd--such a jolly crowd! But--why don't you come +down?" + +"To help make things go?" + +"No, no--to enjoy it. You've done enough. You must know some of these +people, and if you don't--it's worth something just to look at 'em. I +didn't know ladies dressed like that--under those things they wear in +the autos. Say, Mr. Perkins, the Lieutenant-Governor's here--and his +wife!" + +"So?" + +"Mr. Haskins thinks they want to stay all night. The lady hasn't been +sleeping well through the heat. Mr. Haskins says she's taken a fancy to +the Inn. But I haven't a really good room for 'em." + +"Take mine." + +Tom gasped. "Oh, no! Not yours--after all you've done----" + +"Going to-morrow, you know. It doesn't matter where I hang up to-night. +Matters a good deal where Mrs. Lieutenant-Governor hangs up." + +"But where----?" + +"Anywhere. May sit up till morning, anyhow. Feel like it. Your show sort +of goes to my head." + +"My show? Yours! But why on earth don't you come down and----?" + +"By and by, son. Say, send me some clean linen and I'll see that this +room's in shape for the lady--girls all busy yet. Room swept yesterday. +My truck's packed. I'll have things ready in ten minutes." + +Tom went downstairs feeling more than ever that his guest was an enigma. +But he was too busy to stop just then to think about it. + +The hours went by. The guests talked and laughed, ate and promenaded. +They crowded the porch to watch the fireworks on the mountain; they +swept over the smooth space and the roadway in front of the Inn, looking +up at it and remarking upon the quaint charm of it, the desirability of +its location, its attractiveness as a resort. Tom heard one pretty girl +planning a luncheon here next week; he heard a group of men talking +about entertaining a visiting delegation of bankers up here at Boswell's +out of the heat. + +Everywhere people were asking, "Why haven't we known about this?" and to +one and another Arthur Haskins, in Tom's hearing, was saying such things +as, "Just opened up. Jolly place, isn't it? Going to be the most popular +anywhere around. Deserves it, too." + +"But is the table as good every day as it is to-night?" one skeptic +inquired. + +"Better." Haskins might have been an owner of the place, he was so +prompt with his flattering statements. "First time I came up was with a +crowd of fellows. We took them unawares, and they served a supper that +made us smile all over. Their cook can't be beaten--and the service is +first-class." + +It was over at last. But it was at a late hour that the first cars began +to roll away down the hill, and later still when the last got under way. +They carried a gay company, and the final rockets, spurting from West +Peak, flashed before the faces of people in the high good humour of +those who have been successfully and uniquely entertained. + +The Lieutenant-Governor and his wife had gone to the pink and white +welcome of the bridal suite when Perkins at last came strolling +downstairs. Only Haskins's party remained in the flag-hung lobby, the +women sheathing themselves in veils, as their motor chugged at the porch +steps. + +Haskins turned as Perkins crossed the lobby. He stared an instant, then +advanced with outstretched hand, smiling. + +"Why, Mr. Parker," he said, "I didn't know you were here. Doctor Austin +was asking me to-day if I knew where you were. He seems to have got you +on his mind. He'll be delighted to see you. I'll call him--he's just +outside. He's with our party." + +With an expression half dismayed, half amused, Perkins looked after the +Mercury Club's secretary as he darted to the outer door, where a big +figure in a motoring coat was pacing up and down. + +Tom, leaning over the office desk, looked at Perkins. But Haskins had +called the man "Parker." What----? + +The big figure in the motoring coat came hurriedly in at the doorway and +grasped the hand of Tom's guest. "Parker," he cried, "what are you doing +here? Are you responsible for this panjandrum to-night? Didn't I send +you off for an absolute rest?" + +"Been obeying directions strictly, Doctor. I've lain around up here till +the grass sprouted under my feet. You haven't seen me here to-night, +have you?" + +"No, but the thing looks like one of your managing." + +"No interest in this place whatever. Never heard of it till I stumbled +on it." But Perkins's eyes were dancing. + +"You're looking a lot better, anyhow. Come out here and meet Mrs. +Austin. I want to show her the toughest patient I ever had to pull loose +from his work." + +The two went out upon the porch. Tom gazed at young Haskins, as the +latter looked at him with a smile. + +"Did he engineer this part of the thing, too, Boswell?" questioned the +young man, interestedly. + +"Sure, he did. But who is he?" + +"Didn't you know who he was? That's so--you've called him Perkins all +along, but this is the first time I've seen him here, and I didn't put +two and two together. His letters and 'phones about this supper came +from in town somewhere. Why, he's Chris Parker, the biggest hotel man in +the country. Nobody like him--he'd make the deadest hotel in the +loneliest hamlet pay in a month. Head of all the hotel organizations you +can count. Most original chap in the world. Doctor Austin was telling me +to-night about ordering him off for a rest because he'd put such a lot +of nerve tension into his schemes he was on the edge of a bad breakdown. +Well, well, you're mighty lucky if you've got him backing you. No other +man on earth could have got the Mercury Club up here to-night--a place +they'd never heard of." + +So Tom was thinking. He was still thinking it when the motor car shot +away down the hill with its load, the physician calling back at his +ex-patient: "Don't get going too soon again, Parker! So far, so good, +but don't----" + +The last words were lost in a final boom from West Peak. + +Tom went slowly out upon the porch, feeling embarrassed and uncertain. +How could he ever express his gratitude to this mighty man of valour? + +"Perkins" was sitting, as usual, astride the porch rail, the red light +of his cigar glowing against the dark background of the mountains where +the bonfires were dying to mere sparks. He looked around as Tom +appeared, and grinned in a friendly way under the Chinese lanterns. + +"Tough luck, to get caught at the last minute, eh?" he said. + +"Mr. Per--Parker----" began Tom, and stopped. + +The "biggest hotel man in the country" looked at the greenest young +innkeeper, and there was satisfaction in his bright black eyes. + +"Not any thanks, son. Should have croaked in one week more if I couldn't +have worked off a few pounds of high pressure. This sort of thing to +me's like a game to a gambler--as I told you. Had to keep incog., or I'd +have had a dozen parties from town after me on one deal or another. +Thought I could put this little stunt through without giving myself +away--but came downstairs five minutes too soon. Went off pretty +well--eh? You'll have patronage after this, all right. No--no thanks, I +said. I'm under obligations to you for trusting me to run the thing. +It's saved my life!" + +Well, if it were all a game, Tom thought, as he watched Mr. Christopher +Parker run lightly up the stairs, a few minutes later, it was certainly +a wondrous friendly one. + +_And Boswell's Inn was now known to be only sixteen short motor miles +from town._ + + + + +II + +HONOUR AND THE GIRL + + +He lay back among the crimson pillows in his big chair, close beside the +fire, with his eyes on the burning logs. A tablet and pen lay in his +lap, and he had written a few paragraphs, but he was listening now to +certain sounds which came from below stairs: voices, laughter, +scurryings up and down the hall and staircase; then the slam of a heavy +door, the tuneful ring of sleighbells in a rapid _decrescendo_ down the +street, and absolute silence within the house. Three times in the last +fifteen minutes before the door closed somebody had looked in upon the +occupant of the big chair to say something like this: + +"Oh, Jerry--sorry we couldn't spend Nan's last evening with you. Too bad +this wretched Van Antwerp dance had to come to-night--Christmas Eve, +too. Busy, aren't you, as usual? At work on those sketches of country +life in winter? You clever boy--who but you could make so much out of so +little? Anything we can do for you before we are off? Nan hates to go, +since it's the very last evening of her visit. She thought we all ought +to give up and stay with you, but we told her you disliked to be +'babied.' Well--good-night, old fellow. Don't write too late. You know +the doctor thinks plenty of sleep is part of your cure." + +That was the sort of thing they had been saying to him for a year now--a +year. And he seemed no nearer health than when he had been sent home +from his gloriously busy, abounding life in New York, where he was +succeeding brilliantly, far beyond anybody's expectations--except those +of the few knowing ones who had recognized the genius in him in his +school and college days. But he had never given up. Invalided in body, +his mind worked unceasingly; and a certain part of the literary work he +had been doing he did still. He said it kept him from going off his +head. + +When the stillness of the usually noisy house had become oppressive he +took up his tablet and pen again. He wrote a sentence or two--slowly; +then another--more slowly; and drew an impatient line through them all. +He tossed the tablet over to a table near at hand and sat staring into +the fire. Certain lines about his mouth grew deep. + +A knock on his door roused him, and he realized that it had sounded +before. "Come in," he called, and the door opened and closed behind him. +An unmistakable sound, as of the soft rustle of delicate skirts, swept +across the floor and paused behind his chair. He drew himself up among +his pillows, and strained his neck to look over his shoulder. A young +face, full of life and colour, laughed down into his. + +"You?" he said in an amazed breath. "_You?_ Why, Nan!" + +He reached up one hand and took hers and drew her with his slight +strength around where he could see her. It did not take much strength. +She came, laughing still, and sweeping a graceful low bend before him. + +"Don't ask me why," she said with a shake of her head. "I didn't want to +go. I knew I wouldn't go all the time I was dressing. But I dressed. I +knew I could argue with them better when I got this gown on. I think I +have rather a regal air in it, don't you?" + +"I could tell better if you were not wearing that shapeless thing over +it." + +"Oh, but I've taken off my gloves, and I can't stand bare arms and +shoulders here at home." She shrugged the shoulders under the thin +silken garment with which she had covered them. + +"And you're not going to the Van Antwerps' at all?" + +"Certainly not. I preferred to stay at home." + +"Why?" + +"I told you not to ask me why. But I suppose you won't talk about +anything else until you know." + +She sat down opposite him before the fire, looking up at the great +branches of holly on the chimney-piece above, their scarlet berries +gleaming saucily among the rich green of their leaves. She reached up +and pulled off a spray; then she glanced at him. He was silently +surveying her. In her delicate blue gauzy gown she was something to +look at in the fire-glow. + +"I wanted to spend my last evening here with you," she said. + +He smiled back at her. "Three people looked in here this evening and +told me you thought you ought." + +She answered indignantly: "I didn't say I ought. I didn't think it. I +wanted to. And I didn't want them to stay. That is why I let them all +array themselves before I refused to go." + +He was still smiling. "Delicate flattery," he said, "adapted to an +invalid. You should never let an invalid think you pity him--at least +not a man-invalid who got knocked out while playing a vigorous game for +all it was worth." + +"Jerry," she said, looking full at him out of a pair of eyes which were +capable of saying eloquent things quite by themselves, "do you think all +the hours I've spent with you in this month I've been visiting Hester +were spent from pity?" + +"I hope not," he answered lightly. "I'm sure not. We've had some +pleasant times, haven't we?" + +She turned from him without speaking, and, clasping her hands loosely +in front of her, bent forward and studied the fire. Presently she got up +and took a fresh log from the basket. + +"Be careful," he warned, as she stooped to lay it in place. "Put it on +gently. The sparks might fly, and that cobweb dress of yours----" + +She laid the log across the other half-burnt sticks, and started back +with a little cry as a dozen brilliant points of flame flew toward her. + +"Don't do that again," he protested sternly, with nothing of the invalid +in his voice. "I don't like to see you do such things when I couldn't +stir to save you no matter what happened." + +She stood looking down at him. "Jerry," she said, "I'll tell you why I +stayed to-night. I wanted to talk with you about something. I want your +help." + +His eyes told her that he would give it if he could. + +"Do you mind if I sit on a pillow here before the fire?" she asked, +bringing one from the couch. Jerry had plenty of pillows. Since his +breakdown every girl who had ever known him had sent him a fresh one. + +"Somehow I can talk better," she explained. + +She settled herself on her cushion, her blue skirts lying in light folds +about her, her chin on her hand, her elbow on her knee. + +"I always go straight to the point," she said. "I never know how to lead +artfully up to a thing. Jerry, you know I go to Paris in January, to do +some special work in illustrating?" + +"Yes." + +"I go with Aunt Elizabeth, and we shall live very quietly and properly, +and I shall not have any of the--trials--so many young women workers +have. My work will keep me very busy, and, I think, happy. I mean it +shall. But, Jerry--I want something. You know you have always known me, +because I was Hester's friend." + +"Is this 'straight to the point'?" he asked, and there was a gleam of +fun in his eyes, though his lips were sober. But his interest was +unmistakable. + +"Very straight. But we have never been special friends, you and I." + +"Haven't we? I congratulated myself we had." + +"Not what I mean by that word." She sat looking into the fire for some +little time, while he remained motionless, watching her, his eyes shaded +by his hand. At length she said very earnestly, still staring fireward, +while her cheeks took on a slight access of colour: + +"I want to feel I have a friend--one friend--a real one, whom I leave +behind me here--who will understand me and write to me, and whom I can +count on--differently from the way I count on other friends." + +He was studying her absorbedly. There came into his eyes a peculiar look +as she made her frank statement. + +"Then you haven't just that sort of a friend among all the men you know +at home?" + +"Not a single one. And I miss it. Not because I have ever had it," she +added quickly. + +He was silent for a little while, then he said very quietly: "You are +offering me a good deal, Nan. Do you realize just how much? +Friendship--such friendship--means more to me now than it ever did +before." + +"Does it?" she asked with equal quietness. "I'm glad of that." + +"Because," he went on gravely, "I realize that it is the only thing I +can ever have, and it must take the place of all I once--hoped for." + +"Oh, why do you say that?" she cried impetuously. + +"Since you are to be my friend now--my special friend--I can tell you +what Doctor McDonough told me just two days ago. May I tell you that? I +have told and shall tell no one else. Before you take the vows"--he +smiled grimly--"you should know what you are accepting." + +"Tell me." + +"He said I might be better--much better--but I could never hope to +be--my old self again." + +"Oh, Jerry! Oh, Jerry!" Her voice was almost a sob. She turned about and +reached up both hands to him, clasping his with a warm and tender +pressure. + +"Is that what your friendship means?" he asked, holding her hands +closely and looking down steadily into her eyes while his own grew +brilliant. "If it does--it is going to be something a man might give up +a good deal for." + +"Oh, how can you take such a cruel disappointment so?" she breathed. +"And to hear it just at Christmas, too. I've said all along that you +were just the bravest person I ever knew. But now!--Jerry, I'm not +worthy to be your friend." + +"Ah, I'll not let you take back what you offered me. If you knew how +I've wanted to ask it----" + +"Have you, really?" she asked so eagerly that he turned his head away +for a moment and set his lips firmly together as if he feared he might +presently be tempted to go beyond those strait boundaries of friendship. +Somehow from the lips of such a girl as Nan this sort of thing was the +most appealing flattery; at the same time it was unquestionably sincere. + +"So you will seal the compact? Think it over carefully. I can never give +you the strong arm a well man could." + +"If you will teach me to acquire the sort of strength you have learned +yourself," she said--and there was a hint of mistiness about those eyes +of hers--"you will have given me something worth while." + +Presently they were talking of her journey, to be begun on the morrow; +of her work, in which she had come in the last year to remarkable +success; of his work--the part which he could do and would continue to +do, he said, with added vigour. They talked quietly but earnestly, and +each time she looked up into his face she saw there a new brightness, +something beyond the mere patient acceptance of his hard trial. + +"Jerry," she said all at once, breaking off in the midst of a discussion +of certain phases of the illustrator's art, "you don't know how suddenly +rich I feel. All the while you were doing such wonderful, beautiful +things with your pen in New York and being made so much of, I was +thinking, 'What an inspiration Jerrold Fullerton would be as a real +friend.' But all the girls were----" + +He laughed. "They won't trouble you, now." + +"But your friendship is worth more now than then." + +He shook his head. + +"It is--because _you_ are more than you were then." + +"I'm a mere wreck of what I was, Nan." He did not say it bitterly, but +he could not quite keep the sadness out of the uncompromising phrase. + +She looked up at him, studying his face intently. It had always been a +remarkably fine face, and on it the suffering of the past year had done +a certain work which added to its beauty. He did not look ill, but the +refinement which illness sometimes lends to faces of a somewhat too +strongly cut type had softened it into an exceeding charm. Out of it the +eyes shone with an undaunted spirit which told of hidden fires. + +"I am glad a share in the wreckage falls to me," she said softly. + +"Nan," he told her, while his lips broke irresistibly into a smile +again, "I believe you are deliberately trying to burn a sweet incense +before me to-night. Just how fragrant it is to a fellow in my shape I +can't tell you. You would never do it if I were on my feet, I appreciate +that; but I'm very grateful just the same." + +"I'd like," she said with eyes which fell now to the hands folded in her +lap--and the droop of her head as he saw it, with the turned-away +profile cut like an exquisite silhouette against the fire, was burnt +into his memory afterward--"to have you remember this Christmas Eve--as +I shall." + +"Remember it!" + +"Shall you?" + +"Shall I!" + +"Ah--who is deliberately trying to say nice things now?" But she said it +rather faintly. + +He lay back among his pillows with a long breath. "So you go to-morrow +morning?" + +"Early--at six o'clock. You will not see me. And I must go now. See, it +is after eleven. Think of their making me go out this evening when I +must be up at five and travel the next forty-eight hours. On Christmas +Day, too. Isn't that too bad? But that's the price of my staying over to +spend Christmas Eve with Jerry Fullerton--like the foolish girl that I +am." + +She rose and stood before him. + +"Would you mind slipping off that--domino?" he requested. "I'd like to +see you just as all the other fellows would have seen you if you had +gone to the Van Antwerps'." + +Smiling, and flushing a little, she drew off the silken garment, and the +firelight bathed her softly rounded shoulders and arms in a rosy glow. +He looked at her silently for a minute, until she said again that she +must go, and took a step toward him, smiling down at him and holding out +both hands. + +"I don't know how I can spare my friend, when I've just found her," he +said, searching her face with an intentness she found it difficult to +bear. "I suppose I ought not to ask it, but--it's Christmas Eve, you +know--and--you'll give me one more thing to remember--won't you, Nan?" + +She bent, like a warm-hearted child, and laid her lips lightly upon his +forehead, but he caught her hands. + +"Is that the proper degree for friendship--and you feel that more would +be too much?" + +She hesitated; then, as his grasp drew her, she stooped lower, blushing +beautifully, to give the kiss upon his lips. But it was not the breath +of a caress she would have made it. Invalids are sometimes possessed of +unsuspected reserves of strength. + +She turned away then in a pretty confusion, said, "Good-night," and +went slowly toward the door. + +"Oh, come back!" he cried. "Tell me--you will write often?" + +"Oh, yes; every--month." + +"Month? Won't you write every mail?" + +"Oh, Jerry!" + +"Every week, then?" + +"Will you?" + +"I will, whether you do or not." + +"Your ideas of friendship----" + +"Are they too exacting?" + +"No-o," she admitted, as if reluctantly. She was behind him now, her +hands clasped together tightly, her eyes glowing with the light of a +frightened purpose which was over-mastering her. He tried to turn and +see her, but she defeated this. + +"Please come here," he begged. + +She was silent, trying to breathe more naturally. + +"Please----" + +"What good will it do?" she asked at last. "I shall have to go, and +you--won't----" + +"Won't--what?" + +She crept up close behind his chair. + +"--_say it_," she whispered. + +He reached out his hand with a commanding gesture. "Nan, come here. +Say--what?" + +She bent over the back of his chair and laid a soft, trembling hand on +each side of his face. + +"Please say it," she breathed. + +He seized her hands and drew them to his lips. "Nan, you are tempting me +almost beyond my power. Do you mean to tempt me? Are you trying to?" + +She leaned low, so that her breath swept his cheek, and whispered, +"Yes." + +"Oh, my God," he groaned. "Nan--are you insane? What if I say it--then +how much worse will it be? I can bear it better as it is now--and +you--can't mean it." + +"_Say it!_" came the breath in his ear again. + +He was silent for a while, breathing heavily. Presently he began to +speak in a quiet tone whose vibrations showed, nevertheless, the most +rigid self-control. He still held her hands, resting there upon his +shoulders, but he made no further effort to see her face. + +"Nan," he said, "this friendship you give me is the dearest thing I ever +knew. It is worth everything to me. Let me keep it while you go away +for your year of work. Be the warmest friend to me you know how, and +write me everything about yourself. Meanwhile--keep your heart free +for--the man will surely come to claim it some day--a man who will be +worthy of you in every way, soul, mind, and--body. I shall be happy in +your----" + +Her hand pulled itself away from his, and was laid with a gentle +insistence upon his mouth. + +"Jerry," she said very softly, "that's enough--please. I understand. +That had to be said. I knew you would say it. It's what you think you +ought to say, of course. But--it's said now. You needn't repeat it. For +it's not the thing--I'm waiting for you to say." + +"Nan----" + +"Would you make a poor girl do it all?" she questioned, with a +suggestion of both laughter and tears in her voice. + +"But, Nan----" + +"I'm not used to it," she urged. "It's very embarrassing. And I ought to +be asleep this minute, getting ready for my early start. I'm not quite +sure that I shall sleep if you say it"--her voice dropped to a whisper +again--"but I'm sure I shall not if--you--don't." + +"My dear girl----" + +"That's hardly warm enough, is it--under the circumstances--when you +won't see me for a year? Jerry--a whole year----" + +"Nan--for the love of Heaven come around here!" + +"Not so much for the love of Heaven as----" + +"No--for the love of you--you--_you!_" + +She came at last--and then she saw his eyes. But she could not meet them +after the first glance. She lay in his arms, held there by a grasp so +strong that it astonished her beyond measure. So, for a time; then he +began to speak--in her ear now, where, in its pinkness, with a little +brown curl touching his lips, it listened. + +"You've made me say it, dear, when for your sake I would have kept it +back. But you know--you must know, nothing can come of it." + +He heard her murmur, "Why?" + +"You know why." + +"I don't." + +He drew a deep breath. + +"Don't you want me?" she asked--into his shoulder. + +"Want you!" + +"You've everything to offer me." + +"Nan----" + +"Everything I want. Jerry"--she lifted her head and looked for an +instant into his eyes--"I shall die of heartache if you won't offer it." + +"A wreck of a life----" + +"I won't let you call it that again," she flashed. "You--Jerrold +Fullerton--whose merest scrawl is reviewed by every literary editor in +the land. Do you think you can't do still better work with--with me?" + +"But you wouldn't be marrying Jerrold Fullerton's mind alone." + +"No--his soul--all there is of him--his great personality--himself. And +that's so much more than I can give in return----" + +"Nan, darling----" + +"Yes----" + +"Go to Paris for a year, but don't bind yourself to me. Then, when you +come back, if----" + +"If I'm still of the same mind----Jerry, you sound like the counsel of a +wise and worldly grandmother," with a gleeful laugh. + +"--if I'm no worse--if I'm a little better----This is great medicine, +Nan. I feel like a new man now. If then----" + +"I shall not go at all unless--unless----" + +"Yes----" + +"--unless I am bound tight--tight--to you. I--I shouldn't feel sure of +you!" + +"Oh, there's no use resisting you," he said, half under his breath. +"It's the sorriest bargain a woman ever made, but----" + +"If she will make it----" + +"Look at me, Nan." + +"I can't--long," she complained. "Somehow you--you--blind me." + +He laughed softly. "I realize that--you are blind--blind. But I can't +open your eyes. Somehow I'm losing the strength to try." + +"I must go now," she said gently, trying to release herself. "Really I +must! Yes, I must! Please, Jerry--let me go, dear----Yes, yes--you +must!" It took time, however, and was accomplished with extreme +difficulty. "But I _can_ go now. I couldn't when I said good-night +before----Oh! it's striking twelve! Good-night, Jerry----Merry +Christmas, Jerry!" + +Before she quite went, however, she came back once more to lean over the +back of his chair and whisper in his ear: + +"Jerry----" + +"Yes?" + +"Am I really--engaged--to you?" + +"Darling--bless you--I'm afraid you are." + +"Afraid?" + +"Nan--I'm the happiest cripple on earth." + +So she went softly out and closed the door. But it was not to sleep. As +for the man she left behind, his eyes looked into the smouldering fire +till well toward morning. It was not the doctor's prescription, but it +was the beginning of his cure. + + + + +III + +THEIR WORD OF HONOUR + + +The president of the Great B---- railway system laid down the letter he +had just re-read three times, and turned about in his chair with an +expression of annoyance. + +"I wish it were possible," he said slowly, "to find one boy or man in a +thousand who would receive instructions and carry them out to the letter +without a single variation from the course laid down. Cornelius"--he +looked up sharply at his son, who sat at a desk close by--"I hope you +are carrying out my ideas with regard to your sons. I've not seen much +of them lately. The lad Cyrus seems to me a promising fellow, but I'm +not so sure of Cornelius. He appears to be acquiring a sense of his own +importance as Cornelius Woodbridge, 3d, which is not desirable, sir--not +desirable. By the way, Cornelius, have you yet applied the Hezekiah +Woodbridge test to your boys?" + +Cornelius Woodbridge, Junior, looked up from his work with a smile. "No, +I haven't, father," he said. + +"It's a family tradition, and if the proper care has been taken that the +boys should not learn of it, it will be as much of a test for them as it +was for you and for me, and for my father. You have not forgotten the +day I gave it to you, Cornelius?" + +"That would be impossible," said his son, still smiling. + +The elder man's somewhat stern features relaxed, and he sat back in his +chair with a chuckle. "Do it at once," he requested, "and make it a +stiff one. You know their characteristics; give it to them hard. I feel +pretty sure of Cyrus, but Cornelius----" He shook his head doubtfully +and returned to his letter. Suddenly he wheeled about again. + +"Do it Thursday, Cornelius," he said in his peremptory way, "and +whichever one of them stands it shall go with us on the tour of +inspection. That will be reward enough, I fancy." + +"Very well, sir," replied his son, and the two men went on with their +work without further words. They were in the habit of dispatching +important business with the smallest possible waste of breath. + +On Thursday morning, immediately after breakfast, Cyrus Woodbridge found +himself summoned to his father's library. He presented himself at once, +a round-cheeked, bright-eyed lad of fifteen, with an air of alertness in +every line of him. + +"Cyrus," said his father, "I have a commission for you to undertake, of +a character which I cannot now explain to you. I want you to take this +envelope"--he held out a large and bulky packet--"and without saying +anything to any one follow its instructions to the letter. I ask of you +your word of honour that you will do so." + +The two pairs of eyes looked into each other for a moment, singularly +alike in a certain intent expression, developed into great keenness in +the man, but showing as yet only an extreme wide-awakeness in the boy. +Cyrus Woodbridge had an engagement with a young friend in half an hour, +but he responded firmly: + +"I will, sir." + +"On your honour?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"That is all I want. Go to your room and read your instructions. Then +start at once." + +Mr. Woodbridge turned back to his desk with the nod and smile of +dismissal to which Cyrus was accustomed. The boy went to his room, +opening the envelope as soon as he had closed the door. It was filled +with smaller envelopes, numbered in regular order. Enfolding these was a +typewritten paper which read as follows: + + Go to the reading-room of the Westchester Library. There open + Env. No. 1. Remember to hold all instructions secret. C. W., Jr. + +Cyrus whistled. "That's funny!" he thought. "And it means my date with +Harold is off. Well, here goes!" + +On his way out he stopped to telephone his friend of his detention, took +a Westchester Avenue car at the nearest point, and in twenty minutes was +at the library. He found an obscure corner and opened "Env. No. 1." + + Go to office of W. K. Newton, Room 703, seventh floor, Norwalk + Building, X Street, reaching there by 9:30 A. M. Ask for letter + addressed to Cornelius Woodbridge, Jr. On way down elevator open + Env. No. 2. C. W., Jr. + +Cyrus began to laugh. At the same time he felt a trifle irritated. +"What's father at?" he questioned, in perplexity. "Here I am away +uptown, and he orders me back to the Norwalk Building. I passed it on my +way up. Must be he made a mistake. Told me to obey instructions, though. +He usually knows just about why he does things." + +Meanwhile Mr. Woodbridge had sent for his elder son, Cornelius. A tall +youth of seventeen, with the strong family features, varied by a droop +in the eyelids and a slight drawl in the speech, lounged to the door of +the library. Before entering he straightened his shoulders; he did not, +however, quicken his pace. + +"Cornelius," said his father promptly, "I wish to send you upon an +errand of some importance, but of possible inconvenience to you. I have +not time to give you instructions, but you will find them in this +envelope. I ask you to keep the matter and your movements strictly to +yourself. May I have from you your word of honour that I can trust you +to follow the orders to the smallest detail?" + +Cornelius put on a pair of eyeglasses, and held out his hand for the +envelope. His manner was nonchalant to the point of indifference. + +Mr. Woodbridge withheld the packet and spoke with decision: + +"I cannot allow you to look at the instructions until I have your word +of honour that you will fulfil them." + +"Isn't that asking a good deal, sir?" + +"Perhaps so," said Mr. Woodbridge, "but no more than is asked of trusted +messengers every day. I will assure you that the instructions are mine +and represent my wishes." + +"How long will it take?" inquired Cornelius, stooping to flick an +imperceptible spot of dust from his trousers. + +"I do not find it necessary to tell you." Something in his father's +voice sent the languid Cornelius to an erect position and quickened his +speech. + +"Of course I will go," he said, but he did not speak with enthusiasm. + +"And--your word of honour?" + +"Certainly, sir." The hesitation before the promise was momentary. + +"Very well. I will trust you. Go to your room before opening your +instructions." + +And the second somewhat mystified boy went out of the library on that +memorable Thursday morning, to find his first order one which sent him +to a remote district of the city, with the direction to arrive there +within three quarters of an hour. + +Out on an electric car Cyrus was speeding to another suburb. After +getting the letter from the seventh floor of the Norwalk Building, he +had read: + + Take cross-town car on L Street, transfer to Louisville Avenue, + and go out to Kingston Heights. Find corner West and Dwight + streets and open Env. No. 3. C. W. Jr. + +Cyrus was growing more and more puzzled, but he was also getting +interested. At the corner specified he hurriedly tore open No. 3, but +found, to his amazement, only the singular direction: + + Take Suburban Elevated Road for Duane Street Station. From there + go to _Sentinel_ Office and secure third edition of yesterday's + paper. Open Env. No. 4. C. W. Jr. + +"Well, what under the sun, moon, and stars did he send me out to +Kingston Heights for?" cried Cyrus aloud. He caught the next train, +thinking longingly of his broken engagement with Harold Dunning, and of +certain plans for the afternoon which he was beginning to fear might be +thwarted if this seemingly endless and aimless excursion continued. He +looked at the packet of unopened envelopes. + +"It would be mighty easy to break open the whole outfit and see what +this game is," he thought. "Never knew father to do a thing like this +before. If it's a joke"--his fingers felt the seal of "Env. No. 4"--"I +might as well find it out at once. Still, father never would joke with a +fellow's promise the way he asked it of me. 'My word of honour'--that's +putting it pretty strong. I'll see it through, of course. My, but I'm +getting hungry! It must be near luncheon-time." + +It was not; but by the time Cyrus had been ordered twice across the city +and once up a sixteen-story building in which the elevator was out of +order it was past noon, and he was in a condition to find "Env. No. 7" a +very satisfactory one: + + Go to Café Reynard on Westchester Square. Take seat at table in + left alcove. Ask waiter for card of Cornelius Woodbridge, Jr. + Before ordering luncheon read Env. No. 8. C. W. Jr. + +The boy lost no time in obeying this command, and sank into his chair in +the designated alcove with a sigh of relief. He mopped his brow and +drank off a glass of ice water at a gulp. It was a warm October day, and +the sixteen flights had been somewhat trying. He asked for his father's +card, and then sat studying the attractive menu. The Café Reynard was a +place famous the country over for its cookery. + +"I think I'll have--" he mused for a moment then said helplessly with a +laugh--"well, I'm about hungry enough to eat the whole thing. Bring me +the----" + +Then he recollected, paused, and reluctantly pulled out "Env. No. 8" and +broke the seal. "Just a minute," he murmured to the waiter. Then his +face turned scarlet, and he stammered under his breath, "Why--why--this +can't be----" + +"Env. No. 8" ought to have been bordered with black, judging by the +dismay it caused the famished lad. It read remorselessly: + + Leave Café immediately, without stopping for luncheon, + remembering to fee waiter for place retained. Proceed to + box office, Metropolitan Theatre, buy a parquet ticket for + matinée--"The Pied Piper." At end of first act read Env. + No. 9. C. W. Jr. + +The Woodbridge blood was up now, and it was with an expression +resembling that of his Grandfather Cornelius under strong indignation +that Cyrus stalked out of that charming place to proceed grimly toward +the Metropolitan Theatre. + +"Who wants to see a matinée on an empty stomach?" he groaned. "I suppose +I'll be ordered out, anyway, the minute I sit down and stretch my legs. +Wonder if father can be exactly right in his mind. He doesn't believe in +wasting time, but I'm wasting it to-day by the bucketful. Suppose he's +doing this to size me up some way; he isn't going to tire me out as +quick as he thinks. I'll keep going till I drop." + +Nevertheless, when at the end of the first act of a pretty play by a +well-trained company of school children he was ordered to go three miles +to a football field, and then ordered away again without a sight of the +game he had planned for a week to see, his disgust was intense. + +All through that long, warm afternoon he raced about the city and +suburbs, growing wearier and more empty with every step. The worst of it +was the orders were beginning to assume the form of a schedule, and +commanded that he be here at 3:15, and there at 4:05, and so on, which +forbade loitering had he been inclined to loiter. In it all he could see +no purpose, except the possible one of trying his physical endurance. He +was a strong boy, or he would have been quite exhausted long before he +reached "Env. No. 17," which was the last but three of the packet. This +read: + + Reach home at 6:20 P. M. Before entering house read + No. 18. C. W., Jr. + +Leaning against one of the big white stone pillars of the porch of his +home, Cyrus wearily tore open No. 18--and the words fairly swam before +his eyes. He had to rub them hard to make sure that he was not mistaken. + + Go again to Kingston Heights, corner West and Dwight streets, + reaching there by 6:50. Read No. 19. C. W., Jr. + +The boy looked up at the windows, desperately angry at last. If his +pride and his sense of the meaning of that phrase, "My word of honour," +as the men of the Woodbridge family were in the habit of teaching it to +their sons, had not been both of the strongest sort, he would have +rebelled and gone defiantly and stormily in. As it was, he stood for one +long minute with his hands clenched and his teeth set; then he turned +and walked down the steps, away from the longed-for dinner, and out +toward L Street and the car for Kingston Heights. + +As he did so, inside the house, on the other side of the curtain, from +behind which he had been anxiously peering, Cornelius Woodbridge, +Senior, turned about and struck his hands together, rubbing them in a +satisfied way. + +"He's come--and gone," he cried softly, "and he's on time to the +minute!" + +Cornelius, Junior, did not so much as lift his eyes from the evening +paper, as he quietly answered, "Is he?" But the corners of his mouth +slightly relaxed. One who knew him well might have guessed that he +thought it a simple matter to risk any number of chances on a sure +thing. + +The car seemed to crawl out to Kingston Heights. As it at last neared +its terminus, a strong temptation seized the boy Cyrus. He had been on a +purposeless errand to this place once that day. The corner of West and +Dwight streets lay more than half a mile from the end of the car route, +and it was an almost untenanted district. His legs were very tired; his +stomach ached with emptiness. Why not wait out the interval which it +would take to walk to the corner and back in the little suburban +station, read "Env. No. 19," and spare himself? He had certainly done +enough to prove that he was a faithful messenger. + +Had he? Certain old and well-worn words came into his mind: they had +been in his "writing-book" in his early school-days: "_A chain is no +stronger than its weakest link._" Cyrus jumped off the car before it +fairly stopped and started at a hot pace for the corner of West and +Dwight streets. There must be no weak places in his word of honour. + +Doggedly he went to the extreme limit of the indicated route, even +taking the longest way round to make the turn. As he started back, +beneath the arc light at the corner there suddenly appeared a city +messenger boy. He approached Cyrus grinning, and held out an envelope. + +"Ordered to give you this," he said, "if you made connections. If you'd +been later than five minutes past seven, I was to keep dark. You've got +seven minutes and a half to spare. Queer orders, but the big railroad +boss, Woodbridge, give 'em to me." + +Cyrus made his way back to the car with some self-congratulations that +served to brace up the muscles behind his knees. This last incident +showed him plainly that his father was putting him to a severe test of +some sort, and he could have no doubt that it was for a purpose. His +father was the kind of man who does things with a very definite purpose +indeed. Cyrus looked back over the day with an anxious searching of his +memory to be sure that no detail of the singular service required of +him had been slighted. + +As he once more ascended the steps of his own home, he was so confident +that his labours were now ended that he almost forgot about "Env. No. +20" which he had been directed to read in the vestibule before entering +the house. With his thumb on the bell-button he recollected, and with a +sigh broke open the final seal: + + Turn about and go to Lenox Street Station, B---- Railroad, + reaching there by 8.05. Wait for messenger in west end of + station, by telegraph office. C. W., Jr. + +It was a blow, but Cyrus had his second wind now. He felt like a +machine--a hollow one--which could keep on going indefinitely. + +"I know how an automobile feels," he said to himself, "rolling about +from one place to another--never knowing where it's due next--always +waiting outside--never getting fed. Wonder if eating is on this +schedule. I'd have laid in something besides a chop and a roll this +morning at breakfast if I'd known what was ahead." + +The Lenox Station was easily reached on time. The hands of the big clock +were only at one minute past eight when Cyrus entered. At the designated +spot the messenger met him. Cyrus recognized the man as a porter on one +of the trains of the road of which his grandfather and father were +officers. Why, yes, he was the porter of the Woodbridge special car! He +brought the boy a card which ran thus: + + Give porter the letter from Norwalk Building, the card + received at restaurant, the matinée coupon, yesterday + evening's _Sentinel_, and the envelope received at + Kingston Heights. C. W., Jr. + +Cyrus silently delivered up these articles, feeling a sense of +thankfulness that not one was missing. The porter went away with them, +but was back in three minutes. + +"This way, sir," he said, and Cyrus followed, his heart beating fast. +Down the track he recognized the "Fleetwing," President Woodbridge's +private car. And Grandfather Cornelius he knew to be just starting on a +tour of his own and other roads, which included a flying trip to Mexico. +Could it be possible---- + +In the car his father and grandfather rose to meet him. Cornelius +Woodbridge, Senior, was holding out his hand. + +"Cyrus, lad," he said, his face one broad, triumphant smile, "you have +stood the test--the Hezekiah Woodbridge test, sir--and you may be proud +of it. Your word of honour can be depended upon. You are going with us +through nineteen states and Mexico. Is that reward enough for one day's +hardship?" + +"I think it is, sir," agreed Cyrus, his round face reflecting his +grandfather's smile, intensified. + +"Was it a hard pull, Cyrus?" questioned the elder Woodbridge with +interest. + +Cyrus looked at his father. "I don't think so--now, sir," he said. Both +gentlemen laughed. + +"Are you hungry?" + +"Well, just a little, grandfather." + +"Dinner will be served the moment we are off. We've only six minutes to +wait. I'm afraid--I'm very much afraid"--the old gentleman turned to +gaze searchingly out of the car window into the station--"that another +boy's word of honour isn't----" + +He stood, watch in hand. The conductor came in and remained, awaiting +orders. "Two minutes more, Mr. Jefferson," he said. "One and a +half----one half a minute." He spoke sternly: "Pull out at 8:14 on the +second, sir. Ah----" + +The porter entered hurriedly, and delivered a handful of envelopes into +Grandfather Cornelius's grasp. The old gentleman scanned them at a +glance. + +"Yes--yes--all right!" he cried, with the strongest evidences of +excitement Cyrus had ever seen in his usually imperturbable manner. As +the train made its first gentle motion of departure, a figure appeared +in the doorway. Quietly, not at all out of breath, and with precisely +his own nonchalant manner, Cornelius Woodbridge 3d walked into the car. + +Then Grandfather Woodbridge grew impressive. He advanced and shook hands +with his grandson as if he were greeting a distinguished member of the +board of directors. Then he turned to his son and shook hands with him +also, solemnly. His eyes shone through his gold-rimmed spectacles, but +his voice was grave with feeling. + +"I congratulate you, Cornelius," he said, "on possessing two sons whose +word of honour is of the sort to satisfy the Hezekiah Woodbridge +standard. The smallest deviation from the outlined schedule would have +resulted disastrously. Ten minutes' tardiness at the different points +would have failed to obtain the requisite documents. Your sons did not +fail. They can be depended upon. The world is in search of men built on +those lines. I congratulate you, sir." + +Cyrus was glad presently to escape to his stateroom with Cornelius. +"Say, what did you have to do?" he asked eagerly. "Did you trot your +legs off all over town?" + +"Not much, I didn't!" said Cornelius, grimly, from the depths of a big +towel. "I spent the whole day in a little hole of a room at the top of +an empty building, with just ten trips down the stairs to the ground +floor to get envelopes at certain minutes. Not a crumb to eat nor a +thing to do. Couldn't even snatch a nap for fear I'd oversleep one of my +dates at the bottom. Had five engagements, too--one with Helena Fowler +at the links. All I could do was to cut 'em and stick it out. +Casabianca was nothing to me." + +"I believe that was worse than mine," commented Cyrus reflectively. + +"I should say it was. If you don't think so, try it." + +"Dinner, boys," said their father's voice at the door, and they lost no +time in responding. When they had taken their seats and the waiter came +for Cornelius's order, that youth simply pushed the card of the +elaborate menu to one side, and said emphatically, quite without his +customary drawl: "Bring me everything, and twice of it." + +"Me, too!" said Cyrus, with enthusiasm. + + + + +IV + +HALF A LEAGUE ONWARD + + +The Rev. Arthur Thorndyke stirred at his desk with a vague impatience on +account of a little droning sound which had been bothering him for the +last ten minutes without his realizing what it was. He recognized at +last that it was the boy David, in the alcove, where he had asked to be +allowed to stay, promising not to bother Uncle Arthur with his work. For +Uncle Arthur was very busy with his Memorial Day address. At least he +was struggling desperately to be very busy with it, although so far he +had succeeded only in spoiling half a dozen sheets of paper with as many +inadequate introductions. + +"For you see, Major," Arthur Thorndyke had explained to the boy, when he +had come tap-tapping on his crutches into his uncle's study that +morning, "this is such very new business to me. I'm having a pretty +hard time trying to think of anything good and fine enough to say to +the men in blue--and gray--and brown, for we have all sorts here, you +know." + +It was true that Uncle Arthur was a very boyish-looking uncle; but he +was tall and big, and he had been preaching for a year now, and David +thought that he preached very good sermons indeed. Besides, he had been +in the Spanish War, one of the youngest privates in Uncle Stephen's +company, and he ought to know all about it, even though he had really +been in very few engagements. + +"I guess you can do it, Uncle Arthur," said David comfortingly. "And +I'll keep very still in the alcove. I would play somewhere else, only, +you see, it's the only window that looks out over the square, and my +playing is out there." + +Uncle Arthur had not taken time to ask him what he meant, but afterward, +when the little droning sound had begun to annoy him, he found out. He +peeped in between the curtains of the alcove, and saw at once what was +out in the square. It was the major's "regiment." To other people the +square might have seemed to be a very quiet place, full of trees and +May sunshine, with a few babies and nurses and placid pedestrians as its +only occupants. But Uncle Arthur perceived at once, from the aspect of +the major, that it was a place of wild carnage, of desperate assault, of +the clash and shock of arms. + +The major stood erect, supported by one crutch. The other crutch was +being waved in the air, as by one who orders on a mass of fighting men. +From the major's lips issued the subdued but passionate words: + + "Flash'd all their sabres bare, + Flash'd as they turned in air + Sabring th' gunners there, + Charging an army, while + All th' world wonder'd: + Plunged in th' batt'ry-smoke + Right through th' line they broke; + Cossack an' Russian + Reeled from th' sabre-stroke + Scatter'd an' shunder'd. + Then they rode back, but not----" + +The boy's voice wavered. Uncle Arthur saw him put up a thin hand and +wipe his white little brow. Major David's plays were always intensely +real to him. + +"_Not--the six hundred_," he murmured, and sank down on the window-seat, +gazing mournfully out over the square. But in a moment he was up again. + +"Cannon to right of 'em," he began again, sternly. "Cannon to left of +'em----" + +Uncle Arthur crept away without bidding him remember his promise. What +is a Memorial Day address beside the charge of a Light Brigade? + +It was only two days after this that David's mother summoned David's +four uncles to a conference. David had no father. There was a granite +boulder up in the cemetery which ever since David was four years old--he +was ten now--had been draped once a year with a beautiful silken flag. +All the Thorndyke men had been soldiers, and David's father had died at +the front, where the Thorndyke men usually died. It was a matter of +great pride to David every year--that silken flag. + +David's four uncles were all soldiers--in a way. There was Uncle +Chester; he had been breveted colonel at the close of the Civil War, +and Colonel Thorndyke he was--against his will--always called still. +Next came Uncle Stephen; he was a captain of artillery in the regular +army, and had lately come home on a furlough, after three years' service +in the Philippines. Then there was Uncle Stuart, just getting strong +after an attack of typhoid fever. In a week he would be back at West +Point, where he was a first classman and a cadet lieutenant. As for +Uncle Arthur, David always regretted deeply that he was no longer in +either volunteer or regular army, although he took some comfort from the +fact that Uncle Arthur sometimes told him that he had never felt more +like a soldier than he did now. + +It was a hasty and a serious conference, this to which Mrs. Roger +Thorndyke had summoned her dead husband's three brothers and his uncle. +She felt the need of all their counsel, for she had a grave question to +settle. She was a young woman with a sweet decisiveness of character all +her own, yet when a woman has four men upon whom she can call for wisdom +to support her own judgment, she would be an unwise person to ignore +that fact. + +"It's just this," she told them, when she had closed the door of +Arthur's study, where they had assembled. "You know how long we've been +hoping something could be done for David, and how you've all insisted +that when Doctor Wendell should decide he was strong enough for the +operation on the hip-joint we must have it. Well, he says a great +English surgeon, Sir Edmund Barrister, will be here for just two days. +He comes to see the little Woodbridge girl, and to operate on her if he +thinks it best. And Doctor Wendell urges upon me that--it's my chance." + +She had spoken quietly, but her face paled a little as she ended. Her +youngest brother-in-law, Stuart, the cadet, himself but lately out of +hospital, was first to speak. + +"When does he come?" + +"To-morrow." + +"Great guns! The little chap's close up to it! Does he know?" + +"Oh, no! I wouldn't tell him till it was all arranged. Indeed, I wasn't +sure whether----" + +"You'd better tell him at all? Oh, yes, you will, Helen; the major +mustn't stand up to be fired at blindfold." This was from Captain +Stephen, the only one of the four now in active service. + +"You all think it's best to have it done?" + +"Why, it's as Wendell says: now's the chance to have the best man in +that line. You can rest assured the Woodbridges would never stop at +anything short of the finest. Besides, the Englishman's reputation is +international. Of course it must be done." This was Stuart again. The +cadet lieutenant had already acquired the tone of command--he was an +excellent cadet lieutenant. + +But Mrs. Thorndyke looked past Stuart at her Uncle Chester, Colonel +Thorndyke, Civil War veteran. It was upon his opinion that she most +relied. He nodded at her. + +"He's right, Nell," he said. "It's our chance. The boy seems to me in as +good condition for it as he'll ever be." He spoke very gently, for to +his mind, as to them all, rose the vision of a delicate little face and +figure, frail with the frailty of the child who has been for six years a +cripple. + +So it was decided, with few words, that the great surgeon should see +David upon the morrow, to operate upon him at once if he thought wise, +as the local surgeon, Doctor Wendell, was confident he would. Then arose +another question: Who should tell David? + +"Somehow I think," said Mrs. Thorndyke, looking from one to another of +the four who surrounded her, "it would be easier for him from one of +you. He thinks so much of your being soldiers. You know he's always +playing he's a soldier, and if--if one of you could put it to him--in a +sort of military way----" + +She stopped, for this time her lips were really trembling. They looked +at one another, the four men, and there was not a volunteer for the +task. After a minute, however, Arthur, lifting his eyes from the rug +which he had been intently studying, found the others were all facing +him. + +"You're the one," said Captain Stephen Thorndyke. + +"I think you are," agreed Colonel Chester Thorndyke. + +"It's up to you, Art," declared Cadet Lieutenant Thorndyke, with his +usual decision of manner. + +So, although Arthur protested that he was not as fit for the mission as +any of the others, they would not let him off. + +"You're the one he swears by," Stephen said, and Stuart added: + +"Put on your old khaki clothes, Art; that'll tickle the major so he +won't mind what you tell him." + +It was a suggestion which appealed to the young clergyman as he lay +awake that night, thinking how he should tell the boy in the morning. It +seemed to him somehow that it would take the edge off the thing if he +could meet David in the old uniform which the child was always begging +to see. + +Just before he fell asleep he thought of his Memorial Day address. Since +the morning, day before yesterday, when David's play had interrupted his +first futile efforts at it, he had found no time to work on it. He had +had a wedding and two funerals to attend, besides having to look after +the preparation for his Sunday services. The following Saturday would be +Memorial Day. Meanwhile--there was David. + +The next morning Mrs. Thorndyke, on her way to Arthur's study to tell +him that the doctor had telephoned that he would bring the English +surgeon to the house at eleven o'clock for the preliminary examination, +ran into a tall figure in a khaki uniform, a battered slouch hat in his +hand. + +"Why, Arthur!" she cried, then added quickly: "Oh, my dear, that's just +what will please him! I'm so glad it's you who are to tell him--you'll +know how." + +"I don't know how," said her brother, and she saw that his eyes were +heavy. "But I expect the Commander-in-Chief will show me how." And with +these words he went into his study and closed the door for a moment +before David should come, in order that he might get his instructions +from headquarters. + +When the boy came in on his crutches, he found a soldierly figure +awaiting him. He saluted, and the tall corporal returned the salute. The +deep eyes of the man met the clear, bright ones of the child, and the +corporal said to the major: + +"I am ordered to report to you, sir, that the enemy is encamped on the +opposite shore, and is preparing to attack." + +Half an hour afterward Mrs. Thorndyke came anxiously to the door of the +study. Hearing cheerful voices within, she knocked, and was bidden to +enter. + +Her first glance was at little David's face. To her surprise, she saw +there neither fear nor nervousness, only an excited shining of the eyes +and an unusual flushing of the cheeks. The boy rose to meet her. + +"I'm ready, mammy," he announced in his childish treble. "Uncle Arthur +says I've got a chance to prove I'm a soldier's son and a Thorndyke, and +I'm going to do it. The enemy's encamped over in the hospital, and I'm +going to move on his works to-day. I'm going over with my staff. This is +Corporal Thorndyke, and Colonel Chester Thorndyke and Captain Stephen +Thorndyke and Lieutenant Stuart Thorndyke are my staff. And the corporal +has promised that they'll go with me in uniform. I'm going to wear my +uniform, too--may I?" + +The oddness of the question, made in a tone which dropped suddenly and +significantly from the proud address of the officer to the humble +request of the subaltern, brought a very tender smile to Mrs. +Thorndyke's lips, as she gave her brother a grateful glance. "Yes," she +said, "I think you certainly ought to wear your uniform. I'll get it +ready." + +"I may be taken prisoner over there," the little soldier pursued, "but +if I do, Uncle Ar--the corporal says that's the fortunes of war, and I +must take it as it comes." + +Downstairs, presently, David, under a flag of truce, met the opposing +general and his staff. The bluff-looking Englishman with the kind manner +made an excellent general, David thought. + +They detained him only a half-hour, but when he left them it was with +the understanding that his army should move forward at once and attack +upon the morrow. It seemed a bit unusual, not to say unmilitary, to +David, to arrange such matters so thoroughly with the enemy, but his +corporal assured him that under certain conditions the thing was done. + +There being no other part of the "Charge" that would fit, David said +over to himself a great many times on the way to the hospital the +opening lines: + + "Half a league, half a league, + Half a league onward. + All in th' valley of Death + Rode th' six hundred...." + +As he went up the hospital steps, tap-tapping on his crutches because he +would not let anybody carry him, the situation seemed to him much +better. He stopped upon the top step, balanced himself upon one crutch, +and waved the other at his staff--and at the "Six Hundred," pressing on +behind. + + "Forward, th' Light Brigade! + 'Charge for th' guns!' he said...." + +"What's the little chap saying?" Uncle Chester murmured into the ear of +Uncle Arthur, as the small figure hurried on. + +"He's living out 'The Charge of the Light Brigade,'" Arthur answered, +and there was no smile on his lips. Uncle Chester swallowed something in +his throat. + +It may have been a common thing for the hospital nurses and doctors to +see a patient in military clothes arrive accompanied by four other +military figures--the uniforms a little mixed; but if they were +surprised they gave no sign. The nurse who put David to bed wore a Red +Cross badge on her sleeve--hastily constructed by Doctor Wendell. This +badge David regarded with delight. + +"Why, you're a real army nurse, aren't you?" he asked happily. + +"Of course. They are the kind to take care of soldiers," she returned. +And after that there was a special bond between them. + +When they had finished with David that night he was rather glad to have +Corporal Thorndyke say to him that there was a brief cessation of +hostilities, and that the men were to have the chance for a few hours' +sleep. + +"But you'll stay by, won't you, Corporal?" requested the major sleepily. + +"Certainly, sir," responded the corporal, saluting. "I'll be right here +all night." + +The corporal at this point was so unmilitary as to bend over and kiss +him; but as this was immediately followed by a series of caresses from +his mother, the major thought it best not to mind. Indeed, it was very +comforting, and he might have missed it if it had not happened, even +though he was supposed to be in the field and sleeping upon his arms. + +The next morning things happened rather rapidly. + +"No rations, Major," said the Red Cross nurse, when he inquired for his +breakfast. + +"Commissary department left far to the rear," explained the corporal, +with his salute; and of course there was nothing more to be said, +although it did seem a little hard to face "the jaws of death" with no +food to hearten one. + +A number of things were done to David. Then Doctor Wendell came in and +sat down by the high white bed, and, with a reassuring smile at his +patient, gave him a few brief directions. The corporal took David's hand +in his, and held it with the tight grip of the comrade who means to +stand by to the last ditch. + + "Forward, th' Light Brigade! + Was 'ere a man dismay'd? + Not though the soldier knew + Some 'un had blunder'd...." + +"God forbid!" murmured the corporal, as the words trailed slowly out +into the air from under Doctor Wendell's hand. + + "Theirs not to make reply-- + Theirs--not to--reason--why-- + Theirs--but--to--do--an'--die----" + +The corporal set his teeth. Presently he looked across the bed and met +the eyes of the major's mother. "So far, so good," he said, nodding to +her, as the small hand in his relaxed its hold. + +"Talk about sheer pluck!" growled Captain Stephen Thorndyke, in the +waiting-room, where he and Colonel Chester and Cadet Stuart were +marching up and down during the period of suspense. + +"It's that 'Charge of the Light Brigade' that floors me," said Stuart. +"If the youngster'd just whimper a little; but to go under whispering, +'Theirs not to make reply----'" He choked, and frankly drew his gray +sleeve across his eyes. + +"It's the Thorndyke spirit," said Colonel Chester proudly. "He's Roger's +boy, all right." + +There were two or three doubtful bulletins. Then Arthur brought them the +good news that the major had been brought back from the firing-line and +was rallying bravely. + +"But will he pull through? These successful operations don't always end +successfully," said Stuart, as he and Arthur paced down the corridor +together. + +"That's what we've got to wait and hope and pray for," answered Arthur. +"It's the 'stormed at with shot and shell' the major'd be reciting now, +if he could do anything but shut his lips together and try to bear the +pain. It'll be five or six days, they say, before we can call him out of +danger. Hip-joint disease of Davy's form isn't cured by anything short +of this grave operation, and it's taking a good many chances, of course, +in the little chap's delicate condition. But--we've all his own staunch +courage on our side--and somehow, well--Stuart, I've got to preach +to-morrow. And next week--that Memorial address! How do you suppose I'm +going to do it? The major wants me on hospital duty every hour between +now and then." + +That Memorial Day address! How was a distraught young clergyman to +think of material for such an address when he was held captive at the +bedside of a little soldier fighting for his life? + +It was the fourth day before anxiety began to lessen its grip; the +fifth, the sixth, before Doctor Wendell would begin to speak +confidently. Through it all the words of the "Charge" beat in Arthur +Thorndyke's brain till it seemed to him that if David died he should +never hear anything else. For they were constantly on the boy's lips. + +Finally, on the morning of Saturday, Arthur said to David: "Major, this +is the day for you to say the last lines. You know this afternoon the +'Six Hundred' are going by. You'll hear the band play, and Uncle Chester +and Uncle Stephen will be marching in the ranks. Stuart and I will be +there, too, somewhere, and I think if we can just prop you up a little +bit you'll be able to see at least the heads of the men. And you can +salute, you know, even if they can't see you." + +"After the procession are you going to speak to them?" asked David. + +Arthur smiled. "After some sort of fashion I'm going to open my mouth," +he said. "I hardly know myself what will come out. All I do know is, I +never had quite so much respect for the courage that faces the cannon's +mouth as now. And it's you, Major, who are the pluckiest soldier I +know." + +He smiled down at the white little face, its great gray eyes staring up +at him. + +"Uncle Arthur--but--but--I wasn't plucky--all the time. Sometimes--it +hurt so I--had to cry." + +The words were a whisper, but Uncle Arthur still smiled. "That doesn't +count, Major," he said. "Now I must go. Watch for the band." + +Away in the distance, by and by, came the music. As it approached, +mingled with it David could hear the sound of marching feet. His mother +and the Red Cross nurse propped his head up a very little, so that he +could see into the street. Louder and louder grew the strains, then +stopped; the drums beat. + +"Oh, they're not going to play as they go by!" cried David, +disappointed. + +The tramp of the marching feet came nearer. Suddenly the band burst +with a crash into the "Star-Spangled Banner." David's eyes shone with +delight. + +"They're halting in front of us, David," said the nurse. So they were; +David could see them. + +The music reached the end of the tune and stopped. A shout broke upon +the air; it was a cheer. It took words, and swelled into David's room; +but it was a gentle cheer, not a vociferous one. It was given by +Lieutenant Roger Thorndyke's old company. And the words of it were +wonderful: + +_"'Rah, 'rah, 'rah--comrade!"_ + +David lay back on his pillow, his face shining with happiness. He would +never forget that those soldiers of his father's regiment, the ----th +New York, had called him comrade. He thought of them tenderly; he +murmured the closing words of the "Charge," and by them he meant the men +who had stood outside his window and cheered: + + "When can their glory fade? + O th' wild charge they made! + All th' world wonder'd. + Honour th' charge they made! + Honour th' Light Brigade, + Noble six hundred!" + +An hour afterward they came in together, his four Thorndyke soldiers, in +their uniforms--all but Uncle Arthur, who, because he was a clergyman, +and had had to make a speech, had felt obliged to put on a frock coat. + +"Here's the fellow who's been worrying over his Memorial Day address!" +cried Uncle Stephen proudly. + +"It was a rousing good one," declared Stuart. + +"Never heard a better," agreed Uncle Chester. "He's gone 'half a league +onward,' if the rest of us have stood still." + +Uncle Arthur came round, his face rather red, and sat down beside David. + +"Don't you believe them, Major," he said softly. "I could have done it +much better if I could have worn my corporal's uniform." + +THE END + + + + +A COURT OF INQUIRY + +BY GRACE S. RICHMOND. + + +This is a charming story of a group of girl and men friends and the +effect of their pairing off upon the narrator and her "Philosopher." +Althea, Azalea, Camellia, Dahlia, Hepatica--and their several +entanglements with the Promoter, the Cashier, the Skeptic, the Judge and +the Professor, form an admirable background of diverse personalities +against which grows the main love story. One sees these charming groups +through the eyes of the one who tells the tale--and very shrewd and +delightful eyes they are, seeing life in its true perspective with much +real philosophy and true feeling. Mrs. Richmond has never written +anything more fresh and human and entertaining. + + +ALSO BY THE SAME AUTHOR: + + Red Pepper Burns. + Mrs. Red Pepper. + The Indifference of Juliet. + Round the Corner in Gay Street. + With Juliet in England. + Strawberry Acres. + The Second Violin. + + +A. L. BURT COMPANY + +Publishers,--New York + + + + +[Transcriber's notes: + +"Where-ever" on page 78 has been changed to "Wherever" to be consistent +with the spelling in the rest of the text. + +"everbody" on page 96 has been changed to "everybody".] + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Court of Inquiry, by Grace S. 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Richmond. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + .center {text-align: center;} /* all headings centered */ + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + img {border: 0} + + .pagenum { + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + + } /* page numbers */ + + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .blockquot{margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 15%;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + .smaller {font-size: smaller;} + .caption {font-weight: bold; text-align: center;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .tspec1 {border-collapse: collapse; margin-left: 10%; width: 80%;} + .tdleft {padding-right: 20px; vertical-align: top; width: 10%; text-align: right}/* table, left column */ + .tdmid {padding: 2px; vertical-align: top; width: 80%; text-align: left;}/*table, middle column */ + .tdright {padding: 2px; vertical-align: top; width: 10%; text-align: right;}/* table, right column */ + + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Court of Inquiry, by Grace S. Richmond + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Court of Inquiry + +Author: Grace S. Richmond + +Release Date: June 2, 2006 [EBook #18489] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A COURT OF INQUIRY *** + + + + +Produced by Jacqueline Jeremy, Suzanne Shell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + +<p class="figcenter"><img title="Cover" height="400" width="251" alt="Cover" src="images/cover.jpg"></img></p> + +<hr style="width: 100%;" /> +<p class="figcenter"><a href="images/illo1_big.png"><img title="illustration1.jpg" height="187" width="400" alt="illustration" src="images/illustration1.jpg"></img></a></p> +<p class="caption">"'We four,' declared the Skeptic, 'constitute a private +Court of Inquiry<br />into the Condition of Our Friends'"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 100%;" /> +<h2 class="center">A COURT<br /> +OF INQUIRY</h2> + + +<h4 class="center">By GRACE S. RICHMOND</h4> + +<p class="center">Author of "Red Pepper Burns," "Mrs. Red Pepper,"<br /> +"Second Violin," Etc.</p> + +<p class="figcenter"><img title="decoration.jpg" height="40" width="40" alt="decoration" src="images/decoration.jpg"></img></p> + +<p class="center">WITH FOUR ILLUSTRATIONS</p> +<hr style="width: 65%" /> + +<p class="center">A. L. BURT COMPANY, PUBLISHERS</p> + +<p class="center">114-120 East Twenty-third Street—New York</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Published by Arrangement with Doubleday, Page & Co.</span></p> + + +<hr style="width: 100%;" /> +<h4 class="center"><i>Copyright</i>, 1909, 1916, <i>by</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Doubleday, Page & Company</span></h4> + +<p class="center"><i>All rights reserved, including that of<br /> +translation into foreign languages,<br /> +including the Scandinavian</i></p> + +<h6 class="center">COPYRIGHT, 1901, BY PERRY MASON COMPANY<br /> +COPYRIGHT, 1902, BY THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY<br /> +COPYRIGHT, 1907, BY PERRY MASON COMPANY<br /> +COPYRIGHT, 1908, 1909, BY THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY</h6> + + + +<hr style="width: 100%" /> +<h4 class="center">TO</h4> + +<h4 class="center">C. R. P. <span class="smcap">and</span> M. B. P.</h4> + + +<hr style="width: 100%;" /> + + +<h3 class="center"><a name="contents" id="contents">CONTENTS</a></h3> +<h4 class="center"><span class="smcap">Part I</span></h4> +<table class="tspec1" summary="contents"> +<tr> +<td class="tdleft"></td> +<td class="tdmid"></td> +<td class="tdright">PAGE</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdleft"><a href="#I_I">I.</a></td> +<td class="tdmid"><a href="#althea1">Althea</a></td> +<td class="tdright"><a href="#page_3">3</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdleft"><a href="#I_II">II.</a></td> +<td class="tdmid"><a href="#camellia1">Camellia</a></td> +<td class="tdright"><a href="#page_16">16</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdleft"><a href="#I_III">III.</a></td> +<td class="tdmid"><a href="#dahlia1">Dahlia</a></td> +<td class="tdright"><a href="#page_31">31</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdleft"><a href="#I_IV">IV.</a></td> +<td class="tdmid"><a href="#rhodora1">Rhodora</a></td> +<td class="tdright"><a href="#page_44">44</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdleft"><a href="#I_V">V.</a></td> +<td class="tdmid"><a href="#azalea1">Azalea</a></td> +<td class="tdright"><a href="#page_58">58</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdleft"><a href="#I_VI">VI.</a></td> +<td class="tdmid"><a href="#hepatica1">Hepatica</a></td> +<td class="tdright"><a href="#page_72">72</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + + +<h4 class="center"><span class="smcap">Part II</span></h4> +<table class="tspec1" summary="contents"> +<tr> +<td class="tdleft"><a href="#II_I">I.</a></td> +<td class="tdmid"><a href="#dahlia2">Dahlia and the Professor</a></td> +<td class="tdright"><a href="#page_87">87</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdleft"><a href="#II_II">II.</a></td> +<td class="tdmid"><a href="#camellia2">Camellia and the Judge</a></td> +<td class="tdright"><a href="#page_102">102</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdleft"><a href="#II_III">III.</a></td> +<td class="tdmid"><a href="#azalea2">Azalea and the Cashier</a></td> +<td class="tdright"><a href="#page_117">117</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdleft"><a href="#II_IV">IV.</a></td> +<td class="tdmid"><a href="#althea2">Althea and the Promoter</a></td> +<td class="tdright"><a href="#page_131">131</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdleft"><a href="#II_V">V.</a></td> +<td class="tdmid"><a href="#rhodora2">Rhodora and the Preacher</a></td> +<td class="tdright"><a href="#page_146">146</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdleft"><a href="#II_VI">VI.</a></td> +<td class="tdmid"><a href="#wistaria2">Wistaria—and the Philosopher</a></td> +<td class="tdright"><a href="#page_162">162</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<h4 class="center"><span class="smcap">Part III</span></h4> +<table class="tspec1" summary="contents"> +<tr> +<td class="tdleft"><a href="#III_I">I.</a></td> +<td class="tdmid"><a href="#sixteen">Sixteen Miles to Boswell's</a></td> +<td class="tdright"><a href="#page_181">181</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdleft"><a href="#III_II">II.</a></td> +<td class="tdmid"><a href="#honour">Honour and the Girl</a></td> +<td class="tdright"><a href="#page_220">220</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdleft"><a href="#III_III">III.</a></td> +<td class="tdmid"><a href="#their">Their Word of Honour</a></td> +<td class="tdright"><a href="#page_241">241</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdleft"><a href="#III_IV">IV.</a></td> +<td class="tdmid"><a href="#half">"Half a League Onward"</a></td> +<td class="tdright"><a href="#page_261">261</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<hr style="width: 100%;" /> + +<h2 class="center"><a id="part1" name="part1">PART I</a></h2> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_3" id="page_3">[Page 3]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="center">A Court of Inquiry</h2> +<h3 class="center">and Other Tales</h3> + +<h2 class="center"><a id="I_I" name="I_I">I</a></h2> + +<h3 class="center"><a name="althea1" id="althea1">ALTHEA</a></h3> + +<div class="center"><table summary=""><tr><td> +<p class="smaller"><span style="margin-left: 10.5em;">Nothing impaired</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">but all disordered.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12em;">—<i>Midsummer Night's Dream.</i></span><br /></p> +</td></tr></table></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">There</span> are four guest-rooms in my house. It is not a large house, and how +there came to be so many rooms to spare for the entertaining of friends +is not a story to be told here. It is only a few years since they were +all full—and not with guests. But they are nearly always full now. And +when I assign each room it is after taking thought.</p> + +<p>There are two men's rooms and two for women. The men's rooms have +belonged to men, and therefore they suit other men, who drop into them +and use their belongings, and tell me they were never more comfortable. +The third room is for one after<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_4" id="page_4">[Page 4]</a></span> another of the girls and women who +visit me. The fourth room——</p> + +<p>"Is anybody really good enough to sleep in this place?"</p> + +<p>It was the Skeptic, looking over my shoulder. He had chanced to be +passing, saw me standing in the doorway in an attitude of adoration, +and glanced in over my head. He had continued to look from sheer +astonishment.</p> + +<p>"I should expect to have to take off my shoes, and put on a white +cassock over my tennis flannels before I could enter here," he observed.</p> + +<p>"You would not be allowed to enter, even in that inappropriate costume," +I replied. "I keep this room only for the very nicest of my girl +friends. The trouble is——"</p> + +<p>"The trouble is—you're full up with our bunch, and have got to put Miss +Althea here, whether she turns out to be the sort or not."</p> + +<p>I had not expected the Skeptic to be so shrewd—shrewd though he often +is. Being also skeptical, his skepticism sometimes overcolours his +imagination.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_5" id="page_5">[Page 5]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Suppose she should leave her slippers kicking around over those +white rugs, drop her kimono in the middle of that pond-lily bed, +and—er—attach a mound of chewing-gum to the corner of the mirror," +he propounded.</p> + +<p>"I should send her home."</p> + +<p>"No—you could do better than that. Make her change rooms with the +Philosopher. He wouldn't leave a speck the size of a molecule on all +that whiteness."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe he would," I agreed. As the Skeptic went laughing away +downstairs I turned again into the room, in order that I might tie back +the little inner muslin curtains, to let the green branches outside show +between.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Althea arrived at five. The Skeptic, in tennis flannels, was lounging on +the porch as she came up the steps, and scanned her critically over the +racquet he still held, after a brisk set-to with the Gay Lady, who is +one of my other guests. (We call her the Gay Lady because of her +flower-bright face, her trick of smiling when other people<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_6" id="page_6">[Page 6]</a></span> frown, and +because of a certain soft sparkle and glow about her whole personality, +as indescribable as it is captivating). The Gay Lady had gone indoors to +dress for the evening, and the Philosopher had not returned from the +long daily tramp by which he keeps himself in trim. The Lad was on the +porch mending some fishing-tackle—my Lad, with the clear young eyes +which see things.</p> + +<p>Althea gave the Skeptic a glance, the Lad a smile, and me a hearty +embrace. I had never seen her before, and her visit had been brought +about by a request from her mother, an old friend, who was anxious to +have her daughter spend a pleasant vacation in the absence of most of +the girl's family.</p> + +<p>It was impossible not to like my new guest at once. She was a healthy, +hearty, blooming sort of girl, good to look at, pleasant company to have +about, and, as I soon learned, sweet-tempered to a degree which it +seemed nothing could upset. She followed me upstairs, talking brightly +all the way, and made her entrance into the white room as a pink +hollyhock might drop unconcernedly into a pan of milk.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_7" id="page_7">[Page 7]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What a lovely, cool-looking room!" she cried, and dropped her coat +and umbrella upon the bed.</p> + +<p>The Lad, following with her handbag, stopped to look at his tennis shoes +before he set foot upon the white rug, and dusted off the bag with a +somewhat grimy handkerchief before he stood it on the white-tiled +hearth. The Lad knows how I feel about the room, and though he races +into his own with muddy feet, stands in awe of the place where only +girls are made at home.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>I have but two maid-servants, both of whom must be busy in kitchen and +dining-room when the house is full of guests. So I always make the +rounds of the bedrooms in the evening, to see to lights and water, and +to turn down the coverings on the beds. The Skeptic's room needed only a +touch here and there to put it in order for the night. The Philosopher's +needed none. The Gay Lady had left her pretty, rose-hung quarters +looking as if a lady lived in them, and had but dropped a dainty +reminder of herself here and there to give them character—an<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_8" id="page_8">[Page 8]</a></span> +embroidered dressing-case on the bureau, an attractive travelling +work-box on the table by her bed, a photograph, a lace-bordered +handkerchief, a gossamer scarf on a chair-back ready for use if she +should need it for a stroll in the moonlight with the Skeptic. The +closet door, ajar, gave a glimpse of summer frocks, hanging in order on +padded hangers brought in a trunk; beneath, a row of incredibly small, +smart shoes stood awaiting their turn. Even the Gay Lady's trunk was +clad in a trim, beflowered cover of linen, and looked a part of the +place. I smiled to myself as I turned down the white sheets over my best +down-filled quilt of pale pink, and thought of the Gay Lady's delightful +custom of keeping her room swept and dusted without letting anybody know +when she did it.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>I felt my way across Althea's room to light the lamp—there are no +electrics in my old country home. As I went in I stumbled over a rug +whose corner had been drawn into a bunch by the edge of a trunk which +had been pulled too far toward the middle of the room. I encountered +a chair hung full<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_9" id="page_9">[Page 9]</a></span> with clothing; I pushed what felt like a shoe out +of my path.</p> + +<p>It took some time for me to find the match-box, which ordinarily +stands on a corner of the dressing-table. My groping hand encountered +all sorts of unfamiliar objects in its quest, and it was not without +a premonition of what I was about to see that I finally lit the lamp +and looked around me.</p> + +<p>Well—of course she had unpacked hurriedly, as hurriedly dressed for +dinner, and she had been detained downstairs ever since. I should not +judge in haste. Doubtless in the morning she would put things to rights. +I removed a trunk-tray from the bed, hung up several frocks in the +closet, cleared away the rest of the belongings from the counterpane, +and arranged Althea's bed for the night. I did the rest of my work +quickly, and returned to lower the light.</p> + +<p>It couldn't be—really, no—it couldn't be! There must be some other way +of accounting for those scratches on the hitherto spotless white wall, +now marred by five long, brown marks, where a match had been drawn again +and again before it struck into light!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_10" id="page_10">[Page 10]</a></span></p> + +<p>It <i>couldn't</i> have been Althea. Yet—those marks were never there +before. It was full daylight when my guest had arrived; she could have +had no need for artificial light. Wait—there lay a long, black object +on the white cover of the dressing-table—a curling iron!</p> + +<p>In the hall I ran into the Skeptic.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon," he cried under his breath. "I came up for her +scarf. She said it was just inside her door, on her trunk. May I go in?"</p> + +<p>"I'll get it for you," said I, and turned inside. The Skeptic stood +outside the door, looking into the dimness. I could not find the scarf. +I would not turn up the light. I searched and searched vainly.</p> + +<p>"Let me give you something to see by," said the Skeptic, and before I +could prevent him he had bolted into the room and turned up the lamp. +"Here it is," said he, and caught up some article of apparel from the +dressing-table. "Oh, no—this must be—a sash," said he, and dropped it. +He stood looking about him.</p> + +<p>"Go away," said I sternly. "I'll find it."<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_11" id="page_11">[Page 11]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I don't think you will," said he, "in this—er—this—pandemonium."</p> + +<p>I walked over to the dressing-table and put out the lamp. "Now will you +go away?" said I.</p> + +<p>"You were expeditious," said he, making for the hall, and stumbling over +something as he went, "but not quite expeditious enough. Never mind +about the scarf. I think I'll let the Philosopher take the Girl Guest to +walk—the Gay Lady's good enough for me. I say"—as he moved toward the +staircase and I followed—"don't you think we'd better move the +Philosopher in to-morrow?"</p> + +<p>"To-morrow," said I with assumed conviction, "it will be different. +Please reserve your judgment."</p> + +<p>I tried to reserve my own. I did not go into Althea's room again until +the next evening at the same hour. I found ten articles strewn where +five had lain before. A bottle of something green had been tipped over +upon the white embroidered cover of my dressing-table. A spot of ink +adorned the edge of the sheet, and the condition of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_12" id="page_12">[Page 12]</a></span> bed showed +plainly that an afternoon nap upon it had ended with some letter +writing. I think Althea's shoes had been dusted with one of my best +towels. I did not stay to see what else had been done, but I could not +help noting three more brown scratches on my white wall.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>At the end of the week Althea went away. When she had gone I went up to +her room. I had been at work there for some time when a tap at the door +interrupted me. The Skeptic stood outside with a hoe and a +bushel-basket.</p> + +<p>"Want some help?" offered he.</p> + +<p>"It's not gentlemanly of you to notice," said I weakly.</p> + +<p>"I know it," said he. He came in and inverted the bushel-basket on the +hearth and sat down upon it. "But the door was always open, and I +couldn't help seeing. If it wasn't shoes and a kimono in the middle of +the floor it was a raincoat and rubber boots. Sometimes I stopped to +count the things on that dressing——"</p> + +<p>"It was <i>very</i> ungentlemanly of you!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_13" id="page_13">[Page 13]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Guilty," he admitted again—but not meekly. There was a sparkle in his +eye. "But it isn't often, you see, that a man gets a chance to take +notes like this. An open door—it's an invitation to look in. Now, the +Gay Lady doesn't leave her door open, except by chance, but I know how +it looks inside—by the Gay Lady herself."</p> + +<p>"How?" I questioned, my curiosity getting the better of me. "I mean—how +can you tell by the look of the Gay Lady that she keeps her room in +order?—for she certainly does."</p> + +<p>"I knew it," said he triumphantly.</p> + +<p>"But how?"</p> + +<p>"And I know that you keep yours in order."</p> + +<p>"But <i>how</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you think we are creatures of no discernment," said he. "But we can +see a few things. When a woman, no matter how pretty, pins the back of +her collar with a common brass pin——"</p> + +<p>I felt of the back of my white stock. Of course I never use them, but +his eyes are so keen and—<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_14" id="page_14">[Page 14]</a></span>—</p> + +<p>He laughed. "The Philosopher liked Miss Althea."</p> + +<p>"She has many lovely qualities——" I began.</p> + +<p>"Of course. That sort always have. It's their beautiful good-nature that +makes them so easy on themselves. Er—by-the-way——Well, well——"</p> + +<p>The Skeptic's gaze had fallen upon the brown marks on the white wall, +above the lamp. There were now twenty-seven in all. He got up from his +bushel-basket and walked over to them. He stood and studied them for a +minute in silence. Finally he turned around, looked at me, made a dive +for the bushel-basket and the hoe, and hurried out of the door.</p> + +<p>"I'll bring up a pail of whitewash," he called.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>I shall ask Althea again some time. She really has a great many lovely +qualities, as I said to the Skeptic. But there is a little room I have, +which I do not call a guest-room, into which I shall put Althea. It has +a sort of chocolate paper on the walls, on<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_15" id="page_15">[Page 15]</a></span> which I do not think the +marks of matches would much show, and it has a general suitableness to +this particular guest. I have sometimes harboured small boys there, for +the toilet appointments are done in red on brown linen, and curling +irons could be laid on them without serious damage. And I've no doubt +that she would like that room quite as well.</p> + +<p class="smaller">Back to <a href="#contents">Contents</a></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_16" id="page_16">[Page 16]</a></span></p> +<h2 class="center"><a name="I_II" id="I_II">II</a></h2> + +<h3 class="center"><a id="camellia1" name="camellia1">CAMELLIA</a></h3> + +<div class="center"><table summary=""><tr><td> +<p class="smaller"><span style="margin-left: 2em;">You thought to break a country heart</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">For pastime, ere you went to town.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 16em;">—<i>Tennyson.</i></span><br /></p> +</td></tr></table></div> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Did</span> you say Camellia is going to stop here on her way home?" asked the +Gay Lady.</p> + +<p>"For a few days," I assented.</p> + +<p>The Gay Lady was standing in front of the closet in her room, in which +hung a row of frocks, on little hangers covered with pale blue ribbon. +She sighed pensively as she gazed at the garments. Then she looked at me +with a smile. "Would you mind if I keep to my room while Camellia is +here?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"I should mind very much," said I. "Besides, I've only two good dresses +myself."</p> + +<p>I went down to the porch. "Camellia is going to stop and make us a short +visit on her way home from the South," I announced.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_17" id="page_17">[Page 17]</a></span></p> + +<p>The Skeptic sat up. "Great guns!" he ejaculated. "I must send all my +trousers to be pressed."</p> + +<p>"Who's Camellia?" queried the Philosopher, looking up calmly from +his book.</p> + +<p>"Wait and see," replied the Skeptic.</p> + +<p>"Probably I shall," agreed the Philosopher. "Meanwhile a little +information might not come amiss. Sending all one's trousers to be +pressed at once sounds to me serious. Is the lady a connoisseur in +men's attire?"</p> + +<p>"She may or may not be," said the Skeptic. "The effect is the same. At +sight of her my cravat gets under my ear, my coat becomes shapeless, my +shoes turn pigeon-toed. We have to dress for dinner every night when +Miss Camellia is here."</p> + +<p>"I won't," said the Philosopher shortly.</p> + +<p>"Wait and see," chuckled the Skeptic. He looked at me. "Ask her," +he added.</p> + +<p>The Philosopher's fine blue eyes were lifted once more from his book. It +was a scientific book, and the habit of inquiry is always strong upon +your scientist. "Do <i>you</i> dress for dinner when Miss Camellia is<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_18" id="page_18">[Page 18]</a></span> here?" +he asked of me. "That is—I mean in a way which requires a dinner-coat +of us?"</p> + +<p>"I think I won't—before she comes," I said. "Afterward—I get out the +best I have."</p> + +<p>"Which proves none too good," supplemented the Skeptic.</p> + +<p>"It's July," said the Philosopher thoughtfully. He looked down at his +white ducks. "Couldn't you wire her not to come?" he suggested after +a moment.</p> + +<p>The Skeptic grinned at me. I shook my head. He shook his head.</p> + +<p>"We don't want her not to come," he said, more cheerfully. "She's worth +it. To see her is a liberal education. To clothe her would be ruin and +desolation. Brace up, Philo—she's certainly worth all the agony of mind +she may cause you. I only refrain from falling head over ears in love +with her by keeping my hand in my pocket, feeling over my loose change +and reminding myself that it's all I have—and it wouldn't buy her a +handkerchief."</p> + +<p>The Gay Lady spent the morning freshen<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_19" id="page_19">[Page 19]</a></span>ing her frocks—which were +somehow never anything but fresh, no matter how much she wore them. It +was true that there were not very many of them, and that none of them +had cost very much money, but they were fascinating frocks nevertheless, +and she had so many clever ways of varying them with knots of ribbon and +frills of lace, that one never grew tired of seeing her wear them.</p> + +<p>The Skeptic sent several pairs of trousers to be pressed and a bundle of +other things to be laundered. I got out a gown I had expected to wear +only on state occasions, and did something to the sleeves. The +Philosopher was the only person who remained unaffected by the news that +Camellia was coming. We envied him his calm.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Camellia arrived. Three trunks arrived at the same time. Camellia's +appearance, as she came up the porch steps, while trim and attractive, +gave no hint to the Philosopher's eyes, observant though they were, of +what was to be expected. He had failed to note the trunks. This was not +strange,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_20" id="page_20">[Page 20]</a></span> for Camellia had a beautiful face, and her manner was, as +always, charming.</p> + +<p>"I don't see," said the Philosopher in my ear, at a moment when Camellia +was occupied with the Skeptic and the Gay Lady, "what there is about +that to upset you all."</p> + +<p>"Don't you?" said I pityingly. Evidently, from what he had heard us say, +he had expected her to arrive in an elaborate reception gown—or +possibly in spangles and lace!</p> + +<p>Camellia went to her room—the white room. This time I had no fears for +the embroidered linen on my dressing-table or for the purity of my white +wall. I repaired to my own room—<i>to dress for dinner</i>. As I passed the +porch door on my way I looked out. The Gay Lady had vanished—so had the +Skeptic. The Philosopher was walking up and down—in white ducks. He +hailed me as I passed.</p> + +<p>"See here," he said under his breath. "I thought you people were all +guying in that talk about dressing for dinner while—while Miss Camellia +is here. But the Skeptic has gone to do it—if he's not bluffing. Is it<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_21" id="page_21">[Page 21]</a></span> +true? Do you mean it? We—that is—we haven't been dressing for +dinner—except, of course, you ladies seem always to—but that's +different. And it's awfully hot to-night," he added plaintively.</p> + +<p>"Don't do it," said I hurriedly. "I don't know any reason why we +should—in the country—in July."</p> + +<p>He looked at me doubtfully. "But is the Skeptic going to—really?"</p> + +<p>"I presume he really is. You see—he has met Camellia before. He knows +how she will be looking when she comes down. He admires Camellia very +much, and he might possibly feel a little odd—in tennis flannels——"</p> + +<p>"It's queer," murmured the Philosopher. "But perhaps I'd better not be +behind in the procession, even if I wilt my collar." He fingered +lovingly the soft, rolled-over collar of his white shirt, with its +loose-knotted tie, and sighed again. Then he moved toward the stairs.</p> + +<p>We were all on the porch when Camellia came down. The Gay Lady had put +on a white muslin—the finest, simplest thing. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_22" id="page_22">[Page 22]</a></span> Philosopher, pushing +a finger between his collar and his neck, to see if the wilting process +had begun, eyed the Gay Lady approvingly. "Whatever she wears," he +whispered to her, "she can't win over you."</p> + +<p>The Gay Lady laughed. "Yes, she can," she declared.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>She did. Camellia was a vision when she came floating out upon the +porch. The Philosopher was glad he had on his dinner-coat—I saw it in +his eye. The Skeptic's tanned cheek turned a reddish shade—he looked as +if he felt pigeon-toed. The Gay Lady held her pretty head high as she +smiled approval on the guest. Camellia's effect on the Gay Lady was to +make her feel like a school-girl—she had repeatedly avowed it to me +in private.</p> + +<p>Camellia never seemed conscious of her fine attire—that could always +truthfully be said. Although on the present occasion she was dressed as +duchesses dress for a lawn-party, she seemed supremely unconscious of +the fact. The only trouble was that the rest of us could not be +unconscious of it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_23" id="page_23">[Page 23]</a></span></p> + +<p>The dinner moved slowly. We all did our best, including the Philosopher, +whose collar was slowly melting, so that he had to keep his chin well +up, lest it crush the linen hopelessly beneath. The Skeptic joked +ceaselessly, but one could see that all the time he feared his cravat +might be awry. The dinner itself was a much more formal affair than +usual—somehow that always seemed necessary when Camellia was one's +guest. We were glad when it was over and we could go back to the cool +recesses of the porch.</p> + +<p>The next morning Camellia wore an unpretentious dress of white—one +which made the thing the Gay Lady had worn at dinner the evening before +seem to her memory poor indeed. Later in the morning the Skeptic took +Camellia boating on the river, and she went up and dressed for it in a +yachting suit of white flannel. It was some slight consolation that she +came back from the river much bedraggled about the skirts, for the boat +had sprung a leak and all the Skeptic's gallantry could not keep her +dry. But this necessitated a change before luncheon, and some of us were +nearly unable to eat with Camellia sitting<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_24" id="page_24">[Page 24]</a></span> there in the frock she had +put on at the last minute. She was a dream in the pale pink of it, and +the Skeptic appeared to be losing his head. On the contrary, the +Philosopher was seen to examine her thoughtfully through the eyeglasses +he sometimes wears for reading, and which he had forgotten to remove.</p> + +<p>On the morning of the third day I discovered the Gay Lady mending a +little hole in the skirt of a tiny-flowered dimity, her bright eyes +suspiciously misty.</p> + +<p>"I'm a g-goose, I know," she explained, smiling at me through +the mist, "but it does make me absurdly envious. My things look +so—so—<i>duddy</i>—beside hers."</p> + +<p>"They're not duddy!" I cried warmly. "But I know what you mean. My +very best gown, that I had made in town by Lautier herself, seems +countrified. Don't mind. Our things will look quite right again—next +week."</p> + +<p>"What do you suppose she will wear to-night?" sighed she.</p> + +<p>"Heaven only knows," I answered feebly.</p> + +<p>What she wore was a French frock which finished us all. I had fears for +the sanity of<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_25" id="page_25">[Page 25]</a></span> the Skeptic. I was sure he did not know what he was +eating. He could not, of course, sit with his hands in his trousers' +pockets, from time to time giving his loose change a warning jingle, to +remind himself that he could not buy her handkerchiefs. But the +Philosopher appeared to retain his self-control. I caught his scientific +eye fixed upon the pearl necklace Camellia wore. It struck me that the +Philosopher and the Skeptic had temporarily exchanged characters.</p> + +<p>In the late afternoon, at the end of the sixth day, Camellia left us. +The Skeptic and the Philosopher came to dinner in flannels—it had grown +slightly cooler. The Gay Lady and I wore things we had not worn for a +week—and I was sure the Gay Lady had never looked prettier. After +dinner, in the early dusk, we sat upon the porch. For some time we were +more or less silent. Then the Skeptic, from the depths of a bamboo +lounging chair, his legs stretching half-way across the porch in a +relaxed attitude they had not worn for a week, heaved a sigh which +seemed to struggle up from the depths of his interior.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_26" id="page_26">[Page 26]</a></span></p> + +<p>The Philosopher rolled over in the hammock, where he had been reposing +on his back, his hands clasped under his head, and looked scrutinizingly +at his friend.</p> + +<p>"Don't take it too hard," he counselled gently. "It's not worth it."</p> + +<p>"I know it," replied the Skeptic with another sigh. "But I wish I were +worth—millions."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, you don't," argued the Philosopher.</p> + +<p>The Gay Lady and I exchanged glances—through the twilight. We would +have arisen and fled, but the Skeptic caught at my skirts.</p> + +<p>"Don't go," he begged. "I'm not really insane—only delirious. It'll +wear off."</p> + +<p>"It will," agreed the Philosopher.</p> + +<p>"I suppose," began the Skeptic, after some further moments of silence, +"that it's really mostly clothes."</p> + +<p>"She's a very charming girl," said the Gay Lady quickly. "I don't blame +you."</p> + +<p>"Honestly," said the Skeptic, sitting up and looking at her, "don't you +think her clothes are about all there is of her?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_27" id="page_27">[Page 27]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No," said the Gay Lady stoutly.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the Philosopher comfortably.</p> + +<p>"Yes—and no," said I, as the Skeptic looked at me.</p> + +<p>"A girl," argued the Philosopher, suddenly pulling himself out of the +hammock and beginning to pace the floor, "who could come here to this +unpretentious country place with three trunks, and then wear their +contents——Look here"—he paused in front of me and looked at me as +piercingly as somewhat short-sighted blue eyes can look in the +twilight—"did she ever wear the same thing twice?"</p> + +<p>"I believe not," I admitted.</p> + +<p>"A girl who could come to a place like this and make a show figure of +herself in clothes that any fool could see cost—Cæsar, what must they +cost!—and change four times a day—and keep us dancing around in +starched collars——"</p> + +<p>"You didn't have to——"</p> + +<p>"Yes, we did—pardon me! We did, not to be innocently—not +insolently—mistaken for farm hands. I tell you, a girl like that would +keep a man humping to furnish the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_28" id="page_28">[Page 28]</a></span> wherewithal. For what," continued the +Philosopher, growing very earnest—"what, if she'd wear that sort of +clothes here, would she consider necessary for—for—visiting her rich +friends? Tell me that!"</p> + +<p>We could not tell him that. We did not try.</p> + +<p>The Gay Lady was pinching one of her little flowered dimity ruffles into +plaits with an agitated thumb and finger. I was sure the Skeptic's +present state of mind was of more moment to her than she would ever let +appear to anybody.</p> + +<p>The Skeptic rose slowly from his chair.</p> + +<p>"Will you walk down the garden path with me?" he asked the Gay Lady.</p> + +<p>They sauntered slowly away into the twilight.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The Philosopher came and sat down by me.</p> + +<p>"He's not really hit," said he presently; "he's only temporarily upset. +I was a trifle bowled over myself. She's certainly a stunning girl. But +when I try to recall what she and I talked about when we sat out here +together, at such times as he was willing to leave her in my company, I +have really no<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_29" id="page_29">[Page 29]</a></span> recollection. When it was too dark to see her +clothes—or her smile—I remember being once or twice distinctly bored. +Now—the Gay Lady—don't you think she always looks well?"</p> + +<p>"Lovely," I agreed heartily.</p> + +<p>"I may not know much about it, being a man," said he modestly, "but I +should naturally think the Gay Lady's clothes cost considerably less +than Miss Camellia's."</p> + +<p>"Considerably."</p> + +<p>"Though I never really thought about them before," he owned. "I don't +suppose a man usually does think much about a woman's clothes—unless +he's forced to. During this last week it occurs to me we've been forced +to—eh?"</p> + +<p>"Somewhat." I was smiling to myself. I had never imagined that the +Philosopher troubled himself with such matters at all.</p> + +<p>"And I don't think," he went on, "I like being forced to spend my time +speculating on the cost of anybody's clothing.—How comfortable it is on +this porch! And how jolly not to have to sit up in a black coat—on a +July evening!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_30" id="page_30">[Page 30]</a></span></p> + +<p>The Skeptic and the Gay Lady returned—after an hour. The Skeptic, as he +came into the light which streamed out across the porch from the hall, +looked decidedly more cheerful than when he had left us. Although it had +been too dark in the garden to see either the Gay Lady's clothes or her +smile, I doubted if he had been bored.</p> + +<p class="smaller">Back to <a href="#contents">Contents</a></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_31" id="page_31">[Page 31]</a></span></p> +<h2 class="center"><a name="I_III" id="I_III"></a>III</h2> + +<h3 class="center"><a name="dahlia1" id="dahlia1">DAHLIA</a></h3> + +<div class="center"><table summary=""><tr><td> +<p class="smaller"><span style="margin-left: 2em;">O, weary fa' the women fo'k,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">For they winna let a body be!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 16em;">—<i>James Hogg.</i></span><br /></p> +</td></tr></table></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">My</span> neighbour Dahlia has returned. There is a considerable stretch +of lawn, also a garden and a small orchard, intervening between her +father's property and mine, not to mention a thick hedge; but in spite +of these obstructions it did not take Dahlia long to discover that +there were guests upon my porch. I think she recognized the Skeptic's +long legs from her window, which looks down my way through a vista +of tree-tops. At all events, on the morning after her arrival she +appeared, coming through the hedge, down the garden path and across +the lawn, a fresh and attractive figure in a pink muslin with ruffles, +and one of those coquettish, white-frilled sunbonnets summer-girls wear in the country.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_32" id="page_32">[Page 32]</a></span></p> + +<p>Dahlia is very pretty, very good company, and likable from many points +of view. If only——</p> + +<p>"Who's this coming to invade our completeness?" queried the Philosopher, +looking up from his book of trout flies. Fishing, in its scientific +aspect, presents many attractions to our Philosopher, although he spends +so much time in getting ready to do it scientifically that he seldom +finds much left in which to fish.</p> + +<p>The Skeptic glanced at the figure coming over the lawn. Then he made a +gesture as if he were about to turn up his coat collar. He hitched +himself slightly behind one of the white pillars of the porch.</p> + +<p>"Keep cool; you'll soon know," he replied to the Philosopher. "And once +knowing, you'll always know."</p> + +<p>The Philosopher looked slightly mystified at this oracular information, +and gazed rather curiously at Dahlia as she came near, before he dropped +his eyes to his trout flies.</p> + +<p>The Skeptic appeared to be absorbed in a letter which he had hastily +extracted from his pocket. It was merely a brief business<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_33" id="page_33">[Page 33]</a></span> communication +in type, as I could not help seeing over his shoulder, but he withdrew +his attention from it with difficulty as Dahlia paused before him. Her +first greeting was for him, although I had risen just behind him.</p> + +<p>"Oh—how do you do, Miss Dahlia?" cried the Skeptic, getting to his feet +and receiving her outstretched hand in his own. Then he made as if to +pass her on to me, but she wouldn't be passed until she had said +something under her breath to him, smiling up into his face, her fingers +clinging to his.</p> + +<p>"Been—er—horribly busy," I heard him murmur in reply. I thought his +hand showed symptoms of letting go before hers did.</p> + +<p>I greeted Dahlia, introducing her to the Gay Lady, who smiled at her +from over a handkerchief she was embroidering with my initials. I +presented the Philosopher, who immediately presented his trout flies. +She scanned him closely—the Philosopher is very good-looking +(almost—but not quite—better-looking than the Skeptic)—then she +dropped down upon one of the porch cushions by his side. He politely<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_34" id="page_34">[Page 34]</a></span> +offered her a chair, but she insisted that she liked the cushion better, +and we found it impossible to doubt that she did. At all events she +remained upon it, close beside the Philosopher, as long as he retained +his position; and she appeared to become absorbed in the trout flies, +asking many questions, and exclaiming over some of them in a way which +showed her to be of a most sympathetic disposition.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Finally the Philosopher seized upon an opportunity and rose. "Well," he +observed, "I believe I'll go and try my luck."</p> + +<p>Dahlia looked up at him. Her pretty face took on a beseeching +expression.</p> + +<p>The Philosopher regarded her uncomprehendingly.</p> + +<p>"You will excuse——" he began.</p> + +<p>But Dahlia did not let him finish. "I simply love to go fishing," she +said softly.</p> + +<p>"Do you?" said the Philosopher, blinking stupidly. "It is great sport, I +think, myself."</p> + +<p>Even then I believe he would have turned away. He is not used to it—at +least, in Dahlia's style. But she detained him.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_35" id="page_35">[Page 35]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Are you really not going to ask me?" she said, looking like a +disappointed child.</p> + +<p>I saw the Gay Lady look at her. The Skeptic glanced at the Gay Lady. I +observed the Skeptic. But the Philosopher rose to the occasion. He is +invariably courteous.</p> + +<p>"Why, certainly," he responded, "if you would really care to go. It's +rather a long walk to the stream and—I'm afraid the boat leaks +considerably, but——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't mind that," she exulted, jumping up, her cheeks pink with +delight. "In fact, I know that boat of old——" She gave the Skeptic a +look from under her eyelashes, but he was looking at the Gay Lady and it +failed to hit him. "Are you ready? All right. And I've my +sunbonnet—just the thing. You shall see what we'll catch," she called +back to us, as the two walked away.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The Skeptic got the pillar between himself and the departing pair. His +face was convulsed with mirth. He slapped his knee. "I said he'd soon +know," he chuckled, holding himself in with an effort, "but I didn't<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_36" id="page_36">[Page 36]</a></span> +think he'd find out quite so soon. Smoke and ashes—but that was quick +work!"</p> + +<p>He turned about and looked up at the Gay Lady. "Will you go fishing?" he +inquired, still chuckling.</p> + +<p>"No, thank you," responded the Gay Lady, smiling at her embroidery +without looking up.</p> + +<p>"Will you go fishing?"</p> + +<p>The inquiry was directed at me.</p> + +<p>I shook my head.</p> + +<p>The Skeptic fell into an attitude of mock despair. Then he sat up. "I'm +going to go down and hide behind the big tree at the bend," he declared. +"I want to see Philo when she——"</p> + +<p>The Gay Lady spoke to me. "Do you think I'm getting that K too heavy?" +she asked.</p> + +<p>The Skeptic laughed, and strolled away—not in the direction of the +trout stream.</p> + +<p>Dahlia and the Philosopher came back just as luncheon was served. Dahlia +was looking pinker than ever, and I thought the Philosopher's tan had +rather a pinkish hue, also. I felt obliged to ask Dahlia to stay to +luncheon and she promptly accepted. Throughout the meal she was very +gay, sitting at my round<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_37" id="page_37">[Page 37]</a></span> table between the Philosopher and the Skeptic, +and plying both with attentions. It is a singular phrase to use, in +speaking of a girl, but I know no other that applies so well—in +Dahlia's case.</p> + +<p>After luncheon the Philosopher bolted. His movements are usually +deliberate, but I never saw a quicker exit made from a dining-room which +has only two doors. One door leads into the hall, the other to the +pantry. The rest of us went out the hall door. When we reached the porch +the Philosopher was missing. There is no explanation except that he went +out by the pantry door.</p> + +<p>On the porch the Skeptic said, "I must run down to the barn and look +after Skylark's foot. He cut himself when I was out on him yesterday."</p> + +<p>He hastened away down the driveway.</p> + +<p>Dahlia looked after him.</p> + +<p>"Is Skylark here?" she asked. "Oh, how I want to see the dear thing! +And he's cut his foot!—I'm going to run down to the barn, too, and +see him."</p> + +<p>And she hurried away after the Skeptic.</p> + +<p>"I think I'll go in and sleep a while," said<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_38" id="page_38">[Page 38]</a></span> the Gay Lady to me. Her +expressive lips had a curious little twist of scorn.</p> + +<p>"I should, too, if I hadn't a new guest," said I.</p> + +<p>We tried not to smile at each other, but we couldn't quite help it.</p> + +<p>The Gay Lady went away to her room. I heard her close the blinds on the +side that looked off toward the barn, and, glancing up, saw that she had +turned down the slats tightly.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>I think it must have been well on toward four in the afternoon when the +white sunbonnet at last disappeared through the gap in the hedge. The +Skeptic came back up the garden path at the pace of an escaping convict, +and went tearing up the stairs to his room. I heard him splashing like a +seal in his bath. Presently he came out, freshly attired and went away +down the road, in the opposite direction from that in which lay the +house beyond the hedge.</p> + +<p>Dahlia came over at twilight that evening—to bring me a great bunch of +golden-glow. She was captivatingly arrayed in blue. She remained for an +hour or so. When she went<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_39" id="page_39">[Page 39]</a></span> away the Skeptic walked home with her. He was +forced to do it. The Philosopher had disappeared again, quite without +warning, some twenty minutes earlier.</p> + +<p>She came over the next afternoon. On the day following she practically +took up her residence with us. I thought of inviting her to bring a +trunk and occupy the white room. On the fourth night I accidentally +overheard a brief but pregnant colloquy which took place just inside the +library door, toward the last of the evening.</p> + +<p>"You've got to take her home to-night, old man."</p> + +<p>"I won't." It was the Philosopher.</p> + +<p>"You've got to. It's your turn. No shirking."</p> + +<p>"I'll be hanged if I will."</p> + +<p>"I'll be hanged if <i>I</i> will. There's a limit."</p> + +<p>"I'd always supposed there was. There doesn't seem to be."</p> + +<p>"Come along—stand up to it like a man. It's up to you to-night. She +can't carry you off bodily."</p> + +<p>"I'm not so sure of that." The Philosopher's tone was grim.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_40" id="page_40">[Page 40]</a></span></p> + +<p>So far I had been transfixed. But now I hurried away. I was consumed +with anxiety during the next ten minutes, lest they come to blows in +settling it. But when they appeared I could tell that they had settled +it somehow.</p> + +<p>When Dahlia arose and said that she positively must go they both +accompanied her. The transit occupied less time than it had done on any +previous occasion.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>From this time on there was concerted action on the part of our two men. +Where one was, the other was. The Gay Lady and I received less attention +than we were accustomed to expect—the two men were too busy standing by +each other to have much time for us.</p> + +<p>"I'm so sorry," said Dahlia, coming over after dinner on the tenth +evening, "but I'm going away to-morrow. I've an invitation that I'm +simply not allowed to refuse."</p> + +<p>The Philosopher's face lit up. He attempted to conceal it by burying his +head in his handkerchief for a moment, in mock distress, but his +satisfaction showed even behind his ears. The Skeptic bent down<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_41" id="page_41">[Page 41]</a></span> and +elaborately tied his shoe-ribbon. The Gay Lady regarded Dahlia sweetly, +and said, "That's surely very nice for you."</p> + +<p>"I think," observed Dahlia, looking coyly from the Skeptic to the +Philosopher, "that I shall have to let each of you take me for a +farewell walk to-night. You first"—she indicated the Philosopher. "Or +shall it be a row for one and a walk for the other?"</p> + +<p>She and the Philosopher strolled away toward the river. There had been +no way out for him.</p> + +<p>"The Englishman, the Scotsman and the Irishman," began the Skeptic, in a +conversational tone, "being about to be hanged, were given their choice +of a tree. 'The oak for me,' says the Englishman. 'The Scotch elm for +mine,' says the Scotsman. 'Faith,' says the Irishman, 'I'll be afther +takin' a gooseberry bush.' 'That's too small,' says the hangman. 'I'll +wait for it to grow,' says the Irishman contentedly."</p> + +<p>Whereat he disappeared. When Dahlia and the Philosopher returned he had +not come back. I was amazed at him, but my amazement did not produce +him, and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_42" id="page_42">[Page 42]</a></span> Philosopher accompanied Dahlia home. When they were well +away the Skeptic swung himself up over the side of the porch, from among +some bushes.</p> + +<p>"'All's fair in love and war,'" he grinned. "Besides, the campaign's +over. Philo's gained experience. He's a veteran now. He'll never be such +easy game again. Haven't we behaved well, on the whole?" he asked the +Gay Lady, dropping upon a cushion at her feet.</p> + +<p>"I don't think you have," said the Gay Lady gently.</p> + +<p>"We haven't! Why not?"</p> + +<p>She shook her head. "I refuse to discuss it," she said, as gently as +before, but quite firmly.</p> + +<p>The Skeptic sighed. "I'm sorry," he declared. "You really don't +know——"</p> + +<p>"I don't want to know," said the Gay Lady. "Isn't it a lovely, lovely +evening?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it's a lovely evening," said the Skeptic, looking up at her. "It +would be delightful on the river."</p> + +<p>She shook her head again.</p> + +<p>"Not nicer than here," she answered.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_43" id="page_43">[Page 43]</a></span></p> + +<p>The Philosopher came back. When he was half-way across the lawn the +Skeptic jumped up and rushed forward and offered his shoulder for the +Philosopher to lean upon.</p> + +<p>"Clear out," said the Philosopher shortly.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad to hear it," rejoined the Skeptic. "I feared you might be +clear in."</p> + +<p>"It's not your fault that I'm not," grunted the Philosopher.</p> + +<p>He dropped down upon the porch step in an exhausted way.</p> + +<p>The Gay Lady rose.</p> + +<p>"The air is making me sleepy," said she in her musically sweet voice. +"Good-night."</p> + +<p>The Skeptic and the Philosopher looked after her retreating figure even +after it ceased to be visible, drifting down the wide, central hall.</p> + +<p>"The worst of it is," grumbled the Skeptic, "that an exhibition of that +sort of thing always makes the other kind draw off, for fear we may +possibly think they're in the same class."</p> + +<p>I, too, now said good-night, and went away to let them have it out +between them.</p> + + +<p class="smaller">Back to <a href="#contents">Contents</a></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_44" id="page_44">[Page 44]</a></span></p> +<h2 class="center"><a name="I_IV" id="I_IV">IV</a></h2> + + +<h3 class="center"><a name="rhodora1" id="rhodora1">RHODORA</a></h3> + +<div class="center"><table summary=""><tr><td> +<p class="smaller"><span style="margin-left: 2em;">Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 22em;">—<i>Gray.</i></span><br /></p> +</td></tr></table></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">This</span> morning we had a surprise. Grandmother and Rhodora drove over from +Langdale, ten miles away, to spend two days. Grandmother does not belong +to us exclusively—she is Grandmother to a large circle of people, all +of whom are glad to see her whenever they have the opportunity. Rhodora +is a new granddaughter of the old lady—by which I mean to say that +Rhodora never saw Grandmother till a fortnight ago, when the girl +arrived to pay her a visit.</p> + +<p>"I wanted to see you people so much," explained Rhodora, coming breezily +upon the porch a step or two in advance of the old lady, "that I thought +I'd drive over. Grandmother wanted to come too, so I brought her."<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_45" id="page_45">[Page 45]</a></span></p> + +<p>Grandmother's dark eyebrows below her white curls went up a trifle. It +was quite evident that she thought she had brought Rhodora, inasmuch as +the carriage, the horses, and the old family coachman were all her own. +But she did not correct the girl. She is a tiny little lady, with a +gentle, somewhat hesitating manner, but her black eyes are very bright, +and she sees things with almost as keen a vision as Lad himself.</p> + +<p>The Gay Lady was charmed with Grandmother. She put the frail visitor +into the easiest chair on the porch, untied her bonnet-strings, smoothed +her soft, white curls, and brought a footstool for her little feet. Then +she sat by her, listening and talking—doing much more listening than +talking—leaving Rhodora to me.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry our men are away to-day," I said to Rhodora, "and Lad is with +them. They went early this morning to climb Bluebeard Mountain, and +won't be back till night. It is rather quiet here without them."</p> + +<p>"Are they young and jolly?" inquired Rhodora.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_46" id="page_46">[Page 46]</a></span></p> + +<p>"They are extremely jolly. As for being young, that depends upon one's +point of view," said I. "They are between twenty-five and thirty-five, I +believe."</p> + +<p>"Pretty wide margin," laughed Rhodora. "And how old is Lad?"</p> + +<p>"Fifteen."</p> + +<p>"I've had the bad luck to be stuck off with old people all the while +lately," remarked Rhodora. She looked at me as she spoke. I wondered if +she considered me "old people." Then she glanced at the Gay Lady.</p> + +<p>"How old is she?" she inquired.</p> + +<p>"I have never asked her."</p> + +<p>"Looks like a girl, but I guess she isn't. A real girl would never +settle down like that to talk to an old lady like Grandmother," she +observed sagely.</p> + +<p>I opened my lips—and closed them. I had known Miss Rhodora only about +ten minutes, and one does not make caustic speeches to one's guests—if +one can help it. But one does take observations upon them. I was taking +observations upon Rhodora.</p> + +<p>She was decidedly a handsome girl—handsome seems the word. She was +rather<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_47" id="page_47">[Page 47]</a></span> large, well-proportioned, blooming in colour, with somewhat +strikingly modeled features. She wore sleeves to her elbows, and her +arms were round and firm. She sat in a nonchalant attitude in which her +arms were considerably in evidence.</p> + +<p>"Rhodora," said Grandmother, turning to look our way, "did I bring my +little black silk bag from the carriage?"</p> + +<p>"Didn't see it," replied Rhodora. "Which way is Bluebeard Mountain?" she +inquired of me.</p> + +<p>The Gay Lady and I arose at the same instant. I went into the house to +search for the bag, and when I could not find it the Gay Lady went away +down to the red barn to find if the black silk bag had been left in the +carriage. She came back bringing it.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, my dear," said Grandmother, with a smile which might have +repaid anybody for a much longer trip than that to the carriage.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>After a time I managed to exchange places with the Gay Lady, feeling +that Rhodora very plainly did consider me an elderly person,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_48" id="page_48">[Page 48]</a></span> and that, +in spite of her confidence that the Gay Lady was not "a real girl," as +girls of Rhodora's age use the term, she might take her as a substitute +for one.</p> + +<p>The Gay Lady took Rhodora down to the river, and out in the boat. I +understood from what I heard later that the Gay Lady, although a fine +oarswoman, did not row Rhodora about the river. Rhodora began by +dropping into the stern seat among the cushions, but the Gay Lady fitted +two sets of oars into the rowlocks, and offered Rhodora the position of +stroke. The Gay Lady is very sweet and courteous in manner, but I could +quite understand that when she offered the oars to Rhodora, Rhodora +accepted them and did her best.</p> + +<p>When they came back it was time for luncheon, and I took my guests to +the white room.</p> + +<p>"What a cool, reposeful room, my dear," said Grandmother. She patted her +white curls in front of the mirror, which is an old-fashioned, oblong +one, in which two people cannot well see themselves at the same time. +Rhodora came up behind her, stooped to<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_49" id="page_49">[Page 49]</a></span> peer over her shoulder, and +seized upon the ivory comb which lay on the dressing-table. Her elbow, +as she ran the comb through her fluffy hair, struck Grandmother's +delicate shoulder. The old lady turned and regarded her granddaughter in +astonishment.</p> + +<p>"Want the comb?" inquired Rhodora, having finished with it herself.</p> + +<p>Rhodora went over to the washstand, and washed and splashed, and used +one of the towels and threw it back upon the rack so that it overhung +all the other fresh towels. Grandmother used one end of Rhodora's towel, +and carefully folded and put it in place, looking regretfully at its +rumpled condition. She took a clean pocket-handkerchief out of her bag. +Rhodora caught sight of it.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Grandmother, have you got a spare handkerchief?" she cried. "I've +lost mine, I'm afraid."</p> + +<p>Grandmother handed her the little square of fine linen, exquisitely +embroidered with her own monogram, and took another and plainer one from +her bag.</p> + +<p>"Try not to lose that one, Granddaughter," she said, in her gentle way.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_50" id="page_50">[Page 50]</a></span></p> + +<p>Rhodora pushed it inside her sleeve. "Oh, I seldom lose two in one day," +she assured the handkerchief's owner.</p> + +<p>I fear it was rather a dull afternoon for Rhodora. The Gay Lady took +Grandmother away after luncheon into the quiet, green-hung library, and +tucked her up on the couch, and covered her with a little silk quilt +from her own room, and went away and played softly upon the piano in the +distance until the old lady fell asleep. Late in the afternoon +Grandmother awoke much refreshed, and found the Gay Lady sitting by the +window, keeping guard.</p> + +<p>"It does one's eyes good to look at you, my dear," were Grandmother's +first words, after she had lain for some time quietly observing the +figure by the window, freshly dressed in white. The Gay Lady got up and +came over to the couch and bent down, smiling.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Just in time for a late dinner our men came home, sunburned and hungry. +Seeing guests upon the porch they made for their rooms, and reappeared +presently in that irreproachable trim which the dustiest and most +dis<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_51" id="page_51">[Page 51]</a></span>reputable-looking of them seems able to achieve, being given plenty +of water, in the twinkling of an eye.</p> + +<p>They were presented to Grandmother. At almost the same moment we were +summoned to dinner. The Skeptic gave the old lady his arm. The +Philosopher picked up her black silk bag from the porch floor, and +followed with it dangling from his hand. Just as she reached the table +she dropped her handkerchief, and the Lad sprang for it as a retriever +springs for a stick, and handed it to her with his best boyish bow. The +old lady beamed. Quite evidently this was the sort of thing to which she +was accustomed.</p> + +<p>At luncheon Rhodora had rather monopolized the conversation. At dinner +she found herself unable to do so. The Philosopher and the Skeptic were +too much occupied with Grandmother to be able to attend to Rhodora, +beyond lending a polite ear to her remarks now and then and immediately +afterward returning to the elderly guest. Grandmother was really a most +interesting talker when occasion required it of her, as it certainly did +now. We were all charmed with her<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_52" id="page_52">[Page 52]</a></span> clever way of putting things, her +shrewd observation, her knowledge of and interest in affairs in general.</p> + +<p>After dinner the Philosopher escorted her out to her chair on the porch. +The Skeptic sat down beside the Gay Lady on a wide, wooden settle close +by, and both listened, smiling, to the discussion which had arisen +between Grandmother and the Philosopher. It was well worth listening to. +The Philosopher, while wholly deferential, held his ground staunchly, +but Grandmother worsted him in the end. Her cheeks grew pink, her black +eyes shone. It was a captivating spectacle.</p> + +<p>I called Rhodora's attention to it. Finding nobody else to do her honour +she had entered into conversation with the Lad. Both looked up as I +spoke to them.</p> + +<p>"Yes, isn't she great!" agreed the Lad softly. "Nicest old lady I +ever saw."</p> + +<p>"It's too exciting for her, I should say," commented her granddaughter. +"I didn't think she ought to come. I could have come alone just as +well—I'd a good deal rather. She's getting pretty old."<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_53" id="page_53">[Page 53]</a></span></p> + +<p>The Skeptic and the Philosopher each did his duty by Rhodora before the +evening was over. The Skeptic played four sets of tennis with her—she +is an admirable player—but he beat her until he discovered that she was +growing very much annoyed—then he allowed her to win the last set by a +game. The Lad, who was watching the bout, announced it to me under his +breath with a laugh. Then the Philosopher took Rhodora through the +garden and over the place generally.</p> + +<p>"I think you should have a shawl about your shoulders, Rhodora," said +Grandmother, when the girl and the Philosopher had returned and taken +their seats upon the steps of the porch. The twilight had fallen, and +the Gay Lady had just wrapped Grandmother in a light garment of her own.</p> + +<p>Rhodora shrugged her shoulders. "Heavens, no!" she ejaculated. "Old +people are always fussing," she remarked, in a slightly lower tone to +the Philosopher. "Because she's frozen is no reason why I should be."</p> + +<p>"One could almost pretend to be frozen to please her," returned the +Philosopher,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_54" id="page_54">[Page 54]</a></span> in a much lower tone than Rhodora's. "She is the most +beautiful old lady I ever saw."</p> + +<p>"Goodness, I don't see how you can see anything beautiful about old +persons," said the girl. "They give me the creeps."</p> + +<p>The Philosopher opened his mouth—and closed it again, quite as I had +done in the morning. He looked curiously at Rhodora. By his expression I +should judge he was thinking: "After all—what's the use?"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The next afternoon Grandmother and Rhodora went home. When Grandmother +was in the carriage the Skeptic tucked her in and put cushions behind +her back and a footstool under her feet. Then the Philosopher laid a +great nosegay of garden flowers in her lap. She was so pleased she +coloured like a girl, and put out her delicate little old hand in its +black silk mitt, and he took it in both his and held it close for a +minute, looking at her with his blue eyes full of such a boyish +expression of affection as his own mother might have seen now and then, +years before. I think she would have liked to kiss him, and I am sure he +wanted to kiss her, but we were<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_55" id="page_55">[Page 55]</a></span> all looking on, and they had known each +other but a few hours. Nevertheless, there was something about the +little scene which touched us all—except Rhodora, who exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Gracious, Grandmother—I suppose that brings back the days when you had +lots of beaux! What a gorgeous jumble of old-fashioned flowers that is, +anyhow. I didn't know there were so many kinds in the world!"</p> + +<p>The Skeptic hustled her into the carriage, rather as if she were a bag +of meal, handed her belongings in after her, shook hands with +Grandmother in his most courtly fashion, and stood aside. We waved our +hands and handkerchiefs, and Grandmother's fat old horses walked away +with her down the driveway.</p> + +<p>"It's a pity," said the Skeptic to me impatiently, when they were out of +sight around the corner, and we had turned to go back to the house, +"that a girl like that can't see herself."</p> + +<p>"Rhodora is very young yet," said I. "Perhaps by the time she is even as +old as the Gay Lady——"</p> + +<p>"You don't think it," declared the Skeptic,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_56" id="page_56">[Page 56]</a></span> looking ahead at the Gay +Lady as she walked by the Philosopher over the lawn toward the house. +"The two are no more the same sort—than——" he looked toward the +garden for inspiration and found it, as many a man before him has found +it, when searching after similes for the women he knows—"than those +yellow tiger-lilies of yours are like—a clump of hepaticas that you +find in the woods in spring."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>That evening the Gay Lady had left us, as she sometimes does, and gone +in to play soft, old-time melodies on my piano, while the rest of us sat +silently listening. The men know well enough that it is useless to +follow her in when she goes to play in the twilight—if they did she +would send them back again, or stop playing. And as it is worth much to +hear her play when she has a certain mood upon her, nobody does anything +to break the spell. Sometimes the listening grows almost painful, but +before we are quite overwrought she comes back and makes us gay again.</p> + +<p>"When I was a boy," said the Skeptic, very softly to me, after the music +stopped, "I used<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_57" id="page_57">[Page 57]</a></span> to pick out men to admire and follow about, and +consume myself with wishing that some day I could be like them. How +could a girl like that one we've had here to-day look at our Gay Lady +and not want to copy her to the last hair on her head?"</p> + +<p>"There are some things which can't be copied," I returned. "She is one +of them."</p> + +<p>The Skeptic gave me a grateful glance. "You never said a truer thing +than that," said he.</p> + +<p>Perceiving that he was in a sentimental mood, and that the Gay Lady had +stopped playing and was coming out again upon the porch, I turned my +attention to the Philosopher. In spite of the music he seemed not in a +sentimental mood.</p> + +<p>"You have a lot of girl company, first and last, don't you?" he queried, +when he and I had agreed upon the beauty of the night.</p> + +<p>"It happens so, for some reason," I admitted.</p> + +<p>He shook his head regretfully. "If I thought you were going to have +anything more like that to-day soon, I should take to the woods," +said he.</p> + + +<p class="smaller">Back to <a href="#contents">Contents</a></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_58" id="page_58">[Page 58]</a></span></p> +<h2 class="center"><a name="I_V" id="I_V"></a>V</h2> + +<h3 class="center"><a name="azalea1" id="azalea1">AZALEA</a></h3> + +<div class="center"><table summary=""><tr><td> +<p class="smaller"><span style="margin-left: 2em;">It all depends upon a consciousness of values, a sense of proportion.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 20em;">—<i>Arthur Christopher Benson.</i></span><br /></p> +</td></tr></table></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">"The</span> heavens have fallen!" I announced in the doorway of the Gay Lady's +room. "Cook is ill—I had the doctor for her in the night. And my little +waitress went home just yesterday to her sister's wedding."</p> + +<p>"And breakfast to get," responded the Gay Lady, arriving instantly at +the point, as she always does. She had been dressing leisurely. Now she +made all speed and instead of white linen she slipped into a +blue-and-white-checked gingham. "Don't worry—I'll be down in three +minutes," she assured me cheerily.</p> + +<p>I found Lad building the kitchen fire—in the country we do not have gas +ranges. "I'll have her roaring in a jiff," he cried. "I learned a dandy +way camping last year."<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_59" id="page_59">[Page 59]</a></span></p> + +<p>Breakfast came off nearly on schedule time. The Gay Lady's omelet was a +feathery success, her coffee perfect, my muffins above reproach. Lad had +helped set the table, he had looked over the fruit, he had skimmed the +cream.</p> + +<p>Azalea came in a little late. She had been my guest for a week, and a +delightful guest, too. She has a glorious voice for singing, and she is +very clever and entertaining—everybody likes her.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Of course, when I arose to take away the fruit-plates and bring on the +breakfast, the fact that I was servantless came out. To the Philosopher +and the Skeptic, who were immediately solicitous, I explained that we +should get on very well.</p> + +<p>"We'll see that you do," promised the Skeptic. "There are a few things I +flatter myself I can do as well as the next man—or woman. Consider me +at your service."</p> + +<p>"The same here," declared the Philosopher. "And—I say—don't fuss +too much. Have a cold lunch—bread and milk, you know, or something +like that."<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_60" id="page_60">[Page 60]</a></span></p> + +<p>I smiled, and said that would not be necessary. Nor was it. For five +years after my marriage I had been my own maid-servant—and those were +happy days. My right hand had by no means forgotten her cunning. As for +both the Gay Lady's pretty hands—they were very accomplished in +household arts. And she had put on the blue-and-white gingham.</p> + +<p>"I can wipe dishes," offered the Philosopher, as we rose from the table.</p> + +<p>"It's a useful art," said the Gay Lady. "In ten minutes we'll be ready +for you."</p> + +<p>The Skeptic looked about him. Then he hurried away without saying +anything. Two minutes later I found him making his bed.</p> + +<p>"Go away," he commanded me. "It'll be ship-shape, never fear. You +remember I was sent to a military school when I was a youngster."</p> + +<p>From below, as I made Azalea's bed, the strains of one of the Liszt +Hungarian Rhapsodies floated up to me. Azalea was playing. We had fallen +into the habit of drifting into the living-room, where the piano stood, +every morning immediately after breakfast, to hear<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_61" id="page_61">[Page 61]</a></span> Azalea play. In the +evenings she sang to us; but one does not sing directly after breakfast, +and only second in delight to hearing Azalea's superb voice was +listening to her matchless touch upon the keyboard. I said to myself, as +I went about the "upstairs work"—work that the Skeptic, with all his +good will, could not do, not being allowed to cross certain +thresholds—that we should sorely miss Azalea's music when she should go +away next week.</p> + +<p>The Gay Lady and I managed luncheon with very little exertion, we had so +much assistance. Dinner cost us rather more trouble, for Cook's dinners +are always delicious, and we could not have a falling off under our +régime. But it was a great success, and our men praised us until we felt +our labours fully repaid. Still, we were a trifle fatigued at the end of +the day. Cook had needed a good deal of waiting upon, and though the Gay +Lady had insisted on sharing this service with me it had required many +steps and the exercise of some tact—Cook having been fully persuaded +all day that her end was near.</p> + +<p>"I have told her six times that people don't<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_62" id="page_62">[Page 62]</a></span> die of lumbago," said the +Gay Lady, "but her tears flow just as copiously as ever. I've written +three letters to her friends for her. To-morrow I suppose I shall have +to write her last will and testament."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>But on the morrow Cook was enough better to be able to indite her own +documents, though as yet unable to come downstairs. It was well that she +did not require much of our time, however, for just before noon a party +of touring motorists drove up to our door and precipitated themselves +upon us with warm greetings—and hungry looks toward our dining-room.</p> + +<p>"Smoke and ashes!" cried the Skeptic, under his breath, appearing in the +kitchen, whither the Gay Lady and I had betaken ourselves as soon as we +had furnished our guests with soap and water and clothes-brushes, and +left them to remove as much of the dust of the road from their persons +as could be done without a full bath—"why didn't you send them on to +the village inn? Of all the nerve!—and you don't know any of them +intimately, do you?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_63" id="page_63">[Page 63]</a></span></p> + +<p>I shook my head. "One of them was my dearest enemy in school-days," I +admitted, "and I never saw but one of the others. Never mind. Do you +suppose you could saddle Skylark and post over to town for some +beefsteak? I've sent Lad to the neighbours for other things. Beefsteak +is what they must have—porterhouse—since I've not enough broilers in +the ice-box to go around that hungry company."</p> + +<p>"Sure thing," and the Skeptic was off. But he came back to say in my +ear: "See here, why doesn't Miss Azalea come out and help? She's just +sitting on the porch, looking pretty."</p> + +<p>"Somebody ought to play hostess, since I must be here," I responded, +without meeting his inquiring eye. I did urgently need some one to beat +the oil into the salad dressing I was making, for there were other +things I must do. The Gay Lady was already accomplishing separate things +with each hand, and directing Lad at the same time. The Skeptic looked +at her appreciatively.</p> + +<p>"She mourns because she can't sing!" said he, and laughed quietly to +himself as he<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_64" id="page_64">[Page 64]</a></span> swung away. Yet he had seemed much impressed with +Azalea's singing all the week, and had turned her music for her +devotedly.</p> + +<p>We got through it somehow. "I thought they'd eat their heads off," +commented the Philosopher, who had carved the beefsteak and the +broilers, and had tried to give everybody the tenderloin and the white +breast meat, and had eaten drumsticks and end pieces himself, after the +manner of the unselfish host.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>There were piles and mountains of dishes after that luncheon. They +looked the bigger to us because we had been obliged to leave them for +two hours while we sat upon the porch with our motorists, who said they +always took a good rest in the middle of the day, and made up by running +many extra miles at night. When they had gone, loudly grateful for our +hospitality—two of the men had had to have some more things to eat and +drink before they could get up steam with which to start—the Gay Lady +and I stood in the door of the kitchen and drew our first sighs over the +state of things existing.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_65" id="page_65">[Page 65]</a></span></p> + +<p>"If Cook doesn't get down pretty soon——" said I dejectedly, and did +not try to finish the sentence. Somehow that hasty cookery for five +extra people had been depressing. I couldn't think of a thing that +had been left in the house that would do for dinner—due now in three +short hours.</p> + +<p>But the Gay Lady rallied nobly.</p> + +<p>"There's plenty of hot water," said she, "and those dishes will melt +away in no time. Then—you're going to have a long sleep, whether we get +any dinner to-night or not."</p> + +<p>The Skeptic spoke from behind us. "Here's a fresh recruit," said he in a +jovial tone, which I understood at once was manufactured for the +occasion. We looked around and saw Azalea at his elbow. She was smiling +rather dubiously. I wondered how he had managed it. Afterward I learned +that he had boldly asked her if she didn't want to help.</p> + +<p>"I hope I shan't break anything," murmured Azalea, accepting a +dish-towel. The Skeptic took another. "Oh, no," he assured her. "That +delicate touch of yours—why, I never heard anybody who could play<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_66" id="page_66">[Page 66]</a></span> +<i>pianissimo</i>—<i>legato</i>—<i>cantabile</i>—like you. You wouldn't break a +spun-glass rainbow."</p> + +<p>Azalea did not break anything. I think it was because she did not dry +more than one article to the Skeptic's three and the Gay Lady's six. +Once she dropped a china cup, but the Skeptic caught it and presented it +to her with a bow. "Don't mention it," said he. "I'm an old +first-baseman."</p> + +<p>The Philosopher came through the kitchen with a broom and dustpan. He +had been attempting to sweep the dining-room floor—which is of +hardwood, with a centre rug—and had had a bad time of it. The Skeptic +jeered at him and mentioned the implements he should have used. Azalea +looked at them both wonderingly.</p> + +<p>"How in the world do you men come to know so much about housework?" she +inquired, wiping a single teaspoon diligently. The Gay Lady had just +lifted a dozen out of the steaming pan for her, but Azalea had laid them +all down on the table, and was polishing them one by one.</p> + +<p>"I find it comes in handy," said the Skeptic. "You never stay anywhere, +you know, that<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_67" id="page_67">[Page 67]</a></span> sooner or later something doesn't happen unexpectedly +to the domestic machinery. Besides, I like to show off—don't you? See +here"—he turned to me. There was a twinkle in his wicked eye. "See +here, why not let Miss Azalea and me be responsible for the dinner +to-night—with Philo as second assistant? You and the Gay Lady are +tired out. Miss Azalea can tell me what to do, and I'll promise to +do it faithfully."</p> + +<p>He had not the face to look at the guest as he made this daring +suggestion. His audacity took my breath away so completely that I could +make no rejoinder, but the Gay Lady came to the rescue. I don't know +whether she had seen Azalea's face, but I had.</p> + +<p>"I have a surprise for to-night," said she, picking up a trayful of +china, "and I don't intend anybody shall interfere with it. Nobody is +even to mention dinner in my presence."</p> + +<p>The Skeptic took the tray away from her. "There are some other things I +should like to mention in your presence," said he, so softly that I +think nobody heard him but myself, who was nearest. "And one of them<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_68" id="page_68">[Page 68]</a></span> is +that somebody I know never looked sweeter than she does this——"</p> + +<p>I rattled the saucers in the pan that nobody might catch it. The Gay +Lady was colouring so brilliantly that I feared the Skeptic might drop +the tray, for he was not looking at all where he was going. But she +disappeared into the pantry, and there was nothing left for him to do +but to place the tray on the shelf outside, ready for her to take the +contents in through the window.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The Gay Lady put me upon my own bed, tucked me up, drew the curtains, +and left me to my nap. She left a kiss on my cheek also, and as she +dropped it there I thought of the Skeptic again—I don't know why. I +wondered casually what he would give for one like it.</p> + +<p>When I awoke my room was so nearly dark that I was startled into +thinking it next morning. The Lad's voice, speaking eagerly through my +door, was what had roused me. He was summoning me to dinner. "It's all +ready," he was calling.</p> + +<p>I dressed dazedly, refreshed and wonder<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_69" id="page_69">[Page 69]</a></span>ing. I went down to preside at +the most delicious meal I had eaten in a month. The Gay Lady—in white +muslin, with cheeks like roses—seemed not in the least fatigued. The +Skeptic looked like a young commanding general who had seen his forces +win triumphantly against great odds. The Philosopher was hilarious. +Azalea seemed somewhat quiet and thoughtful.</p> + +<p>When the dishes were done and the kitchen in order—matters which were +dispatched like wildfire—we gathered upon the porch as usual.</p> + +<p>"There is nothing in the world I should like so much," said the Gay Lady +presently, from the low chair where she sat, with the Skeptic on a +cushion so near to her feet that in the shadow his big figure seemed to +melt into her slight one, "as some music. Is it asking too much, dear, +after all those dishes?"</p> + +<p>"I don't feel a bit like singing," answered Azalea.</p> + +<p>The Philosopher sat beside her on the settle, and he turned to add his +request to the Gay Lady's.</p> + +<p>The Skeptic spoke heartily from his cushion.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_70" id="page_70">[Page 70]</a></span></p> + +<p>"If you knew how much pleasure you've given us all these mornings and +evenings," he said, "never having to be urged, but being so generous +with your great art——"</p> + +<p>"Somehow it doesn't look so great to me to-night," said Azalea quietly.</p> + +<p>I almost thought there were tears in her voice. She has a beautiful +speaking voice, as singers are apt to have.</p> + +<p>Everybody was silent for an instant, in surprise—and anxiety. Azalea +was a very lovely girl—nobody had meant to hurt her.</p> + +<p>Had the Skeptic's shot in the kitchen gone home? Nobody would be sorrier +than he to deal a blow where only a feather's touch was meant.</p> + +<p>"It looks so great to me," said the Gay Lady very gently, "that I would +give—years of my life to be able to sing one song as you sing +Beethoven's '<i>Adelaide</i>.'"</p> + +<p>"Of course I can't refuse, after that," said Azalea modestly, though +more happily, I thought, and the Philosopher went away with her into the +half-lit living room.</p> + +<p>"May I say anything?" asked the Skeptic, looking up into the Gay Lady's +face, in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_71" id="page_71">[Page 71]</a></span> way he has when he wants to say things very much but is +doubtful how she will take them—a condition he is frequently in.</p> + +<p>She shook her head—I think she must have been smiling. It was so +evident—that which he wanted to say. He wanted to assure her that her +own accomplishments——</p> + +<p>But the Gay Lady shook her head. "Let's just listen," she said.</p> + +<p>So we listened. It was worth it. But, after all, I doubt if the Skeptic +heard.</p> + + +<p class="smaller">Back to <a href="#contents">Contents</a></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_72" id="page_72">[Page 72]</a></span></p> +<h2 class="center"><a name="I_VI" id="I_VI">VI</a></h2> + +<h3 class="center"><a name="hepatica1" id="hepatica1">HEPATICA</a></h3> + +<div class="center"><table summary=""><tr><td> +<p class="smaller"><span style="margin-left: 2em;">Here's metal more attractive.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 14em;">—<i>Hamlet.</i></span><br /></p> +</td></tr></table></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> Gay Lady had gone away for a week and a day. Although four of us +remained, the gap in our number appeared prodigious. The first dinner +without her seemed as slow and dull as a dance without music, in spite +of the fact that we did our best, each one of us, not to act as if +anything were wrong.</p> + +<p>When we had escaped from the dining-room to the porch, Lad was the first +to voice his sentiments upon the subject of our drooping spirits. "I +didn't know her being here made such a lot of difference—till she got +away," he said dismally. "There's nobody to laugh, now, when I make a +joke."</p> + +<p>"Don't the rest of us laugh at your jokes, son?" inquired the +Philosopher, laying a<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_73" id="page_73">[Page 73]</a></span> friendly hand upon the Lad's arm as the boy stood +on the porch step below him.</p> + +<p>"You do—if she does," replied Lad. "Lots of times you'd never notice +what I say if she didn't look at you and laugh. Then you burst out and +laugh too—to please her, I suppose," he added.</p> + +<p>The Philosopher glanced at me over the boy's head. "Here's a pretty +sharp observer," said he, "with a gift at analysis. I didn't know before +that I take my cue from the Gay Lady—or from any one else—when it +comes to laughing at jokes. Try me with one now, Lad, and see if I don't +laugh—all by myself."</p> + +<p>Lad shook his head. "That wouldn't be any good. I'd know you didn't mean +it. She always means it. Besides—she thinks things are funny that you +don't. She's 'most as good as a boy—and I don't see how she can be, +either," he reflected, "because she isn't the least bit like one."</p> + +<p>"You're right enough about that," observed the Philosopher. "She's +essentially feminine, if ever a girl was."</p> + +<p>"Girl!" repeated the Lad. "She isn't a girl.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_74" id="page_74">[Page 74]</a></span> That is—I thought she +was, till she told me herself she wasn't. She's twenty-seven."</p> + +<p>The Philosopher grinned. The Skeptic, who had lit his pipe and was +puffing away at it, sitting on the settle with his back to the +sunset—which was unusually fine that evening—gave utterance to a deep +note of derision at the Lad's point of view. I smiled, myself. If ever +there was an irresistible combination of the girlish and the womanly it +was to be found in our Gay Lady. As to her looks—even the blooming +youth of Althea, and the more cultivated charms of Camellia, had not +made the Gay Lady less lovely in our eyes, although she was by no means +what is known as a "beauty."</p> + +<p>"She's a whole lot nicer than any of those girls we've had here this +summer," the Lad went on. He seemed to have the floor. There could be no +doubt that the subject of his musings was of interest to all his +hearers. "And they weren't so bad, either—except Dahlia. I can't stand +her," he added resentfully.</p> + +<p>The Philosopher shook his head slightly as one who would have said "Who +could?" if it had been allowable. The Skeptic re<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_75" id="page_75">[Page 75]</a></span>moved his pipe from his +mouth and gazed intently into its bowl. I felt it my duty to stand by +Dahlia, for the sake of the Lad, who must not learn to sneer at women +behind their backs.</p> + +<p>"There are a great many nice things about Dahlia," I said. "And she has +surely given you many good times, Lad. Think how often she has gone out +on the river with you—and helped you make kites, and rigged little +ships for you——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," cried the Lad scornfully, "she'll take me—when she can't get +a man!"</p> + +<p>The Skeptic's shoulders heaved as he turned away to cough violently. +Evidently he had swallowed a pipeful of smoke. The Philosopher abruptly +removed his hand from the Lad's shoulder and dropped down on the porch +step, where his face was hidden from the bright young eyes above him. I +shook my head at Lad. Presently he ran off to the red barn to look after +some small puppies down there in the hay.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>We three left behind settled down for the evening. At least I did, and +the others made<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_76" id="page_76">[Page 76]</a></span> a show of doing so. But the Skeptic was both restless +and moody, the Philosopher unsociable. Finally the Skeptic flung an +invitation to the Philosopher to go off for a walk. The Philosopher +consented with a nod, and they strolled away, taking leave of me with +formal politeness. I understood them, and I did not mind. A wise woman +lets a man go—that he may return.</p> + +<p>They came back just as twilight darkened into night, and sat down at my +feet on the step, shoulder to shoulder, like the good comrades that they +were. I wondered if they had been discussing the subject which the Lad +had introduced.</p> + +<p>"How much," inquired the Philosopher quite suddenly, "do you suppose it +would cost to dress a girl like Miss Camellia?"</p> + +<p>"I've really no idea," I answered, since the question seemed directed at +me. "It depends on a number of things. There are girls so clever with +their needles that they can produce very remarkable effects for a +comparatively small amount of money."</p> + +<p>"Is she one of them?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know."<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_77" id="page_77">[Page 77]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I fancy you do," was his comment. Presently he went on again. "You see, +I don't know much about all this," he declared. "So I've had rather an +observant eye on—on these young ladies you've had here from time to +time this summer, and I confess I'm filled with curiosity. Would you +mind telling me what you think the average girl of good family, and well +brought up, has in her mind's eye as a desirable future—I mean for the +next few years after school?—I don't know that I make myself clear. +What I want to get at is—You see, the great thing a young chap thinks +about is what he is going to make of himself—and how to do it. It +struck me as rather odd that not one of those girls seemed to have any +particular end in view—at least, that ever came out in her +conversation."</p> + +<p>I couldn't help smiling, his tone was so serious.</p> + +<p>The Skeptic chuckled. He had put up his pipe, and was sitting with his +hands clasped behind his head, as he leaned against one of the great +pillars of the porch. "They have one, just the same," he vouchsafed. "He +who runs may read."<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_78" id="page_78">[Page 78]</a></span></p> + +<p>The Philosopher regarded him thoughtfully, through the half-light from +the hall lamp. "I noticed you did a good deal of running, first and +last," he observed. "I suppose you read before you ran—unless you have +eyes in the back of your head. Well," he continued, "you can't make me +believe that all girls are so anxious to make a good impression, or they +wouldn't do some of the things they do."</p> + +<p>"For instance?" I suggested, having become curious myself. Never before, +in an acquaintance dating far back, had I heard the Philosopher hold +forth upon this subject.</p> + +<p>"They make themselves conspicuous," said he promptly—to my great +surprise. "As nearly as I can get at it, that's the cardinal fault of +the girl of to-day. Everywhere I go I notice it—in public—in private. +Wherever she is she holds the floor, occupies the centre of the stage. +If you'll pardon my saying it, every last girl you had here this summer +did that thing, each in her own way."</p> + +<p>I thought about them—one after another. It was true. Each had, in her +own way, occupied the centre of the stage. And the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_79" id="page_79">[Page 79]</a></span> Gay Lady, than whom +nobody has a better right to keep fast hold of her position in the +foreground of all our thoughts, had allowed each one to do it. And +somehow, in every case, after all, the real focus for all our eyes, +quite without her being able to help it, had been wherever the Gay Lady +had happened to be.</p> + +<p>We all went to bed early that night. The Philosopher's observations, +though highly interesting, did not keep us from becoming very sleepy at +an untimely hour. It was the same way next evening. And the next. In +fact, up to the very night before the Gay Lady's expected return, we +continued to cut short our days of waiting by as much as we could +venture to do without exciting the suspicion that we were weary of one +another.</p> + +<p>On that last evening the Skeptic fastened himself to me. He insisted on +my walking with him in the garden.</p> + +<p>"So she comes back to-morrow," said he, as we paced down the path, quite +as if he had just learned of the prospect of her return.</p> + +<p>"I can hardly wait," said I.</p> + +<p>"Neither can I," he agreed solemnly. "I<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_80" id="page_80">[Page 80]</a></span> knew I should miss her, +but—smoke and ashes!—I didn't dream the week would be a period of time +long enough for a ray of light to travel from Sirius to the earth and +back again."</p> + +<p>"If she could only hear that!" said I.</p> + +<p>"She's going to hear it," he declared with great earnestness. "She's +kept me quiet all summer, but—by a man's impatience!—she can't keep me +quiet any longer. Do you blame me?" he inquired, wheeling to look +intently at me through the September twilight.</p> + +<p>"Not a bit," said I. "I've only wished she could stand still until Lad +grows up."</p> + +<p>"You must think well of her, to say that," said he delightedly. "And, on +my word, I don't know but she will continue to stand still, as far as +looks go. But in mind—and heart—well, the only thing is, I'm so far +below her I don't dare to hope. All I know is that, for sheer womanly +sweetness and strength, there's nobody her equal. And yet, when I try to +put my finger on what makes her what she is—I can't tell."</p> + +<p>"One can't analyze her charm," said I, "except as you've just done +it—womanly<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_81" id="page_81">[Page 81]</a></span> sweetness and strength. Hepatica is—Hepatica. And being +that, we love her."</p> + +<p>"We do," said he, half under his breath, and caught my hand and gave it +a grip which stung.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The next morning the Gay Lady came home. We had not expected her until +evening, and when we heard a light footstep approaching through the hall +as we sat at breakfast, we looked at one another in dumb astonishment +and disbelief. But the next instant she stood smiling at us from the +doorway.</p> + +<p>She was glad to see us, too. From Lad's ecstatic embrace she came into +mine, and I heard her eager whisper—"I'm so glad to get back to <i>you!</i>" +The Skeptic and the Philosopher wrung her hand until I know her little +fingers ached, and they stared at her, the one like a brother, the other +like—well, she must have seen for herself. No, they were not rivals. +The Philosopher had seen the Skeptic's case, I think, from the first, +and being not only a philosopher but a man, and the Skeptic's best +friend, had never<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_82" id="page_82">[Page 82]</a></span> allowed himself to enter the race at all. I had +detected a wistful light in his eyes now and then, and had my own notion +of what might have happened if he had let it, but—there was only a very +warm brotherliness in the greeting he gave the Gay Lady, and she looked +back into his eyes too frankly for me to think he had ever let her see +anything else.</p> + +<p>She sat down at the table with us for a little, while we finished, and +you should have seen the difference in the look of the room. It was +another place. She ran upstairs to her own room, and I followed her, and +from being a deserted bedroom with a lonely aspect it became a human +habitation with an atmosphere of home. She took off her travelling +dress, talking gayly to me all the while, and brushed her bright locks, +and put on one of the charming white frocks which her own hands had +made, and then came and held me tight, and laughed, and was very near +crying, and said there was never such another place as this.</p> + +<p>"There certainly never is when you are in it, dear," I agreed, and +received such a reward for that as only the Gay Lady knows how to give.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_83" id="page_83">[Page 83]</a></span></p> + +<p>All day she stayed by me, wherever I might be. The Skeptic watched and +waited—he got not the ghost of an opportunity. When I was upon the +porch with the others she was there—and not a minute after.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>When evening fell it found the Gay Lady on a cushion close by my knee. +Presently the Philosopher went off with the Lad down to the river. The +Skeptic accompanied them part of the distance, then returned quite +unexpectedly by way of the shrubbery, and swung up over the porch rail +at the end at a moment when the Gay Lady, feeling safe in his absence, +had gone to that end to see the moonlight upon the river.</p> + +<p>"'All's fair in love and war,'" exulted the Skeptic, somewhat +breathlessly. It seemed to be a favourite maxim with him. I recalled his +having excused himself for eluding Dahlia by that same well-worn +proverb. "No—don't run! Have I become suddenly so terrifying?"</p> + +<p>"Why should you be terrifying?" asked Hepatica. "Come and sit down and +tell us what you've all been doing while I was away."<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_84" id="page_84">[Page 84]</a></span></p> + +<p>Her back was toward me. There was a long window open close beside me. My +sympathy was with the Skeptic. I slipped through it.</p> + +<p>An hour later I went out upon the porch again. Nobody was there. I sat +down alone, feeling half excited and half depressed, and wholly anxious +to know the outcome of the Skeptic's tactics. I waited a long time, as +it seemed to me. Then, without warning, a voice spoke. I could hardly +recognize it for the Skeptic's voice, it was strung so tense—with joy.</p> + +<p>"Don't shoot," it said. "We'll come down."</p> + +<p>I looked toward the end of the porch, where the vines cast a deep +shadow. I could not see them, but they must have been there all the +time. And the shadow cast by the vines was not a wide shadow at all.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_85" id="page_85">[Page 85]</a></span></p> + +<p class="smaller">Back to <a href="#contents">Contents</a></p> + +<hr style="width: 100%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_86" id="page_86">[Page86]</a></span></p> +<h2 class="center"><a name="PART_II" id="PART_II">PART II</a></h2> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_87" id="page_87">[Page 87]</a></span></p> +<h2 class="center"><a name="II_I" id="II_I"></a>I</h2> + +<h3 class="center"><a name="dahlia2" id="dahlia2">DAHLIA AND THE PROFESSOR</a></h3> + +<div class="center"><table summary=""><tr><td> +<p class="smaller"><span style="margin-left: 8em;">Amen</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Stuck in my throat.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">—<i>Macbeth.</i></span><br /></p> +</td></tr></table></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> Skeptic and his wife, Hepatica, being happily established in a +beautifully spacious flat in town, measuring thirty feet by forty over +all, invited me to visit them. As both had spent considerable time at my +country home in summer, they insisted that it was only just for me to +allow them, that second winter after their marriage, to return my +hospitality. This argument alone would hardly have sufficed, for winter +in the country—connected by trolley with the town—is hardly less +delightful to me than summer itself. But there were other and convincing +arguments, and they ended by bringing me to the city for a month's visit +in the heart of the season.</p> + +<p>On the first morning at breakfast—I had<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_88" id="page_88">[Page 88]</a></span> arrived late the night +before—there was much to talk about.</p> + +<p>"It's a curious fact," said the Skeptic, stirring a cup of yellow-brown +coffee with which his wife had just presented him, "as Hepatica and I +discovered only the other day, that three of those girls who visited you +that summer four years ago, when she and I were avoiding each other——"</p> + +<p>"You—avoiding!" I interpolated.</p> + +<p>"Well—I was trying to avoid being avoided by her," he explained. "Three +of those girls are married and living in town."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know," said I. "At least I know Camellia and Althea are. Who +else? Azalea lives across the river, doesn't she?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. You haven't heard of the latest matrimonial alliance, then?" The +Skeptic chuckled. Hepatica looked at him, and he looked at her, and then +they both looked at me. "Dahlia was married yesterday," the Skeptic +announced with relish, "in a manse study, with two witnesses."</p> + +<p>I was astounded. I had just come from home, and Dahlia was my next +neighbour. She had been away more or less all winter, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_89" id="page_89">[Page 89]</a></span> there had +been no announcement of any engagement—nor sign of one.</p> + +<p>The Skeptic, enjoying my stupefaction, proceeded to give what he +considered an explanation. "I don't see why you should be so surprised," +he said. "You knew Dahlia's methods. Her net was always spread, and +though a certain wise man declares it in vain to spread it in the sight +of any bird, humans are not always so wary. A man who chanced to be +walking along with his head in the clouds might get his feet entangled +in a cunningly laid net. And so it happened to the Professor."</p> + +<p>"The Professor!" I ejaculated. "Not—our Professor?"</p> + +<p>The Skeptic nodded solemnly.</p> + +<p>"He was our Professor," he amended. "He's hers now. And day before +yesterday he was free!"</p> + +<p>He glanced at his watch, folded his napkin in haste, seized his coat and +hat, kissed his wife, patted her shoulder, nodded at me, and was gone. A +minute later we heard the whirr and slide of his car, and Hepatica, at +the window, was returning his wave.</p> + +<p>"He's looking extremely well," I observed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_90" id="page_90">[Page 90]</a></span> "He must be twenty pounds +heavier than he was that summer. Avoiding being avoided was probably +rather thinning."</p> + +<p>"He does seem to enjoy his food," admitted Hepatica, regarding the +Skeptic's empty plate with satisfaction.</p> + +<p>"Not much doubt of that," I agreed, remembering the delicately hearty +breakfast we had just consumed.</p> + +<p>"It's really quite dreadful about Dahlia and the poor Professor, isn't +it?" said Hepatica presently. "And it's just as Don says: he was +literally caught in her net. I presume he couldn't tell to-day precisely +how it happened."</p> + +<p>"I've no doubt she could," said I ungenerously. "I shall be anxious to +see them."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you'll see them. It's in the middle of term—he couldn't take her +away. And his old quarters are just two blocks below us. She knew you +were coming. You'll probably see them within forty-eight hours."</p> + +<p>We did, though not where we could do more than take observations upon +them. The Philosopher came in that evening—he had known of my coming +from the moment that Hepatica had planned to ask me. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_91" id="page_91">[Page 91]</a></span> was looking +rather less well-fed than the Skeptic, but quite as philosophical, and +altogether as friendly as ever. He looked hard at me, and wrung my hand, +and immediately began to lay out a programme for my visit. As a +beginning he had procured tickets for the Philharmonic Society concert +to be given on the following evening.</p> + +<p>We told him about Dahlia. He had not heard. He looked quickly and +dumbfoundedly at the Skeptic, and the Skeptic grinned back at him. "You +feel for him, don't you, Philo?" he queried.</p> + +<p>The Philosopher shook his head, and seemed, for a time, much depressed; +upon which the Skeptic rallied him. "You ought to be jubilant to think +it's not yourself," he urged his friend. "You know, there was one time +when you feared even to go home with her, though you were to be within +call from the porch all the way."</p> + +<p>But the Philosopher cheered up presently in the pleasure of talking over +old times at the Farm. He had spent the past summer tramping through +Germany, and he and I had not met for many months.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_92" id="page_92">[Page 92]</a></span></p> + +<p>We went to the concert next evening, we four, in a jovial mood. There +was considerable sly joking, on the Skeptic's part, concerning the +change of conditions which now made Hepatica my chaperon, instead of, as +in former days, my being alert to protect her from visiting philosophers +and skeptics. The Philosopher and I took it quite in good part, for +nothing could be more settled than the unimpassioned character of our +old friendship—as there could be nothing more satisfactory.</p> + +<p>We had not more than taken our seats when the Skeptic leaned past +Hepatica to call my attention to two people who had come down the aisle +and were finding their places just across it and in the row ahead of us. +I turned to the Philosopher.</p> + +<p>"There they are," I whispered. So our four pairs of eyes gazed +interestedly that way.</p> + +<p>As she settled into place, Dahlia, whose pretty, flushed face had been +turned in every direction over the house as she got out of her evening +coat, caught sight of us. She bowed and smiled with great cordiality, +and immediately called her companion's attention to us. The +Professor—eighteen years Dahlia's senior,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_93" id="page_93">[Page 93]</a></span> but one of the best men who +ever walked the earth, as we had long since discovered—turned and +scanned us over his spectacles. Then he also responded to our smiling +recognitions with a somewhat subdued but pleased acknowledgment. Dahlia +continued to whisper to him, still glancing back at us from time to time +with looks of good-fellowship, and he appeared to lend an attentive ear, +though he did not again turn toward us.</p> + +<p>As for us, in the interest of our observation of the bridal pair, we +fell rather silent. I was conscious that the Philosopher, regarding them +somewhat steadily, drew a deep breath which sounded like a sigh of +dissatisfaction. Noting how thin the Professor's ash-coloured hair +seemed to be, over the crown of his head, in comparison with Dahlia's +luxuriant and elaborately dressed chestnut locks, I felt depressedly +that the disparity in age was more marked than is often seen. This, in +itself, of course, was nothing; but taken in connection with——</p> + +<p>The Skeptic leaned forward again.</p> + +<p>"What'll you wager I couldn't get up a<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_94" id="page_94">[Page 94]</a></span> flirtation with her to-night, if +I happened to sit next her?" he challenged in a whisper.</p> + +<p>"Don!" murmured Hepatica; but she smiled.</p> + +<p>"I'm not anywhere near his age," continued the Skeptic. "My auburn +tresses are thick upon my head, my evening clothes were made a decade +later than his. If I were only sitting next her!"</p> + +<p>At this moment some more people came down the aisle and were shown to +the seats immediately beyond our friends. As the Professor and Dahlia +stood up to let them through, we saw that though the newcomers passed +the Professor without recognition, the young man exchanged greetings +with Dahlia. As they took their seats the man, a floridly handsome +person, was at Dahlia's elbow.</p> + +<p>For the third time the Skeptic leaned forward. "It's just as well, +perhaps," he whispered, "that my observations are to be made upon a +proxy. What do you think the new chap's chances are for fun on both +sides of him?"</p> + +<p>I did not condescend to answer. And without further delay the famous +conductor of a<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_95" id="page_95">[Page 95]</a></span> famous orchestra came commandingly to the front of the +stage, welcomed by an outburst of applause, and with the rest of the +audience we became silent.</p> + +<p>But amidst all the delights of the ear which were ours that evening, the +eyes of all of us would wander, from time to time, across the aisle. The +Professor sat, with arms folded and head bent, drinking in the beauties +of sound which beat against his welcoming ears. Next him, Dahlia, the +bride of three days, was vindicating the Skeptic's opinion of her +undiminished accomplishments. The young man upon her right proved an +able second. The girl on his other side, by the time the concert was +half over, was holding her head high, or bending it to study a programme +which I am sure she did not see, while her companion played Dahlia's old +game with a trained hand.</p> + +<p>"Can the Ethiopian change his skin?" breathed the Philosopher in my ear, +during an intermission.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid not," I assented dubiously. "But, of course, she may make a +devoted wife, nevertheless. That sort of thing doesn't<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_96" id="page_96">[Page 96]</a></span> mean anything to +her, you know. She merely does it as a matter of habit."</p> + +<p>"It can't be precisely an endearing habit to a husband," protested the +Philosopher. "If she would address a remark now and then to the poor man +at her left one might excuse her. And if she could carry on a +conversation with the other one in an ordinarily well-bred, friendly +way—and confine it to the intervals between numbers—one might be able +to forget her, which would be a relief. But all those silly tricks of +hers—those smiles, those archings of the neck—those lengthy looks up +into the eyes of that fool——"</p> + +<p>"Don't look at them," I advised.</p> + +<p>"I can't help looking at them. Everybody else is looking at +them—including yourself."</p> + +<p>It was quite true—everybody was, even people considerably out of range. +If Dahlia herself was conscious of this—and I'm sure she must have +been—she probably ascribed it to the charm of her appearance. She is +even prettier than she used to be. But, as we were wont to say of her +when we had owned to all her attractiveness—"if only!"</p> + +<p>"After all," urged Hepatica, on the home<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_97" id="page_97">[Page 97]</a></span>ward way, "we've no right to +judge by seeing them under those conditions. Wait till we've had them +alone with us. Dahlia told me on the way out that they were planning to +come and see us very soon.—I suggested to-morrow night, so they will +come then."</p> + +<p>"I'll be there," accepted the Philosopher—quite before he was asked.</p> + +<p>So on the following evening we saw them, alone with ourselves. The dear +Professor seemed to us, more than before, the pitiable victim of a woman +in every way unsuited to him. Yet he looked at Dahlia as if he cared for +her very much, and was only a trifle bewildered by her manner with other +men.</p> + +<p>"What dear times we used to have on the river!" said Dahlia to the +Philosopher, at a moment when nobody else happened to be speaking. She +accompanied this observation by a glance. It was Dahlia's glances which +gave life to her remarks.</p> + +<p>"I haven't fished in that river for three summers," replied the +Philosopher, in his most unsentimental tone.</p> + +<p>"You used to have better luck when you<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_98" id="page_98">[Page 98]</a></span> went alone," said Dahlia. "Do +you remember how we could never stop talking long enough to lure any +fish our way?"</p> + +<p>"Nevertheless, there has been considerable fishing done on that river, +first and last," asserted the Skeptic, with a twinkle at the +Philosopher, who looked uncomfortable. The Professor's gentle gaze was +fixed upon each speaker in turn, and as he now waited upon the +Philosopher's reply I saw the latter person frown slightly.</p> + +<p>"I never considered the fishing on that river very good," said he.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it didn't need to be," cried Dahlia. "I can shut my eyes now and +see the water rippling in the moonlight! Can't you?" She appealed to +the Skeptic.</p> + +<p>"I can't," said the Skeptic. "I never noticed how it rippled in the +moonlight. The big porch is my favourite haunt at the Farm. The smoking +is good there—keeps away the midges."</p> + +<p>"Midges!" Dahlia gave a little shriek. "There aren't any midges in that +part of the country."</p> + +<p>"There are some kinds of little, annoying insects that come around in +the evening, then,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_99" id="page_99">[Page 99]</a></span> persisted the Skeptic, "just when people want to +settle down and have themselves to themselves. The Philosopher was +always more annoyed by them than I. He has a sensitive skin."</p> + +<p>Once started on this sort of allusive nonsense it was difficult for us +to head off the Skeptic. But presently, noting the Professor's kindly +face assuming a puzzled expression as he watched his wife's kittenish +demeanour, the Skeptic desisted. It did not seem necessary for him to +demonstrate to us that, quite as of old, he could attract Dahlia to his +side and keep her there. Before the evening was over he found himself +occupied—also quite as of old—with keeping out of her way. Altogether, +it was certainly not Dahlia's fault if the Professor did not gain the +impression that both the Skeptic and the Philosopher were rejected +suitors of her own.</p> + +<p>When they had gone, and the door had closed upon the last of the bride's +backward looks at our two men, the Skeptic dropped into a chair.</p> + +<p>"Hepatica, will you kindly mix a few drops of soothing syrup for me?" +he requested.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_100" id="page_100">[Page 100]</a></span></p> + +<p>But the Philosopher fell to marching up and down, his hands in his +pockets, and a deeper gloom on his brow than we had ever seen there. +Although a decade the Philosopher's elder, the Professor had long +shared bachelor quarters with him in past days; it had been only +within a year or two that the necessities of their occupations had +caused them to separate.</p> + +<p>"Why did I ever let him go off by himself?" the Philosopher muttered +remorsefully. "Why didn't I keep an eye on him?"</p> + +<p>"It would have made no difference," the Skeptic offered dismally as +consolation. "'Whom the gods would destroy they first make mad!' You +couldn't have prevented his madness."</p> + +<p>"I could have seen to it that such deadly instruments as marriage +licences and irresponsible clergymen were kept out of his way," groaned +the Philosopher.</p> + +<p>"Come, cheer up!" cried Hepatica, making haste to light the spirit-lamp +under her tea-kettle. "I'm going to brew you all a cup of comfort with +lemons and sugar and things."<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_101" id="page_101">[Page 101]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Look at her!" commanded the Skeptic, rallying, "and tell me if marriage +is a failure."</p> + +<p>The Philosopher paused. "You know well enough what I think of your +marriage," he owned.</p> + + +<p class="smaller">Back to <a href="#contents">Contents</a></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_102" id="page_102">[Page 102]</a></span></p> +<h2 class="center"><a name="II_II" id="II_II">II</a></h2> +<h3 class="center"><a name="camellia2" id="camellia2">CAMELLIA AND THE JUDGE</a></h3> + +<div class="center"><table summary=""><tr><td> +<p class="smaller"><span style="margin-left: 2em;">I am ashamed that women are so simple</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">To offer war when they should kneel for peace.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 16em;">—<i>Taming of the Shrew.</i></span><br /></p> +</td></tr></table></div> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">We</span> are invited to spend the week-end with Camellia," announced my +hostess at the breakfast-table one morning, glancing up from a note +which the hall-boy had just brought to the door.</p> + +<p>The Skeptic jumped in his chair. "Those same old sensations come over +me," he announced, digging away vengefully at his grapefruit. "What have +I to wear? My only consolation now is that Camellia married a man who +cares about as much what he wears as I do."</p> + +<p>"It's not Camellia's clothes that bother me now," said Hepatica +thoughtfully, "so much as the formality of her style of entertaining. +My dear, she has a butler."<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_103" id="page_103">[Page 103]</a></span></p> + +<p>"How horrible!" I agreed. "Can I hope to please the eye of the butler?"</p> + +<p>"Camellia's husband is a downright good fellow," said the Skeptic +warmly. "The fuss and feathers of his wife's hospitality can't +prevent his giving you the real thing. Even Philo likes to go +there—particularly when Camellia is away. I presume Philo's +invited now?"</p> + +<p>"So she says," assented Hepatica, studying her note again, with a care +not to look at me which made me quite as self-conscious as if she had. +Why the dear people will all persist in thinking things which do not +exist! Of course I was glad the Philosopher was to be there. What +enjoyment is not the keener for his friendly sharing of it? But what of +that? Has it not been so for many years?—and will be so, I trust, for +all to come.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Hepatica and I packed with care, selecting the most expensive things we +owned. Hepatica scrutinized the Skeptic's linen critically before she +put it in. When we departed we were as correctly attired as time and +thought could make us. When we arrived we were<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_104" id="page_104">[Page 104]</a></span> doubly glad that this +was so, for the sight of the butler, admitting us, gave us much the same +feeling of being badly dressed that Camellia's own presence had been +wont to do.</p> + +<p>Camellia herself was as exquisitely arrayed as ever, but she looked +considerably older than I had expected. I wondered if constant +engagements with her tailor and dressmaker, to say nothing of incessant +interviews with those who see to the mechanism of formal entertaining, +had not begun to wear upon her. But she was very cordial with us, and +her husband, the Judge, was equally so. He was considerably her +senior—quite as much so, I decided, as the Professor was Dahlia's—but +on account of Camellia's woman-of-the-world air the contrast was not so +pronounced.</p> + +<p>We sat through an elaborate dinner, during which I suffered more or less +strain of anxiety concerning my forks. But the Judge, at whose right +hand I sat, diverted me so successfully by means of his own most +interesting personality and delightful powers of conversation, that in +time I forgot both forks and butler, and was only conscious of the +length of the dinner by the sense, toward its close, of having had more +to eat than I wanted.</p> + +<p class="figcenter"><a href="images/illo2_big.jpg"><img title="illustration2.jpg" height="400" width="281" alt="illustration" src="images/illustration2.jpg"></img></a></p> +<p class="caption">"Camellia herself was as exquisitely<br /> arrayed as ever"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_105" id="page_105">[Page 105]</a></span></p><p>"They have this sort of thing every night of their unfortunate lives, +to a greater or less degree," murmured the Skeptic in my ear, as the men +came into the impressively decorated room where Camellia and Hepatica +and I were talking over common memories. "The gladdest man to get into +his summer camp in Maine is the Judge, and the life of absolute abandon +to freedom he lives there ought to teach his wife a thing or two—if she +were wise enough to heed it. Why two people—but I've just eaten their +salt," he acknowledged in reply to what I suppose must have been my +accusing look, and forbore to say more.</p> + +<p>"I think I'll give a little dinner for you to-morrow night," said +Camellia reflectively, as we sat about. "A very informal one, of +course—just some of our neighbours."</p> + +<p>I felt my spirits drop. I saw those of Hepatica and the Skeptic and the +Philosopher drop, although they made haste to prop their countenances +up again.</p> + +<p>But the Judge protested. "Why give anything, my dear?" he questioned. "I +doubt<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_106" id="page_106">[Page 106]</a></span> if our friends would prefer meeting our neighbours, whom they +don't know, to visiting with ourselves, whom they do—however egotistic +that may sound."</p> + +<p>"I want to make things gay for you," explained Camellia; "and the +Latimers and the Elliots are very gay."—The Judge only lifted his +handsome eyebrows.—"And the Liscombes are lovely," went on Camellia. +"Mrs. Liscombe sings."</p> + +<p>The Judge ran his hand through the thick, slightly graying locks above +his broad forehead. He did not need to tell us that he did not enjoy +hearing Mrs. Liscombe sing, and doubted if we should.</p> + +<p>"Harry Hodgson recites—we always have him when we want to make things +go. Oh, he's not a professional, of course. He only gives readings among +his special friends. I believe I'll run and telephone him now. He's so +likely to have engagements." Camellia hastened away.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>We could hardly tell the Judge we fully agreed with his feeling about +to-morrow's proposed festivities, neither could we discuss<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_107" id="page_107">[Page 107]</a></span> his wife's +tastes with him. He and we talked of other things until Camellia came +back, having made her engagement with Mr. Harry Hodgson, and so having +sealed our fate for the succeeding evening.</p> + +<p>The Skeptic and the Philosopher spent much of the following day—it was +a legal holiday—with the Judge in his private den up on the third +floor. This, as Camellia showed us once when the men were away, was a +big, bare room—this was her characterization—principally fireplace, +easy-chairs, books and windows. I liked it better than any other place +in the house, for it was unencumbered with useless furniture of any +sort, and the view from its windows was much finer than that from +below stairs.</p> + +<p>"But we're not invited up here, you observe," was Camellia's comment. "I +don't come into it once a month. The Judge spends his evenings +here—when I don't actually force him to go out with me—and I spend +mine down in the pleasanter quarters. I have the Liscombes and the +Latimers in very often, but he never comes down if he can avoid it. They +understand he's eccentric, and we let it go at that."<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_108" id="page_108">[Page 108]</a></span></p> + +<p>She spoke with the air of being a most kindly and forbearing wife. +I followed her downstairs, pondering over points of view. +Eccentric—because he preferred wide fires and elbow-room and +outlook to Camellia's crowded and over-decorated rooms below, and +his books to Mrs. Liscombe's music and Mr. Harry Hodgson's "readings." +I felt that I knew Mrs. Liscombe and Mr. Hodgson and the rest quite +without having seen them.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>I found, the next evening, that my imagination had not gone far astray. +Camellia's friends were certainly quite as "gay" as she had pictured +them, and gorgeously dressed. I felt, as I attempted to maintain my part +among them, like a country mouse suddenly precipitated into the society +of a company of town-bred squirrels.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Liscombe sang for us. I could not make out what it was she sang, +being unfamiliar with the music and unable to understand the words. She +possessed a voice of some beauty, but was evidently determined to be +classed among the sopranos who are able to soar highest, and when she +took certain notes<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_109" id="page_109">[Page 109]</a></span> I experienced a peculiar and most disagreeable +sensation in the back of my neck.</p> + +<p>"I wonder if we couldn't bring in a stepladder for her," murmured the +Skeptic in my ear. "It gives me a pang to see a woman, alone and +unassisted, attempt to reach something several feet above her head!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Hodgson recited for us with great fervour. He fought a battle on the +drawing-room floor, fought and bled and died, all in a harrowing tenor +voice. He was slender and pale, and it seemed a pity that he should have +to suffer so much with so many stalwart men at hand. From the first +moment, when he drew his sword and leaped into the fray, our sympathies +were with him, although he personified a doughty man of battles, and led +ten thousand lusty followers. There were moments when one could not +quite forget the swinging coat-tails of his evening attire, but on the +whole he was an interesting study, and I was much diverted.</p> + +<p>"Dear little fellow!"—it was the Skeptic again. "How came they to let +him go to war—and he so young and tender?"</p> + +<p>I exchanged observations with Mr. Hodgson<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_110" id="page_110">[Page 110]</a></span> after his final reading; I +can hardly say that I conversed with him, for our patchwork interview +could not deserve that name. At the same time I noted with interest the +Philosopher's expression as he and Mrs. Liscombe turned over a pile of +music. If I had not known him so well I should have been deceived by +that grave and interested air of his—a slight frown of concentrated +attention between his well-marked eyebrows—into thinking him deeply +impressed by the lady's dicta and by her somewhat dashing manner as she +delivered them. But, familiar of old with the quizzical expression which +at times could be discovered to underlie the exterior of charmed +absorption, I understood that the Philosopher was quietly and skilfully +classifying a new, if not a rare, specimen.</p> + +<p>When the guests had lingeringly departed I saw, as I went to my room, +three male forms leaping up the second flight of stairs toward the +Judge's den.</p> + +<p>"Don't you envy them the chance to soothe their nerves with a pipe +beside the fire up there?" I asked Hepatica as, with hair down and +trailing, loose garments, she came into<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_111" id="page_111">[Page 111]</a></span> my room through the door which +we had discovered could be opened between our quarters.</p> + +<p>"Indeed I do. They went up those stairs like three dogs loosed from the +leash, didn't they? Can one blame them?"</p> + +<p>"One cannot."</p> + +<p>Hepatica gazed at me. I stared back. But we were under our host's roof.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Liscombe really has quite a voice," said Hepatica, examining the +details of the tiny travelling workbag I always carry with me.</p> + +<p>"So she has."</p> + +<p>"It was a wonderful dinner, wasn't it?"</p> + +<p>"It was, indeed. Would you mind having quite specially simple things to +eat for a day or two after we go back?"</p> + +<p>"I've been planning them," admitted Hepatica.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Hodgson's readings were—entirely new to me; were they to you? I +had never heard of the authors."</p> + +<p>"Few people can have heard of them, I think. Several were original."</p> + +<p>"Indeed!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_112" id="page_112">[Page 112]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Would you mind taking off your society manner?" requested Hepatica, a +trifle fractiously. "I'm a little tired of seeing you wear it so +incessantly."</p> + +<p>"I shall be delighted," I agreed.</p> + +<p>I sprang up and she met me half-way, and seizing me about the neck +buried her face in my shoulder. I felt her shaking with smothered +laughter, and had great difficulty in keeping my own emotions under +control.</p> + +<p>We went home on Sunday afternoon, the Skeptic pleading the necessity of +his being up at an early hour next morning. By unanimous consent we went +to the evening service of a church where one goes to hear that which is +worth hearing, and invariably hears it. The music there is also worth a +long journey, though it is not at all of an elaborate sort.</p> + +<p>"There, I feel better after that," declared the Skeptic heartily, as we +came out. "It seems to take the taste of last evening out of my mouth."</p> + +<p>Nobody said anything directly about our late visit until we had reached +home. Then the Skeptic fired up his diminutive gas grate—which is much +better than none at all—and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_113" id="page_113">[Page 113]</a></span> turned off the electrics. We sat before +the cheery little glow, luxuriating in a sense of relaxation.</p> + +<p>"It seems ungracious, somehow to discuss people, when one has just left +their hospitality," suggested Hepatica, as the Skeptic showed signs of +letting loose the dogs of war.</p> + +<p>"Not between ourselves, dear," affirmed the Skeptic. "We four constitute +a private Court of Inquiry into the Condition of Our Friends. When I +think of the Judge——"</p> + +<p>"He has his own way, after all, when it comes to refusing to join in the +sort of thing that pleases Camellia," said I.</p> + +<p>"Of course he does. He's too much of a man not to have it. But living +upstairs while my wife lives downstairs isn't precisely my ideal of +married happiness."</p> + +<p>The Philosopher shoved his hands far down into his pockets and laid his +head back, gazing up at the ceiling. "What puzzles me," he mused, "is +the attraction such a woman has, at the start, for such a man."</p> + +<p>"Camellia was a most attractive girl," said I.</p> + +<p>"You mean her clothes were most attractive," amended the Skeptic. "They +even<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_114" id="page_114">[Page 114]</a></span> befuddled me for a few brief hours, as I remember—till I +discovered that not all is gold that——"</p> + +<p>"You didn't discover that yourself," the Philosopher reminded him. "We +had to do it for you. You don't mind our recalling his temporary +paralysis of intellect?" he questioned Hepatica suddenly. "It was all +your fault, anyhow, for retiring to the background and allowing the +fireworks to have full play."</p> + +<p>Hepatica smiled. The Skeptic put out his hand and got hold of hers and +drew it over to his knee, where he retained it. "She knows I never +swerved a point off my allegiance to her," he declared with confidence.</p> + +<p>"Do you suppose," suggested Hepatica, "if the Judge and Camellia were to +lose all their money and had to come down to living in a little home +like this, it would help things any?"</p> + +<p>The Skeptic shook his head. The Philosopher shook his, thoughtfully. +"It's too late," said the latter. "Her ideals are a fixed quantity now, +to be reckoned with. So are his. Under any conditions there would be +absolute diversity of tastes."<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_115" id="page_115">[Page 115]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I don't think there's any ideal more hopelessly fixed than the fine +clothes ideal." The Skeptic looked at his wife.</p> + +<p>"I like nice clothes," said she, smiling at him.</p> + +<p>"So you do," he rejoined; "thank heaven! A woman who doesn't is +abnormal. But when we walk down certain streets together you can see +something besides the shop-windows."</p> + +<p>"I look away so I won't want the things," confessed Hepatica.</p> + +<p>The Skeptic laughed, and the Philosopher and I joined him.</p> + +<p>"I passed Mrs. Hepatica the other day when she didn't see me," said the +Philosopher to me. "She was staring fixedly in at a shop-window. I stole +up behind her to see what held such an attraction for her.—It often +lets a great light in on a friend's character, if you can see the +particular object in a shop-window which fixes his longing attention. +When I had discovered what she was looking at I stole away again, +chuckling to myself."</p> + +<p>"What was it?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"I'll wager half I own that the wife of our friend the Judge wouldn't +have given that window a second glance," pursued the Philosopher.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_116" id="page_116">[Page 116]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It was probably a bargain sale of paper patterns," guessed the Skeptic. +But we knew he didn't think it.</p> + +<p>"A bargain sale of groceries, more likely," said Hepatica herself.</p> + +<p>"It was no bargain sale of anything," denied the Philosopher. "It was a +most expensive edition of the works of Charles Dickens."</p> + +<p>"Good for you, Patty!" cried the Skeptic.</p> + +<p class="smaller">Back to <a href="#contents">Contents</a></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_117" id="page_117">[Page 117]</a></span></p> +<h2 class="center"><a name="II_III" id="II_III">III</a></h2> +<h3 class="center"><a name="azalea2" id="azalea2">AZALEA AND THE CASHIER</a></h3> + +<div class="center"><table summary=""><tr><td> +<p class="smaller"><span style="margin-left: 2em;">A mother is a mother still,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">The holiest thing alive.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 16em;">—<i>S. T. Coleridge.</i></span><br /></p> +</td></tr></table></div> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">I am</span> to spend the day with Azalea to-morrow," I announced, as I said +good night, one evening, "and I shall not come back until so late that +you mustn't sit up for me. Azalea couldn't ask me to stay all night, on +account of using the guest-room for a nursery during the winter, but +she's very anxious to have me there in the evening, for it's the only +chance I shall have to see her husband."</p> + +<p>"Remain late enough to see her husband, by all means," urged the +Skeptic. "I want to hear what sort of man had the courage to marry a +musical genius who could wipe only one teaspoon at a time."</p> + +<p>"Azalea was a lovely girl," said Hepatica warmly. "It couldn't take much +courage to marry her."<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_118" id="page_118">[Page 118]</a></span></p> + +<p>"All right—we'll hear about it when our guest comes back. And I'll be +over to bring you home, if you'll telephone about an hour before you'll +be ready to start."</p> + +<p>"Thank you—it really won't be necessary for you to come," I replied.</p> + +<p>The Skeptic eyed me narrowly. Then he glanced at Hepatica and grinned. +"Good night," said I, again, and walked away to my room.</p> + +<p>"Good night," the Skeptic called after me. "But don't hesitate to call +me if anything should detain Philo."</p> + +<p>I arrived at Azalea's home early next morning, having been earnestly +asked to come in time to see the babies take their bath. There is +nothing I like better than to see a baby take a bath, and to see two at +once was a bribe indeed.</p> + +<p>Azalea met me at the door of her suburban home, the larger of her two +children—the two-year-old—on her arm. He was evidently just ready for +his bath, for he was wrapped in a blanket, and one pink foot stuck +temptingly out from its folds. Azalea greeted me with enthusiasm, +pushing back the loose,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_119" id="page_119">[Page 119]</a></span> curling locks from her forehead as she did so, +explaining that Bud had just pulled them down. She did not look in the +least like the girl who had sung for us, but it occurred to me that, +enveloped in the big flannel bath-apron, she was even more engaging than +she had been upon the porch at the Farm.</p> + +<p>I don't know when I have enjoyed anything so much as I enjoyed seeing +Azalea give that bath. The little baby was asleep in her crib when we +went into the nursery—which had been the guest-room before the second +baby came—so Azalea gave Bud his splash all by himself. He was plump +and dimpled and jolly, and he cried only once—when his mother +inadvertently rubbed soap in his eyes while talking with me. When he +smiled again he was a cherub of cherubs, but he had waked his small +sister, and Azalea gave me permission to take her up while she finished +with Bud. She was six months old, and she was afraid of me only for a +minute or two, and I held her and cuddled her and wanted to take her +away with me so fiercely that I had all I could do to give her over to<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_120" id="page_120">[Page 120]</a></span> +Azalea for her bath. Boy babies are delightful, but girl babies are +heavenly!</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>We had a busy day—made up of babies, with more or less talk between, +which didn't matter in the least. Late in the afternoon Azalea put +everything straight in the rooms, more or less upset by Bud during the +day; and dressed herself for the evening. She dressed both children, +also, making them fresh as rosebuds. I saw her putting flowers on the +table in the dining-room, lighting a special reading-lamp at a table in +the corner of the living-room, and pulling an easy chair to stand close +beside it. There was a small grand piano in the room. It had been closed +all day, for Bud's fingers could just reach the keyboard. Azalea opened +it.</p> + +<p>"You haven't had time to-day," said I, "but I'm looking forward to +hearing you sing this evening."</p> + +<p>"It's my husband you are to hear sing," said Azalea contentedly. "He has +a splendid voice."</p> + +<p>"I shall be delighted," I agreed; "but surely you will sing too."<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_121" id="page_121">[Page 121]</a></span></p> + +<p>"My voice seems to wake up the children," said she, "Arthur's never +does. It's odd, for his voice is much heavier, of course. But I can +never take really high notes without hearing a wail from either Bud or +Dot. And that's not worth while."</p> + +<p>"Won't you sing now, then," I begged, "while they are awake? I really +can't go away without hearing you. And you know when the Philosopher +comes he will be so anxious to have you sing."</p> + +<p>"The babies will go to bed before dinner," she insisted, "so I can't +very well sing for the Philosopher. But I'll sing for you now, of +course."</p> + +<p>She laid little Dot in my lap, but Dot was already sleepy and protested. +So Azalea went to the piano with Dot on her arm. Bud, seeing her go, +followed and stood by her knee—on her trailing skirts. I don't know how +she managed to play her own accompaniment, but she did—at least subdued +chords enough to carry the harmony of the song. There were no notes +before her on the rack, and she looked down into one or the other of the +two small faces as she sang.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_122" id="page_122">[Page 122]</a></span> And, of course, it was a lullaby which +fell like notes of pearl and silver from her lips.</p> + +<p>When she finished, I could only smile at her through an obscuring mist. +Never, in all the times I had heard her sing, had she reached my heart +like this. But, somehow, the picture of her, sitting in the half light +at the grand piano, with the babies in her arms and at her knee, singing +lullabies and leaving the fine music for her husband to sing by and by, +was quite irresistible. Somehow, as I listened, I was troubled by no +doubts lest she had not learned deftly to wipe ten teaspoons at once.</p> + +<p>Her husband came home presently; a tall, thin, young bank cashier, with +a face I liked at once. He was plainly weary, but his eyes lit up with +satisfaction at sight of the three who met him at the door, and the +welcome his young son gave him showed that Bud recognized a play-fellow. +I heard the pair romping upstairs as the Cashier made dressing for +dinner a game in which the little child could join.</p> + +<p class="figcenter"><a href="images/illo3_big.jpg"><img title="illustration3.jpg" height="298" width="400" alt="illustration" src="images/illustration3.jpg"></img></a></p> + +<p class="caption">"The picture of her, sitting in the half light at the +grand piano, with the babies<br /> in her arms and at her knee ... was quite +irresistible"</p> + +<p>But before we sat down to dinner both babies had been put to bed. The +Cashier<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_123" id="page_123">[Page 123]</a></span> remained with me while Azalea was busy at this task, but he +excused himself toward the last, and went tiptoeing upstairs, where I +think he must have offered his services in getting the children tucked +away. While he was gone the Philosopher arrived.</p> + +<p>I let him in myself, motioning the maid away. It was a small house, and +I knew she was needed in the kitchen. "Don't make a bit of noise," I +cautioned him, as he came smiling into the little hall. "The babies are +going to bed."</p> + +<p>"Babies!" whispered the Philosopher, in an awestruck way. "I didn't know +there were any babies."</p> + +<p>"Of course you knew it," I whispered back, leading him into the room. +"If you would only store away really important facts in that capacious +mind of yours, instead of limiting it to——"</p> + +<p>"Tell me how many babies, and of what sex—quick!" commanded the +Philosopher, "or I shall say the wrong thing. And how on earth do they +come to know enough to put their babies to bed before they ask a +bachelor to dine, anyhow?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_124" id="page_124">[Page 124]</a></span></p> + +<p>I hastily set him straight upon these points, adding that Azalea had +developed wonderfully.</p> + +<p>"You mean she can soar to high Q now, I suppose?" interpreted the +Philosopher.</p> + +<p>"Not at all. I mean that she's——"</p> + +<p>But they were coming downstairs together. The Cashier's arm was about +his wife's shoulders; he removed it only just in time to save his +dignity as he entered.</p> + +<p>"I'm disappointed not to see the boy and girl," declared the Philosopher +genially. The Cashier took him by the shoulders and turned him toward +the light, laughing. "That was bravely said," he answered. "How did you +know but we might go and wake them up for you to see?"</p> + +<p>The dinner was quite unpretentious, but very good. Evidently Azalea had +a capable servant. We talked gaily, the Cashier proving an adept at +keeping the ball in the air, and keenly appreciative of others' attempts +to meet him at the sport.</p> + +<p>By and by, when we were back in the room where the grand piano stood, +and conversation had reached a momentary halt, Azalea went to the piano. +"Come, Arthur,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_125" id="page_125">[Page 125]</a></span> she said, sitting down at it and patting a pile of +music, "I want our friends to hear 'The Toreador.'"</p> + +<p>The Cashier looked up protestingly. "You are the one they want to hear, +dear," he declared.</p> + +<p>She shook her head. "They've heard me often, but never you, I think. +Besides, it wakes the babies, you know, for me to sing."</p> + +<p>"You don't need to sing high notes, Azalea," I urged. "I'd like nothing +so well as the lullaby you sang to the babies."</p> + +<p>But she shook her head again. "That's their song," she said. "You were +specially privileged to hear it at all. But I can't do it for company. +Come, Arthur—please."</p> + +<p>So the Cashier sang. The Philosopher and I found it necessary to avoid +each other's eyes as he did it. The Cashier could roar 'The Toreador,' +no doubt of that. The voice of the bull of Bashan would have been as the +summer wind in the trees beside it. Where so much volume came from we +could not tell, as we looked at the thin frame of the performer. Why the +babies did not wake up will ever remain a mystery. Why Azalea<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_126" id="page_126">[Page 126]</a></span> did not +desert her accompaniment to press her hands over bursting ear drums I +cannot imagine, for it was with difficulty that I surrendered my own to +the shock. But Azalea played on to the end, and looked up into the +Cashier's flushed face at the last note with a smile of proprietary +triumph. Then she turned about to us.</p> + +<p>"That fairly takes me off my feet!" cried the Philosopher. I groped +hurriedly for a compliment which would match the equivocal fervour of +this, but I could not equal it.</p> + +<p>"How much you must enjoy singing together," I said, "when the babies are +awake,"—and felt annoyed that I could have said it, for I could really +not imagine the two voices together.</p> + +<p>Azalea glowed. The Cashier grinned. He is as quick-witted as he is +good-humoured. "You're a clever pair," he chuckled.</p> + +<p>"I've trained him myself," said Azalea. "When I knew him first he'd +never thought of singing. I only discovered his voice by accident. It +needs much more work with it, of course, but it's powerful, and it has a +quality that will improve with cultivation."<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_127" id="page_127">[Page 127]</a></span></p> + +<p>The Cashier patted her shoulders. "Now you sing some soft little thing +for them, my girl," he commanded—and looking up at him again, Azalea +obeyed. She chose an old ballad, one with no chance in it to show the +range of her voice. She sang it exquisitely, and the Cashier stood by +and turned her music as if he considered it a high privilege. Yet, +half-way through, the little Dot woke up. Azalea broke off in the middle +of a bar, and fled up the stairs.</p> + +<p>"The truth is, I'm afraid," said the Cashier, looking after her with an +expression on his face which indicated that he wanted to flee, too, +"nothing really counts in this house but the babies."</p> + +<p>"They—and something else," suggested the Philosopher gently.</p> + +<p>The Cashier looked at him. He nodded. "Yes—and something else," he +agreed with his bright smile.</p> + +<p>We came away rather late. The Philosopher looked up at the house as the +door closed upon the warm farewells which had sent us out into the +night. "It's a little bit of a house, isn't it?" he commented.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_128" id="page_128">[Page 128]</a></span></p> + +<p>I looked up, too—at the nursery windows where the faintest of +night-lights showed. "Yes, it's very small," I agreed. "Yet quite big +enough, although it holds so much."</p> + +<p>"One would hardly have said, four years ago, that anything smaller than +the biggest musical auditorium in the city would have been big enough to +hold Azalea's voice," he mused.</p> + +<p>"If you could have heard her sing her lullaby to those babies," I +replied, as we walked slowly on, "you would have said her voice would be +wasted on a concert audience."</p> + +<p>"It seems a pleasant home."</p> + +<p>"It <i>is</i> one."</p> + +<p>"Somehow, one distrusts the ability of musical prodigies to make +pleasant homes."</p> + +<p>"I wonder why. Shouldn't the knowledge of any art make one appreciative +of other arts?"</p> + +<p>"It took some time for a certain exhibition of the domestic art to +strike in, at your home, that summer," said the Philosopher. "But I +believe Azalea came to envy our Hepatica at the last, didn't she?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_129" id="page_129">[Page 129]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Indeed she did. And she's never got over envying her her +accomplishments. She asked me ever so many questions to-day about +Hepatica's housekeeping. I wish I had had a chance before I went to tell +her that I was sure her will to succeed would make her home as dear a +one as even Hepatica's could be."</p> + +<p>"One thing is sure—as long as she lets the Cashier do the singing in +the limelight, while she looks after the babies, there'll be no occasion +for their friends to demand more music of an evening than is good for +her pride of spirit," chuckled the Philosopher. "What—are we at our +station already? I say—let's not make a quick trip by train—let's make +a slow one, by cab."</p> + +<p>"By cab! It would take two hours! No, no—here comes our train."</p> + +<p>"This is the first time we've gone anywhere since you've been here +without two alert chaperons—younger than myself," grumbled the +Philosopher.</p> + +<p>"The more reason, then, that we should give them no anxiety on my +account."</p> + +<p>"I'd like to walk the whole way," said he.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_130" id="page_130">[Page 130]</a></span></p> + +<p>I laughed as I obeyed the signal of an impatient guard and rushed upon +the train. "Now, talk to me," said I, as we took our seats.</p> + +<p>"My lungs weren't built for the Toreador song," he objected.</p> + +<p class="smaller">Back to <a href="#contents">Contents</a></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_131" id="page_131">[Page 131]</a></span></p> +<h2 class="center"><a name="II_IV" id="II_IV">IV</a></h2> + +<h3 class="center"><a name="althea2" id="althea2">ALTHEA AND THE PROMOTER</a></h3> + +<div class="center"><table summary=""><tr><td> +<p class="smaller"><span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">What an interesting fellow our host is! He is almost more</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">interesting because of the qualities he does not possess, than</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">because of the qualities that he does possess.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 16em;">—<i>Arthur Christopher Benson.</i></span><br /></p> +</td></tr></table></div> + +<p>"'<i><span class="smcap">Be</span> it ever so humble</i>,'" quoted the Skeptic under his breath to me, +"'<i>there's no place like</i>——'"</p> + +<p>Hepatica turned and gave him a smiling look which nevertheless conveyed +warning. He needed it. The Skeptic was in a mad and merry mood to-night, +and no glance shot at him which, being interpreted, meant that we were +under our hosts' roof, had thus far been of avail. "We are not under +their roof," he argued defiantly, in reply to one of these silent +remonstrances. "This isn't their roof. This is the roof of the Hotel +Amazon. That's a very different thing. So different that if I lived +under it I'd——"</p> + +<p>But the Promoter was approaching us<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_132" id="page_132">[Page 132]</a></span> again, with the news that dinner +had just been announced as served. He immediately led the way with me, +Hepatica followed with the Philosopher, and Althea and the Skeptic +brought up the rear. It was on the great staircase that the Skeptic, +pausing to gaze upward, at a command from the Promoter, who had just bid +him observe certain mural decorations done by the distinguished hand of +some man of whom I fear none of us had ever heard, murmured the +well-known words concerning the humble home.</p> + +<p>"I always like to walk down this staircase when I'm not in a hurry," I +had heard Althea saying to the Skeptic behind us, "to get the effect +from the landing. Isn't it wonderful?"</p> + +<p>We all paused upon the landing, which was about thirty feet square. The +Skeptic, leaning against the marble balustrade, gazed out over the scene +with an air of prostrating himself before a shrine. Awe and wonder +dominated his aspect. Only we who were familiar with a certain curving +line over his left eyebrow knew that he was longing to break into an +apostrophe on the magnificence<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_133" id="page_133">[Page 133]</a></span> before him which would have alienated +Althea and her husband forevermore.</p> + +<p>"These columns are of the purest (something) marble," declared the +Promoter, laying his hand upon one of them. He rather mumbled the name, +and I think none of us were able to recognize it.</p> + +<p>"Indeed!" said the Skeptic, and laid his hand upon the column. "It +seems stout."</p> + +<p>"It's the same that is used in the Royal Palace at Athens," added the +Promoter.</p> + +<p>"That must be why it feels so Greece-y to the touch," murmured the +Skeptic; but, luckily, nobody heard him but myself.</p> + +<p>In due course of time, proceeding across a gorgeous lobby and traversing +an impressive corridor, passing lackeys in livery and guests in evening +finery, we arrived at the doorway of the most elaborately ornate dining +hall I had ever seen. The Promoter paused in the doorway to let the +first impression sink in.</p> + +<p>"I could have had our dinner served in a private dining-room, of +course," said he to us, "but Althea and I decided that you would enjoy +this better. There's nothing like it<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_134" id="page_134">[Page 134]</a></span> anywhere. It's absolutely +cosmopolitan. People from all over the world are dining here +to-night—are every night. Every tenth man is worth his millions. Notice +the third table on the right as we go by. That's Joseph L. Chrysler, the +iron magnate. With his party is a French actress—worshipped on both +sides the water. Keep your eyes peeled."</p> + +<p>A bowing potentate motioned us forward. A bending waiter put us in our +places. Orchids decorated our table. An extraordinarily expensive +orchestra celebrated our arrival with strains from a popular opera then +raging. People all around glanced at us and immediately away again. I +suppose we showed by our appearance that we were the possessors neither +of millions nor of world-renowned accomplishments.</p> + +<p>The Promoter leaned back in his chair with the demeanour of a large and +puffy young frog on the edge of a pool. He settled his white waistcoat +and looked from side to side with the superior glance of a man who owns +the whole thing. Althea, in her place, also wore a self-conscious air of +being hostess to a<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_135" id="page_135">[Page 135]</a></span> party which must appreciate the privilege of dining +under such auspices.</p> + +<p>Our table was a circular one, and the Skeptic sat upon my right. The +Promoter at my left occupied himself with Hepatica much of the +time—Hepatica had never looked lovelier than to-night, though her +simple, white evening frock was not cut half so low as Althea's pink, +embroidered one, nor cost half so much as my plain pale-gray. Althea +devoted herself to the Philosopher—she and the Skeptic had never got on +very well. Meanwhile the Skeptic was saying things into my ear, under +cover of the orchestra and the loud hum of talk.</p> + +<p>"This is a crowd," he commented. "This certainly is a crowd! Men of +millions, and men who don't know how they're going to meet the next note +due, but bluffing it through. Somebodies and nobodies. Kingfish and +minnows—and some of the kingfish are going to swallow the minnows at +the next gulp——What in the name of time is this we're eating now?"</p> + +<p>I expressed my ignorance.</p> + +<p>"And what's this we're to have with it?" he pursued. "Look out!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_136" id="page_136">[Page 136]</a></span></p> + +<p>He had known I would thank him for the warning. I shielded my glass from +an imminent bottle. It was the third time already, and the dinner was +not far on its way. I saw Hepatica shield hers—also for the third time. +A tiny flush was beginning to creep up Althea's cheeks. She had refused +only the first offering of the waiter.</p> + +<p>The Promoter turned and viewed my empty glasses with ill-disguised +contempt. "We'll have to get you to stay in town long enough to overcome +those notions of yours," said he. "Look around you. I'll wager there's +not another in the room."</p> + +<p>If I flushed it was not for either of the reasons which caused the +brilliant cheeks I saw all about me. "I think you are quite right," said +I, as I looked. I saw a garrulous lady at the table on my right, whose +high laughter was beginning to carry far; I observed a sleepy one at my +left, who had spilled champagne down the front of her elaborate corsage +and was nodding over her ices. I glanced at Hepatica. Her pretty head +was held high; her eyes, too, sparkled, but not with wine.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_137" id="page_137">[Page 137]</a></span></p> + +<p>The Promoter began to talk of investments, telling stories of great +<i>coups</i> made by men who had the daring.</p> + +<p>"Not necessary for them to have the money, I suppose?" queried the +Philosopher.</p> + +<p>"Not at all," agreed the Promoter. "Life's a game of poker. If you're +not afraid to sit in, and have the nerve to bluff it through, you can +win out with a hand that would make a quitter commit suicide."</p> + +<p>Althea listened with pride to her husband's discourse. "He's a man of +the world," one could see she was thinking, "who is making the eyes drop +out of the heads of these simple people."</p> + +<p>"I'm so impressed," said the Skeptic to me, "that I can hardly eat. +Think of living in a place like this—having this every day—common, +like the dust under your feet. Can I ever eat creamed codfish and +johnny-cake again, think you? Hepatica must name the hash by a French +name and serve me grape juice with it, or I can't condescend to eat it. +I say—the smoke is getting a bit thick here for you ladies, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>We had been late in coming down, and at<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_138" id="page_138">[Page 138]</a></span> many tables people were nearing +the end of the dinner. For some time the odour of expensive cigars had +been growing heavier throughout the room; a blue haze hung over the more +distant tables.</p> + +<p>"I don't think my lungs mind it so much as my feelings," I answered. "I +shall never be able to make it seem to me just—just——"</p> + +<p>"Try to subdue the expression which dominates your countenance at the +present moment," counselled the Skeptic gently, "or you will be quietly +led away from the scene as dangerous to your fellow-men."</p> + +<p>After what seemed like many hours we reached the end of the dinner. I +felt that I should be glad to reach the quiet and comparative purity of +air to be found in the room in which our hosts had received us—a +private drawing-room. But this was not to be. We were taken from place +to place about the hotel, to look in on this or that scene of +entertainment, of banqueting, of revelry. Gorgeousness upon gorgeousness +was revealed to us. Althea, now very gay and sparkling in manner, her +carefully dressed hair a little loosened, her mind full of schemes<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_139" id="page_139">[Page 139]</a></span> for +our diversion, took the lead, showing off everything with that air of +personal possession I have often observed in the frequenters of +hostelries like the Amazon.</p> + +<p>Hepatica, in spite of evident effort to maintain her part, grew a trifle +silent. As I regarded her I was reminded of a white dove in the company +of a pair of peacocks. The Philosopher adjusted his eyeglasses from time +to time as if they did not fit well; he seemed to feel his vision +growing distorted. I became intensely fatigued with it all, and found +myself longing for a quiet corner and a book. As for the Skeptic—but +the Skeptic was incorrigible.</p> + +<p>"How much does it cost, do you say," he inquired of the Promoter, "to +buy a postage stamp at the desk here? I want to put one on a letter I +have in my pocket. May I slip it into the post-box myself, or do I have +to call a flunkey, present him with a dollar, and respectfully request +him to insert it in the slit for me?"</p> + +<p>The Promoter smiled. "Oh, people make a joke of the Amazon," said he. +"But I notice they're the same ones who breathe<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_140" id="page_140">[Page 140]</a></span> deep when they go by +it, hoping to inhale the atmosphere free of charge."</p> + +<p>The Skeptic inflated his lungs. "I'm going to do it here, inside," said +he, "where it's more highly charged."</p> + +<p>At length they took us to their own rooms. I have forgotten how many +floors up they were, but it didn't matter, in a luxurious elevator, +padded and mirrored. In one of the mirrors I caught the Philosopher's +eye regarding me so steadily that I felt a sudden sense of relief at the +realization that some time we should be out and away together in the +fresh air again. It seemed to me a long while since I had been able to +see things from the Philosopher's point of view.</p> + +<p>We looked at our hosts' private apartments with interest. As the Skeptic +passed me on his way to inspect a system of electrical devices on the +wall, to which the Promoter was calling his attention, he was softly +humming an air. It was, "<i>Be it ever so humble</i>," again.</p> + +<p>The rooms were very elaborately furnished; the hangings were heavy and +sumptuous. A massive oak mantelpiece harboured a fire<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_141" id="page_141">[Page 141]</a></span> of gas-logs. +There were a few—not many—apparently personal belongings about the +rooms; <i>bric-à-brac</i> and photographs—the latter mostly of actors and +opera singers. In Althea's bedroom we came upon a dressing-table which +reminded me of my own, upon the occasion of Althea's visit to me, a few +years before. Althea calmly stirred over everything upon it in the +effort to find a small jewel-case whose contents she wished to show me. +She found it in the end, although for a time the task seemed hopeless.</p> + +<p>We sat down in the outer room and listened again to the Promoter's tales +of the great strokes of business he had brought off—"deals," he called +them. The stories contained much food for thought in the shape of +revelations of character in this or that man of prominence. What we +should have talked about if he had not thus held the floor I could not +guess. I had noted that there were upon a ponderous table six popular +novels, as many magazines, and piles of the great dailies. Nowhere could +I descry even a small collection of books of the sort which may furnish +material for conversation. I<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_142" id="page_142">[Page 142]</a></span> tried to imagine the Philosopher drawing a +certain beloved book of essays from his pocket, settling himself +comfortably with his back to the drop-light, and beginning to read aloud +to us, as he is accustomed to do in the Skeptic's little rooms. Here was +not even a drop-light for him to do it by, only electric sconces set +high upon the walls, and a fanciful centre electrolier. He must, +perforce—for he needs a strong light for reading—have stood close +under one of the sconces to read from his book of essays. I tried to +fancy Althea and the Promoter politely listening—or appearing to +listen. This really drew too heavily upon my imagination, and I gave it +up.</p> + +<p>At a late hour we escaped. I learned afterward that before we left the +Promoter took our men aside and offered them one more thing to drink. +This really seemed superfluous, and—judging by the straightforward gait +of our escorts, to say nothing of my knowledge of their habits—there is +no doubt that it was.</p> + +<p>Outside the hotel the Philosopher, looking away from it and from +the other great buildings which surrounded us on every side, sent<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_143" id="page_143">[Page 143]</a></span> his gaze +upward to the starry winter's sky. He drew in deep breaths +of the frosty air.</p> + +<p>"Getting the Amazon out of your blood?" inquired the Skeptic. "Amazon's +a mighty good name for it. It thinks it's sophisticated and refined—but +it isn't. It's a great, blowsy, milkmaid of a hotel, with all her best +clothes on, perpetually going to a fair."</p> + +<p>"I'm not so much re-filling my insulted lungs," said the Philosopher, +"as drawing breaths of relief that I got away without buying a block of +stock in something, or putting my name down to be one of a company for +the development of something else."</p> + +<p>"Oh, we were safe enough," the Skeptic declared. "This was a private +dinner with ladies present; the Promoter gave us only a delicate sample +of what he could do. Wait till he gets you at luncheon with him in the +grill-room, all by yourself—then you can find out what he is when he's +after game. Unless you're tied to the mast, so to speak, with your ears +stopped with wax, you'll land on the shore of the enchanted country he +pictures for you. He's deadly, I assure you. That's why he can afford to +live at the Amazon."<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_144" id="page_144">[Page 144]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I wonder how Althea likes it?" speculated Hepatica.</p> + +<p>"Likes it down to the ground—and up to the roof," asserted the Skeptic. +"That's plain enough. It saves housekeeping—and picking up her room," +he added softly to Hepatica—but I heard him. Hepatica did not reply.</p> + +<p>"Let's not stop at this station," proposed the Skeptic as we walked on, +"but keep on up to the next. A fast walk will do us all good after that +feast of porpoises."</p> + +<p>"I suppose they call that living," said the Philosopher, as we turned +aside into quieter streets.</p> + +<p>"Of course they do, and so does everybody else at those tables +to-night—with four exceptions."</p> + +<p>"Oh, come," demurred the Philosopher, "possibly there were a few other +wise men in that company besides ourselves. Who would have known from +your appearance as you sat there gorging with the rest, that you were +inwardly protesting, and greatly preferred the simple life? Don't +flatter yourself that you had the aspect of an ascetic. There were +moments during that meal when<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_145" id="page_145">[Page 145]</a></span> any unprejudiced observer who didn't know +you would have sworn that you were deeply gratified that no other +engagement had prevented you from dining in your favourite haunt."</p> + +<p>"Don't throw stones," retorted the Skeptic. "I saw you when you caught +sight of some particularly prosperous looking people at another table +and bowed convivially to them as one who says, 'You here, too? Of +course. Our set, you know!'"</p> + +<p>"Quits!" admitted the Philosopher. "Well then—it's the ladies who did +succeed in looking like visitants from another world."</p> + +<p>This was rather poetical for the Philosopher, and of course it led us to +wonder wherein he thought we differed. Hepatica asked anxiously if she +really had looked so very old-fashioned in the white evening frock which +had been three times made over.</p> + +<p>"Hopelessly old-fashioned," assented the Philosopher. "Hopelessly +old-fashioned. But not so much in the matter of the frock as in some +other things. Heaven forbid that it should be otherwise!"</p> + +<p>"Amen!" responded the Skeptic fervently.</p> + +<p class="smaller">Back to <a href="#contents">Contents</a></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_146" id="page_146">[Page 146]</a></span></p> +<h2 class="center"><a name="II_V" id="II_V">V</a></h2> +<h3 class="center"><a name="rhodora2" id="rhodora2">RHODORA AND THE PREACHER</a></h3> + +<div class="center"><table summary=""><tr><td> +<p class="smaller"><span style="margin-left: 4em;"><i>When the fight begins within himself</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>A man's worth something.</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 16em;"><i>—Robert Browning.</i></span><br /></p> +</td></tr></table></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> Skeptic brought up the letter with him as he came home to dinner; it +had arrived in the last mail. The Philosopher happened to be dining with +us that night, so we four were together when the news came upon us. As +Hepatica read it aloud we stared at one another, astonished.</p> + +<p>The letter was from Grandmother, inviting us to Rhodora's wedding, which +was to take place under her roof. Rhodora herself had been practically +under Grandmother's roof for four years now, except as she had been sent +to a school of Grandmother's selection. Rhodora had no mother. Her +father, an absorbed man of business, had, at Grandmother's suggestion, +been glad to let her have the girl to bring up—or to finish bringing<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_147" id="page_147">[Page 147]</a></span> +up—according to her own ideas. When we had first seen Rhodora there +could be no question that she sadly needed bringing up by somebody. To +that date she had, apparently, only come up by herself.</p> + +<p>"I, for one, have never seen her since that none-too-short visit she +made you, that summer," said the Skeptic reminiscently. "It has never +occurred to me to long to see her again. She was a mere lusty infant +then. And now she's to be married. How time gets on! What did you say +was the name of the unfortunate chap?"</p> + +<p>"'The Reverend Christopher Austen,'" re-read Hepatica from the letter.</p> + +<p>"He will need all the fortitude the practice of his profession can have +developed in him, if my recollections can be depended upon to furnish a +basis for the present outlook," said the Skeptic gloomily.</p> + +<p>"You don't know that he will, at all," I disputed. "Rhodora was only a +girl when you saw her. She has been four years under Grandmother's +influence since then. Can you imagine that has accomplished nothing?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_148" id="page_148">[Page 148]</a></span></p> + +<p>The Skeptic shook his head. "That would be like a dove attempting the +education of a hawk. The girl has probably learned not to break into the +conversation of her elders with an axe," he speculated, "nor to walk +ahead of Grandmother when she comes into a room. Any girl learns those +things—in time—unless she is an idiot. But there are other things to +learn. You can't make fine china out of coarse clay."</p> + +<p>"But you can make very, very beautiful pottery," cried Hepatica. "And +the lump of clay that came into contact with Grandmother's wheel——"</p> + +<p>She paused. Metaphors are sometimes difficult things to handle. The +Philosopher, musing, did not notice that she had not finished.</p> + +<p>"It's rather curious that I should be asked," he said. "I never saw +either of them but once."</p> + +<p>"You made a great conquest on that one occasion, though," said the +Skeptic.</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!" The Philosopher coloured like a boy. "That girl——"</p> + +<p>"Not that girl," explained the Skeptic.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_149" id="page_149">[Page 149]</a></span> "The Old Lady. She has never +ceased to ask after you whenever we have seen her or heard from her. As +I remember, you presented her with a bunch of garden flowers as big as +your head, and looked at her as if she were eighteen and the beauty she +undoubtedly once was.—Well, well—a preacher! What has Rhodora become +that she has blinded the eyes of a preacher? Not that their eyes are not +easily blinded!"</p> + +<p>"Why do you say 'preacher?'" inquired his wife. "Grandmother's letter +says a young clergyman."</p> + +<p>"He's no clergyman," insisted the Skeptic. "He's not even a minister. +He's just a preacher—a raw youth, just out of college—knows as much +about women as a puppy about elephant training. Rhodora probably sang a +hymn at one of his meetings and finished him. Well, well—I suppose this +means another wedding present?" He looked dubiously at Hepatica.</p> + +<p>"It does, of course," she admitted.</p> + +<p>"Send her a cut-glass punch-bowl," he suggested, preparing savagely to +carve a plump, young duck. "Anything less adapted to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_150" id="page_150">[Page 150]</a></span> use of a +preacher's family I can't conceive. And that's the main object in buying +wedding gifts, according to my observation."</p> + +<p>The day of Rhodora's wedding arrived, and we went down together to +Grandmother's lovely old country home—a stately house upon the banks of +a wide, frozen river. Our train brought us there two hours before the +one set for the ceremony, and we found not only Grandmother but Rhodora +and the Preacher in the fine old-time drawing-room to greet us. The +wedding was to be a quietly informal one, and such of the other guests +as had already arrived were in the room also, having a cup of tea before +they should go upstairs to dress.</p> + +<p>Rhodora herself was pouring the tea, and the Preacher was helping hand +the cups about. It was a beautiful opportunity to observe the pair +before their marriage.</p> + +<p>Grandmother gave us the welcome only Grandmother knows how to give. In +her own home she looks like a fair, little, old queen, receiving +everybody's homage, yet giving so much kindness in return that one can +never feel one's self out of debt to her<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_151" id="page_151">[Page 151]</a></span> hospitality. Her greeting to +the Philosopher was an especially cordial one.</p> + +<p>"I ventured to ask you," she said to him, "because I have always wanted +to see you again—not merely because I have heard of you in the world +where you are making a name for yourself. And I wanted, too, in justice +to my granddaughter, to have you see her again."</p> + +<p>Before the Philosopher could formulate an appropriate reply, Rhodora +herself, leaving her tea-table, and crossing the room with a swift and +graceful tread, was giving us welcome.</p> + +<p>It was amusing to see our two men look at Rhodora. Hepatica and I had +been, in a way, prepared to see a transformation, having heard sundry +rumours to that effect; but the Skeptic and the Philosopher, having +classified Rhodora once and for all, had since received no impression +sufficient to efface or modify the original one. I can say for them that +to one who did not know them well their surprise would have been +undiscoverable, yet to Hepatica and me it was perfectly evident that +they considered a miracle had been wrought.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_152" id="page_152">[Page 152]</a></span></p> + +<p>As to personal appearance, Rhodora had developed, as she had promised to +do, into a remarkable beauty. If she had kept on as she had begun, she +would have become one of those exuberant beauties who look as if they +had but lately quitted the stage and must shortly return thither. Even +yet, it would have taken but an error in dress, a reversion to a certain +type of manner which too often goes with looks like these, to make of +the girl that which it had seemed she must become. But, somehow, she had +not become that thing.</p> + +<p>Rhodora presently turned and beckoned to the Preacher, and putting down +his teacups he came to her side. She presented him, and we saw that he +was, indeed, no clergyman, no minister even—in the sense that the +Skeptic had differentiated these terms—but a preacher—and an embryo +one at that—a big, red-cheeked, honest-eyed boy, a straightforward, +clean-hearted, large-purposed young fellow, who meant to do all the good +in the world, in all the ways that he could bring about. He was but +lately graduated from his seminary, had yet to preach his first sermon +after the dignities of his ordination, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_153" id="page_153">[Page 153]</a></span>—one could not tell how—one +began to believe in him at once.</p> + +<p>"No, I haven't a bit of experience," he owned to me, as we stood talking +together, getting acquainted. "Not a bit—except a little mission work a +few of us went in for this last year. I'm as raw a recruit as ever put +on a uniform and fell in with the rest of the company for his first +drill. But—I mean to count one!"</p> + +<p>"I'm sure you will," said I, regarding him with growing pleasure in +the sight.</p> + +<p>"And Rhodora will count two," said he, his eyes following her. "One and +two, side by side, you know, stand for twelve."</p> + +<p>"So they do," said I. "And seeing Rhodora as she looks now, I should +think she would make an efficient comrade."</p> + +<p>His face glowed. Together we observed Rhodora, standing close by +Grandmother's side. The two, with Hepatica and our two men, made a +group, of which not the bride-elect, but Grandmother, was the precise +centre. The moment Rhodora had reached Grandmother's side she had put +herself in the background. Although she towered<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_154" id="page_154">[Page 154]</a></span> above the little old +lady she did not overwhelm her, and Grandmother herself had never seemed +a more gently dominating figure than now, in her sweeping black gown +with its rare laces, her white hair, in soft puffs, framing her delicate +face. And as, at a turn in the conversation, Grandmother looked up at +Rhodora, and Rhodora, bending a little, smiled back at her, answering in +the most deferential way, it was clear to me that the most efficient +element in the education of the girl had been her intercourse with this +old-time gentlewoman.</p> + +<p>"It was seeing those two together," said the Preacher rather shyly, in +my ear, "that attracted me first. I never knew that Youth and Age could +set each other off like that till I saw them. And I saw at once that a +girl who could be such friends with an old lady must be very much worth +while herself. They are great chums, you know—it's quite unusual, I +think. And it's a mighty fine thing for any one to know Grandmother. +I've learned more from Grandmother than from any one I ever knew."</p> + +<p>"She's a very rare and adorable old lady,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_155" id="page_155">[Page 155]</a></span> I agreed heartily. "We all +worship her—we all feel that to be near her is a special fortune for +any one. She has plainly grown very fond of Rhodora—she will miss her."</p> + +<p>"No doubt of that," he agreed—but, quite naturally, more with triumph +than with sympathy.</p> + +<p>We went upstairs presently to make ready for the wedding. When we were +dressed, we met, according to previous agreement, in the big, square, +upper hall, with its spindled railing making a gallery about the quaint +and stately staircase. It was a little too early to go down, and we drew +some high-backed chairs together and sat down to look at one another in +our wedding garments.</p> + +<p>"I'd like to get married myself again to-night," declared the Skeptic, +forcibly pulling on his gloves with a man's brutal disregard for the +possible instability of seams. He eyed his wife possessively. "Tell +me—will the Preacher's bride put her in the shade?"</p> + +<p>"Don!" But Hepatica's falling lashes could not quite conceal her +pleasure in his pride.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_156" id="page_156">[Page 156]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Not for a minute." The Philosopher's benevolent gaze approved of his +friend's wife from the top of her masses of shining hair to the tip of +her white-shod foot. "At the same time, I don't feel quite such a +dispirited compassion for the Preacher himself as I did on the way down. +Can that possibly be the same girl who treated Grandmother as if she +were an inconvenient, antique family relic, and the rest of us as if she +endured but was horribly bored by us?"</p> + +<p>"I have never supposed grandmothers," said the Skeptic thoughtfully, "to +be particularly influential members of society. Evidently ours is +different. But there must have been other elements in the metamorphosis +of Rhodora."</p> + +<p>"Miss Eleanor Lockwood's school," suggested Hepatica.</p> + +<p>"You mention that with bated breath," said the Skeptic, "precisely as +every one, including its graduates, mentions it. I admit that Miss +Lockwood's school is a place where rich young savages are turned out +polished members of society. But there's been more than that."</p> + +<p>"The Preacher himself?" I suggested.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_157" id="page_157">[Page 157]</a></span></p> + +<p>The Skeptic looked at me. "Do you mean to imply," said he, with raised +eyebrows, "that any woman would admit the possibility of +acquaintanceship with any particular man's having had a formative +influence on her character? After school-days, I mean of course."</p> + +<p>"Why not?" I inquired. "What influence could be greater?"</p> + +<p>The Skeptic looked at the Philosopher, who returned his gaze calmly.</p> + +<p>"Did you ever expect to hear that?" asked the Skeptic.</p> + +<p>"I should not think of denying the influence of woman upon man," replied +the Philosopher. "Why should not the rule work both ways?"</p> + +<p>"I never heard it thus flatly formulated before," declared the Skeptic. +"It does me good, that's all. So you think the Preacher has had a hand +in the reformation?"</p> + +<p>"You have seen the Preacher," said I. "You know the family from which +he comes—he's of good stock. You've only to hear him speak to see +that he's a man of purpose, of action, of training—boy as he looks. +How could he fail to have a strong influence upon a girl who cared +for him?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_158" id="page_158">[Page 158]</a></span></p> + +<p>The Skeptic looked at Hepatica. "Do you agree with her?" he inquired.</p> + +<p>"Of course I agree with her," responded Hepatica, looking from him to +me—and back again. "You are only pretending to doubt us both. It's very +clever of you, but we know perfectly that you understand how far—very +far—we are affected by your ideals, your judgments, your whole estimate +of life. Therefore—you must be very careful how you use your influence +with us!"</p> + +<p>The Skeptic gave her back the look he saw in her eyes. "Ah, you two +belong to the wise ones!" he said. "The wise ones, who, magnifying our +hold on you, thus acquire a far more tremendous hold on us! Eh, Philo?"</p> + +<p>The Philosopher smiled—inscrutably. Probably he felt that an +inscrutable smile was his safest means of navigating waters like these.</p> + +<p>We went down to the wedding. The Preacher stood up very straight while +he was being married, and though his boyish cheek paled and reddened +again as the ceremony proceeded, his responses were clear-cut. Rhodora +made a bonny bride. The absurd<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_159" id="page_159">[Page 159]</a></span> vision I had had of her, ever since I +had heard she was to be married, of her taking the officiating +clergyman's book out of his hand and steering the service for herself, +melted away before the vision of her serious young beauty as she made +her vows, and turned from the clergyman's felicitations, at the +conclusion of the service, to take Grandmother into a tender embrace.</p> + +<p>"I owe it all to you," she said to Grandmother by and by, in my hearing, +as we three happened to be for a little alone together. She turned to +me. "I was a barbarian when she took me," she said. "A barbarian of +barbarians. If it hadn't been for Grandmother I should be one yet, and +he"—her glance went off for an instant toward her young husband—"would +never have dreamed of looking at me."</p> + +<p>"You were not very different, my dear," said Grandmother, in her gentle +way, "from many girls of this day."</p> + +<p>"Forgive me, dear," responded Rhodora, "but I was so much worse that +only a grandmother like you could have shown me what I was."<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_160" id="page_160">[Page 160]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I never tried to show you what you were," said Grandmother. "Only what +you could be. And now—I must lose you."</p> + +<p>The Preacher came up, the Skeptic by his side. The Philosopher and +Hepatica, seeing the old magic circle forming, promptly added +themselves.</p> + +<p>It fell out, presently, that the Philosopher and I, a step away from the +others, were observing them as we talked together. The Philosopher had +adjusted his eyeglasses, having carefully polished them. He seemed to +want to see things clearly to-day.</p> + +<p>"This is a scene I've witnessed a good many times, first and last," said +he. "Each time it impresses me afresh with the daring of the +participants. Brave young things, setting sail upon a mighty ocean, in a +small boat, which may or may not be seaworthy—some of them, it seems, +sometimes, with neither chart nor compass—certainly with little +knowledge of the crew. It's a trite comparison, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"You talk as if you stood safely on the shore," I ventured. "Is life no +ocean to you, then—and do you never feel adrift upon it?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_161" id="page_161">[Page 161]</a></span></p> + +<p>The Philosopher stared curiously at me. It was, I admit, a strange +speech for me to make to him, but I had not been thinking of him. I had +been thinking of Lad, my big boy, now away at school, and of the day +when he should reach this experience for himself, and I should have to +give him up—my one near tie. I should surely feel adrift in that +day—far adrift.</p> + +<p>"Does it seem to you like that?" he asked, very gently, after a minute.</p> + +<p>I looked up, and saw a new and quite strange expression in his kindly +eyes. "No, no," I said hastily. "How could it—with so many and such +good friends?"</p> + +<p>I think he would have questioned me further, but the Skeptic at that +moment turned my way, and I laid hold upon him—figuratively +speaking—and did not let go again till all danger of a discussion with +the Philosopher on the subject of my loneliness was past.</p> + + +<p class="smaller">Back to <a href="#contents">Contents</a></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_162" id="page_162">[Page 162]</a></span></p> +<h2 class="center"><a name="II_VI" id="II_VI">VI</a></h2> + +<h3 class="center"><a name="wistaria2" id="wistaria2">WISTARIA—AND THE PHILOSOPHER</a></h3> + +<div class="center"><table summary=""><tr><td> +<p class="smaller"><span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Friendship needs delicate handling.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 18.5em;">—<i>Hugh Black.</i></span><br /></p> +</td></tr></table></div> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">After</span> all this dining and wine-ing of you," said Hepatica suddenly one +morning, toward the close of my visit, "you are not to escape without +our giving a dinner for you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, my dear," I began, "after all you have done for me, surely that +isn't necessary. I have had——"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know. You have had dinners and dinners, including the +Philosopher's bachelor repast, which might or might not be called by +that name, but was certainly great fun. But I want to give you a dinner +myself."</p> + +<p>"Better let her," advised the Skeptic, who was putting on his overcoat +at the time, preparatory to leaving us for the day. "It won't be like +anything of that name you have<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_163" id="page_163">[Page 163]</a></span> ever tried before. Besides she wants you +to meet Wistaria."</p> + +<p>"Who is Wistaria?" I asked.</p> + +<p>They both looked at me. Then they looked at each other.</p> + +<p>"Hasn't Philo told you about Wistaria?" inquired the Skeptic, in evident +surprise. "Wasn't she at his——Oh, that's right—she was out of town. +Well, she's back, and you must meet her. She's a mighty fine girl—or, +if not exactly a girl, woman. Philo admires her rather more than he +condescends to admire most women, I should say. Any errands for me, +Patty? All right—good-bye, dear."</p> + +<p>He kissed her and ran for his car. I stood looking out of the window +after him. It struck me rather suddenly that it was a gray day outside, +with heavy clouds threatening to make the sky even darker. There was a +touch of gloom in the whole outer aspect of things.</p> + +<p>Hepatica immediately set about making preparations for her dinner. It +would be most informal, she assured me, and as I heard her giving her +invitations over the telephone I<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_164" id="page_164">[Page 164]</a></span> recognized from their character that +it would be so, even though I heard her inviting quite a party, +including Camellia and the Judge, Dahlia and the Professor, Althea and +the Promoter, and Azalea and the Cashier. A strange man, a Mining +Engineer, was included in the list, to make the tale of numbers evenly +divided. I judged he was likely to fall to me in the final disposition +of the guests at Hepatica's table, and inquired what he was like.</p> + +<p>"He's delightful," replied Hepatica enthusiastically. "You'll be sure to +like him. He lost his wife about five years ago, but hasn't re-married, +and lives mostly at his club, as he has no children. He's devoted to his +work, and has a good, big reputation, though he's still in the early +forties."</p> + +<p>Hepatica would not tell me what she meant to have for her dinner, but on +the appointed day shut herself up in her kitchen with a young woman whom +she had engaged, and would allow me only to set her table for her. As I +laid the required number of forks and spoons I realized that she meant +to be true to her word and serve a quite simple dinner. For this I was +thankful. For some reason, which I could<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_165" id="page_165">[Page 165]</a></span> not just understand myself, I +was dreading that dinner more than anything that had happened for a long +time.</p> + +<p>The evening came. I dressed without enthusiasm, putting on the pale-gray +frock which Hepatica had insisted upon, and pinning on a bunch of +violets which arrived for me at almost the last moment, without any card +in the box. Hepatica had three magnificent red roses at the same time. +It was like the Skeptic to be so thoughtful.</p> + +<p>The guests arrived—Camellia superbly attired, Althea gorgeously so, +Dahlia in youthful pink and white, Azalea in a demurely simple dress +whose laces were just a thought rumpled about the neck, and had to be +straightened out by my assisting fingers. Little Bud, she explained, had +insisted on hugging her violently at the last moment, before he would +allow her to come away.</p> + +<p>Wistaria came last, so that, as we all stood grouped about the little +rooms I had a fine chance to see her arrival. She had to go through the +room in which we were to reach Hepatica's bedroom, and I saw a tall and +graceful figure, all in black under a white<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_166" id="page_166">[Page 166]</a></span> evening cloak, and caught a +glimpse of a pair of brilliant dark eyes under the white silken scarf +which enveloped her hair. But when she came out, in Hepatica's company, +I saw, undisguised, one of the most attractive women I had ever met.</p> + +<p>"She's unusual, isn't she?" said the Skeptic in my ear, as, having +welcomed the new guest, and watched Hepatica present her to me, he fell +back at my side. Wistaria had greeted the Philosopher with the quiet +warmth of manner which means assured acquaintance, and the two had +remained together while we waited for the serving of the dinner.</p> + +<p>"She is very charming," I agreed. "It is her manner, quite as much as +her face, isn't it? She must be well worth knowing."</p> + +<p>"We think so," said he. He seemed to be regarding me quite steadily. I +wondered uneasily if I were not looking well. The rooms seemed rather +over-warm. The presence of so many people in such a small space is apt +to make the air oppressive. Also I remembered that the effect of +pale-gray is not to heighten one's colouring.</p> + +<p>Wistaria, all in filmy black, from which her<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_167" id="page_167">[Page 167]</a></span> white shoulders rose like +a flower, wore one splendid American Beauty rose. Somehow I felt, quite +suddenly, that pale-gray is a meaningless tint, the mere shadow of a +colour, of less character than white, of immeasurably less beauty than +simple black itself. I caught the Philosopher's eye apparently fixed for +a moment upon my violets, and I wondered, with a queer little sensation +of disquiet, if even they seemed to be without character also.</p> + +<p>Then dinner was announced, and I shook myself mentally, and looked up +smiling at my Mining Engineer, who was truly a man worth knowing and a +most pleasant gentleman besides, and went to dinner with him determined +that if I must look characterless I would not be characterless, nor make +my companion long to get away.</p> + +<p>Wistaria and the Philosopher sat exactly opposite. The Mining Engineer +on my one side, and the Judge on my other, kept me too busy to spend +much time in noting Wistaria's captivating presence or the Philosopher's +absorption. Yet, at moments when some sally of the Skeptic's, who sat +upon Wistaria's other side, brought the attention of the whole<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_168" id="page_168">[Page 168]</a></span> company +to bear upon that quarter of the table, I found myself unable to help +noting two things. One was that I had never seen the Philosopher so +roused and ready of speech; the other, that I had never quite +appreciated how distinguished he has, of late years, grown in +appearance. Possibly this was because I had not had the chance to +view him under just these conditions; possibly, also, it was because +he literally was growing distinguished in the world of scientific +research, and his name becoming one cited as an authority in a certain +important field.</p> + +<p>The dinner itself I cannot describe, for the sufficient reason that I +cannot now recall one solitary thing I ate. But the impression remains +with me that it was really an extraordinarily simple dinner, that +everything was delicious, and that one rose up from it with a sense of +having been daintily fed, not stuffed. I'm sure I could not pay it a +higher or a rarer compliment.</p> + +<p>After dinner the Promoter told stories of "deals," to which the +Professor listened curiously, watching the speaker as he might have +gently eyed some strange specimen in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_169" id="page_169">[Page 169]</a></span> world of insects or of birds. +The Judge and the Cashier hobnobbed for a while; then the Judge made his +way to the side of Wistaria and remained there for an indefinite period, +both looking deeply interested in their conversation. The Engineer +attempted to make something of Althea, but presently gave it up, spent a +few moments with Camellia, and came back to me. By and by Azalea and the +Cashier sang a duet for us, and after some persuasion Azalea then sang +alone. Altogether, the evening got on somehow—it is all very hazy in my +mind, except for one singular fact—I did not spend a moment with the +Philosopher. How this happened I do not know, and it was so unusual that +it seemed noteworthy. It was not because he was not several times in my +immediate vicinity, but I was always at the moment so engaged with +whomever happened to be talking with me that I had not time to turn and +include the Philosopher in the interview.</p> + +<p>When our guests departed they went together, having one and the same car +to catch. All but Wistaria, who had come in her own private carriage, +which was late in<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_170" id="page_170">[Page 170]</a></span> arriving to take her home. The Philosopher had +remained with her, and he took her down to her carriage. I cannot +remember seeing anything more attractive than Wistaria's personality as +she said good night, her sparkling face all winsome cordiality, her +white scarf lying lightly upon the masses of her black hair, the crimson +rose nodding from the folds of her long, white cloak.</p> + +<p>"Pretty fine looking pair, aren't they?" observed the Skeptic, with an +expansive grin, the moment the door had closed upon Wistaria and the +Philosopher. He threw himself into a chair and yawned mightily. +"Wistaria's almost as tall as Philo, isn't she? A superb woman."</p> + +<p>"I never saw her looking so well," agreed Hepatica, straightening chairs +and settling couch pillows, trailing here and there in her pretty frock +with all the energy of the early morning, as if it were not half-after +eleven by the little mantel clock. "Didn't you like her, dear?" She +threw an eager glance at me. She was in the restless mood of the hostess +who wishes to be assured that everything has gone well.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_171" id="page_171">[Page 171]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I was charmed with her," said I—I had not meant to take a seat again; +I was weary and wanted to get away to bed—"I never knew how beautiful +an American Beauty rose was till I saw it beneath her face."</p> + +<p>The Skeptic turned in his chair and looked at me. "Well done!" he cried. +"Couldn't have said it better myself. We must tell Philo that speech. +He'll be deeply gratified. He has every confidence in your taste."</p> + +<p>"The dinner was perfect," I went on. "I never imagined one so cleverly +planned. And everybody seemed in great spirits—there wasn't a dull +moment."</p> + +<p>"You dear thing!" said Hepatica, and came and dropped a kiss upon my +hair. "It's fun to do things for you, you're so appreciative. Didn't you +enjoy your Mining Engineer?"</p> + +<p>"He was so entertaining," said I, "that if it had been any other dinner +than that one I shouldn't have known what I was eating."</p> + +<p>"Hear, hear!" applauded the Skeptic. "Bouquets for us all! Didn't I make +an ideal host?"</p> + +<p>"Your geniality was rivalled only by your tact," I declared.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_172" id="page_172">[Page 172]</a></span></p> + +<p>They laughed together. Then the Skeptic sat up. He got up and strode +over to the window and peered down. "Philo is taking a disgracefully +long time to see the lady into her carriage," he observed. "I supposed +he'd be back, to talk it over, as usual. The best of entertaining is the +talking your guests over after they've gone—eh, Patty, girl? I don't +seem to see the carriage. Perhaps he's gone home with her."</p> + +<p>I laid my hand upon the door of my room. "I don't know why I am so +sleepy," I apologized. "It only came over me since the door closed. But +you must both be tired, too—and we have to be up in the morning at the +usual hour."</p> + +<p>Hepatica looked regretful, but she did not urge me to remain. I felt +guilty at leaving a wide-awake host and hostess who wanted to talk +things over, but really I—the perfume from my violets had been stealing +away my nerves all the evening. I felt that I must take them off or grow +faint at their odour, which seemed stronger as they drooped. I opened my +door, turned to smile back at the pair, and shut it upon the inside. A +moment later I<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_173" id="page_173">[Page 173]</a></span> was standing by my window which I had thrown wide, and +the winter wind was lifting the violets which I had already forgotten to +take off.</p> + +<p>I heard the murmur of voices in the room outside, but it soon ceased. +With no third person to praise the feast it was probably dull work +congratulating each other on its success. By and by—I don't know when +it happened—I heard the electric entrance-bell whirr in the tiny hall, +and the Skeptic go to answer it. Then I heard voices again—men's +voices. There was an interval. Then came a small knock at my door. I +opened it to Hepatica.</p> + +<p>"The Philosopher has come back," she whispered. I had not lit my +light—I had closed my window and had been sitting by it, my elbows on +the sill. Hepatica put out her hand and felt of me. "Oh, you haven't +undressed," she said. "Then won't you go out and see him? He seemed so +disappointed when Don said you had gone. It seems he's called out of +town quite suddenly—he's afraid he may not be back before you go—he +says he didn't have a chance to tell you about it this evening."<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_174" id="page_174">[Page 174]</a></span></p> + +<p>There was no help for it—I had no excuse. I did not dare to snap on my +light and look at myself. I put my hands to my hair to feel if it was +still snug; then I went.</p> + +<p>Hepatica had mercifully turned off all the lights but the rose-shaded +drop-light on the reading-table and two of the electric candles in the +dining-room. It was a relief to feel the glare gone. The air from the +window had freshened me. The Philosopher stood by the reading-table, +upon which he had laid his hat. His overcoat was on a chair. Evidently +he was not waiting merely to say good-bye and go.</p> + +<p>The Skeptic, upon my entrance, immediately crossed the room to the door +of the hall, upon which his own room opened. "You people will excuse +me," he said. "I don't know <i>why</i> I am so sleepy." His tone was +peculiar, and I recognized that he was quoting my words of a half-hour +before. "It only came over me since the door closed on our guests. And I +have to be up in the morning at the usual hour. But don't let that hurry +you, Philo, old man." And he vanished.</p> + +<p>The Philosopher looked as if he did not mean to let it hurry him. He +drew his chair<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_175" id="page_175">[Page 175]</a></span> near mine, facing me, after a fashion he has, and looked +at me in silence for a minute.</p> + +<p>"You are tired," he said.</p> + +<p>"A little. The rooms were very warm."</p> + +<p>"They were. They made the violets droop, I see."</p> + +<p>I put up my hand. "Yes. I meant to take them off."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you don't like violets. If I could have found a bunch of +sweet-williams to send you instead, like those in your own garden, I +should have preferred it. I know what you like among summer flowers, but +with these florist's offerings I'm not so familiar. I'm afraid I'm not +much versed in the sending of flowers."</p> + +<p>"Did you send these?" I put my hand up to them again. They certainly +were drooping sadly. Perhaps if they had known who sent them——</p> + +<p>"To be sure I did."</p> + +<p>"There was no card. I thought it was Don—and forgot to thank +him—luckily. Let me thank you now. They have been so sweet all the +evening."</p> + +<p>"Too sweet, haven't they? You looked a bit pale to-night, I thought."<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_176" id="page_176">[Page 176]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It was my frock. Gray always makes people look pale."</p> + +<p>"Does it? I've liked that frock so much—and I had an idea gray and +purple went together."</p> + +<p>"They do—beautifully. And to-morrow, after the violets have been in +water, they'll be quite fresh—and so shall I. To tell the honest truth, +so many dinners—well, I'm not used to them. I'm just a little bit glad +to remember that spring is coming on soon, and I can get out in my old +garden and dig and rake, and watch the things come out."</p> + +<p>"Yes—you're one of the outdoor creatures," said the Philosopher, +leaning back in his chair in the old way—he had been sitting up quite +straight. "I understand it—I like gardens myself. And your garden most +of all. Do you realize, between your absences and my long stay in +Germany, it's three summers since I've strolled about your garden?"</p> + +<p>"So long? Yes, it must be."</p> + +<p>"But I mean to be at home this summer. Do you?"</p> + +<p class="figcenter"><a href="images/illo4_big.jpg"><img title="illustration4.jpg" height="297" width="400" alt="illustration" src="images/illustration4.jpg"></img></a></p> +<p class="caption">"And so we renewed the old vow"</p> + +<p>"I? Yes, I think so. After so long a winter outing—or inning—I +couldn't bear<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_177" id="page_177">[Page 177]</a></span> to miss the garden this year. And Lad will be home—his +first vacation. He is fond of the old garden, too."</p> + +<p>"May I come?" asked the Philosopher rather abruptly.</p> + +<p>"To stroll about the garden? Haven't you always been welcome?"</p> + +<p>"I want a special welcome—from you—from my friend. When a man has only +one friend, that one's welcome means a good deal to him."</p> + +<p>"Only one! You have so many."</p> + +<p>"Have I? Yes, so I have, and pleasant friends they are, too. But +friendship—with only one. Come, Rhexia—you understand that as well as +I. Why pretend you don't? That's not like you."</p> + +<p>He was looking at me very steadily. He leaned forward, stretching out +his hand. I laid mine in it. And so we renewed the old vow.</p> + + +<p class="smaller">Back to <a href="#contents">Contents</a></p> +<hr style="width: 100%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_179" id="page_179">[Page 179]</a></span></p> + +<h3 class="center">PART III</h3> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_181" id="page_181">[Page 181]</a></span></p> +<h2 class="center"><a name="III_I" id="III_I">I</a></h2> + +<h3 class="center"><a name="sixteen" id="sixteen">SIXTEEN MILES TO BOSWELL'S</a></h3> + + +<p>"<span class="smcap">One</span> passenger off the five-thirty, coming up the hill," announced Sue +Boswell, peering eagerly out of the Inn's office window. "That makes +nine for supper. I'll run and tell mother."</p> + +<p>"Nine—poor child," murmured Tom Boswell, behind the desk. "That's +certainly a great showing for a summer hotel, on the fifteenth day of +July. If we don't do better in August—the game's up."</p> + +<p>He stared out of the window at the approaching guest, who, escorted by +Tom's brother Tim, was climbing the road toward Boswell's Inn at a pace +which indicated no pressing anxiety to arrive. As the pair drew nearer, +Tom could see that the stranger was a rather peculiar-looking person. Of +medium height, as thin as a lath, with a nearly colourless face in which +was set a pair of black eyes with<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_182" id="page_182">[Page 182]</a></span> dark circles round them, the man had +somewhat the appearance of an invalid; yet an air of subdued nervous +energy about him in a measure offset the suggestion of ill-health. He +was surveying Boswell's Inn as he approached it in a comprehensive way +which seemed to take in every feature of its appearance.</p> + +<p>Across the desk in the small lobby the newcomer spoke curtly. "Good +room and a bath? I want an absolutely quiet room where I get no +kitchen noises or ballroom dancing. Windows with a breeze—if you've +got such a thing."</p> + +<p>"I can't give you the bath," Tom answered regretfully, "because we +haven't got one that goes with any room in the house. But you can have +plenty of hot and cold, in cans. The room will be quiet, all right. And +we always have a breeze up here, if there is one anywhere in the world. +Shall I show you?"</p> + +<p>"Lead on," assented the stranger. He had not offered to register, though +Tom had extended to him a freshly dipped pen.</p> + +<p>"He's going to make sure first," thought Tom, recognizing a sign of the +experienced traveller. He led the way himself, feeling,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_183" id="page_183">[Page 183]</a></span> for some +reason, unwilling to hand young Tim the key and allow him to exploit the +rooms. As they mounted the stairs, Tom was rapidly considering. He had +brought along three keys—rather an unusual act on his part. It was hard +to say why he felt it necessary to bestow any special attention upon +this guest, who certainly was by no means of an imposing appearance, and +whose hot-weather dress was as careless as his manner.</p> + +<p>He opened the door of the first room, and the stranger looked in +silently. "I'll show you another before you decide," said Tom hurriedly, +without waiting for a comment.</p> + +<p>This was not his best empty room, and he felt somehow that the man who +wanted a room with a bath and a breeze knew it. He led the way on along +the hall to a corner room in the front. This was his second best. Tom +always preferred to reserve his choicest for a chance millionaire or a +possible wealthy society lady—though Heaven knew that, during the six +weeks the Inn had been open, no guest distantly resembling one or the +other of those desirable types had approached the little mountain +hostelry.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_184" id="page_184">[Page 184]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Anything better?" inquired the thin man, his extraordinarily quick +glance covering every detail of the room like lightning, as Tom felt.</p> + +<p>"Sure—if you want the bridal suit." Tom pronounced it proudly, as it +were a claw-hammer and white waistcoat.</p> + +<p>"Bring her on."</p> + +<p>Tom marched ahead to the two rooms opening on the little balcony above +the side porch, a balcony which belonged to the "bridal suite" alone, +and which commanded the finest view into the very heart of the mountains +that the house afforded. Seeing his guest—after one look around the +spotless room with its pink and white furnishings, and into the small +dressing-room beyond—stride toward the outer door, Tom threw it wide. +The guest stepped out on to the balcony. Here he pulled off his hat, +which he had not before removed, and let the breeze—for there was +unquestionably a breeze, even on this afternoon of a day which had been +one of the hottest the country had known—drift refreshingly against his +damp brow. The zephyr was strong enough even to lift slightly the thick +locks of black hair which lay above the white forehead.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_185" id="page_185">[Page 185]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Price for this?" asked the stranger, in his abrupt way, turning back +into the room.</p> + +<p>Tom mentioned it—with a little inward hesitation. The family had +differed a good deal on the question of prices for these best rooms. In +his opinion that settled upon for the bridal suite was almost +prohibitively high. Not a guest yet but had turned away with a sigh. For +a moment he had been tempted to reduce it, but he had promised the +others to stick by the decision at least through July. So he mentioned +the price firmly.</p> + +<p>The guest glanced sharply at him as he did so. There was a queer little +contraction of the stranger's thin upper lip. Then he said: "I'll take +'em—for the night, and you may hold 'em for me till to-morrow night. +Tell you then whether I'll stay longer."</p> + +<p>Tom understood, of course, that it was now a question of a satisfactory +table. But here he knew he was strong. Mother Boswell's cooking—there +was none better obtainable. He was already in a hurry to prove to this +laconic stranger who demanded the best he had of everything, including +breezes, that in the matter of food Boswell's Inn could satisfy<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_186" id="page_186">[Page 186]</a></span> the +most exacting. Not in elaborately dressed viands of rare kitchen +product, of course—that was not to be expected off here. But in +temptingly cooked everyday food, and in certain extras which were Mother +Boswell's specialties, and which the few people now in the Inn called +for with ever-increasing zest—though they seldom deigned to send any +special word of praise to the anxious cook—Boswell's needed to ask +forbearance of nobody.</p> + +<p>"I'll send your stuff up right away," said Tom, as the other man cast +his straw hat upon a chair and went over to a washstand, where hung +several snowy towels. "Have some hot water?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—and iced."</p> + +<p>"All right." Tom was off on the jump. It was certainly something to have +rented the bridal suite even for the night, but he felt more than +ordinarily curious to know who his guest was.</p> + +<p>"Might be a travelling man," he speculated, when he had given Tim his +orders, "though he doesn't exactly seem like one. But he looks like a +fellow who's used to getting what he wants."<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_187" id="page_187">[Page 187]</a></span></p> + +<p>When the new guest came downstairs, at the peal of a gong through the +quiet house, Tom saw him cast one keen-eyed glance in turn at each of +the other occupants of the lobby, as they clustered about the door of +the dining-room. Seven of these were women, and of that number at least +five were elderly. Of the two younger ladies, neither presented any +special attractiveness beyond that of entire respectability. The eighth +guest was a man—a middle-aged man who was reading a book and who +carried the book into the dining-room with him, where he continued to +read it at his solitary table.</p> + +<p>Tom Boswell was at the elbow of the latest arrival as he entered the +dining-room, a long, low, but airy apartment, as spotless and shining in +its way as the bedroom upstairs had been. There was no head waiter, and +Tom himself piloted the new guest to a small table by a window, looking +off into the mountains on the opposite side of the house from that of +the bridal suite. The women boarders were all behind him, the solitary +man just across the way at a corresponding small table. Certainly the +proprietor of Boswell's Inn possessed<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_188" id="page_188">[Page 188]</a></span> that great desideratum for such +an official—tact.</p> + +<p>Sue Boswell, aged fifteen, in a blue-and-white print frock and white +apron so crisp that one could not discern a wrinkle in them, waited on +the new guest. She did not ask him what he would have, nor present to +him a card from which to select his meal. She brought him first a small +cup of chicken broth, steaming hot; and though he regarded this at first +as if he had no appetite whatever, after the first tentative sip he went +on to the bottom of the cup. When this was gone, Sue placed before him a +plate of corned-beef hash, an alluring pinkness showing beneath the +gratifying upper coat of brown. A small dish of cucumbers—thin, iced +cucumbers, with a French dressing—accompanied the hash; and with these +he was offered hot rolls so small and delicate and crisp that, after +cautiously sampling the butter with what seemed a fastidious palate, the +guest took to eating rolls as if he had seldom found anything so well +worth consuming.</p> + +<p>Something made of red raspberries and cream followed, and then half a +large canta<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_189" id="page_189">[Page 189]</a></span>loupe, its golden heart filled with crushed ice, was placed +before him. Last appeared a cup of amber coffee. As the guest tasted +this beverage, a look of complete satisfaction overspread his pale face, +and he drained the cup clear and asked for more.</p> + +<p>Presently he strolled out into the lobby. Here Tom awaited him behind +the desk. The hotel register was open, and Tom's fingers suggestively +held a pen. The guest obeyed the hint. At an inn so small, it certainly +would be a pity for any guest not to add his name to the short list.</p> + +<p>For it was a very short list. Although a full month had gone by since +the first arrival had written her name, the bottom of the page had not +been quite reached when this latest one scratched his in characters +which looked quite as much like Arabic as English. When Tom came to +examine the name later, he made it out to be Perkins, though it might +quite as easily have been Tompkins, or Judson, or any other name which +had an elevated letter somewhere in the middle. The initials were quite +indecipherable. But Perkins it turned out to be, for when Tom +tentatively addressed<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_190" id="page_190">[Page 190]</a></span> the newcomer by that appellation there was no +correction made, and he continued to respond whenever so accosted.</p> + +<p>Mr. Perkins spent the evening smoking upon the porch, his head turned +toward the mountains. The next morning, when he had eaten a breakfast +which included some wonderful browned griddle-cakes and syrup—another +of the Inn's specialties—he strolled away into the middle distance and +was observed by various of the guests, from time to time, perched about +among the rocks, in idle attitudes.</p> + +<p>"He's a queer duck," observed Tom in the kitchen that day, describing +Mr. Perkins to his mother. Mrs. Boswell seldom appeared beyond her +special domain—that of the kitchen—but left the rest of the +housekeeping to her daughters Bertha and Sue; the management of the Inn +to Tom and Tim. "Silent as an owl. Seems to like his food—nothing +strange about that. He doesn't act sick, exactly, but tired, or bored, +or used up, somehow. Eyes like coals and sharper than a ferret's. I +can't make him out. He won't talk to anybody, except now and then a word +or two to<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_191" id="page_191">[Page 191]</a></span> Mr. Griffith. Never looks at the ladies, but I tell you they +look at him. Every one of 'em has a different notion about him. Anyhow, +he's taken the bridal suit for two weeks. Goes down to the post-office +for his mail—gave particular orders not to have it sent up here. That's +kind of funny, isn't it? Oh, I meant to tell you before: he's paid for +his rooms a week in advance."</p> + +<p>"It helps a little," said his sister Bertha. She was twenty-five years +old, and if any one of this family had the responsibility of the success +of Boswell's Inn heavily and anxiously at heart, it was Bertha. "But it +can't make up the difference. Here's July half over, and not a dozen +people in the house. What can be the matter? Isn't everything all +right?"</p> + +<p>"Sure it's all right," insisted Tom. "We just haven't got known, +that's all."</p> + +<p>"But how are we going to get known, if nobody comes? Our advertisement +in the city papers costs dreadfully, and it doesn't seem to bring +anybody."</p> + +<p>"Now see here," said Tom firmly, "don't you go to getting discouraged. +This is our<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_192" id="page_192">[Page 192]</a></span> first season. We can't expect to do much the first season. +We're prepared for that."</p> + +<p>But he realized, quite as clearly as his sister, that they had not been +prepared for so complete a failure as they were making. Boswell's Inn +stood only sixteen miles away from a large city, a great Western +railroad centre, into which, early and late, thousands of tourists were +pouring. The road out into the mountains was a good one, the trip easy +enough for the owners of motor cars, of whom the city held enough to +make a continuous procession all the way if only they could be headed in +the right direction. But how to head them? That was what Tom couldn't +figure out.</p> + +<p>On the third evening after Mr. Perkins's arrival, Tom, strolling +gloomily out upon the porch to see if any one was lingering there to +prevent his closing up, discovered Perkins sitting alone, smoking. There +had not been a new arrival that day; worse, one of the elderly ladies +had gone away. She had departed reluctantly, but her absence counted +just the same, and Tom was missing her as he had never expected to miss +any elderly lady with iron-gray curls and a cast in one eye.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_193" id="page_193">[Page 193]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Nice night," observed Tom to Mr. Perkins.</p> + +<p>"First-class."</p> + +<p>"Getting cooled off a bit up here?"</p> + +<p>"Pretty well."</p> + +<p>"Are, you—having everything you want?"</p> + +<p>Tom asked the question with some diffidence. It was a matter of regret +with him that he couldn't afford yet to put young Tim into buttons, but +without them he was sure the lad made as alert a bellboy and porter as +could be asked.</p> + +<p>"Nothing to complain of."</p> + +<p>Tom wished Mr. Perkins wouldn't be so taciturn. The proprietor of the +Inn That Couldn't Get a Start was feeling so blue to-night that speech +with some one besides his depressed family was almost a necessity. He +couldn't talk with the women; Mr. Griffith, though kindly enough, had +his nose forever buried in a book. Perkins looked as if he could talk if +he would, and have something to say, too. Tom tried to think of an +observation which would draw this silent man out. But quite suddenly, +and greatly to Tom's surprise, Mr. Perkins began to draw Tom out. Even +so, his questions were like shots<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_194" id="page_194">[Page 194]</a></span> from a gun, so brief and to the point +were they.</p> + +<p>"Doing any advertising?" broke the silence first, from a corner of the +thin mouth. Perkins's cigar had been shifted to the opposite corner. He +did not look at Tom, but continued to gaze off toward a certain curious +effect of moonlight against the rocky sides of the canyon.</p> + +<p>"We have a card in all the city papers."</p> + +<p>"Any specials? Write-ups?"</p> + +<p>"Well, this is our first season, and we didn't feel as if we could +afford to pay for that."</p> + +<p>"No pulls, eh?"</p> + +<p>"You mean——?"</p> + +<p>"No friends among the newspaper men?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know one. They don't seem to come up here. I wish they would."</p> + +<p>"Ever ask one?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know any," repeated Tom.</p> + +<p>A short laugh, more like a grunt, was Perkins's reply. Tom didn't see +what there was to laugh at in the misfortune of having no acquaintance +among the writing fellows. He waited eagerly for the next question. It +was worth a good deal to him merely to have this<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_195" id="page_195">[Page 195]</a></span> outsider show a spark +of interest in the fortunes of Boswell's Inn.</p> + +<p>"When did you open up?" It came just as he feared Perkins was going to +drop the subject.</p> + +<p>"The third of June."</p> + +<p>"Own the house?"</p> + +<p>"No—lease it, cheap. It's an old place, but we put all we could afford +into freshening it up."</p> + +<p>"Cook a permanent one?"</p> + +<p>The form of the question perplexed Tom for an instant, but it presently +resolved itself, and he was grinning as he replied: "Sure she is. It's +my mother. Do you like her cooking?"</p> + +<p>"A-1."</p> + +<p>Ah, Tom would tell his mother that! The young man flushed slightly in +the darkness of the porch. It was almost the first compliment that had +been paid her, and she worked like a slave, too.</p> + +<p>"Little waitress your sister?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Sue's young, but we think she does pretty well."</p> + +<p>"Delivers the goods. Housekeeper a member of the family, too?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—and Tim's my brother. Oh, it's all<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_196" id="page_196">[Page 196]</a></span> in the family. The only +trouble is——" he hesitated.</p> + +<p>"Lack of patronage?"</p> + +<p>"We can't keep open much longer if things don't improve." The moment the +words were out Tom regretted them. He didn't know how he had come to +speak them. He hadn't meant to give this fact away. Certainly there had +been nothing particularly sympathetic in the tone of Perkins's choppy +questions. But the other man's next words knocked his regrets out of his +mind in a jiffy.</p> + +<p>"Could you entertain a dozen men at supper to-morrow night if they came +in a bunch without warning?"</p> + +<p>"Give us the chance!"</p> + +<p>"Chance might happen—better be prepared. I expect to be away over +to-morrow night myself, but have the tip that a crowd may be coming out +to sample the place. It may be a mistake—don't know."</p> + +<p>"We'll be ready. Would they come by train?"</p> + +<p>"Don't ask me—none of my picnic. Merely overheard the thing suggested." +And Perkins, rising, cast away the close-smoked stub of<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_197" id="page_197">[Page 197]</a></span> his cigar. +"Good-night," said he, carelessly enough, and strolled in through the +wide hall of the old stone house. Tom looked after him as he mounted the +stairs. The young innkeeper's spirits had gone up with a bound. A dozen +men to supper! Well—he thought they could entertain them. He would go +and tell his mother and Bertha on the instant; the prospect would cheer +them immensely. He wondered how or where Perkins had overheard this +rumour. At the post-office, most likely. It was a gossipy place, the +centre of the tiny burg at the foot of the mountain, an eighth of a mile +away, where a dozen small shops and half a hundred houses strung along +the one small street, at the end of which the two daily trains made +their half-minute stops.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The dozen men had come and gone. There were fourteen of them, to be +exact, and they had climbed out of a couple of big touring cars with +sounds of hilarity which made the elderly ladies jump in their chairs. +They had swarmed over the place as if they owned it, had talked and +laughed and joked and shouted, all in a perfectly agreeable way which +woke up Bos<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_198" id="page_198">[Page 198]</a></span>well's as if it were in the centre of somewhere instead of +off in the mountains. They had scrawled fourteen vigorous scrawls upon +the register and made it necessary to turn the page, this of itself +affording the clerk a satisfaction quite out of proportion to the +apparent unimportance of the incident. Then they had gone gayly in to +supper, had sat about two stainless tables close by the open windows, +and had been waited upon by both Sue and Tim in such alert fashion that +their plates arrived almost before they had unfurled their napkins.</p> + +<p>Out in the kitchen, crimson-cheeked and solicitous, Mrs. Boswell had +sent in relays of broiled chicken, young and tender, browned as only +artists of her rank can brown them, flanked by potatoes cooked in a way +known only to herself. These were two of her "specialties," which the +elderly ladies were accustomed to enjoy without mentioning it. Pickles +and jellies such as the fourteen men had tasted only in childhood +accompanied these dishes, and the little hot rolls came on in piles +which melted away before the delighted attacks of the hungry guests; so +that the kitchen<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_199" id="page_199">[Page 199]</a></span> itself became alarmed, and cut the elderly ladies a +trifle short, at which complaints were promptly filed, though it was the +first time such a shortage had occurred.</p> + +<p>Other toothsome dishes followed and were partaken of with such zest and +so many frank expressions of approval that Sue and Tim carried to the +kitchen reports which forced their mother to ask them to stop, lest she +lose her head. When the amber coffee with a fine cheese and crisp +toasted wafers ended the meal, the guests were in such a state of +satisfaction that Tom, though he did not know it, had acquired with them +his first "pull."</p> + +<p>He did not know it—not then. He only knew that they were very cordial +with him, asking him a good many interested questions, and that one +requested to be shown rooms, remarking that his wife and children might +like to run out for a little while before the summer was over. Most of +them looked back at the Inn as the automobiles bore them away, and one +waved his cigar genially at Tom standing on the top step.</p> + +<p>He was standing on the top step again the next morning when Mr. Perkins +returned. Tom was<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_200" id="page_200">[Page 200]</a></span> wishing Perkins had been there the night before, to +see confirmed the truth of the rumour he had reported.</p> + +<p>"Well, we had the crowd here last night," was Tom's greeting, as +Perkins's sharp black eyes looked up at him from the bottom step.</p> + +<p>"So I see." Perkins held up a morning paper. The inevitable cigar was in +his mouth. His face indicated no particular interest. He went along into +the house as Tom grasped the paper. So he saw! What did Perkins mean by +that? It couldn't be that any of that party of men had, unsolicited, +taken the trouble to——</p> + +<p>But they had, or one of them had. In a fairly conspicuous position on +one of the local pages of the best city daily was an item of at least a +dozen lines setting forth the fact that a party of prominent men, +including several newspaper men, had taken supper the night before at +Boswell's Inn, Mount o' Pines, and had found that place decidedly +attractive. The paragraph stated that such a supper was seldom found at +summer hotels, added that the air and the view were worth a long trip to +obtain when the city was sweltering with heat, and ended by speaking of +the prime con<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_201" id="page_201">[Page 201]</a></span>dition of the roads leading to the Inn. Altogether, it was +such an item as Tom had often longed to see, and the reading of it went +to his head. When, ten minutes later, Tim, coming up from the +post-office with the mail and another of the morning papers, excitedly +called Tom's attention to a second paragraph headed, "Have You Had a +Supper at Boswell's Inn?" Tom became positively delirious.</p> + +<p>"It pays to set it up to a bunch like that," was Perkins's comment when +Tom showed him this second free advertisement.</p> + +<p>"But I didn't treat them. They paid their bills," cried the young host.</p> + +<p>"Charge your usual price?"</p> + +<p>"Sure. We didn't have anything extra—except the cheese. Tim drove ten +miles for that."</p> + +<p>"Usual price was all the treat those fellows needed."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean you don't think I charge enough?" Tom's eyes opened wide. +He had felt as if he were robbing those men when he counted up the sum +total.</p> + +<p>"Ever dine at the Arcadia?—or the Princess?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_202" id="page_202">[Page 202]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"They do."</p> + +<p>Tom did not know the prices at these imposing popular hotels in the +nearby city, but he supposed they were high. He felt as if he were the +greenest innkeeper who ever invited the patronage of city guests.</p> + +<p>"Would you advise me to put up the price?" Tom asked presently, with +some hesitation.</p> + +<p>Perkins glanced at him out of those worn, brilliant, black eyes of his, +which looked as if they had seen more of the world than Tom's ever would +see in the longest life he could live, though Perkins himself could +hardly be over forty, perhaps not quite that.</p> + +<p>"Not yet, son," said he. "By and by—yes. But keep up the quality +now—and then."</p> + +<p>That evening a young man, whom Tom recognized as one of the party of the +night before, the one who had waved to him as he had driven away, +appeared again. He came in a runabout this time and brought two women, +who proved to be his mother and sister. The young man himself—Mr. +Haskins—smiled genially at Tom, and said by way of explanation:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_203" id="page_203">[Page 203]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I liked your place so well I brought them up to see if my fairy tales +were true."</p> + +<p>Upon which Tom naturally did his best to make the fairy tales seem true, +and thought, by the signs he noted, that he had succeeded.</p> + +<p>During the following week three or four others of the men of the +original fourteen came up to Boswell's or sent small parties. Evidently +the flattering paragraphs in the two dailies had also made some +impression on people eager to get away from the intense heat of a season +more than ordinarily trying. They found the air stirring upon the +porches and through the rooms at the Inn; and they found—which was, of +course, the greater attraction—a table so inviting with appetizing +food, and an unpretentious service so satisfactory, that mouth-to-mouth +advertising of the little new resort, that most-to-be-desired means of +becoming known, began, gradually but surely, to tell.</p> + +<p>Strange to say, several more paragraphs now appeared: brief, crisp +mention of the simple but perfect cooking to be had for the short drive +of sixteen miles over the best of roads. These inevitably had their +effect, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_204" id="page_204">[Page 204]</a></span> at the end of the third week Tom declared to Perkins that +he was more than making expenses.</p> + +<p>"Much more?" inquired that gentleman, his eyes as usual upon the view.</p> + +<p>"Enough so we're satisfied and won't have to close up. Why, there's been +from one to three big autos here every day this week."</p> + +<p>One of Perkins's short laughs answered this—Tom never could tell just +what that throaty chuckle indicated. Presently he found out.</p> + +<p>"What you want, Boswell," said Perkins, removing his cigar—an unusual +sign of interest with him—"is a boom. I'd like to see you get it. +Gradual building up's all right, but quick methods pay better."</p> + +<p>"A boom! How on earth are we to get a boom?" Tom felt a bit +disconcerted.</p> + +<p>He had noticed for several days an increasing restlessness in the silent +guest. Instead of sitting quietly upon the porch with his cigar, Perkins +had fallen to pacing up and down with a long, nervous stride. At first +he had seemed moody and fatigued, now he had the appearance of a man +eager to be at something from which he was restrained.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_205" id="page_205">[Page 205]</a></span></p> + +<p>When Tom asked his startled question about the desirable boom, Perkins +got out of his chair with one abrupt movement, threw one leg over the +porch rail, and began suddenly to talk. He could not be said really to +have talked before. Tom listened, his eyes sticking out of his head.</p> + +<p>"Bunch of motoring fellows down in town—Mercury Club—want to get up an +auto parade, end with supper somewhere. Hotels at Lake Lucas, Pleasant +Valley, and half a dozen others all crazy to get 'em. Happen to know a +chap or two in town who could swing it out here for you if you cared to +make the bid, and could handle the crowd. Chance for you, if you want +it. Make a big thing of it—lanterns, bonfires, fireworks, +orchestra—regular blow-out."</p> + +<p>Tom's breath came in gasps. "Why—why——" he stammered. "How could +we—how could we—afford——What——? How——?"</p> + +<p>Perkins threw away the stub of his cigar, chewed to a pulp at the mouth +end. His eyes had an odd glitter. "I've what you might call a bit of +experience in that sort of thing," he said in a quiet tone which yet had +a certain<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_206" id="page_206">[Page 206]</a></span> edge of energy. "Going away next week, but might put this +thing through for you, if you cared to trust me."</p> + +<p>"But—the money?" urged Tom.</p> + +<p>"Willing to stand for that—pay me back, if you make enough. +Otherwise—my risk. Something of a gambler, I am. Club'll pay for the +fireworks—that's their show. Bonfires on the mountains around are easy. +Lanterns cheap. Get special terms on the music—friend of mine can. +Supper's up to you. Can you get extra help?"</p> + +<p>"We can manage the supper," agreed Tom, his round cheeks deeply flushed +with excitement. "Say, you're—you're awfully kind. I don't know +why——"</p> + +<p>Perkins vaulted over the porch rail. From the ground below he looked +back at Tom. For the first time since he had come to Boswell's Inn Tom +caught sight of the gleam of white teeth, as an oddly brilliant smile +broke out for an instant on the face which was no longer deadly white +but brown with tan. "Son," said Perkins, preparing to swing away down to +the post-office, "I told you I was a gambler. Gambler out of work's the +lamest<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_207" id="page_207">[Page 207]</a></span> duck on the shore. Game of booming the Inn interests me—that's +all."</p> + +<p>Tom watched the lithe, slim figure in the distance for a minute before +he went in to break the plan to the force of Boswell's. "He's no +gambler," said he to himself, "or I couldn't trust him the way I do. +He's queer, but I don't believe he has any other motive for this than +wanting to help us."</p> + +<p>With which innocent faith in the goodness of the man who had already +seen more of the world than Tom Boswell would ever see, he rushed in to +tell Bertha and the rest of his excited family the astounding talk he +had just had with Perkins.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"Mother Boswell, you've got to come out on the porch—just one +minute—and look."</p> + +<p>"No, no, child, I can't. I——"</p> + +<p>"Not where the folks are—just out on Mr. Perkins's balcony. He told me +to take you."</p> + +<p>"But I can't leave——"</p> + +<p>"Yes, you can. Everything's all right. Come—quick. The first autos are +coming—you can see 'em miles off."</p> + +<p>With one glance about the kitchen, where<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_208" id="page_208">[Page 208]</a></span> two extra helpers were busy +with the last preparations, over which Mrs. Boswell had kept a +supervising eye to the smallest detail, herself working harder than +anybody, the mistress of the place suffered herself to be led away. Up +the back stairs, through Mr. Perkins's empty rooms, out upon the +balcony, Sue hustled her mother, and then with one triumphant "There!" +swept an arm about the entire horizon.</p> + +<p>"My goodness!" burst from the lady's lips, and she stood gazing, +transfixed.</p> + +<p>At the foot of the mountainside, where lay the little village street +with its row of shops and houses, glowed a line of Chinese lanterns, +hung thickly along the entire distance. The winding road up to the Inn +was outlined by lanterns; the trees about the Inn held out long arms +dancing with the parti-coloured lights; the porch below, as could be +told by the rainbow tints thrown upon the ground beneath, was hung with +them from end to end.</p> + +<p>"My goodness!" came again from Mrs. Boswell, in stupefied amazement. +"There must be a thousand of those things. How on <span class="pagenum"><a name="page_209" id="page_209">[Page 209]</a></span>earth——?"</p> + +<p>But her ear was caught by a distant boom, and her eyes lifted to the +surrounding mountain heights. In a dozen different places bonfires +flashed and leaped, with an indescribable effect of beauty.</p> + +<p>"They're firing dynamite up on West Peak!" explained Sue. "Jack +Weatherbee offered to do that. Tim's got boys at all those places to +keep up the fires—and put 'em out afterward. Oh, look!—now you can see +the parade beginning to show!"</p> + +<p>Down upon the distant plain, across which lay the winding road out from +the city, one could discern a trail of light—thrown by many +searchlights—and make out its rapid advance. The sight moved Mrs. +Boswell instantly to action again.</p> + +<p>"I must get back to the kitchen!" she cried, and vanished from the +balcony.</p> + +<p>"If you could only see the Inn from outside!" Sue called after her, but +uselessly. Mrs. Boswell felt that the entire success of the "boom" +depended upon the kitchen. They might string lanterns from Boswell's to +Jericho, but if the supper shouldn't be good—the thought sent her down +the back stairs at a speed reck<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_210" id="page_210">[Page 210]</a></span>less for one of her years. But she +reached the bottom safely, or this story would never have been told.</p> + +<p>The first cars in the procession came up the steep road with open +cut-outs. The bigger cars made nothing of it; the smaller ones got into +their low gears and ground a bit as they pulled. In fifteen minutes from +the first arrival, the wide plateau upon which the Inn stood looked like +an immense garage, cars of every description having been packed in +together at all angles. Up the Inn steps flowed a steady stream of +people: men in driving attire and motor caps; women in long coats and +floating veils, under which showed pretty summer frocks; a few children, +dressed like their elders in motoring rig, their faces eager with +interest in everything. In the hall, behind a screen of flags and +evergreen, the orchestra played merrily. It presently had to play its +loudest to be heard above the chorus of voices.</p> + +<p>In less time than it takes to tell, every table in the airy dining-room, +lit by more Chinese lanterns and hung with streamers of bunting, was +filled. Reservations had been made by<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_211" id="page_211">[Page 211]</a></span> mail and telephone for the past +three days, and with a list in his hand Tom hurried about. He could +never have kept his head if it had not been for young Haskins at his +elbow. Haskins was secretary of the Mercury Club and knew everybody. He +was a genial fellow, and if anybody attempted to tell Tom that a mistake +had been made, and certain reservations should have been for the first +or second table, instead of the third, Haskins would cut in with a joke +and have the murmurer appeased and laughing in a trice.</p> + +<p>As for Perkins—but where was Perkins? Up to the last minute before the +first car arrived, Perkins had been in evidence enough—in fact, he had +been everywhere all day, personally supervising every detail, working +like a fiend himself and inspiring everybody else to work, proving +himself the ablest of generals and a perfect genius at effective +decoration. The Inn, inside and out, was a fairyland of light and +colour—even the sated eyes of the city people, accustomed to every +trick of effect in such affairs, were charmed with the picturesque +quality of the scene. But now Tom could see nothing of Perkins<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_212" id="page_212">[Page 212]</a></span> +anywhere. Tim, hurriedly questioned, shook his head, also puzzled.</p> + +<p>Late in the evening there came a moment when Tom could free himself long +enough to run up to Perkins's room. He was uneasy about his guest—and +friend—for that the stranger seemed to have become. Perkins certainly +didn't look quite strong—could he have overdone and be ill, alone in +his room? After one hasty knock, to which he got no answer, Tom turned +the knob. Through the open balcony door he saw a leg and shoulder—and +smelled the familiar fragrance of the special brand.</p> + +<p>"Hello, son!" was Perkins's greeting.</p> + +<p>"You're not sick?"</p> + +<p>"Never. Things going O. K.?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, splendid! Such a crowd—such a jolly crowd! But—why don't you come +down?"</p> + +<p>"To help make things go?"</p> + +<p>"No, no—to enjoy it. You've done enough. You must know some of these +people, and if you don't—it's worth something just to look at 'em. I +didn't know ladies dressed like that—under those things they wear in +the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_213" id="page_213">[Page 213]</a></span> autos. Say, Mr. Perkins, the Lieutenant-Governor's here—and his +wife!"</p> + +<p>"So?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Haskins thinks they want to stay all night. The lady hasn't been +sleeping well through the heat. Mr. Haskins says she's taken a fancy to +the Inn. But I haven't a really good room for 'em."</p> + +<p>"Take mine."</p> + +<p>Tom gasped. "Oh, no! Not yours—after all you've done——"</p> + +<p>"Going to-morrow, you know. It doesn't matter where I hang up to-night. +Matters a good deal where Mrs. Lieutenant-Governor hangs up."</p> + +<p>"But where——?"</p> + +<p>"Anywhere. May sit up till morning, anyhow. Feel like it. Your show sort +of goes to my head."</p> + +<p>"My show? Yours! But why on earth don't you come down and——?"</p> + +<p>"By and by, son. Say, send me some clean linen and I'll see that this +room's in shape for the lady—girls all busy yet. Room swept yesterday. +My truck's packed. I'll have things ready in ten minutes."<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_214" id="page_214">[Page 214]</a></span></p> + +<p>Tom went downstairs feeling more than ever that his guest was an enigma. +But he was too busy to stop just then to think about it.</p> + +<p>The hours went by. The guests talked and laughed, ate and promenaded. +They crowded the porch to watch the fireworks on the mountain; they +swept over the smooth space and the roadway in front of the Inn, looking +up at it and remarking upon the quaint charm of it, the desirability of +its location, its attractiveness as a resort. Tom heard one pretty girl +planning a luncheon here next week; he heard a group of men talking +about entertaining a visiting delegation of bankers up here at Boswell's +out of the heat.</p> + +<p>Everywhere people were asking, "Why haven't we known about this?" and to +one and another Arthur Haskins, in Tom's hearing, was saying such things +as, "Just opened up. Jolly place, isn't it? Going to be the most popular +anywhere around. Deserves it, too."</p> + +<p>"But is the table as good every day as it is to-night?" one skeptic +inquired.</p> + +<p>"Better." Haskins might have been an owner of the place, he was so +prompt with his<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_215" id="page_215">[Page 215]</a></span> flattering statements. "First time I came up was with a +crowd of fellows. We took them unawares, and they served a supper that +made us smile all over. Their cook can't be beaten—and the service is +first-class."</p> + +<p>It was over at last. But it was at a late hour that the first cars began +to roll away down the hill, and later still when the last got under way. +They carried a gay company, and the final rockets, spurting from West +Peak, flashed before the faces of people in the high good humour of +those who have been successfully and uniquely entertained.</p> + +<p>The Lieutenant-Governor and his wife had gone to the pink and white +welcome of the bridal suite when Perkins at last came strolling +downstairs. Only Haskins's party remained in the flag-hung lobby, the +women sheathing themselves in veils, as their motor chugged at the porch +steps.</p> + +<p>Haskins turned as Perkins crossed the lobby. He stared an instant, then +advanced with outstretched hand, smiling.</p> + +<p>"Why, Mr. Parker," he said, "I didn't know you were here. Doctor Austin +was asking me to-day if I knew where you were. He seems<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_216" id="page_216">[Page 216]</a></span> to have got you +on his mind. He'll be delighted to see you. I'll call him—he's just +outside. He's with our party."</p> + +<p>With an expression half dismayed, half amused, Perkins looked after the +Mercury Club's secretary as he darted to the outer door, where a big +figure in a motoring coat was pacing up and down.</p> + +<p>Tom, leaning over the office desk, looked at Perkins. But Haskins had +called the man "Parker." What——?</p> + +<p>The big figure in the motoring coat came hurriedly in at the doorway and +grasped the hand of Tom's guest. "Parker," he cried, "what are you doing +here? Are you responsible for this panjandrum to-night? Didn't I send +you off for an absolute rest?"</p> + +<p>"Been obeying directions strictly, Doctor. I've lain around up here till +the grass sprouted under my feet. You haven't seen me here to-night, +have you?"</p> + +<p>"No, but the thing looks like one of your managing."</p> + +<p>"No interest in this place whatever. Never heard of it till I stumbled +on it." But Perkins's eyes were dancing.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_217" id="page_217">[Page 217]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You're looking a lot better, anyhow. Come out here and meet Mrs. +Austin. I want to show her the toughest patient I ever had to pull loose +from his work."</p> + +<p>The two went out upon the porch. Tom gazed at young Haskins, as the +latter looked at him with a smile.</p> + +<p>"Did he engineer this part of the thing, too, Boswell?" questioned the +young man, interestedly.</p> + +<p>"Sure, he did. But who is he?"</p> + +<p>"Didn't you know who he was? That's so—you've called him Perkins all +along, but this is the first time I've seen him here, and I didn't put +two and two together. His letters and 'phones about this supper came +from in town somewhere. Why, he's Chris Parker, the biggest hotel man in +the country. Nobody like him—he'd make the deadest hotel in the +loneliest hamlet pay in a month. Head of all the hotel organizations you +can count. Most original chap in the world. Doctor Austin was telling me +to-night about ordering him off for a rest because he'd put such a lot +of nerve tension into his schemes he was on the edge of a bad breakdown. +Well, well, you're mighty<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_218" id="page_218">[Page 218]</a></span> lucky if you've got him backing you. No other +man on earth could have got the Mercury Club up here to-night—a place +they'd never heard of."</p> + +<p>So Tom was thinking. He was still thinking it when the motor car shot +away down the hill with its load, the physician calling back at his +ex-patient: "Don't get going too soon again, Parker! So far, so good, +but don't——"</p> + +<p>The last words were lost in a final boom from West Peak.</p> + +<p>Tom went slowly out upon the porch, feeling embarrassed and uncertain. +How could he ever express his gratitude to this mighty man of valour?</p> + +<p>"Perkins" was sitting, as usual, astride the porch rail, the red light +of his cigar glowing against the dark background of the mountains where +the bonfires were dying to mere sparks. He looked around as Tom +appeared, and grinned in a friendly way under the Chinese lanterns.</p> + +<p>"Tough luck, to get caught at the last minute, eh?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Per—Parker——" began Tom, and stopped.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_219" id="page_219">[Page 219]</a></span></p> + +<p>The "biggest hotel man in the country" looked at the greenest young +innkeeper, and there was satisfaction in his bright black eyes.</p> + +<p>"Not any thanks, son. Should have croaked in one week more if I couldn't +have worked off a few pounds of high pressure. This sort of thing to +me's like a game to a gambler—as I told you. Had to keep incog., or I'd +have had a dozen parties from town after me on one deal or another. +Thought I could put this little stunt through without giving myself +away—but came downstairs five minutes too soon. Went off pretty +well—eh? You'll have patronage after this, all right. No—no thanks, I +said. I'm under obligations to you for trusting me to run the thing. +It's saved my life!"</p> + +<p>Well, if it were all a game, Tom thought, as he watched Mr. Christopher +Parker run lightly up the stairs, a few minutes later, it was certainly +a wondrous friendly one.</p> + +<p><i>And Boswell's Inn was now known to be only sixteen short motor miles +from town.</i></p> + + +<p class="smaller">Back to <a href="#contents">Contents</a></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_220" id="page_220">[Page 220]</a></span></p> +<h2 class="center"><a name="III_II" id="III_II">II</a></h2> + +<h3 class="center"><a name="honour" id="honour">HONOUR AND THE GIRL</a></h3> + + +<p><span class="smcap">He</span> lay back among the crimson pillows in his big chair, close beside the +fire, with his eyes on the burning logs. A tablet and pen lay in his +lap, and he had written a few paragraphs, but he was listening now to +certain sounds which came from below stairs: voices, laughter, +scurryings up and down the hall and staircase; then the slam of a heavy +door, the tuneful ring of sleighbells in a rapid <i>decrescendo</i> down the +street, and absolute silence within the house. Three times in the last +fifteen minutes before the door closed somebody had looked in upon the +occupant of the big chair to say something like this:</p> + +<p>"Oh, Jerry—sorry we couldn't spend Nan's last evening with you. Too bad +this wretched Van Antwerp dance had to come to-night—Christmas Eve, +too. Busy, aren't you, as usual? At work on those sketches of coun<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_221" id="page_221">[Page 221]</a></span>try +life in winter? You clever boy—who but you could make so much out of so +little? Anything we can do for you before we are off? Nan hates to go, +since it's the very last evening of her visit. She thought we all ought +to give up and stay with you, but we told her you disliked to be +'babied.' Well—good-night, old fellow. Don't write too late. You know +the doctor thinks plenty of sleep is part of your cure."</p> + +<p>That was the sort of thing they had been saying to him for a year now—a +year. And he seemed no nearer health than when he had been sent home +from his gloriously busy, abounding life in New York, where he was +succeeding brilliantly, far beyond anybody's expectations—except those +of the few knowing ones who had recognized the genius in him in his +school and college days. But he had never given up. Invalided in body, +his mind worked unceasingly; and a certain part of the literary work he +had been doing he did still. He said it kept him from going off his +head.</p> + +<p>When the stillness of the usually noisy house had become oppressive he +took up his tablet and pen again. He wrote a sentence<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_222" id="page_222">[Page 222]</a></span> or two—slowly; +then another—more slowly; and drew an impatient line through them all. +He tossed the tablet over to a table near at hand and sat staring into +the fire. Certain lines about his mouth grew deep.</p> + +<p>A knock on his door roused him, and he realized that it had sounded +before. "Come in," he called, and the door opened and closed behind him. +An unmistakable sound, as of the soft rustle of delicate skirts, swept +across the floor and paused behind his chair. He drew himself up among +his pillows, and strained his neck to look over his shoulder. A young +face, full of life and colour, laughed down into his.</p> + +<p>"You?" he said in an amazed breath. "<i>You?</i> Why, Nan!"</p> + +<p>He reached up one hand and took hers and drew her with his slight +strength around where he could see her. It did not take much strength. +She came, laughing still, and sweeping a graceful low bend before him.</p> + +<p>"Don't ask me why," she said with a shake of her head. "I didn't want to +go. I knew I wouldn't go all the time I was dressing. But I dressed. I +knew I could argue with them<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_223" id="page_223">[Page 223]</a></span> better when I got this gown on. I think I +have rather a regal air in it, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"I could tell better if you were not wearing that shapeless thing over +it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but I've taken off my gloves, and I can't stand bare arms and +shoulders here at home." She shrugged the shoulders under the thin +silken garment with which she had covered them.</p> + +<p>"And you're not going to the Van Antwerps' at all?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not. I preferred to stay at home."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"I told you not to ask me why. But I suppose you won't talk about +anything else until you know."</p> + +<p>She sat down opposite him before the fire, looking up at the great +branches of holly on the chimney-piece above, their scarlet berries +gleaming saucily among the rich green of their leaves. She reached up +and pulled off a spray; then she glanced at him. He was silently +surveying her. In her delicate blue gauzy gown she was something to +look at in the fire-glow.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_224" id="page_224">[Page 224]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I wanted to spend my last evening here with you," she said.</p> + +<p>He smiled back at her. "Three people looked in here this evening and +told me you thought you ought."</p> + +<p>She answered indignantly: "I didn't say I ought. I didn't think it. I +wanted to. And I didn't want them to stay. That is why I let them all +array themselves before I refused to go."</p> + +<p>He was still smiling. "Delicate flattery," he said, "adapted to an +invalid. You should never let an invalid think you pity him—at least +not a man-invalid who got knocked out while playing a vigorous game for +all it was worth."</p> + +<p>"Jerry," she said, looking full at him out of a pair of eyes which were +capable of saying eloquent things quite by themselves, "do you think all +the hours I've spent with you in this month I've been visiting Hester +were spent from pity?"</p> + +<p>"I hope not," he answered lightly. "I'm sure not. We've had some +pleasant times, haven't we?"</p> + +<p>She turned from him without speaking, and,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_225" id="page_225">[Page 225]</a></span> clasping her hands loosely +in front of her, bent forward and studied the fire. Presently she got up +and took a fresh log from the basket.</p> + +<p>"Be careful," he warned, as she stooped to lay it in place. "Put it on +gently. The sparks might fly, and that cobweb dress of yours——"</p> + +<p>She laid the log across the other half-burnt sticks, and started back +with a little cry as a dozen brilliant points of flame flew toward her.</p> + +<p>"Don't do that again," he protested sternly, with nothing of the invalid +in his voice. "I don't like to see you do such things when I couldn't +stir to save you no matter what happened."</p> + +<p>She stood looking down at him. "Jerry," she said, "I'll tell you why I +stayed to-night. I wanted to talk with you about something. I want your +help."</p> + +<p>His eyes told her that he would give it if he could.</p> + +<p>"Do you mind if I sit on a pillow here before the fire?" she asked, +bringing one from the couch. Jerry had plenty of pillows. Since his +breakdown every girl who had ever known him had sent him a fresh one.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_226" id="page_226">[Page 226]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Somehow I can talk better," she explained.</p> + +<p>She settled herself on her cushion, her blue skirts lying in light folds +about her, her chin on her hand, her elbow on her knee.</p> + +<p>"I always go straight to the point," she said. "I never know how to lead +artfully up to a thing. Jerry, you know I go to Paris in January, to do +some special work in illustrating?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"I go with Aunt Elizabeth, and we shall live very quietly and properly, +and I shall not have any of the—trials—so many young women workers +have. My work will keep me very busy, and, I think, happy. I mean it +shall. But, Jerry—I want something. You know you have always known me, +because I was Hester's friend."</p> + +<p>"Is this 'straight to the point'?" he asked, and there was a gleam of +fun in his eyes, though his lips were sober. But his interest was +unmistakable.</p> + +<p>"Very straight. But we have never been special friends, you and I."</p> + +<p>"Haven't we? I congratulated myself we had."</p> + +<p>"Not what I mean by that word." She sat<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_227" id="page_227">[Page 227]</a></span> looking into the fire for some +little time, while he remained motionless, watching her, his eyes shaded +by his hand. At length she said very earnestly, still staring fireward, +while her cheeks took on a slight access of colour:</p> + +<p>"I want to feel I have a friend—one friend—a real one, whom I leave +behind me here—who will understand me and write to me, and whom I can +count on—differently from the way I count on other friends."</p> + +<p>He was studying her absorbedly. There came into his eyes a peculiar look +as she made her frank statement.</p> + +<p>"Then you haven't just that sort of a friend among all the men you know +at home?"</p> + +<p>"Not a single one. And I miss it. Not because I have ever had it," she +added quickly.</p> + +<p>He was silent for a little while, then he said very quietly: "You are +offering me a good deal, Nan. Do you realize just how much? +Friendship—such friendship—means more to me now than it ever did +before."</p> + +<p>"Does it?" she asked with equal quietness. "I'm glad of that."</p> + +<p>"Because," he went on gravely, "I realize that it is the only thing I +can ever have, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_228" id="page_228">[Page 228]</a></span> it must take the place of all I once—hoped for."</p> + +<p>"Oh, why do you say that?" she cried impetuously.</p> + +<p>"Since you are to be my friend now—my special friend—I can tell you +what Doctor McDonough told me just two days ago. May I tell you that? I +have told and shall tell no one else. Before you take the vows"—he +smiled grimly—"you should know what you are accepting."</p> + +<p>"Tell me."</p> + +<p>"He said I might be better—much better—but I could never hope to +be—my old self again."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Jerry! Oh, Jerry!" Her voice was almost a sob. She turned about and +reached up both hands to him, clasping his with a warm and tender +pressure.</p> + +<p>"Is that what your friendship means?" he asked, holding her hands +closely and looking down steadily into her eyes while his own grew +brilliant. "If it does—it is going to be something a man might give up +a good deal for."</p> + +<p>"Oh, how can you take such a cruel disap<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_229" id="page_229">[Page 229]</a></span>pointment so?" she breathed. +"And to hear it just at Christmas, too. I've said all along that you +were just the bravest person I ever knew. But now!—Jerry, I'm not +worthy to be your friend."</p> + +<p>"Ah, I'll not let you take back what you offered me. If you knew how +I've wanted to ask it——"</p> + +<p>"Have you, really?" she asked so eagerly that he turned his head away +for a moment and set his lips firmly together as if he feared he might +presently be tempted to go beyond those strait boundaries of friendship. +Somehow from the lips of such a girl as Nan this sort of thing was the +most appealing flattery; at the same time it was unquestionably sincere.</p> + +<p>"So you will seal the compact? Think it over carefully. I can never give +you the strong arm a well man could."</p> + +<p>"If you will teach me to acquire the sort of strength you have learned +yourself," she said—and there was a hint of mistiness about those eyes +of hers—"you will have given me something worth while."</p> + +<p>Presently they were talking of her journey,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_230" id="page_230">[Page 230]</a></span> to be begun on the morrow; +of her work, in which she had come in the last year to remarkable +success; of his work—the part which he could do and would continue to +do, he said, with added vigour. They talked quietly but earnestly, and +each time she looked up into his face she saw there a new brightness, +something beyond the mere patient acceptance of his hard trial.</p> + +<p>"Jerry," she said all at once, breaking off in the midst of a discussion +of certain phases of the illustrator's art, "you don't know how suddenly +rich I feel. All the while you were doing such wonderful, beautiful +things with your pen in New York and being made so much of, I was +thinking, 'What an inspiration Jerrold Fullerton would be as a real +friend.' But all the girls were——"</p> + +<p>He laughed. "They won't trouble you, now."</p> + +<p>"But your friendship is worth more now than then."</p> + +<p>He shook his head.</p> + +<p>"It is—because <i>you</i> are more than you were then."</p> + +<p>"I'm a mere wreck of what I was, Nan."<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_231" id="page_231">[Page 231]</a></span> He did not say it bitterly, but +he could not quite keep the sadness out of the uncompromising phrase.</p> + +<p>She looked up at him, studying his face intently. It had always been a +remarkably fine face, and on it the suffering of the past year had done +a certain work which added to its beauty. He did not look ill, but the +refinement which illness sometimes lends to faces of a somewhat too +strongly cut type had softened it into an exceeding charm. Out of it the +eyes shone with an undaunted spirit which told of hidden fires.</p> + +<p>"I am glad a share in the wreckage falls to me," she said softly.</p> + +<p>"Nan," he told her, while his lips broke irresistibly into a smile +again, "I believe you are deliberately trying to burn a sweet incense +before me to-night. Just how fragrant it is to a fellow in my shape I +can't tell you. You would never do it if I were on my feet, I appreciate +that; but I'm very grateful just the same."</p> + +<p>"I'd like," she said with eyes which fell now to the hands folded in her +lap—and the droop of her head as he saw it, with the turned-away<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_232" id="page_232">[Page 232]</a></span> +profile cut like an exquisite silhouette against the fire, was burnt +into his memory afterward—"to have you remember this Christmas Eve—as +I shall."</p> + +<p>"Remember it!"</p> + +<p>"Shall you?"</p> + +<p>"Shall I!"</p> + +<p>"Ah—who is deliberately trying to say nice things now?" But she said it +rather faintly.</p> + +<p>He lay back among his pillows with a long breath. "So you go to-morrow +morning?"</p> + +<p>"Early—at six o'clock. You will not see me. And I must go now. See, it +is after eleven. Think of their making me go out this evening when I +must be up at five and travel the next forty-eight hours. On Christmas +Day, too. Isn't that too bad? But that's the price of my staying over to +spend Christmas Eve with Jerry Fullerton—like the foolish girl that I +am."</p> + +<p>She rose and stood before him.</p> + +<p>"Would you mind slipping off that—domino?" he requested. "I'd like to +see you just as all the other fellows would have seen you if you had +gone to the Van Antwerps'."<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_233" id="page_233">[Page 233]</a></span></p> + +<p>Smiling, and flushing a little, she drew off the silken garment, and the +firelight bathed her softly rounded shoulders and arms in a rosy glow. +He looked at her silently for a minute, until she said again that she +must go, and took a step toward him, smiling down at him and holding out +both hands.</p> + +<p>"I don't know how I can spare my friend, when I've just found her," he +said, searching her face with an intentness she found it difficult to +bear. "I suppose I ought not to ask it, but—it's Christmas Eve, you +know—and—you'll give me one more thing to remember—won't you, Nan?"</p> + +<p>She bent, like a warm-hearted child, and laid her lips lightly upon his +forehead, but he caught her hands.</p> + +<p>"Is that the proper degree for friendship—and you feel that more would +be too much?"</p> + +<p>She hesitated; then, as his grasp drew her, she stooped lower, blushing +beautifully, to give the kiss upon his lips. But it was not the breath +of a caress she would have made it. Invalids are sometimes possessed of +unsuspected reserves of strength.</p> + +<p>She turned away then in a pretty confusion,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_234" id="page_234">[Page 234]</a></span> said, "Good-night," and +went slowly toward the door.</p> + +<p>"Oh, come back!" he cried. "Tell me—you will write often?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; every—month."</p> + +<p>"Month? Won't you write every mail?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Jerry!"</p> + +<p>"Every week, then?"</p> + +<p>"Will you?"</p> + +<p>"I will, whether you do or not."</p> + +<p>"Your ideas of friendship——"</p> + +<p>"Are they too exacting?"</p> + +<p>"No-o," she admitted, as if reluctantly. She was behind him now, her +hands clasped together tightly, her eyes glowing with the light of a +frightened purpose which was over-mastering her. He tried to turn and +see her, but she defeated this.</p> + +<p>"Please come here," he begged.</p> + +<p>She was silent, trying to breathe more naturally.</p> + +<p>"Please——"</p> + +<p>"What good will it do?" she asked at last. "I shall have to go, and +you—won't——"</p> + +<p>"Won't—what?"</p> + +<p>She crept up close behind his chair.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_235" id="page_235">[Page 235]</a></span></p> + +<p>"—<i>say it</i>," she whispered.</p> + +<p>He reached out his hand with a commanding gesture. "Nan, come here. +Say—what?"</p> + +<p>She bent over the back of his chair and laid a soft, trembling hand on +each side of his face.</p> + +<p>"Please say it," she breathed.</p> + +<p>He seized her hands and drew them to his lips. "Nan, you are tempting me +almost beyond my power. Do you mean to tempt me? Are you trying to?"</p> + +<p>She leaned low, so that her breath swept his cheek, and whispered, +"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Oh, my God," he groaned. "Nan—are you insane? What if I say it—then +how much worse will it be? I can bear it better as it is now—and +you—can't mean it."</p> + +<p>"<i>Say it!</i>" came the breath in his ear again.</p> + +<p>He was silent for a while, breathing heavily. Presently he began to +speak in a quiet tone whose vibrations showed, nevertheless, the most +rigid self-control. He still held her hands, resting there upon his +shoulders, but he made no further effort to see her face.</p> + +<p>"Nan," he said, "this friendship you give me is the dearest thing I ever +knew. It is worth everything to me. Let me keep it<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_236" id="page_236">[Page 236]</a></span> while you go away +for your year of work. Be the warmest friend to me you know how, and +write me everything about yourself. Meanwhile—keep your heart free +for—the man will surely come to claim it some day—a man who will be +worthy of you in every way, soul, mind, and—body. I shall be happy in +your——"</p> + +<p>Her hand pulled itself away from his, and was laid with a gentle +insistence upon his mouth.</p> + +<p>"Jerry," she said very softly, "that's enough—please. I understand. +That had to be said. I knew you would say it. It's what you think you +ought to say, of course. But—it's said now. You needn't repeat it. For +it's not the thing—I'm waiting for you to say."</p> + +<p>"Nan——"</p> + +<p>"Would you make a poor girl do it all?" she questioned, with a +suggestion of both laughter and tears in her voice.</p> + +<p>"But, Nan——"</p> + +<p>"I'm not used to it," she urged. "It's very embarrassing. And I ought to +be asleep this minute, getting ready for my early start. I'm not quite +sure that I shall sleep if you say it"—her voice dropped to a whisper +again—"but I'm sure I shall not if—you—don't."<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_237" id="page_237">[Page 237]</a></span></p> + +<p>"My dear girl——"</p> + +<p>"That's hardly warm enough, is it—under the circumstances—when you +won't see me for a year? Jerry—a whole year——"</p> + +<p>"Nan—for the love of Heaven come around here!"</p> + +<p>"Not so much for the love of Heaven as——"</p> + +<p>"No—for the love of you—you—<i>you!</i>"</p> + +<p>She came at last—and then she saw his eyes. But she could not meet them +after the first glance. She lay in his arms, held there by a grasp so +strong that it astonished her beyond measure. So, for a time; then he +began to speak—in her ear now, where, in its pinkness, with a little +brown curl touching his lips, it listened.</p> + +<p>"You've made me say it, dear, when for your sake I would have kept it +back. But you know—you must know, nothing can come of it."</p> + +<p>He heard her murmur, "Why?"</p> + +<p>"You know why."</p> + +<p>"I don't."</p> + +<p>He drew a deep breath.</p> + +<p>"Don't you want me?" she asked—into his shoulder.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_238" id="page_238">[Page 238]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Want you!"</p> + +<p>"You've everything to offer me."</p> + +<p>"Nan——"</p> + +<p>"Everything I want. Jerry"—she lifted her head and looked for an +instant into his eyes—"I shall die of heartache if you won't offer it."</p> + +<p>"A wreck of a life——"</p> + +<p>"I won't let you call it that again," she flashed. "You—Jerrold +Fullerton—whose merest scrawl is reviewed by every literary editor in +the land. Do you think you can't do still better work with—with me?"</p> + +<p>"But you wouldn't be marrying Jerrold Fullerton's mind alone."</p> + +<p>"No—his soul—all there is of him—his great personality—himself. And +that's so much more than I can give in return——"</p> + +<p>"Nan, darling——"</p> + +<p>"Yes——"</p> + +<p>"Go to Paris for a year, but don't bind yourself to me. Then, when you +come back, if——"</p> + +<p>"If I'm still of the same mind——Jerry, you sound like the counsel of a +wise and worldly grandmother," with a gleeful laugh.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_239" id="page_239">[Page 239]</a></span></p> + +<p>"—if I'm no worse—if I'm a little better——This is great medicine, +Nan. I feel like a new man now. If then——"</p> + +<p>"I shall not go at all unless—unless——"</p> + +<p>"Yes——"</p> + +<p>"—unless I am bound tight—tight—to you. I—I shouldn't feel sure of +you!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, there's no use resisting you," he said, half under his breath. +"It's the sorriest bargain a woman ever made, but——"</p> + +<p>"If she will make it——"</p> + +<p>"Look at me, Nan."</p> + +<p>"I can't—long," she complained. "Somehow you—you—blind me."</p> + +<p>He laughed softly. "I realize that—you are blind—blind. But I can't +open your eyes. Somehow I'm losing the strength to try."</p> + +<p>"I must go now," she said gently, trying to release herself. "Really I +must! Yes, I must! Please, Jerry—let me go, dear——Yes, yes—you +must!" It took time, however, and was accomplished with extreme +difficulty. "But I <i>can</i> go now. I couldn't when I said <span class="pagenum"><a name="page_240" id="page_240">[Page 240]</a></span>good-night +before——Oh! it's striking twelve! Good-night, Jerry——Merry +Christmas, Jerry!"</p> + +<p>Before she quite went, however, she came back once more to lean over the +back of his chair and whisper in his ear:</p> + +<p>"Jerry——"</p> + +<p>"Yes?"</p> + +<p>"Am I really—engaged—to you?"</p> + +<p>"Darling—bless you—I'm afraid you are."</p> + +<p>"Afraid?"</p> + +<p>"Nan—I'm the happiest cripple on earth."</p> + +<p>So she went softly out and closed the door. But it was not to sleep. As +for the man she left behind, his eyes looked into the smouldering fire +till well toward morning. It was not the doctor's prescription, but it +was the beginning of his cure.</p> + + +<p class="smaller">Back to <a href="#contents">Contents</a></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_241" id="page_241">[Page 241]</a></span></p> +<h2 class="center"><a name="III_III" id="III_III">III</a></h2> + +<h3 class="center"><a name="their" id="their">THEIR WORD OF HONOUR</a></h3> + + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> president of the Great B—— railway system laid down the letter he +had just re-read three times, and turned about in his chair with an +expression of annoyance.</p> + +<p>"I wish it were possible," he said slowly, "to find one boy or man in a +thousand who would receive instructions and carry them out to the letter +without a single variation from the course laid down. Cornelius"—he +looked up sharply at his son, who sat at a desk close by—"I hope you +are carrying out my ideas with regard to your sons. I've not seen much +of them lately. The lad Cyrus seems to me a promising fellow, but I'm +not so sure of Cornelius. He appears to be acquiring a sense of his own +importance as Cornelius Woodbridge, 3d, which is not desirable, sir—not +desirable. By the way, Cornelius, have you yet applied the Hezekiah +Woodbridge test to your boys?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_242" id="page_242">[Page 242]</a></span></p> + +<p>Cornelius Woodbridge, Junior, looked up from his work with a smile. "No, +I haven't, father," he said.</p> + +<p>"It's a family tradition, and if the proper care has been taken that the +boys should not learn of it, it will be as much of a test for them as it +was for you and for me, and for my father. You have not forgotten the +day I gave it to you, Cornelius?"</p> + +<p>"That would be impossible," said his son, still smiling.</p> + +<p>The elder man's somewhat stern features relaxed, and he sat back in his +chair with a chuckle. "Do it at once," he requested, "and make it a +stiff one. You know their characteristics; give it to them hard. I feel +pretty sure of Cyrus, but Cornelius——" He shook his head doubtfully +and returned to his letter. Suddenly he wheeled about again.</p> + +<p>"Do it Thursday, Cornelius," he said in his peremptory way, "and +whichever one of them stands it shall go with us on the tour of +inspection. That will be reward enough, I fancy."</p> + +<p>"Very well, sir," replied his son, and the two men went on with their +work without<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_243" id="page_243">[Page 243]</a></span> further words. They were in the habit of dispatching +important business with the smallest possible waste of breath.</p> + +<p>On Thursday morning, immediately after breakfast, Cyrus Woodbridge found +himself summoned to his father's library. He presented himself at once, +a round-cheeked, bright-eyed lad of fifteen, with an air of alertness in +every line of him.</p> + +<p>"Cyrus," said his father, "I have a commission for you to undertake, of +a character which I cannot now explain to you. I want you to take this +envelope"—he held out a large and bulky packet—"and without saying +anything to any one follow its instructions to the letter. I ask of you +your word of honour that you will do so."</p> + +<p>The two pairs of eyes looked into each other for a moment, singularly +alike in a certain intent expression, developed into great keenness in +the man, but showing as yet only an extreme wide-awakeness in the boy. +Cyrus Woodbridge had an engagement with a young friend in half an hour, +but he responded firmly:</p> + +<p>"I will, sir."</p> + +<p>"On your honour?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_244" id="page_244">[Page 244]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"That is all I want. Go to your room and read your instructions. Then +start at once."</p> + +<p>Mr. Woodbridge turned back to his desk with the nod and smile of +dismissal to which Cyrus was accustomed. The boy went to his room, +opening the envelope as soon as he had closed the door. It was filled +with smaller envelopes, numbered in regular order. Enfolding these was a +typewritten paper which read as follows:</p> + +<p class="blockquot">Go to the reading-room of the Westchester Library. There open +Env. No. 1. Remember to hold all instructions secret. C. W., Jr.</p> + +<p>Cyrus whistled. "That's funny!" he thought. "And it means my date with +Harold is off. Well, here goes!"</p> + +<p>On his way out he stopped to telephone his friend of his detention, took +a Westchester Avenue car at the nearest point, and in twenty minutes was +at the library. He found an obscure corner and opened "Env. No. 1."<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_245" id="page_245">[Page 245]</a></span></p> + +<p class="blockquot">Go to office of W. K. Newton, Room 703, seventh floor, Norwalk +Building, X Street, reaching there by 9:30 <span class="smcap">a. m.</span> Ask for letter +addressed to Cornelius Woodbridge, Jr. On way down elevator open +Env. No. 2. C. W., Jr.</p> + +<p>Cyrus began to laugh. At the same time he felt a trifle irritated. +"What's father at?" he questioned, in perplexity. "Here I am away +uptown, and he orders me back to the Norwalk Building. I passed it on my +way up. Must be he made a mistake. Told me to obey instructions, though. +He usually knows just about why he does things."</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Mr. Woodbridge had sent for his elder son, Cornelius. A tall +youth of seventeen, with the strong family features, varied by a droop +in the eyelids and a slight drawl in the speech, lounged to the door of +the library. Before entering he straightened his shoulders; he did not, +however, quicken his pace.</p> + +<p>"Cornelius," said his father promptly, "I wish to send you upon an +errand of some importance, but of possible inconvenience to you. I have +not time to give you instructions, but you will find them in this +envelope. I ask you to keep the matter and your movements strictly to +yourself. May I have from you<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_246" id="page_246">[Page 246]</a></span> your word of honour that I can trust you +to follow the orders to the smallest detail?"</p> + +<p>Cornelius put on a pair of eyeglasses, and held out his hand for the +envelope. His manner was nonchalant to the point of indifference.</p> + +<p>Mr. Woodbridge withheld the packet and spoke with decision:</p> + +<p>"I cannot allow you to look at the instructions until I have your word +of honour that you will fulfil them."</p> + +<p>"Isn't that asking a good deal, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps so," said Mr. Woodbridge, "but no more than is asked of trusted +messengers every day. I will assure you that the instructions are mine +and represent my wishes."</p> + +<p>"How long will it take?" inquired Cornelius, stooping to flick an +imperceptible spot of dust from his trousers.</p> + +<p>"I do not find it necessary to tell you." Something in his father's +voice sent the languid Cornelius to an erect position and quickened his +speech.</p> + +<p>"Of course I will go," he said, but he did not speak with enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>"And—your word of honour?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_247" id="page_247">[Page 247]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Certainly, sir." The hesitation before the promise was momentary.</p> + +<p>"Very well. I will trust you. Go to your room before opening your +instructions."</p> + +<p>And the second somewhat mystified boy went out of the library on that +memorable Thursday morning, to find his first order one which sent him +to a remote district of the city, with the direction to arrive there +within three quarters of an hour.</p> + +<p>Out on an electric car Cyrus was speeding to another suburb. After +getting the letter from the seventh floor of the Norwalk Building, he +had read:</p> + +<p class="blockquot">Take cross-town car on L Street, transfer to Louisville Avenue, +and go out to Kingston Heights. Find corner West and Dwight +streets and open Env. No. 3. C. W. Jr.</p> + +<p>Cyrus was growing more and more puzzled, but he was also getting +interested. At the corner specified he hurriedly tore open No. 3, but +found, to his amazement, only the singular direction:</p> + +<p class="blockquot">Take Suburban Elevated Road for Duane Street Station. From there +go to <i>Sentinel</i> Office and secure third edition of yesterday's +paper. Open Env. No. 4. C. W. Jr. +</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_248" id="page_248">[Page 248]</a></span> +"Well, what under the sun, moon, and stars did he send me out to +Kingston Heights for?" cried Cyrus aloud. He caught the next train, +thinking longingly of his broken engagement with Harold Dunning, and of +certain plans for the afternoon which he was beginning to fear might be +thwarted if this seemingly endless and aimless excursion continued. He +looked at the packet of unopened envelopes.</p> + +<p>"It would be mighty easy to break open the whole outfit and see what +this game is," he thought. "Never knew father to do a thing like this +before. If it's a joke"—his fingers felt the seal of "Env. No. 4"—"I +might as well find it out at once. Still, father never would joke with a +fellow's promise the way he asked it of me. 'My word of honour'—that's +putting it pretty strong. I'll see it through, of course. My, but I'm +getting hungry! It must be near luncheon-time."</p> + +<p>It was not; but by the time Cyrus had been ordered twice across the city +and once up a sixteen-story building in which the elevator was out of +order it was past noon, and he was in a condition to find "Env. No. 7" a +very satisfactory one:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_249" id="page_249">[Page 249]</a></span></p> + +<p class="blockquot">Go to Café Reynard on Westchester Square. Take seat at table in +left alcove. Ask waiter for card of Cornelius Woodbridge, Jr. +Before ordering luncheon read Env. No. 8. C. W. Jr.</p> + +<p>The boy lost no time in obeying this command, and sank into his chair in +the designated alcove with a sigh of relief. He mopped his brow and +drank off a glass of ice water at a gulp. It was a warm October day, and +the sixteen flights had been somewhat trying. He asked for his father's +card, and then sat studying the attractive menu. The Café Reynard was a +place famous the country over for its cookery.</p> + +<p>"I think I'll have—" he mused for a moment then said helplessly with a +laugh—"well, I'm about hungry enough to eat the whole thing. Bring me +the——"</p> + +<p>Then he recollected, paused, and reluctantly pulled out "Env. No. 8" and +broke the seal. "Just a minute," he murmured to the waiter. Then his +face turned scarlet, and he stammered under his breath, "Why—why—this +can't be——"</p> + +<p>"Env. No. 8" ought to have been bordered<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_250" id="page_250">[Page 250]</a></span> with black, judging by the +dismay it caused the famished lad. It read remorselessly:</p> + +<p class="blockquot">Leave Café immediately, without stopping for luncheon, +remembering to fee waiter for place retained. Proceed to +box office, Metropolitan Theatre, buy a parquet ticket for +matinée—"The Pied Piper." At end of first act read +Env. No. 9. C. W. Jr.</p> + +<p>The Woodbridge blood was up now, and it was with an expression +resembling that of his Grandfather Cornelius under strong indignation +that Cyrus stalked out of that charming place to proceed grimly toward +the Metropolitan Theatre.</p> + +<p>"Who wants to see a matinée on an empty stomach?" he groaned. "I suppose +I'll be ordered out, anyway, the minute I sit down and stretch my legs. +Wonder if father can be exactly right in his mind. He doesn't believe in +wasting time, but I'm wasting it to-day by the bucketful. Suppose he's +doing this to size me up some way; he isn't going to tire me out as +quick as he thinks. I'll keep going till I drop."</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, when at the end of the first<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_251" id="page_251">[Page 251]</a></span> act of a pretty play by a +well-trained company of school children he was ordered to go three miles +to a football field, and then ordered away again without a sight of the +game he had planned for a week to see, his disgust was intense.</p> + +<p>All through that long, warm afternoon he raced about the city and +suburbs, growing wearier and more empty with every step. The worst of it +was the orders were beginning to assume the form of a schedule, and +commanded that he be here at 3:15, and there at 4:05, and so on, which +forbade loitering had he been inclined to loiter. In it all he could see +no purpose, except the possible one of trying his physical endurance. He +was a strong boy, or he would have been quite exhausted long before he +reached "Env. No. 17," which was the last but three of the packet. This +read:</p> + +<p class="blockquot">Reach home at 6:20 <span class="smcap">p. m.</span> Before entering house +read No.18. C. W., Jr.</p> + +<p>Leaning against one of the big white stone pillars of the porch of his +home, Cyrus wearily tore open No. 18—and the words fairly swam<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_252" id="page_252">[Page 252]</a></span> before +his eyes. He had to rub them hard to make sure that he was not mistaken.</p> + +<p class="blockquot">Go again to Kingston Heights, corner West and Dwight streets, +reaching there by 6:50. Read No. 19. C. W., Jr.</p> + +<p>The boy looked up at the windows, desperately angry at last. If his +pride and his sense of the meaning of that phrase, "My word of honour," +as the men of the Woodbridge family were in the habit of teaching it to +their sons, had not been both of the strongest sort, he would have +rebelled and gone defiantly and stormily in. As it was, he stood for one +long minute with his hands clenched and his teeth set; then he turned +and walked down the steps, away from the longed-for dinner, and out +toward L Street and the car for Kingston Heights.</p> + +<p>As he did so, inside the house, on the other side of the curtain, from +behind which he had been anxiously peering, Cornelius Woodbridge, +Senior, turned about and struck his hands together, rubbing them in a +satisfied way.</p> + +<p>"He's come—and gone," he cried softly, "and he's on time to the +minute!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_253" id="page_253">[Page 253]</a></span></p> + +<p>Cornelius, Junior, did not so much as lift his eyes from the evening +paper, as he quietly answered, "Is he?" But the corners of his mouth +slightly relaxed. One who knew him well might have guessed that he +thought it a simple matter to risk any number of chances on a sure +thing.</p> + +<p>The car seemed to crawl out to Kingston Heights. As it at last neared +its terminus, a strong temptation seized the boy Cyrus. He had been on a +purposeless errand to this place once that day. The corner of West and +Dwight streets lay more than half a mile from the end of the car route, +and it was an almost untenanted district. His legs were very tired; his +stomach ached with emptiness. Why not wait out the interval which it +would take to walk to the corner and back in the little suburban +station, read "Env. No. 19," and spare himself? He had certainly done +enough to prove that he was a faithful messenger.</p> + +<p>Had he? Certain old and well-worn words came into his mind: they had +been in his "writing-book" in his early school-days: "<i>A chain is no +stronger than its weakest link.</i>" Cyrus jumped off the car before it +fairly<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_254" id="page_254">[Page 254]</a></span> stopped and started at a hot pace for the corner of West and +Dwight streets. There must be no weak places in his word of honour.</p> + +<p>Doggedly he went to the extreme limit of the indicated route, even +taking the longest way round to make the turn. As he started back, +beneath the arc light at the corner there suddenly appeared a city +messenger boy. He approached Cyrus grinning, and held out an envelope.</p> + +<p>"Ordered to give you this," he said, "if you made connections. If you'd +been later than five minutes past seven, I was to keep dark. You've got +seven minutes and a half to spare. Queer orders, but the big railroad +boss, Woodbridge, give 'em to me."</p> + +<p>Cyrus made his way back to the car with some self-congratulations that +served to brace up the muscles behind his knees. This last incident +showed him plainly that his father was putting him to a severe test of +some sort, and he could have no doubt that it was for a purpose. His +father was the kind of man who does things with a very definite purpose +indeed. Cyrus looked back over the day with an anxious searching of his +memory to be sure<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_255" id="page_255">[Page 255]</a></span> that no detail of the singular service required of +him had been slighted.</p> + +<p>As he once more ascended the steps of his own home, he was so confident +that his labours were now ended that he almost forgot about "Env. No. +20" which he had been directed to read in the vestibule before entering +the house. With his thumb on the bell-button he recollected, and with a +sigh broke open the final seal:</p> + +<p class="blockquot">Turn about and go to Lenox Street Station, B—— Railroad, +reaching there by 8.05. Wait for messenger in west end of +station, by telegraph office. C. W., Jr.</p> + +<p>It was a blow, but Cyrus had his second wind now. He felt like a +machine—a hollow one—which could keep on going indefinitely.</p> + +<p>"I know how an automobile feels," he said to himself, "rolling about +from one place to another—never knowing where it's due next—always +waiting outside—never getting fed. Wonder if eating is on this +schedule. I'd have laid in something besides a chop and a roll this +morning at breakfast if I'd known what was ahead."<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_256" id="page_256">[Page 256]</a></span></p> + +<p>The Lenox Station was easily reached on time. The hands of the big clock +were only at one minute past eight when Cyrus entered. At the designated +spot the messenger met him. Cyrus recognized the man as a porter on one +of the trains of the road of which his grandfather and father were +officers. Why, yes, he was the porter of the Woodbridge special car! He +brought the boy a card which ran thus:</p> + +<p class="blockquot">Give porter the letter from Norwalk Building, the card +received at restaurant, the matinée coupon, yesterday +evening's <i>Sentinel</i>, and the envelope received at +Kingston Heights. C. W., Jr.</p> + +<p>Cyrus silently delivered up these articles, feeling a sense of +thankfulness that not one was missing. The porter went away with them, +but was back in three minutes.</p> + +<p>"This way, sir," he said, and Cyrus followed, his heart beating fast. +Down the track he recognized the "Fleetwing," President Woodbridge's +private car. And Grandfather Cornelius he knew to be just starting on a +tour of his own and other roads, which included a flying trip to Mexico. +Could it be possible—<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_257" id="page_257">[Page 257]</a></span>—</p> + +<p>In the car his father and grandfather rose to meet him. Cornelius +Woodbridge, Senior, was holding out his hand.</p> + +<p>"Cyrus, lad," he said, his face one broad, triumphant smile, "you have +stood the test—the Hezekiah Woodbridge test, sir—and you may be proud +of it. Your word of honour can be depended upon. You are going with us +through nineteen states and Mexico. Is that reward enough for one day's +hardship?"</p> + +<p>"I think it is, sir," agreed Cyrus, his round face reflecting his +grandfather's smile, intensified.</p> + +<p>"Was it a hard pull, Cyrus?" questioned the elder Woodbridge with +interest.</p> + +<p>Cyrus looked at his father. "I don't think so—now, sir," he said. Both +gentlemen laughed.</p> + +<p>"Are you hungry?"</p> + +<p>"Well, just a little, grandfather."</p> + +<p>"Dinner will be served the moment we are off. We've only six minutes to +wait. I'm afraid—I'm very much afraid"—the old gentleman turned to +gaze searchingly out of the car window into the station—"that another +boy's word of honour isn't——"<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_258" id="page_258">[Page 258]</a></span></p> + +<p>He stood, watch in hand. The conductor came in and remained, awaiting +orders. "Two minutes more, Mr. Jefferson," he said. "One and a +half——one half a minute." He spoke sternly: "Pull out at 8:14 on the +second, sir. Ah——"</p> + +<p>The porter entered hurriedly, and delivered a handful of envelopes into +Grandfather Cornelius's grasp. The old gentleman scanned them at a +glance.</p> + +<p>"Yes—yes—all right!" he cried, with the strongest evidences of +excitement Cyrus had ever seen in his usually imperturbable manner. As +the train made its first gentle motion of departure, a figure appeared +in the doorway. Quietly, not at all out of breath, and with precisely +his own nonchalant manner, Cornelius Woodbridge 3d walked into the car.</p> + +<p>Then Grandfather Woodbridge grew impressive. He advanced and shook hands +with his grandson as if he were greeting a distinguished member of the +board of directors. Then he turned to his son and shook hands with him +also, solemnly. His eyes shone through his gold-rimmed spectacles, but +his voice was grave with feeling.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_259" id="page_259">[Page 259]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I congratulate you, Cornelius," he said, "on possessing two sons whose +word of honour is of the sort to satisfy the Hezekiah Woodbridge +standard. The smallest deviation from the outlined schedule would have +resulted disastrously. Ten minutes' tardiness at the different points +would have failed to obtain the requisite documents. Your sons did not +fail. They can be depended upon. The world is in search of men built on +those lines. I congratulate you, sir."</p> + +<p>Cyrus was glad presently to escape to his stateroom with Cornelius. +"Say, what did you have to do?" he asked eagerly. "Did you trot your +legs off all over town?"</p> + +<p>"Not much, I didn't!" said Cornelius, grimly, from the depths of a big +towel. "I spent the whole day in a little hole of a room at the top of +an empty building, with just ten trips down the stairs to the ground +floor to get envelopes at certain minutes. Not a crumb to eat nor a +thing to do. Couldn't even snatch a nap for fear I'd oversleep one of my +dates at the bottom. Had five engagements, too—one with Helena Fowler +at the links. All I could do was to cut 'em and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_260" id="page_260">[Page 260]</a></span> stick it out. +Casabianca was nothing to me."</p> + +<p>"I believe that was worse than mine," commented Cyrus reflectively.</p> + +<p>"I should say it was. If you don't think so, try it."</p> + +<p>"Dinner, boys," said their father's voice at the door, and they lost no +time in responding. When they had taken their seats and the waiter came +for Cornelius's order, that youth simply pushed the card of the +elaborate menu to one side, and said emphatically, quite without his +customary drawl: "Bring me everything, and twice of it."</p> + +<p>"Me, too!" said Cyrus, with enthusiasm.</p> + + +<p class="smaller">Back to <a href="#contents">Contents</a></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_261" id="page_261">[Page 261]</a></span></p> +<h2 class="center"><a name="III_IV" id="III_IV">IV</a></h2> + +<h3 class="center"><a name="half" id="half">HALF A LEAGUE ONWARD</a></h3> + + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> Rev. Arthur Thorndyke stirred at his desk with a vague impatience on +account of a little droning sound which had been bothering him for the +last ten minutes without his realizing what it was. He recognized at +last that it was the boy David, in the alcove, where he had asked to be +allowed to stay, promising not to bother Uncle Arthur with his work. For +Uncle Arthur was very busy with his Memorial Day address. At least he +was struggling desperately to be very busy with it, although so far he +had succeeded only in spoiling half a dozen sheets of paper with as many +inadequate introductions.</p> + +<p>"For you see, Major," Arthur Thorndyke had explained to the boy, when he +had come tap-tapping on his crutches into his uncle's study that +morning, "this is such very new business to me. I'm having a pretty +hard<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_262" id="page_262">[Page 262]</a></span> time trying to think of anything good and fine enough to say to +the men in blue—and gray—and brown, for we have all sorts here, you +know."</p> + +<p>It was true that Uncle Arthur was a very boyish-looking uncle; but he +was tall and big, and he had been preaching for a year now, and David +thought that he preached very good sermons indeed. Besides, he had been +in the Spanish War, one of the youngest privates in Uncle Stephen's +company, and he ought to know all about it, even though he had really +been in very few engagements.</p> + +<p>"I guess you can do it, Uncle Arthur," said David comfortingly. "And +I'll keep very still in the alcove. I would play somewhere else, only, +you see, it's the only window that looks out over the square, and my +playing is out there."</p> + +<p>Uncle Arthur had not taken time to ask him what he meant, but afterward, +when the little droning sound had begun to annoy him, he found out. He +peeped in between the curtains of the alcove, and saw at once what was +out in the square. It was the major's "regiment." To other people the +square<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_263" id="page_263">[Page 263]</a></span> might have seemed to be a very quiet place, full of trees and +May sunshine, with a few babies and nurses and placid pedestrians as its +only occupants. But Uncle Arthur perceived at once, from the aspect of +the major, that it was a place of wild carnage, of desperate assault, of +the clash and shock of arms.</p> + +<p>The major stood erect, supported by one crutch. The other crutch was +being waved in the air, as by one who orders on a mass of fighting men. +From the major's lips issued the subdued but passionate words:</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Flash'd all their sabres bare,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Flash'd as they turned in air</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Sabring th' gunners there,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Charging an army, while</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">All th' world wonder'd:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Plunged in th' batt'ry-smoke</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Right through th' line they broke;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Cossack an' Russian</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Reeled from th' sabre-stroke</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Scatter'd an' shunder'd.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Then they rode back, but not——"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>The boy's voice wavered. Uncle Arthur saw him put up a thin hand and +wipe his white<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_264" id="page_264">[Page 264]</a></span> little brow. Major David's plays were always intensely +real to him.</p> + +<p>"<i>Not—the six hundred</i>," he murmured, and sank down on the window-seat, +gazing mournfully out over the square. But in a moment he was up again.</p> + +<p>"Cannon to right of 'em," he began again, sternly. "Cannon to left of +'em——"</p> + +<p>Uncle Arthur crept away without bidding him remember his promise. What +is a Memorial Day address beside the charge of a Light Brigade?</p> + +<p>It was only two days after this that David's mother summoned David's +four uncles to a conference. David had no father. There was a granite +boulder up in the cemetery which ever since David was four years old—he +was ten now—had been draped once a year with a beautiful silken flag. +All the Thorndyke men had been soldiers, and David's father had died at +the front, where the Thorndyke men usually died. It was a matter of +great pride to David every year—that silken flag.</p> + +<p>David's four uncles were all soldiers—in a way. There was Uncle +Chester; he had been breveted colonel at the close of the Civil War,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_265" id="page_265">[Page 265]</a></span> +and Colonel Thorndyke he was—against his will—always called still. +Next came Uncle Stephen; he was a captain of artillery in the regular +army, and had lately come home on a furlough, after three years' service +in the Philippines. Then there was Uncle Stuart, just getting strong +after an attack of typhoid fever. In a week he would be back at West +Point, where he was a first classman and a cadet lieutenant. As for +Uncle Arthur, David always regretted deeply that he was no longer in +either volunteer or regular army, although he took some comfort from the +fact that Uncle Arthur sometimes told him that he had never felt more +like a soldier than he did now.</p> + +<p>It was a hasty and a serious conference, this to which Mrs. Roger +Thorndyke had summoned her dead husband's three brothers and his uncle. +She felt the need of all their counsel, for she had a grave question to +settle. She was a young woman with a sweet decisiveness of character all +her own, yet when a woman has four men upon whom she can call for wisdom +to support her own judgment, she would be an unwise person to ignore +that fact.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_266" id="page_266">[Page 266]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It's just this," she told them, when she had closed the door of +Arthur's study, where they had assembled. "You know how long we've been +hoping something could be done for David, and how you've all insisted +that when Doctor Wendell should decide he was strong enough for the +operation on the hip-joint we must have it. Well, he says a great +English surgeon, Sir Edmund Barrister, will be here for just two days. +He comes to see the little Woodbridge girl, and to operate on her if he +thinks it best. And Doctor Wendell urges upon me that—it's my chance."</p> + +<p>She had spoken quietly, but her face paled a little as she ended. Her +youngest brother-in-law, Stuart, the cadet, himself but lately out of +hospital, was first to speak.</p> + +<p>"When does he come?"</p> + +<p>"To-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Great guns! The little chap's close up to it! Does he know?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no! I wouldn't tell him till it was all arranged. Indeed, I wasn't +sure whether——"</p> + +<p>"You'd better tell him at all? Oh, yes, you will, Helen; the major +mustn't stand up to be fired at blindfold." This was from Captain<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_267" id="page_267">[Page 267]</a></span> +Stephen, the only one of the four now in active service.</p> + +<p>"You all think it's best to have it done?"</p> + +<p>"Why, it's as Wendell says: now's the chance to have the best man in +that line. You can rest assured the Woodbridges would never stop at +anything short of the finest. Besides, the Englishman's reputation is +international. Of course it must be done." This was Stuart again. The +cadet lieutenant had already acquired the tone of command—he was an +excellent cadet lieutenant.</p> + +<p>But Mrs. Thorndyke looked past Stuart at her Uncle Chester, Colonel +Thorndyke, Civil War veteran. It was upon his opinion that she most +relied. He nodded at her.</p> + +<p>"He's right, Nell," he said. "It's our chance. The boy seems to me in as +good condition for it as he'll ever be." He spoke very gently, for to +his mind, as to them all, rose the vision of a delicate little face and +figure, frail with the frailty of the child who has been for six years a +cripple.</p> + +<p>So it was decided, with few words, that the great surgeon should see +David upon the morrow, to operate upon him at once if he<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_268" id="page_268">[Page 268]</a></span> thought wise, +as the local surgeon, Doctor Wendell, was confident he would. Then arose +another question: Who should tell David?</p> + +<p>"Somehow I think," said Mrs. Thorndyke, looking from one to another of +the four who surrounded her, "it would be easier for him from one of +you. He thinks so much of your being soldiers. You know he's always +playing he's a soldier, and if—if one of you could put it to him—in a +sort of military way——"</p> + +<p>She stopped, for this time her lips were really trembling. They looked +at one another, the four men, and there was not a volunteer for the +task. After a minute, however, Arthur, lifting his eyes from the rug +which he had been intently studying, found the others were all facing +him.</p> + +<p>"You're the one," said Captain Stephen Thorndyke.</p> + +<p>"I think you are," agreed Colonel Chester Thorndyke.</p> + +<p>"It's up to you, Art," declared Cadet Lieutenant Thorndyke, with his +usual decision of manner.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_269" id="page_269">[Page 269]</a></span></p> + +<p>So, although Arthur protested that he was not as fit for the mission as +any of the others, they would not let him off.</p> + +<p>"You're the one he swears by," Stephen said, and Stuart added:</p> + +<p>"Put on your old khaki clothes, Art; that'll tickle the major so he +won't mind what you tell him."</p> + +<p>It was a suggestion which appealed to the young clergyman as he lay +awake that night, thinking how he should tell the boy in the morning. It +seemed to him somehow that it would take the edge off the thing if he +could meet David in the old uniform which the child was always begging +to see.</p> + +<p>Just before he fell asleep he thought of his Memorial Day address. Since +the morning, day before yesterday, when David's play had interrupted his +first futile efforts at it, he had found no time to work on it. He had +had a wedding and two funerals to attend, besides having to look after +the preparation for his Sunday services. The following Saturday would be +Memorial Day. Meanwhile—there was David.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_270" id="page_270">[Page 270]</a></span></p> + +<p>The next morning Mrs. Thorndyke, on her way to Arthur's study to tell +him that the doctor had telephoned that he would bring the English +surgeon to the house at eleven o'clock for the preliminary examination, +ran into a tall figure in a khaki uniform, a battered slouch hat in his +hand.</p> + +<p>"Why, Arthur!" she cried, then added quickly: "Oh, my dear, that's just +what will please him! I'm so glad it's you who are to tell him—you'll +know how."</p> + +<p>"I don't know how," said her brother, and she saw that his eyes were +heavy. "But I expect the Commander-in-Chief will show me how." And with +these words he went into his study and closed the door for a moment +before David should come, in order that he might get his instructions +from headquarters.</p> + +<p>When the boy came in on his crutches, he found a soldierly figure +awaiting him. He saluted, and the tall corporal returned the salute. The +deep eyes of the man met the clear, bright ones of the child, and the +corporal said to the major:</p> + +<p>"I am ordered to report to you, sir, that the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_271" id="page_271">[Page 271]</a></span> enemy is encamped on the +opposite shore, and is preparing to attack."</p> + +<p>Half an hour afterward Mrs. Thorndyke came anxiously to the door of the +study. Hearing cheerful voices within, she knocked, and was bidden to +enter.</p> + +<p>Her first glance was at little David's face. To her surprise, she saw +there neither fear nor nervousness, only an excited shining of the eyes +and an unusual flushing of the cheeks. The boy rose to meet her.</p> + +<p>"I'm ready, mammy," he announced in his childish treble. "Uncle Arthur +says I've got a chance to prove I'm a soldier's son and a Thorndyke, and +I'm going to do it. The enemy's encamped over in the hospital, and I'm +going to move on his works to-day. I'm going over with my staff. This is +Corporal Thorndyke, and Colonel Chester Thorndyke and Captain Stephen +Thorndyke and Lieutenant Stuart Thorndyke are my staff. And the corporal +has promised that they'll go with me in uniform. I'm going to wear my +uniform, too—may I?"</p> + +<p>The oddness of the question, made in a tone which dropped suddenly and +significantly<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_272" id="page_272">[Page 272]</a></span> from the proud address of the officer to the humble +request of the subaltern, brought a very tender smile to Mrs. +Thorndyke's lips, as she gave her brother a grateful glance. "Yes," she +said, "I think you certainly ought to wear your uniform. I'll get it +ready."</p> + +<p>"I may be taken prisoner over there," the little soldier pursued, "but +if I do, Uncle Ar—the corporal says that's the fortunes of war, and I +must take it as it comes."</p> + +<p>Downstairs, presently, David, under a flag of truce, met the opposing +general and his staff. The bluff-looking Englishman with the kind manner +made an excellent general, David thought.</p> + +<p>They detained him only a half-hour, but when he left them it was with +the understanding that his army should move forward at once and attack +upon the morrow. It seemed a bit unusual, not to say unmilitary, to +David, to arrange such matters so thoroughly with the enemy, but his +corporal assured him that under certain conditions the thing was done.</p> + +<p>There being no other part of the "Charge" that would fit, David said +over to himself a<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_273" id="page_273">[Page 273]</a></span> great many times on the way to the hospital the +opening lines:</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Half a league, half a league,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Half a league onward.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">All in th' valley of Death</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Rode th' six hundred...."</span><br /></p> + +<p>As he went up the hospital steps, tap-tapping on his crutches because he +would not let anybody carry him, the situation seemed to him much +better. He stopped upon the top step, balanced himself upon one crutch, +and waved the other at his staff—and at the "Six Hundred," pressing on +behind.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Forward, th' Light Brigade!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">'Charge for th' guns!' he said...."</span><br /></p> + +<p>"What's the little chap saying?" Uncle Chester murmured into the ear of +Uncle Arthur, as the small figure hurried on.</p> + +<p>"He's living out 'The Charge of the Light Brigade,'" Arthur answered, +and there was no smile on his lips. Uncle Chester swallowed something in +his throat.</p> + +<p>It may have been a common thing for the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_274" id="page_274">[Page 274]</a></span> hospital nurses and doctors to +see a patient in military clothes arrive accompanied by four other +military figures—the uniforms a little mixed; but if they were +surprised they gave no sign. The nurse who put David to bed wore a Red +Cross badge on her sleeve—hastily constructed by Doctor Wendell. This +badge David regarded with delight.</p> + +<p>"Why, you're a real army nurse, aren't you?" he asked happily.</p> + +<p>"Of course. They are the kind to take care of soldiers," she returned. +And after that there was a special bond between them.</p> + +<p>When they had finished with David that night he was rather glad to have +Corporal Thorndyke say to him that there was a brief cessation of +hostilities, and that the men were to have the chance for a few hours' +sleep.</p> + +<p>"But you'll stay by, won't you, Corporal?" requested the major sleepily.</p> + +<p>"Certainly, sir," responded the corporal, saluting. "I'll be right here +all night."</p> + +<p>The corporal at this point was so unmilitary as to bend over and kiss +him; but as this was immediately followed by a series of caresses from +his mother, the major thought it best<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_275" id="page_275">[Page 275]</a></span> not to mind. Indeed, it was very +comforting, and he might have missed it if it had not happened, even +though he was supposed to be in the field and sleeping upon his arms.</p> + +<p>The next morning things happened rather rapidly.</p> + +<p>"No rations, Major," said the Red Cross nurse, when he inquired for his +breakfast.</p> + +<p>"Commissary department left far to the rear," explained the corporal, +with his salute; and of course there was nothing more to be said, +although it did seem a little hard to face "the jaws of death" with no +food to hearten one.</p> + +<p>A number of things were done to David. Then Doctor Wendell came in and +sat down by the high white bed, and, with a reassuring smile at his +patient, gave him a few brief directions. The corporal took David's hand +in his, and held it with the tight grip of the comrade who means to +stand by to the last ditch.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Forward, th' Light Brigade!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Was 'ere a man dismay'd?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Not though the soldier knew</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Some 'un had blunder'd...."</span><br /></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_276" id="page_276">[Page 276]</a></span></p> + +<p>"God forbid!" murmured the corporal, as the words trailed slowly out +into the air from under Doctor Wendell's hand.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Theirs not to make reply—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Theirs—not to—reason—why—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Theirs—but—to—do—an'—die——"</span><br /></p> + +<p>The corporal set his teeth. Presently he looked across the bed and met +the eyes of the major's mother. "So far, so good," he said, nodding to +her, as the small hand in his relaxed its hold.</p> + +<p>"Talk about sheer pluck!" growled Captain Stephen Thorndyke, in the +waiting-room, where he and Colonel Chester and Cadet Stuart were +marching up and down during the period of suspense.</p> + +<p>"It's that 'Charge of the Light Brigade' that floors me," said Stuart. +"If the youngster'd just whimper a little; but to go under whispering, +'Theirs not to make reply——'" He choked, and frankly drew his gray +sleeve across his eyes.</p> + +<p>"It's the Thorndyke spirit," said Colonel Chester proudly. "He's Roger's +boy, all right."<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_277" id="page_277">[Page 277]</a></span></p> + +<p>There were two or three doubtful bulletins. Then Arthur brought them the +good news that the major had been brought back from the firing-line and +was rallying bravely.</p> + +<p>"But will he pull through? These successful operations don't always end +successfully," said Stuart, as he and Arthur paced down the corridor +together.</p> + +<p>"That's what we've got to wait and hope and pray for," answered Arthur. +"It's the 'stormed at with shot and shell' the major'd be reciting now, +if he could do anything but shut his lips together and try to bear the +pain. It'll be five or six days, they say, before we can call him out of +danger. Hip-joint disease of Davy's form isn't cured by anything short +of this grave operation, and it's taking a good many chances, of course, +in the little chap's delicate condition. But—we've all his own staunch +courage on our side—and somehow, well—Stuart, I've got to preach +to-morrow. And next week—that Memorial address! How do you suppose I'm +going to do it? The major wants me on hospital duty every hour between +now and then."</p> + +<p>That Memorial Day address! How was a<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_278" id="page_278">[Page 278]</a></span> distraught young clergyman to +think of material for such an address when he was held captive at the +bedside of a little soldier fighting for his life?</p> + +<p>It was the fourth day before anxiety began to lessen its grip; the +fifth, the sixth, before Doctor Wendell would begin to speak +confidently. Through it all the words of the "Charge" beat in Arthur +Thorndyke's brain till it seemed to him that if David died he should +never hear anything else. For they were constantly on the boy's lips.</p> + +<p>Finally, on the morning of Saturday, Arthur said to David: "Major, this +is the day for you to say the last lines. You know this afternoon the +'Six Hundred' are going by. You'll hear the band play, and Uncle Chester +and Uncle Stephen will be marching in the ranks. Stuart and I will be +there, too, somewhere, and I think if we can just prop you up a little +bit you'll be able to see at least the heads of the men. And you can +salute, you know, even if they can't see you."</p> + +<p>"After the procession are you going to speak to them?" asked David.</p> + +<p>Arthur smiled. "After some sort of fashion<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_279" id="page_279">[Page 279]</a></span> I'm going to open my mouth," +he said. "I hardly know myself what will come out. All I do know is, I +never had quite so much respect for the courage that faces the cannon's +mouth as now. And it's you, Major, who are the pluckiest soldier I +know."</p> + +<p>He smiled down at the white little face, its great gray eyes staring up +at him.</p> + +<p>"Uncle Arthur—but—but—I wasn't plucky—all the time. Sometimes—it +hurt so I—had to cry."</p> + +<p>The words were a whisper, but Uncle Arthur still smiled. "That doesn't +count, Major," he said. "Now I must go. Watch for the band."</p> + +<p>Away in the distance, by and by, came the music. As it approached, +mingled with it David could hear the sound of marching feet. His mother +and the Red Cross nurse propped his head up a very little, so that he +could see into the street. Louder and louder grew the strains, then +stopped; the drums beat.</p> + +<p>"Oh, they're not going to play as they go by!" cried David, +disappointed.</p> + +<p>The tramp of the marching feet came nearer. Suddenly the band burst +with a crash into<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_280" id="page_280">[Page 280]</a></span> the "Star-Spangled Banner." David's eyes shone with +delight.</p> + +<p>"They're halting in front of us, David," said the nurse. So they were; +David could see them.</p> + +<p>The music reached the end of the tune and stopped. A shout broke upon +the air; it was a cheer. It took words, and swelled into David's room; +but it was a gentle cheer, not a vociferous one. It was given by +Lieutenant Roger Thorndyke's old company. And the words of it were +wonderful:</p> + +<p><i>"'Rah, 'rah, 'rah—comrade!"</i></p> + +<p>David lay back on his pillow, his face shining with happiness. He would +never forget that those soldiers of his father's regiment, the ——th +New York, had called him comrade. He thought of them tenderly; he +murmured the closing words of the "Charge," and by them he meant the men +who had stood outside his window and cheered:</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 2em;">"When can their glory fade?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">O th' wild charge they made!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">All th' world wonder'd.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Honour th' charge they made!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Honour th' Light Brigade,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Noble six hundred!"</span><br /></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_281" id="page_281">[Page 281]</a></span></p> + +<p>An hour afterward they came in together, his four Thorndyke soldiers, in +their uniforms—all but Uncle Arthur, who, because he was a clergyman, +and had had to make a speech, had felt obliged to put on a frock coat.</p> + +<p>"Here's the fellow who's been worrying over his Memorial Day address!" +cried Uncle Stephen proudly.</p> + +<p>"It was a rousing good one," declared Stuart.</p> + +<p>"Never heard a better," agreed Uncle Chester. "He's gone 'half a league +onward,' if the rest of us have stood still."</p> + +<p>Uncle Arthur came round, his face rather red, and sat down beside David.</p> + +<p>"Don't you believe them, Major," he said softly. "I could have done it +much better if I could have worn my corporal's uniform."</p> + +<h3 class="center"><br />THE END</h3> + + +<p class="smaller">Back to <a href="#contents">Contents</a></p> +<hr style="width: 100%;" /> +<h2 class="center"><a name="A_COURT_OF_INQUIRY" id="A_COURT_OF_INQUIRY"></a>A COURT OF INQUIRY</h2> + +<h3 class="center">BY GRACE S. RICHMOND.</h3> + + +<p>This is a charming story of a group of girl and men friends and the +effect of their pairing off upon the narrator and her "Philosopher." +Althea, Azalea, Camellia, Dahlia, Hepatica—and their several +entanglements with the Promoter, the Cashier, the Skeptic, the Judge and +the Professor, form an admirable background of diverse personalities +against which grows the main love story. One sees these charming groups +through the eyes of the one who tells the tale—and very shrewd and +delightful eyes they are, seeing life in its true perspective with much +real philosophy and true feeling. Mrs. Richmond has never written +anything more fresh and human and entertaining.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<h4 class="center">ALSO BY THE SAME AUTHOR:</h4> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 16em;">Red Pepper Burns.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 16em;">Mrs. Red Pepper.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 16em;">The Indifference of Juliet.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 16em;">Round the Corner in Gay Street.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 16em;">With Juliet in England.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 16em;">Strawberry Acres.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 16em;">The Second Violin.</span><br /></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<h3 class="center">A. L. BURT COMPANY</h3> + +<h4 class="center">Publishers,—New York</h4> +<hr style="width: 100%;" /> +<h5 class="center">Transcriber's notes:</h5> +<p class="center">"Where-ever" on page 78 has +been changed to "Wherever" to be consistent<br /> with +the spelling in the rest of the text.</p> +<p class="center">"everbody" on page 96 has been change to "everybody".</p> +<hr style="width: 100%;" /> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Court of Inquiry, by Grace S. 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Richmond + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Court of Inquiry + +Author: Grace S. Richmond + +Release Date: June 2, 2006 [EBook #18489] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A COURT OF INQUIRY *** + + + + +Produced by Jacqueline Jeremy, Suzanne Shell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + +[Illustration: "'We four,' declared the Skeptic, 'constitute a private +Court of Inquiry into the Condition of Our Friends'"] + + + + +A COURT +OF INQUIRY + +By GRACE S. RICHMOND + +Author of "Red Pepper Burns," "Mrs. Red Pepper," +"Second Violin," Etc. + +[Illustration] + +WITH FOUR ILLUSTRATIONS + + +A. L. BURT COMPANY, PUBLISHERS + +114-120 East Twenty-third Street--New York + +PUBLISHED BY ARRANGEMENT WITH DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & CO. + + + + +_Copyright_, 1909, 1916, _by_ +DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY + +_All rights reserved, including that of +translation into foreign languages, +including the Scandinavian_ + +COPYRIGHT, 1901, BY PERRY MASON COMPANY +COPYRIGHT, 1902, BY THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY +COPYRIGHT, 1907, BY PERRY MASON COMPANY +COPYRIGHT, 1908, 1909, BY THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY + + + + +TO + +C. R. P. AND M. B. P. + + + + +CONTENTS + + +PART I + + PAGE + + I. Althea 3 + II. Camellia 16 +III. Dahlia 31 + IV. Rhodora 44 + V. Azalea 58 + VI. Hepatica 72 + + +PART II + + I. Dahlia and the Professor 87 + II. Camellia and the Judge 102 +III. Azalea and the Cashier 117 + IV. Althea and the Promoter 131 + V. Rhodora and the Preacher 146 + VI. Wistaria--and the Philosopher 162 + + +PART III + + I. Sixteen Miles to Boswell's 181 + II. Honour and the Girl 220 +III. Their Word of Honour 241 + IV. "Half a League Onward" 261 + + + + +PART I + + + + +A Court of Inquiry +and Other Tales + +I + +ALTHEA + + Nothing impaired + but all disordered. + --_Midsummer Night's Dream._ + + +There are four guest-rooms in my house. It is not a large house, and how +there came to be so many rooms to spare for the entertaining of friends +is not a story to be told here. It is only a few years since they were +all full--and not with guests. But they are nearly always full now. And +when I assign each room it is after taking thought. + +There are two men's rooms and two for women. The men's rooms have +belonged to men, and therefore they suit other men, who drop into them +and use their belongings, and tell me they were never more comfortable. +The third room is for one after another of the girls and women who +visit me. The fourth room---- + +"Is anybody really good enough to sleep in this place?" + +It was the Skeptic, looking over my shoulder. He had chanced to be +passing, saw me standing in the doorway in an attitude of adoration, +and glanced in over my head. He had continued to look from sheer +astonishment. + +"I should expect to have to take off my shoes, and put on a white +cassock over my tennis flannels before I could enter here," he observed. + +"You would not be allowed to enter, even in that inappropriate costume," +I replied. "I keep this room only for the very nicest of my girl +friends. The trouble is----" + +"The trouble is--you're full up with our bunch, and have got to put Miss +Althea here, whether she turns out to be the sort or not." + +I had not expected the Skeptic to be so shrewd--shrewd though he often +is. Being also skeptical, his skepticism sometimes overcolours his +imagination. + +"Suppose she should leave her slippers kicking around over those +white rugs, drop her kimono in the middle of that pond-lily bed, +and--er--attach a mound of chewing-gum to the corner of the mirror," +he propounded. + +"I should send her home." + +"No--you could do better than that. Make her change rooms with the +Philosopher. He wouldn't leave a speck the size of a molecule on all +that whiteness." + +"I don't believe he would," I agreed. As the Skeptic went laughing away +downstairs I turned again into the room, in order that I might tie back +the little inner muslin curtains, to let the green branches outside show +between. + + * * * * * + +Althea arrived at five. The Skeptic, in tennis flannels, was lounging on +the porch as she came up the steps, and scanned her critically over the +racquet he still held, after a brisk set-to with the Gay Lady, who is +one of my other guests. (We call her the Gay Lady because of her +flower-bright face, her trick of smiling when other people frown, and +because of a certain soft sparkle and glow about her whole personality, +as indescribable as it is captivating). The Gay Lady had gone indoors to +dress for the evening, and the Philosopher had not returned from the +long daily tramp by which he keeps himself in trim. The Lad was on the +porch mending some fishing-tackle--my Lad, with the clear young eyes +which see things. + +Althea gave the Skeptic a glance, the Lad a smile, and me a hearty +embrace. I had never seen her before, and her visit had been brought +about by a request from her mother, an old friend, who was anxious to +have her daughter spend a pleasant vacation in the absence of most of +the girl's family. + +It was impossible not to like my new guest at once. She was a healthy, +hearty, blooming sort of girl, good to look at, pleasant company to have +about, and, as I soon learned, sweet-tempered to a degree which it +seemed nothing could upset. She followed me upstairs, talking brightly +all the way, and made her entrance into the white room as a pink +hollyhock might drop unconcernedly into a pan of milk. + +"What a lovely, cool-looking room!" she cried, and dropped her coat +and umbrella upon the bed. + +The Lad, following with her handbag, stopped to look at his tennis shoes +before he set foot upon the white rug, and dusted off the bag with a +somewhat grimy handkerchief before he stood it on the white-tiled +hearth. The Lad knows how I feel about the room, and though he races +into his own with muddy feet, stands in awe of the place where only +girls are made at home. + + * * * * * + +I have but two maid-servants, both of whom must be busy in kitchen and +dining-room when the house is full of guests. So I always make the +rounds of the bedrooms in the evening, to see to lights and water, and +to turn down the coverings on the beds. The Skeptic's room needed only a +touch here and there to put it in order for the night. The Philosopher's +needed none. The Gay Lady had left her pretty, rose-hung quarters +looking as if a lady lived in them, and had but dropped a dainty +reminder of herself here and there to give them character--an +embroidered dressing-case on the bureau, an attractive travelling +work-box on the table by her bed, a photograph, a lace-bordered +handkerchief, a gossamer scarf on a chair-back ready for use if she +should need it for a stroll in the moonlight with the Skeptic. The +closet door, ajar, gave a glimpse of summer frocks, hanging in order on +padded hangers brought in a trunk; beneath, a row of incredibly small, +smart shoes stood awaiting their turn. Even the Gay Lady's trunk was +clad in a trim, beflowered cover of linen, and looked a part of the +place. I smiled to myself as I turned down the white sheets over my best +down-filled quilt of pale pink, and thought of the Gay Lady's delightful +custom of keeping her room swept and dusted without letting anybody know +when she did it. + + * * * * * + +I felt my way across Althea's room to light the lamp--there are no +electrics in my old country home. As I went in I stumbled over a rug +whose corner had been drawn into a bunch by the edge of a trunk which +had been pulled too far toward the middle of the room. I encountered +a chair hung full with clothing; I pushed what felt like a shoe out +of my path. + +It took some time for me to find the match-box, which ordinarily +stands on a corner of the dressing-table. My groping hand encountered +all sorts of unfamiliar objects in its quest, and it was not without +a premonition of what I was about to see that I finally lit the lamp +and looked around me. + +Well--of course she had unpacked hurriedly, as hurriedly dressed for +dinner, and she had been detained downstairs ever since. I should not +judge in haste. Doubtless in the morning she would put things to rights. +I removed a trunk-tray from the bed, hung up several frocks in the +closet, cleared away the rest of the belongings from the counterpane, +and arranged Althea's bed for the night. I did the rest of my work +quickly, and returned to lower the light. + +It couldn't be--really, no--it couldn't be! There must be some other way +of accounting for those scratches on the hitherto spotless white wall, +now marred by five long, brown marks, where a match had been drawn again +and again before it struck into light! + +It _couldn't_ have been Althea. Yet--those marks were never there +before. It was full daylight when my guest had arrived; she could have +had no need for artificial light. Wait--there lay a long, black object +on the white cover of the dressing-table--a curling iron! + +In the hall I ran into the Skeptic. + +"I beg your pardon," he cried under his breath. "I came up for her +scarf. She said it was just inside her door, on her trunk. May I go in?" + +"I'll get it for you," said I, and turned inside. The Skeptic stood +outside the door, looking into the dimness. I could not find the scarf. +I would not turn up the light. I searched and searched vainly. + +"Let me give you something to see by," said the Skeptic, and before I +could prevent him he had bolted into the room and turned up the lamp. +"Here it is," said he, and caught up some article of apparel from the +dressing-table. "Oh, no--this must be--a sash," said he, and dropped it. +He stood looking about him. + +"Go away," said I sternly. "I'll find it." + +"I don't think you will," said he, "in this--er--this--pandemonium." + +I walked over to the dressing-table and put out the lamp. "Now will you +go away?" said I. + +"You were expeditious," said he, making for the hall, and stumbling over +something as he went, "but not quite expeditious enough. Never mind +about the scarf. I think I'll let the Philosopher take the Girl Guest to +walk--the Gay Lady's good enough for me. I say"--as he moved toward the +staircase and I followed--"don't you think we'd better move the +Philosopher in to-morrow?" + +"To-morrow," said I with assumed conviction, "it will be different. +Please reserve your judgment." + +I tried to reserve my own. I did not go into Althea's room again until +the next evening at the same hour. I found ten articles strewn where +five had lain before. A bottle of something green had been tipped over +upon the white embroidered cover of my dressing-table. A spot of ink +adorned the edge of the sheet, and the condition of the bed showed +plainly that an afternoon nap upon it had ended with some letter +writing. I think Althea's shoes had been dusted with one of my best +towels. I did not stay to see what else had been done, but I could not +help noting three more brown scratches on my white wall. + + * * * * * + +At the end of the week Althea went away. When she had gone I went up to +her room. I had been at work there for some time when a tap at the door +interrupted me. The Skeptic stood outside with a hoe and a +bushel-basket. + +"Want some help?" offered he. + +"It's not gentlemanly of you to notice," said I weakly. + +"I know it," said he. He came in and inverted the bushel-basket on the +hearth and sat down upon it. "But the door was always open, and I +couldn't help seeing. If it wasn't shoes and a kimono in the middle of +the floor it was a raincoat and rubber boots. Sometimes I stopped to +count the things on that dressing----" + +"It was _very_ ungentlemanly of you!" + +"Guilty," he admitted again--but not meekly. There was a sparkle in his +eye. "But it isn't often, you see, that a man gets a chance to take +notes like this. An open door--it's an invitation to look in. Now, the +Gay Lady doesn't leave her door open, except by chance, but I know how +it looks inside--by the Gay Lady herself." + +"How?" I questioned, my curiosity getting the better of me. "I mean--how +can you tell by the look of the Gay Lady that she keeps her room in +order?--for she certainly does." + +"I knew it," said he triumphantly. + +"But how?" + +"And I know that you keep yours in order." + +"But _how_?" + +"Oh, you think we are creatures of no discernment," said he. "But we can +see a few things. When a woman, no matter how pretty, pins the back of +her collar with a common brass pin----" + +I felt of the back of my white stock. Of course I never use them, but +his eyes are so keen and---- + +He laughed. "The Philosopher liked Miss Althea." + +"She has many lovely qualities----" I began. + +"Of course. That sort always have. It's their beautiful good-nature that +makes them so easy on themselves. Er--by-the-way----Well, well----" + +The Skeptic's gaze had fallen upon the brown marks on the white wall, +above the lamp. There were now twenty-seven in all. He got up from his +bushel-basket and walked over to them. He stood and studied them for a +minute in silence. Finally he turned around, looked at me, made a dive +for the bushel-basket and the hoe, and hurried out of the door. + +"I'll bring up a pail of whitewash," he called. + + * * * * * + +I shall ask Althea again some time. She really has a great many lovely +qualities, as I said to the Skeptic. But there is a little room I have, +which I do not call a guest-room, into which I shall put Althea. It has +a sort of chocolate paper on the walls, on which I do not think the +marks of matches would much show, and it has a general suitableness to +this particular guest. I have sometimes harboured small boys there, for +the toilet appointments are done in red on brown linen, and curling +irons could be laid on them without serious damage. And I've no doubt +that she would like that room quite as well. + + + + +II + +CAMELLIA + + You thought to break a country heart + For pastime, ere you went to town. + --_Tennyson._ + + +"Did you say Camellia is going to stop here on her way home?" asked the +Gay Lady. + +"For a few days," I assented. + +The Gay Lady was standing in front of the closet in her room, in which +hung a row of frocks, on little hangers covered with pale blue ribbon. +She sighed pensively as she gazed at the garments. Then she looked at me +with a smile. "Would you mind if I keep to my room while Camellia is +here?" she asked. + +"I should mind very much," said I. "Besides, I've only two good dresses +myself." + +I went down to the porch. "Camellia is going to stop and make us a short +visit on her way home from the South," I announced. + +The Skeptic sat up. "Great guns!" he ejaculated. "I must send all my +trousers to be pressed." + +"Who's Camellia?" queried the Philosopher, looking up calmly from +his book. + +"Wait and see," replied the Skeptic. + +"Probably I shall," agreed the Philosopher. "Meanwhile a little +information might not come amiss. Sending all one's trousers to be +pressed at once sounds to me serious. Is the lady a connoisseur in +men's attire?" + +"She may or may not be," said the Skeptic. "The effect is the same. At +sight of her my cravat gets under my ear, my coat becomes shapeless, my +shoes turn pigeon-toed. We have to dress for dinner every night when +Miss Camellia is here." + +"I won't," said the Philosopher shortly. + +"Wait and see," chuckled the Skeptic. He looked at me. "Ask her," +he added. + +The Philosopher's fine blue eyes were lifted once more from his book. It +was a scientific book, and the habit of inquiry is always strong upon +your scientist. "Do _you_ dress for dinner when Miss Camellia is here?" +he asked of me. "That is--I mean in a way which requires a dinner-coat +of us?" + +"I think I won't--before she comes," I said. "Afterward--I get out the +best I have." + +"Which proves none too good," supplemented the Skeptic. + +"It's July," said the Philosopher thoughtfully. He looked down at his +white ducks. "Couldn't you wire her not to come?" he suggested after +a moment. + +The Skeptic grinned at me. I shook my head. He shook his head. + +"We don't want her not to come," he said, more cheerfully. "She's worth +it. To see her is a liberal education. To clothe her would be ruin and +desolation. Brace up, Philo--she's certainly worth all the agony of mind +she may cause you. I only refrain from falling head over ears in love +with her by keeping my hand in my pocket, feeling over my loose change +and reminding myself that it's all I have--and it wouldn't buy her a +handkerchief." + +The Gay Lady spent the morning freshening her frocks--which were +somehow never anything but fresh, no matter how much she wore them. It +was true that there were not very many of them, and that none of them +had cost very much money, but they were fascinating frocks nevertheless, +and she had so many clever ways of varying them with knots of ribbon and +frills of lace, that one never grew tired of seeing her wear them. + +The Skeptic sent several pairs of trousers to be pressed and a bundle of +other things to be laundered. I got out a gown I had expected to wear +only on state occasions, and did something to the sleeves. The +Philosopher was the only person who remained unaffected by the news that +Camellia was coming. We envied him his calm. + + * * * * * + +Camellia arrived. Three trunks arrived at the same time. Camellia's +appearance, as she came up the porch steps, while trim and attractive, +gave no hint to the Philosopher's eyes, observant though they were, of +what was to be expected. He had failed to note the trunks. This was not +strange, for Camellia had a beautiful face, and her manner was, as +always, charming. + +"I don't see," said the Philosopher in my ear, at a moment when Camellia +was occupied with the Skeptic and the Gay Lady, "what there is about +that to upset you all." + +"Don't you?" said I pityingly. Evidently, from what he had heard us say, +he had expected her to arrive in an elaborate reception gown--or +possibly in spangles and lace! + +Camellia went to her room--the white room. This time I had no fears for +the embroidered linen on my dressing-table or for the purity of my white +wall. I repaired to my own room--_to dress for dinner_. As I passed the +porch door on my way I looked out. The Gay Lady had vanished--so had the +Skeptic. The Philosopher was walking up and down--in white ducks. He +hailed me as I passed. + +"See here," he said under his breath. "I thought you people were all +guying in that talk about dressing for dinner while--while Miss Camellia +is here. But the Skeptic has gone to do it--if he's not bluffing. Is it +true? Do you mean it? We--that is--we haven't been dressing for +dinner--except, of course, you ladies seem always to--but that's +different. And it's awfully hot to-night," he added plaintively. + +"Don't do it," said I hurriedly. "I don't know any reason why we +should--in the country--in July." + +He looked at me doubtfully. "But is the Skeptic going to--really?" + +"I presume he really is. You see--he has met Camellia before. He knows +how she will be looking when she comes down. He admires Camellia very +much, and he might possibly feel a little odd--in tennis flannels----" + +"It's queer," murmured the Philosopher. "But perhaps I'd better not be +behind in the procession, even if I wilt my collar." He fingered +lovingly the soft, rolled-over collar of his white shirt, with its +loose-knotted tie, and sighed again. Then he moved toward the stairs. + +We were all on the porch when Camellia came down. The Gay Lady had put +on a white muslin--the finest, simplest thing. The Philosopher, pushing +a finger between his collar and his neck, to see if the wilting process +had begun, eyed the Gay Lady approvingly. "Whatever she wears," he +whispered to her, "she can't win over you." + +The Gay Lady laughed. "Yes, she can," she declared. + + * * * * * + +She did. Camellia was a vision when she came floating out upon the +porch. The Philosopher was glad he had on his dinner-coat--I saw it in +his eye. The Skeptic's tanned cheek turned a reddish shade--he looked as +if he felt pigeon-toed. The Gay Lady held her pretty head high as she +smiled approval on the guest. Camellia's effect on the Gay Lady was to +make her feel like a school-girl--she had repeatedly avowed it to me +in private. + +Camellia never seemed conscious of her fine attire--that could always +truthfully be said. Although on the present occasion she was dressed as +duchesses dress for a lawn-party, she seemed supremely unconscious of +the fact. The only trouble was that the rest of us could not be +unconscious of it. + +The dinner moved slowly. We all did our best, including the Philosopher, +whose collar was slowly melting, so that he had to keep his chin well +up, lest it crush the linen hopelessly beneath. The Skeptic joked +ceaselessly, but one could see that all the time he feared his cravat +might be awry. The dinner itself was a much more formal affair than +usual--somehow that always seemed necessary when Camellia was one's +guest. We were glad when it was over and we could go back to the cool +recesses of the porch. + +The next morning Camellia wore an unpretentious dress of white--one +which made the thing the Gay Lady had worn at dinner the evening before +seem to her memory poor indeed. Later in the morning the Skeptic took +Camellia boating on the river, and she went up and dressed for it in a +yachting suit of white flannel. It was some slight consolation that she +came back from the river much bedraggled about the skirts, for the boat +had sprung a leak and all the Skeptic's gallantry could not keep her +dry. But this necessitated a change before luncheon, and some of us were +nearly unable to eat with Camellia sitting there in the frock she had +put on at the last minute. She was a dream in the pale pink of it, and +the Skeptic appeared to be losing his head. On the contrary, the +Philosopher was seen to examine her thoughtfully through the eyeglasses +he sometimes wears for reading, and which he had forgotten to remove. + +On the morning of the third day I discovered the Gay Lady mending a +little hole in the skirt of a tiny-flowered dimity, her bright eyes +suspiciously misty. + +"I'm a g-goose, I know," she explained, smiling at me through +the mist, "but it does make me absurdly envious. My things look +so--so--_duddy_--beside hers." + +"They're not duddy!" I cried warmly. "But I know what you mean. My +very best gown, that I had made in town by Lautier herself, seems +countrified. Don't mind. Our things will look quite right again--next +week." + +"What do you suppose she will wear to-night?" sighed she. + +"Heaven only knows," I answered feebly. + +What she wore was a French frock which finished us all. I had fears for +the sanity of the Skeptic. I was sure he did not know what he was +eating. He could not, of course, sit with his hands in his trousers' +pockets, from time to time giving his loose change a warning jingle, to +remind himself that he could not buy her handkerchiefs. But the +Philosopher appeared to retain his self-control. I caught his scientific +eye fixed upon the pearl necklace Camellia wore. It struck me that the +Philosopher and the Skeptic had temporarily exchanged characters. + +In the late afternoon, at the end of the sixth day, Camellia left us. +The Skeptic and the Philosopher came to dinner in flannels--it had grown +slightly cooler. The Gay Lady and I wore things we had not worn for a +week--and I was sure the Gay Lady had never looked prettier. After +dinner, in the early dusk, we sat upon the porch. For some time we were +more or less silent. Then the Skeptic, from the depths of a bamboo +lounging chair, his legs stretching half-way across the porch in a +relaxed attitude they had not worn for a week, heaved a sigh which +seemed to struggle up from the depths of his interior. + +The Philosopher rolled over in the hammock, where he had been reposing +on his back, his hands clasped under his head, and looked scrutinizingly +at his friend. + +"Don't take it too hard," he counselled gently. "It's not worth it." + +"I know it," replied the Skeptic with another sigh. "But I wish I were +worth--millions." + +"Oh, no, you don't," argued the Philosopher. + +The Gay Lady and I exchanged glances--through the twilight. We would +have arisen and fled, but the Skeptic caught at my skirts. + +"Don't go," he begged. "I'm not really insane--only delirious. It'll +wear off." + +"It will," agreed the Philosopher. + +"I suppose," began the Skeptic, after some further moments of silence, +"that it's really mostly clothes." + +"She's a very charming girl," said the Gay Lady quickly. "I don't blame +you." + +"Honestly," said the Skeptic, sitting up and looking at her, "don't you +think her clothes are about all there is of her?" + +"No," said the Gay Lady stoutly. + +"Yes," said the Philosopher comfortably. + +"Yes--and no," said I, as the Skeptic looked at me. + +"A girl," argued the Philosopher, suddenly pulling himself out of the +hammock and beginning to pace the floor, "who could come here to this +unpretentious country place with three trunks, and then wear their +contents----Look here"--he paused in front of me and looked at me as +piercingly as somewhat short-sighted blue eyes can look in the +twilight--"did she ever wear the same thing twice?" + +"I believe not," I admitted. + +"A girl who could come to a place like this and make a show figure of +herself in clothes that any fool could see cost--Caesar, what must they +cost!--and change four times a day--and keep us dancing around in +starched collars----" + +"You didn't have to----" + +"Yes, we did--pardon me! We did, not to be innocently--not +insolently--mistaken for farm hands. I tell you, a girl like that would +keep a man humping to furnish the wherewithal. For what," continued the +Philosopher, growing very earnest--"what, if she'd wear that sort of +clothes here, would she consider necessary for--for--visiting her rich +friends? Tell me that!" + +We could not tell him that. We did not try. + +The Gay Lady was pinching one of her little flowered dimity ruffles into +plaits with an agitated thumb and finger. I was sure the Skeptic's +present state of mind was of more moment to her than she would ever let +appear to anybody. + +The Skeptic rose slowly from his chair. + +"Will you walk down the garden path with me?" he asked the Gay Lady. + +They sauntered slowly away into the twilight. + + * * * * * + +The Philosopher came and sat down by me. + +"He's not really hit," said he presently; "he's only temporarily upset. +I was a trifle bowled over myself. She's certainly a stunning girl. But +when I try to recall what she and I talked about when we sat out here +together, at such times as he was willing to leave her in my company, I +have really no recollection. When it was too dark to see her +clothes--or her smile--I remember being once or twice distinctly bored. +Now--the Gay Lady--don't you think she always looks well?" + +"Lovely," I agreed heartily. + +"I may not know much about it, being a man," said he modestly, "but I +should naturally think the Gay Lady's clothes cost considerably less +than Miss Camellia's." + +"Considerably." + +"Though I never really thought about them before," he owned. "I don't +suppose a man usually does think much about a woman's clothes--unless +he's forced to. During this last week it occurs to me we've been forced +to--eh?" + +"Somewhat." I was smiling to myself. I had never imagined that the +Philosopher troubled himself with such matters at all. + +"And I don't think," he went on, "I like being forced to spend my time +speculating on the cost of anybody's clothing.--How comfortable it is on +this porch! And how jolly not to have to sit up in a black coat--on a +July evening!" + +The Skeptic and the Gay Lady returned--after an hour. The Skeptic, as he +came into the light which streamed out across the porch from the hall, +looked decidedly more cheerful than when he had left us. Although it had +been too dark in the garden to see either the Gay Lady's clothes or her +smile, I doubted if he had been bored. + + + + +III + +DAHLIA + + O, weary fa' the women fo'k, + For they winna let a body be! + --_James Hogg._ + + +My neighbour Dahlia has returned. There is a considerable stretch +of lawn, also a garden and a small orchard, intervening between her +father's property and mine, not to mention a thick hedge; but in spite +of these obstructions it did not take Dahlia long to discover that +there were guests upon my porch. I think she recognized the Skeptic's +long legs from her window, which looks down my way through a vista +of tree-tops. At all events, on the morning after her arrival she +appeared, coming through the hedge, down the garden path and across +the lawn, a fresh and attractive figure in a pink muslin with ruffles, +and one of those coquettish, white-frilled sunbonnets summer-girls wear +in the country. + +Dahlia is very pretty, very good company, and likable from many points +of view. If only---- + +"Who's this coming to invade our completeness?" queried the Philosopher, +looking up from his book of trout flies. Fishing, in its scientific +aspect, presents many attractions to our Philosopher, although he spends +so much time in getting ready to do it scientifically that he seldom +finds much left in which to fish. + +The Skeptic glanced at the figure coming over the lawn. Then he made a +gesture as if he were about to turn up his coat collar. He hitched +himself slightly behind one of the white pillars of the porch. + +"Keep cool; you'll soon know," he replied to the Philosopher. "And once +knowing, you'll always know." + +The Philosopher looked slightly mystified at this oracular information, +and gazed rather curiously at Dahlia as she came near, before he dropped +his eyes to his trout flies. + +The Skeptic appeared to be absorbed in a letter which he had hastily +extracted from his pocket. It was merely a brief business communication +in type, as I could not help seeing over his shoulder, but he withdrew +his attention from it with difficulty as Dahlia paused before him. Her +first greeting was for him, although I had risen just behind him. + +"Oh--how do you do, Miss Dahlia?" cried the Skeptic, getting to his feet +and receiving her outstretched hand in his own. Then he made as if to +pass her on to me, but she wouldn't be passed until she had said +something under her breath to him, smiling up into his face, her fingers +clinging to his. + +"Been--er--horribly busy," I heard him murmur in reply. I thought his +hand showed symptoms of letting go before hers did. + +I greeted Dahlia, introducing her to the Gay Lady, who smiled at her +from over a handkerchief she was embroidering with my initials. I +presented the Philosopher, who immediately presented his trout flies. +She scanned him closely--the Philosopher is very good-looking +(almost--but not quite--better-looking than the Skeptic)--then she +dropped down upon one of the porch cushions by his side. He politely +offered her a chair, but she insisted that she liked the cushion better, +and we found it impossible to doubt that she did. At all events she +remained upon it, close beside the Philosopher, as long as he retained +his position; and she appeared to become absorbed in the trout flies, +asking many questions, and exclaiming over some of them in a way which +showed her to be of a most sympathetic disposition. + + * * * * * + +Finally the Philosopher seized upon an opportunity and rose. "Well," he +observed, "I believe I'll go and try my luck." + +Dahlia looked up at him. Her pretty face took on a beseeching +expression. + +The Philosopher regarded her uncomprehendingly. + +"You will excuse----" he began. + +But Dahlia did not let him finish. "I simply love to go fishing," she +said softly. + +"Do you?" said the Philosopher, blinking stupidly. "It is great sport, I +think, myself." + +Even then I believe he would have turned away. He is not used to it--at +least, in Dahlia's style. But she detained him. + +"Are you really not going to ask me?" she said, looking like a +disappointed child. + +I saw the Gay Lady look at her. The Skeptic glanced at the Gay Lady. I +observed the Skeptic. But the Philosopher rose to the occasion. He is +invariably courteous. + +"Why, certainly," he responded, "if you would really care to go. It's +rather a long walk to the stream and--I'm afraid the boat leaks +considerably, but----" + +"Oh, I don't mind that," she exulted, jumping up, her cheeks pink with +delight. "In fact, I know that boat of old----" She gave the Skeptic a +look from under her eyelashes, but he was looking at the Gay Lady and it +failed to hit him. "Are you ready? All right. And I've my +sunbonnet--just the thing. You shall see what we'll catch," she called +back to us, as the two walked away. + + * * * * * + +The Skeptic got the pillar between himself and the departing pair. His +face was convulsed with mirth. He slapped his knee. "I said he'd soon +know," he chuckled, holding himself in with an effort, "but I didn't +think he'd find out quite so soon. Smoke and ashes--but that was quick +work!" + +He turned about and looked up at the Gay Lady. "Will you go fishing?" he +inquired, still chuckling. + +"No, thank you," responded the Gay Lady, smiling at her embroidery +without looking up. + +"Will you go fishing?" + +The inquiry was directed at me. + +I shook my head. + +The Skeptic fell into an attitude of mock despair. Then he sat up. "I'm +going to go down and hide behind the big tree at the bend," he declared. +"I want to see Philo when she----" + +The Gay Lady spoke to me. "Do you think I'm getting that K too heavy?" +she asked. + +The Skeptic laughed, and strolled away--not in the direction of the +trout stream. + +Dahlia and the Philosopher came back just as luncheon was served. Dahlia +was looking pinker than ever, and I thought the Philosopher's tan had +rather a pinkish hue, also. I felt obliged to ask Dahlia to stay to +luncheon and she promptly accepted. Throughout the meal she was very +gay, sitting at my round table between the Philosopher and the Skeptic, +and plying both with attentions. It is a singular phrase to use, in +speaking of a girl, but I know no other that applies so well--in +Dahlia's case. + +After luncheon the Philosopher bolted. His movements are usually +deliberate, but I never saw a quicker exit made from a dining-room which +has only two doors. One door leads into the hall, the other to the +pantry. The rest of us went out the hall door. When we reached the porch +the Philosopher was missing. There is no explanation except that he went +out by the pantry door. + +On the porch the Skeptic said, "I must run down to the barn and look +after Skylark's foot. He cut himself when I was out on him yesterday." + +He hastened away down the driveway. + +Dahlia looked after him. + +"Is Skylark here?" she asked. "Oh, how I want to see the dear thing! +And he's cut his foot!--I'm going to run down to the barn, too, and +see him." + +And she hurried away after the Skeptic. + +"I think I'll go in and sleep a while," said the Gay Lady to me. Her +expressive lips had a curious little twist of scorn. + +"I should, too, if I hadn't a new guest," said I. + +We tried not to smile at each other, but we couldn't quite help it. + +The Gay Lady went away to her room. I heard her close the blinds on the +side that looked off toward the barn, and, glancing up, saw that she had +turned down the slats tightly. + + * * * * * + +I think it must have been well on toward four in the afternoon when the +white sunbonnet at last disappeared through the gap in the hedge. The +Skeptic came back up the garden path at the pace of an escaping convict, +and went tearing up the stairs to his room. I heard him splashing like a +seal in his bath. Presently he came out, freshly attired and went away +down the road, in the opposite direction from that in which lay the +house beyond the hedge. + +Dahlia came over at twilight that evening--to bring me a great bunch of +golden-glow. She was captivatingly arrayed in blue. She remained for an +hour or so. When she went away the Skeptic walked home with her. He was +forced to do it. The Philosopher had disappeared again, quite without +warning, some twenty minutes earlier. + +She came over the next afternoon. On the day following she practically +took up her residence with us. I thought of inviting her to bring a +trunk and occupy the white room. On the fourth night I accidentally +overheard a brief but pregnant colloquy which took place just inside the +library door, toward the last of the evening. + +"You've got to take her home to-night, old man." + +"I won't." It was the Philosopher. + +"You've got to. It's your turn. No shirking." + +"I'll be hanged if I will." + +"I'll be hanged if _I_ will. There's a limit." + +"I'd always supposed there was. There doesn't seem to be." + +"Come along--stand up to it like a man. It's up to you to-night. She +can't carry you off bodily." + +"I'm not so sure of that." The Philosopher's tone was grim. + +So far I had been transfixed. But now I hurried away. I was consumed +with anxiety during the next ten minutes, lest they come to blows in +settling it. But when they appeared I could tell that they had settled +it somehow. + +When Dahlia arose and said that she positively must go they both +accompanied her. The transit occupied less time than it had done on any +previous occasion. + + * * * * * + +From this time on there was concerted action on the part of our two men. +Where one was, the other was. The Gay Lady and I received less attention +than we were accustomed to expect--the two men were too busy standing by +each other to have much time for us. + +"I'm so sorry," said Dahlia, coming over after dinner on the tenth +evening, "but I'm going away to-morrow. I've an invitation that I'm +simply not allowed to refuse." + +The Philosopher's face lit up. He attempted to conceal it by burying his +head in his handkerchief for a moment, in mock distress, but his +satisfaction showed even behind his ears. The Skeptic bent down and +elaborately tied his shoe-ribbon. The Gay Lady regarded Dahlia sweetly, +and said, "That's surely very nice for you." + +"I think," observed Dahlia, looking coyly from the Skeptic to the +Philosopher, "that I shall have to let each of you take me for a +farewell walk to-night. You first"--she indicated the Philosopher. "Or +shall it be a row for one and a walk for the other?" + +She and the Philosopher strolled away toward the river. There had been +no way out for him. + +"The Englishman, the Scotsman and the Irishman," began the Skeptic, in a +conversational tone, "being about to be hanged, were given their choice +of a tree. 'The oak for me,' says the Englishman. 'The Scotch elm for +mine,' says the Scotsman. 'Faith,' says the Irishman, 'I'll be afther +takin' a gooseberry bush.' 'That's too small,' says the hangman. 'I'll +wait for it to grow,' says the Irishman contentedly." + +Whereat he disappeared. When Dahlia and the Philosopher returned he had +not come back. I was amazed at him, but my amazement did not produce +him, and the Philosopher accompanied Dahlia home. When they were well +away the Skeptic swung himself up over the side of the porch, from among +some bushes. + +"'All's fair in love and war,'" he grinned. "Besides, the campaign's +over. Philo's gained experience. He's a veteran now. He'll never be such +easy game again. Haven't we behaved well, on the whole?" he asked the +Gay Lady, dropping upon a cushion at her feet. + +"I don't think you have," said the Gay Lady gently. + +"We haven't! Why not?" + +She shook her head. "I refuse to discuss it," she said, as gently as +before, but quite firmly. + +The Skeptic sighed. "I'm sorry," he declared. "You really don't +know----" + +"I don't want to know," said the Gay Lady. "Isn't it a lovely, lovely +evening?" + +"Yes, it's a lovely evening," said the Skeptic, looking up at her. "It +would be delightful on the river." + +She shook her head again. + +"Not nicer than here," she answered. + +The Philosopher came back. When he was half-way across the lawn the +Skeptic jumped up and rushed forward and offered his shoulder for the +Philosopher to lean upon. + +"Clear out," said the Philosopher shortly. + +"I'm glad to hear it," rejoined the Skeptic. "I feared you might be +clear in." + +"It's not your fault that I'm not," grunted the Philosopher. + +He dropped down upon the porch step in an exhausted way. + +The Gay Lady rose. + +"The air is making me sleepy," said she in her musically sweet voice. +"Good-night." + +The Skeptic and the Philosopher looked after her retreating figure even +after it ceased to be visible, drifting down the wide, central hall. + +"The worst of it is," grumbled the Skeptic, "that an exhibition of that +sort of thing always makes the other kind draw off, for fear we may +possibly think they're in the same class." + +I, too, now said good-night, and went away to let them have it out +between them. + + + + +IV + +RHODORA + + Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm. + --_Gray._ + + +This morning we had a surprise. Grandmother and Rhodora drove over from +Langdale, ten miles away, to spend two days. Grandmother does not belong +to us exclusively--she is Grandmother to a large circle of people, all +of whom are glad to see her whenever they have the opportunity. Rhodora +is a new granddaughter of the old lady--by which I mean to say that +Rhodora never saw Grandmother till a fortnight ago, when the girl +arrived to pay her a visit. + +"I wanted to see you people so much," explained Rhodora, coming breezily +upon the porch a step or two in advance of the old lady, "that I thought +I'd drive over. Grandmother wanted to come too, so I brought her." + +Grandmother's dark eyebrows below her white curls went up a trifle. It +was quite evident that she thought she had brought Rhodora, inasmuch as +the carriage, the horses, and the old family coachman were all her own. +But she did not correct the girl. She is a tiny little lady, with a +gentle, somewhat hesitating manner, but her black eyes are very bright, +and she sees things with almost as keen a vision as Lad himself. + +The Gay Lady was charmed with Grandmother. She put the frail visitor +into the easiest chair on the porch, untied her bonnet-strings, smoothed +her soft, white curls, and brought a footstool for her little feet. Then +she sat by her, listening and talking--doing much more listening than +talking--leaving Rhodora to me. + +"I'm sorry our men are away to-day," I said to Rhodora, "and Lad is with +them. They went early this morning to climb Bluebeard Mountain, and +won't be back till night. It is rather quiet here without them." + +"Are they young and jolly?" inquired Rhodora. + +"They are extremely jolly. As for being young, that depends upon one's +point of view," said I. "They are between twenty-five and thirty-five, I +believe." + +"Pretty wide margin," laughed Rhodora. "And how old is Lad?" + +"Fifteen." + +"I've had the bad luck to be stuck off with old people all the while +lately," remarked Rhodora. She looked at me as she spoke. I wondered if +she considered me "old people." Then she glanced at the Gay Lady. + +"How old is she?" she inquired. + +"I have never asked her." + +"Looks like a girl, but I guess she isn't. A real girl would never +settle down like that to talk to an old lady like Grandmother," she +observed sagely. + +I opened my lips--and closed them. I had known Miss Rhodora only about +ten minutes, and one does not make caustic speeches to one's guests--if +one can help it. But one does take observations upon them. I was taking +observations upon Rhodora. + +She was decidedly a handsome girl--handsome seems the word. She was +rather large, well-proportioned, blooming in colour, with somewhat +strikingly modeled features. She wore sleeves to her elbows, and her +arms were round and firm. She sat in a nonchalant attitude in which her +arms were considerably in evidence. + +"Rhodora," said Grandmother, turning to look our way, "did I bring my +little black silk bag from the carriage?" + +"Didn't see it," replied Rhodora. "Which way is Bluebeard Mountain?" she +inquired of me. + +The Gay Lady and I arose at the same instant. I went into the house to +search for the bag, and when I could not find it the Gay Lady went away +down to the red barn to find if the black silk bag had been left in the +carriage. She came back bringing it. + +"Thank you, my dear," said Grandmother, with a smile which might have +repaid anybody for a much longer trip than that to the carriage. + + * * * * * + +After a time I managed to exchange places with the Gay Lady, feeling +that Rhodora very plainly did consider me an elderly person, and that, +in spite of her confidence that the Gay Lady was not "a real girl," as +girls of Rhodora's age use the term, she might take her as a substitute +for one. + +The Gay Lady took Rhodora down to the river, and out in the boat. I +understood from what I heard later that the Gay Lady, although a fine +oarswoman, did not row Rhodora about the river. Rhodora began by +dropping into the stern seat among the cushions, but the Gay Lady fitted +two sets of oars into the rowlocks, and offered Rhodora the position of +stroke. The Gay Lady is very sweet and courteous in manner, but I could +quite understand that when she offered the oars to Rhodora, Rhodora +accepted them and did her best. + +When they came back it was time for luncheon, and I took my guests to +the white room. + +"What a cool, reposeful room, my dear," said Grandmother. She patted her +white curls in front of the mirror, which is an old-fashioned, oblong +one, in which two people cannot well see themselves at the same time. +Rhodora came up behind her, stooped to peer over her shoulder, and +seized upon the ivory comb which lay on the dressing-table. Her elbow, +as she ran the comb through her fluffy hair, struck Grandmother's +delicate shoulder. The old lady turned and regarded her granddaughter in +astonishment. + +"Want the comb?" inquired Rhodora, having finished with it herself. + +Rhodora went over to the washstand, and washed and splashed, and used +one of the towels and threw it back upon the rack so that it overhung +all the other fresh towels. Grandmother used one end of Rhodora's towel, +and carefully folded and put it in place, looking regretfully at its +rumpled condition. She took a clean pocket-handkerchief out of her bag. +Rhodora caught sight of it. + +"Oh, Grandmother, have you got a spare handkerchief?" she cried. "I've +lost mine, I'm afraid." + +Grandmother handed her the little square of fine linen, exquisitely +embroidered with her own monogram, and took another and plainer one from +her bag. + +"Try not to lose that one, Granddaughter," she said, in her gentle way. + +Rhodora pushed it inside her sleeve. "Oh, I seldom lose two in one day," +she assured the handkerchief's owner. + +I fear it was rather a dull afternoon for Rhodora. The Gay Lady took +Grandmother away after luncheon into the quiet, green-hung library, and +tucked her up on the couch, and covered her with a little silk quilt +from her own room, and went away and played softly upon the piano in the +distance until the old lady fell asleep. Late in the afternoon +Grandmother awoke much refreshed, and found the Gay Lady sitting by the +window, keeping guard. + +"It does one's eyes good to look at you, my dear," were Grandmother's +first words, after she had lain for some time quietly observing the +figure by the window, freshly dressed in white. The Gay Lady got up and +came over to the couch and bent down, smiling. + + * * * * * + +Just in time for a late dinner our men came home, sunburned and hungry. +Seeing guests upon the porch they made for their rooms, and reappeared +presently in that irreproachable trim which the dustiest and most +disreputable-looking of them seems able to achieve, being given plenty +of water, in the twinkling of an eye. + +They were presented to Grandmother. At almost the same moment we were +summoned to dinner. The Skeptic gave the old lady his arm. The +Philosopher picked up her black silk bag from the porch floor, and +followed with it dangling from his hand. Just as she reached the table +she dropped her handkerchief, and the Lad sprang for it as a retriever +springs for a stick, and handed it to her with his best boyish bow. The +old lady beamed. Quite evidently this was the sort of thing to which she +was accustomed. + +At luncheon Rhodora had rather monopolized the conversation. At dinner +she found herself unable to do so. The Philosopher and the Skeptic were +too much occupied with Grandmother to be able to attend to Rhodora, +beyond lending a polite ear to her remarks now and then and immediately +afterward returning to the elderly guest. Grandmother was really a most +interesting talker when occasion required it of her, as it certainly did +now. We were all charmed with her clever way of putting things, her +shrewd observation, her knowledge of and interest in affairs in general. + +After dinner the Philosopher escorted her out to her chair on the porch. +The Skeptic sat down beside the Gay Lady on a wide, wooden settle close +by, and both listened, smiling, to the discussion which had arisen +between Grandmother and the Philosopher. It was well worth listening to. +The Philosopher, while wholly deferential, held his ground staunchly, +but Grandmother worsted him in the end. Her cheeks grew pink, her black +eyes shone. It was a captivating spectacle. + +I called Rhodora's attention to it. Finding nobody else to do her honour +she had entered into conversation with the Lad. Both looked up as I +spoke to them. + +"Yes, isn't she great!" agreed the Lad softly. "Nicest old lady I +ever saw." + +"It's too exciting for her, I should say," commented her granddaughter. +"I didn't think she ought to come. I could have come alone just as +well--I'd a good deal rather. She's getting pretty old." + +The Skeptic and the Philosopher each did his duty by Rhodora before the +evening was over. The Skeptic played four sets of tennis with her--she +is an admirable player--but he beat her until he discovered that she was +growing very much annoyed--then he allowed her to win the last set by a +game. The Lad, who was watching the bout, announced it to me under his +breath with a laugh. Then the Philosopher took Rhodora through the +garden and over the place generally. + +"I think you should have a shawl about your shoulders, Rhodora," said +Grandmother, when the girl and the Philosopher had returned and taken +their seats upon the steps of the porch. The twilight had fallen, and +the Gay Lady had just wrapped Grandmother in a light garment of her own. + +Rhodora shrugged her shoulders. "Heavens, no!" she ejaculated. "Old +people are always fussing," she remarked, in a slightly lower tone to +the Philosopher. "Because she's frozen is no reason why I should be." + +"One could almost pretend to be frozen to please her," returned the +Philosopher, in a much lower tone than Rhodora's. "She is the most +beautiful old lady I ever saw." + +"Goodness, I don't see how you can see anything beautiful about old +persons," said the girl. "They give me the creeps." + +The Philosopher opened his mouth--and closed it again, quite as I had +done in the morning. He looked curiously at Rhodora. By his expression I +should judge he was thinking: "After all--what's the use?" + + * * * * * + +The next afternoon Grandmother and Rhodora went home. When Grandmother +was in the carriage the Skeptic tucked her in and put cushions behind +her back and a footstool under her feet. Then the Philosopher laid a +great nosegay of garden flowers in her lap. She was so pleased she +coloured like a girl, and put out her delicate little old hand in its +black silk mitt, and he took it in both his and held it close for a +minute, looking at her with his blue eyes full of such a boyish +expression of affection as his own mother might have seen now and then, +years before. I think she would have liked to kiss him, and I am sure he +wanted to kiss her, but we were all looking on, and they had known each +other but a few hours. Nevertheless, there was something about the +little scene which touched us all--except Rhodora, who exclaimed: + +"Gracious, Grandmother--I suppose that brings back the days when you had +lots of beaux! What a gorgeous jumble of old-fashioned flowers that is, +anyhow. I didn't know there were so many kinds in the world!" + +The Skeptic hustled her into the carriage, rather as if she were a bag +of meal, handed her belongings in after her, shook hands with +Grandmother in his most courtly fashion, and stood aside. We waved our +hands and handkerchiefs, and Grandmother's fat old horses walked away +with her down the driveway. + +"It's a pity," said the Skeptic to me impatiently, when they were out of +sight around the corner, and we had turned to go back to the house, +"that a girl like that can't see herself." + +"Rhodora is very young yet," said I. "Perhaps by the time she is even as +old as the Gay Lady----" + +"You don't think it," declared the Skeptic, looking ahead at the Gay +Lady as she walked by the Philosopher over the lawn toward the house. +"The two are no more the same sort--than----" he looked toward the +garden for inspiration and found it, as many a man before him has found +it, when searching after similes for the women he knows--"than those +yellow tiger-lilies of yours are like--a clump of hepaticas that you +find in the woods in spring." + + * * * * * + +That evening the Gay Lady had left us, as she sometimes does, and gone +in to play soft, old-time melodies on my piano, while the rest of us sat +silently listening. The men know well enough that it is useless to +follow her in when she goes to play in the twilight--if they did she +would send them back again, or stop playing. And as it is worth much to +hear her play when she has a certain mood upon her, nobody does anything +to break the spell. Sometimes the listening grows almost painful, but +before we are quite overwrought she comes back and makes us gay again. + +"When I was a boy," said the Skeptic, very softly to me, after the music +stopped, "I used to pick out men to admire and follow about, and +consume myself with wishing that some day I could be like them. How +could a girl like that one we've had here to-day look at our Gay Lady +and not want to copy her to the last hair on her head?" + +"There are some things which can't be copied," I returned. "She is one +of them." + +The Skeptic gave me a grateful glance. "You never said a truer thing +than that," said he. + +Perceiving that he was in a sentimental mood, and that the Gay Lady had +stopped playing and was coming out again upon the porch, I turned my +attention to the Philosopher. In spite of the music he seemed not in a +sentimental mood. + +"You have a lot of girl company, first and last, don't you?" he queried, +when he and I had agreed upon the beauty of the night. + +"It happens so, for some reason," I admitted. + +He shook his head regretfully. "If I thought you were going to have +anything more like that to-day soon, I should take to the woods," +said he. + + + + +V + +AZALEA + + It all depends upon a consciousness of values, a sense of proportion. + --_Arthur Christopher Benson._ + + +"The heavens have fallen!" I announced in the doorway of the Gay Lady's +room. "Cook is ill--I had the doctor for her in the night. And my little +waitress went home just yesterday to her sister's wedding." + +"And breakfast to get," responded the Gay Lady, arriving instantly at +the point, as she always does. She had been dressing leisurely. Now she +made all speed and instead of white linen she slipped into a +blue-and-white-checked gingham. "Don't worry--I'll be down in three +minutes," she assured me cheerily. + +I found Lad building the kitchen fire--in the country we do not have gas +ranges. "I'll have her roaring in a jiff," he cried. "I learned a dandy +way camping last year." + +Breakfast came off nearly on schedule time. The Gay Lady's omelet was a +feathery success, her coffee perfect, my muffins above reproach. Lad had +helped set the table, he had looked over the fruit, he had skimmed the +cream. + +Azalea came in a little late. She had been my guest for a week, and a +delightful guest, too. She has a glorious voice for singing, and she is +very clever and entertaining--everybody likes her. + + * * * * * + +Of course, when I arose to take away the fruit-plates and bring on the +breakfast, the fact that I was servantless came out. To the Philosopher +and the Skeptic, who were immediately solicitous, I explained that we +should get on very well. + +"We'll see that you do," promised the Skeptic. "There are a few things I +flatter myself I can do as well as the next man--or woman. Consider me +at your service." + +"The same here," declared the Philosopher. "And--I say--don't fuss +too much. Have a cold lunch--bread and milk, you know, or something +like that." + +I smiled, and said that would not be necessary. Nor was it. For five +years after my marriage I had been my own maid-servant--and those were +happy days. My right hand had by no means forgotten her cunning. As for +both the Gay Lady's pretty hands--they were very accomplished in +household arts. And she had put on the blue-and-white gingham. + +"I can wipe dishes," offered the Philosopher, as we rose from the table. + +"It's a useful art," said the Gay Lady. "In ten minutes we'll be ready +for you." + +The Skeptic looked about him. Then he hurried away without saying +anything. Two minutes later I found him making his bed. + +"Go away," he commanded me. "It'll be ship-shape, never fear. You +remember I was sent to a military school when I was a youngster." + +From below, as I made Azalea's bed, the strains of one of the Liszt +Hungarian Rhapsodies floated up to me. Azalea was playing. We had fallen +into the habit of drifting into the living-room, where the piano stood, +every morning immediately after breakfast, to hear Azalea play. In the +evenings she sang to us; but one does not sing directly after breakfast, +and only second in delight to hearing Azalea's superb voice was +listening to her matchless touch upon the keyboard. I said to myself, as +I went about the "upstairs work"--work that the Skeptic, with all his +good will, could not do, not being allowed to cross certain +thresholds--that we should sorely miss Azalea's music when she should go +away next week. + +The Gay Lady and I managed luncheon with very little exertion, we had so +much assistance. Dinner cost us rather more trouble, for Cook's dinners +are always delicious, and we could not have a falling off under our +regime. But it was a great success, and our men praised us until we felt +our labours fully repaid. Still, we were a trifle fatigued at the end of +the day. Cook had needed a good deal of waiting upon, and though the Gay +Lady had insisted on sharing this service with me it had required many +steps and the exercise of some tact--Cook having been fully persuaded +all day that her end was near. + +"I have told her six times that people don't die of lumbago," said the +Gay Lady, "but her tears flow just as copiously as ever. I've written +three letters to her friends for her. To-morrow I suppose I shall have +to write her last will and testament." + + * * * * * + +But on the morrow Cook was enough better to be able to indite her own +documents, though as yet unable to come downstairs. It was well that she +did not require much of our time, however, for just before noon a party +of touring motorists drove up to our door and precipitated themselves +upon us with warm greetings--and hungry looks toward our dining-room. + +"Smoke and ashes!" cried the Skeptic, under his breath, appearing in the +kitchen, whither the Gay Lady and I had betaken ourselves as soon as we +had furnished our guests with soap and water and clothes-brushes, and +left them to remove as much of the dust of the road from their persons +as could be done without a full bath--"why didn't you send them on to +the village inn? Of all the nerve!--and you don't know any of them +intimately, do you?" + +I shook my head. "One of them was my dearest enemy in school-days," I +admitted, "and I never saw but one of the others. Never mind. Do you +suppose you could saddle Skylark and post over to town for some +beefsteak? I've sent Lad to the neighbours for other things. Beefsteak +is what they must have--porterhouse--since I've not enough broilers in +the ice-box to go around that hungry company." + +"Sure thing," and the Skeptic was off. But he came back to say in my +ear: "See here, why doesn't Miss Azalea come out and help? She's just +sitting on the porch, looking pretty." + +"Somebody ought to play hostess, since I must be here," I responded, +without meeting his inquiring eye. I did urgently need some one to beat +the oil into the salad dressing I was making, for there were other +things I must do. The Gay Lady was already accomplishing separate things +with each hand, and directing Lad at the same time. The Skeptic looked +at her appreciatively. + +"She mourns because she can't sing!" said he, and laughed quietly to +himself as he swung away. Yet he had seemed much impressed with +Azalea's singing all the week, and had turned her music for her +devotedly. + +We got through it somehow. "I thought they'd eat their heads off," +commented the Philosopher, who had carved the beefsteak and the +broilers, and had tried to give everybody the tenderloin and the white +breast meat, and had eaten drumsticks and end pieces himself, after the +manner of the unselfish host. + + * * * * * + +There were piles and mountains of dishes after that luncheon. They +looked the bigger to us because we had been obliged to leave them for +two hours while we sat upon the porch with our motorists, who said they +always took a good rest in the middle of the day, and made up by running +many extra miles at night. When they had gone, loudly grateful for our +hospitality--two of the men had had to have some more things to eat and +drink before they could get up steam with which to start--the Gay Lady +and I stood in the door of the kitchen and drew our first sighs over the +state of things existing. + +"If Cook doesn't get down pretty soon----" said I dejectedly, and did +not try to finish the sentence. Somehow that hasty cookery for five +extra people had been depressing. I couldn't think of a thing that +had been left in the house that would do for dinner--due now in three +short hours. + +But the Gay Lady rallied nobly. + +"There's plenty of hot water," said she, "and those dishes will melt +away in no time. Then--you're going to have a long sleep, whether we get +any dinner to-night or not." + +The Skeptic spoke from behind us. "Here's a fresh recruit," said he in a +jovial tone, which I understood at once was manufactured for the +occasion. We looked around and saw Azalea at his elbow. She was smiling +rather dubiously. I wondered how he had managed it. Afterward I learned +that he had boldly asked her if she didn't want to help. + +"I hope I shan't break anything," murmured Azalea, accepting a +dish-towel. The Skeptic took another. "Oh, no," he assured her. "That +delicate touch of yours--why, I never heard anybody who could play +_pianissimo_--_legato_--_cantabile_--like you. You wouldn't break a +spun-glass rainbow." + +Azalea did not break anything. I think it was because she did not dry +more than one article to the Skeptic's three and the Gay Lady's six. +Once she dropped a china cup, but the Skeptic caught it and presented it +to her with a bow. "Don't mention it," said he. "I'm an old +first-baseman." + +The Philosopher came through the kitchen with a broom and dustpan. He +had been attempting to sweep the dining-room floor--which is of +hardwood, with a centre rug--and had had a bad time of it. The Skeptic +jeered at him and mentioned the implements he should have used. Azalea +looked at them both wonderingly. + +"How in the world do you men come to know so much about housework?" she +inquired, wiping a single teaspoon diligently. The Gay Lady had just +lifted a dozen out of the steaming pan for her, but Azalea had laid them +all down on the table, and was polishing them one by one. + +"I find it comes in handy," said the Skeptic. "You never stay anywhere, +you know, that sooner or later something doesn't happen unexpectedly +to the domestic machinery. Besides, I like to show off--don't you? See +here"--he turned to me. There was a twinkle in his wicked eye. "See +here, why not let Miss Azalea and me be responsible for the dinner +to-night--with Philo as second assistant? You and the Gay Lady are +tired out. Miss Azalea can tell me what to do, and I'll promise to +do it faithfully." + +He had not the face to look at the guest as he made this daring +suggestion. His audacity took my breath away so completely that I could +make no rejoinder, but the Gay Lady came to the rescue. I don't know +whether she had seen Azalea's face, but I had. + +"I have a surprise for to-night," said she, picking up a trayful of +china, "and I don't intend anybody shall interfere with it. Nobody is +even to mention dinner in my presence." + +The Skeptic took the tray away from her. "There are some other things I +should like to mention in your presence," said he, so softly that I +think nobody heard him but myself, who was nearest. "And one of them is +that somebody I know never looked sweeter than she does this----" + +I rattled the saucers in the pan that nobody might catch it. The Gay +Lady was colouring so brilliantly that I feared the Skeptic might drop +the tray, for he was not looking at all where he was going. But she +disappeared into the pantry, and there was nothing left for him to do +but to place the tray on the shelf outside, ready for her to take the +contents in through the window. + + * * * * * + +The Gay Lady put me upon my own bed, tucked me up, drew the curtains, +and left me to my nap. She left a kiss on my cheek also, and as she +dropped it there I thought of the Skeptic again--I don't know why. I +wondered casually what he would give for one like it. + +When I awoke my room was so nearly dark that I was startled into +thinking it next morning. The Lad's voice, speaking eagerly through my +door, was what had roused me. He was summoning me to dinner. "It's all +ready," he was calling. + +I dressed dazedly, refreshed and wondering. I went down to preside at +the most delicious meal I had eaten in a month. The Gay Lady--in white +muslin, with cheeks like roses--seemed not in the least fatigued. The +Skeptic looked like a young commanding general who had seen his forces +win triumphantly against great odds. The Philosopher was hilarious. +Azalea seemed somewhat quiet and thoughtful. + +When the dishes were done and the kitchen in order--matters which were +dispatched like wildfire--we gathered upon the porch as usual. + +"There is nothing in the world I should like so much," said the Gay Lady +presently, from the low chair where she sat, with the Skeptic on a +cushion so near to her feet that in the shadow his big figure seemed to +melt into her slight one, "as some music. Is it asking too much, dear, +after all those dishes?" + +"I don't feel a bit like singing," answered Azalea. + +The Philosopher sat beside her on the settle, and he turned to add his +request to the Gay Lady's. + +The Skeptic spoke heartily from his cushion. + +"If you knew how much pleasure you've given us all these mornings and +evenings," he said, "never having to be urged, but being so generous +with your great art----" + +"Somehow it doesn't look so great to me to-night," said Azalea quietly. + +I almost thought there were tears in her voice. She has a beautiful +speaking voice, as singers are apt to have. + +Everybody was silent for an instant, in surprise--and anxiety. Azalea +was a very lovely girl--nobody had meant to hurt her. + +Had the Skeptic's shot in the kitchen gone home? Nobody would be sorrier +than he to deal a blow where only a feather's touch was meant. + +"It looks so great to me," said the Gay Lady very gently, "that I would +give--years of my life to be able to sing one song as you sing +Beethoven's '_Adelaide_.'" + +"Of course I can't refuse, after that," said Azalea modestly, though +more happily, I thought, and the Philosopher went away with her into the +half-lit living room. + +"May I say anything?" asked the Skeptic, looking up into the Gay Lady's +face, in the way he has when he wants to say things very much but is +doubtful how she will take them--a condition he is frequently in. + +She shook her head--I think she must have been smiling. It was so +evident--that which he wanted to say. He wanted to assure her that her +own accomplishments---- + +But the Gay Lady shook her head. "Let's just listen," she said. + +So we listened. It was worth it. But, after all, I doubt if the Skeptic +heard. + + + + +VI + +HEPATICA + + Here's metal more attractive. + --_Hamlet._ + + +The Gay Lady had gone away for a week and a day. Although four of us +remained, the gap in our number appeared prodigious. The first dinner +without her seemed as slow and dull as a dance without music, in spite +of the fact that we did our best, each one of us, not to act as if +anything were wrong. + +When we had escaped from the dining-room to the porch, Lad was the first +to voice his sentiments upon the subject of our drooping spirits. "I +didn't know her being here made such a lot of difference--till she got +away," he said dismally. "There's nobody to laugh, now, when I make a +joke." + +"Don't the rest of us laugh at your jokes, son?" inquired the +Philosopher, laying a friendly hand upon the Lad's arm as the boy stood +on the porch step below him. + +"You do--if she does," replied Lad. "Lots of times you'd never notice +what I say if she didn't look at you and laugh. Then you burst out and +laugh too--to please her, I suppose," he added. + +The Philosopher glanced at me over the boy's head. "Here's a pretty +sharp observer," said he, "with a gift at analysis. I didn't know before +that I take my cue from the Gay Lady--or from any one else--when it +comes to laughing at jokes. Try me with one now, Lad, and see if I don't +laugh--all by myself." + +Lad shook his head. "That wouldn't be any good. I'd know you didn't mean +it. She always means it. Besides--she thinks things are funny that you +don't. She's 'most as good as a boy--and I don't see how she can be, +either," he reflected, "because she isn't the least bit like one." + +"You're right enough about that," observed the Philosopher. "She's +essentially feminine, if ever a girl was." + +"Girl!" repeated the Lad. "She isn't a girl. That is--I thought she +was, till she told me herself she wasn't. She's twenty-seven." + +The Philosopher grinned. The Skeptic, who had lit his pipe and was +puffing away at it, sitting on the settle with his back to the +sunset--which was unusually fine that evening--gave utterance to a deep +note of derision at the Lad's point of view. I smiled, myself. If ever +there was an irresistible combination of the girlish and the womanly it +was to be found in our Gay Lady. As to her looks--even the blooming +youth of Althea, and the more cultivated charms of Camellia, had not +made the Gay Lady less lovely in our eyes, although she was by no means +what is known as a "beauty." + +"She's a whole lot nicer than any of those girls we've had here this +summer," the Lad went on. He seemed to have the floor. There could be no +doubt that the subject of his musings was of interest to all his +hearers. "And they weren't so bad, either--except Dahlia. I can't stand +her," he added resentfully. + +The Philosopher shook his head slightly as one who would have said "Who +could?" if it had been allowable. The Skeptic removed his pipe from his +mouth and gazed intently into its bowl. I felt it my duty to stand by +Dahlia, for the sake of the Lad, who must not learn to sneer at women +behind their backs. + +"There are a great many nice things about Dahlia," I said. "And she has +surely given you many good times, Lad. Think how often she has gone out +on the river with you--and helped you make kites, and rigged little +ships for you----" + +"Oh, yes," cried the Lad scornfully, "she'll take me--when she can't get +a man!" + +The Skeptic's shoulders heaved as he turned away to cough violently. +Evidently he had swallowed a pipeful of smoke. The Philosopher abruptly +removed his hand from the Lad's shoulder and dropped down on the porch +step, where his face was hidden from the bright young eyes above him. I +shook my head at Lad. Presently he ran off to the red barn to look after +some small puppies down there in the hay. + + * * * * * + +We three left behind settled down for the evening. At least I did, and +the others made a show of doing so. But the Skeptic was both restless +and moody, the Philosopher unsociable. Finally the Skeptic flung an +invitation to the Philosopher to go off for a walk. The Philosopher +consented with a nod, and they strolled away, taking leave of me with +formal politeness. I understood them, and I did not mind. A wise woman +lets a man go--that he may return. + +They came back just as twilight darkened into night, and sat down at my +feet on the step, shoulder to shoulder, like the good comrades that they +were. I wondered if they had been discussing the subject which the Lad +had introduced. + +"How much," inquired the Philosopher quite suddenly, "do you suppose it +would cost to dress a girl like Miss Camellia?" + +"I've really no idea," I answered, since the question seemed directed at +me. "It depends on a number of things. There are girls so clever with +their needles that they can produce very remarkable effects for a +comparatively small amount of money." + +"Is she one of them?" + +"I don't know." + +"I fancy you do," was his comment. Presently he went on again. "You see, +I don't know much about all this," he declared. "So I've had rather an +observant eye on--on these young ladies you've had here from time to +time this summer, and I confess I'm filled with curiosity. Would you +mind telling me what you think the average girl of good family, and well +brought up, has in her mind's eye as a desirable future--I mean for the +next few years after school?--I don't know that I make myself clear. +What I want to get at is--You see, the great thing a young chap thinks +about is what he is going to make of himself--and how to do it. It +struck me as rather odd that not one of those girls seemed to have any +particular end in view--at least, that ever came out in her +conversation." + +I couldn't help smiling, his tone was so serious. + +The Skeptic chuckled. He had put up his pipe, and was sitting with his +hands clasped behind his head, as he leaned against one of the great +pillars of the porch. "They have one, just the same," he vouchsafed. "He +who runs may read." + +The Philosopher regarded him thoughtfully, through the half-light from +the hall lamp. "I noticed you did a good deal of running, first and +last," he observed. "I suppose you read before you ran--unless you have +eyes in the back of your head. Well," he continued, "you can't make me +believe that all girls are so anxious to make a good impression, or they +wouldn't do some of the things they do." + +"For instance?" I suggested, having become curious myself. Never before, +in an acquaintance dating far back, had I heard the Philosopher hold +forth upon this subject. + +"They make themselves conspicuous," said he promptly--to my great +surprise. "As nearly as I can get at it, that's the cardinal fault of +the girl of to-day. Everywhere I go I notice it--in public--in private. +Wherever she is she holds the floor, occupies the centre of the stage. +If you'll pardon my saying it, every last girl you had here this summer +did that thing, each in her own way." + +I thought about them--one after another. It was true. Each had, in her +own way, occupied the centre of the stage. And the Gay Lady, than whom +nobody has a better right to keep fast hold of her position in the +foreground of all our thoughts, had allowed each one to do it. And +somehow, in every case, after all, the real focus for all our eyes, +quite without her being able to help it, had been wherever the Gay Lady +had happened to be. + +We all went to bed early that night. The Philosopher's observations, +though highly interesting, did not keep us from becoming very sleepy at +an untimely hour. It was the same way next evening. And the next. In +fact, up to the very night before the Gay Lady's expected return, we +continued to cut short our days of waiting by as much as we could +venture to do without exciting the suspicion that we were weary of one +another. + +On that last evening the Skeptic fastened himself to me. He insisted on +my walking with him in the garden. + +"So she comes back to-morrow," said he, as we paced down the path, quite +as if he had just learned of the prospect of her return. + +"I can hardly wait," said I. + +"Neither can I," he agreed solemnly. "I knew I should miss her, +but--smoke and ashes!--I didn't dream the week would be a period of time +long enough for a ray of light to travel from Sirius to the earth and +back again." + +"If she could only hear that!" said I. + +"She's going to hear it," he declared with great earnestness. "She's +kept me quiet all summer, but--by a man's impatience!--she can't keep me +quiet any longer. Do you blame me?" he inquired, wheeling to look +intently at me through the September twilight. + +"Not a bit," said I. "I've only wished she could stand still until Lad +grows up." + +"You must think well of her, to say that," said he delightedly. "And, on +my word, I don't know but she will continue to stand still, as far as +looks go. But in mind--and heart--well, the only thing is, I'm so far +below her I don't dare to hope. All I know is that, for sheer womanly +sweetness and strength, there's nobody her equal. And yet, when I try to +put my finger on what makes her what she is--I can't tell." + +"One can't analyze her charm," said I, "except as you've just done +it--womanly sweetness and strength. Hepatica is--Hepatica. And being +that, we love her." + +"We do," said he, half under his breath, and caught my hand and gave it +a grip which stung. + + * * * * * + +The next morning the Gay Lady came home. We had not expected her until +evening, and when we heard a light footstep approaching through the hall +as we sat at breakfast, we looked at one another in dumb astonishment +and disbelief. But the next instant she stood smiling at us from the +doorway. + +She was glad to see us, too. From Lad's ecstatic embrace she came into +mine, and I heard her eager whisper--"I'm so glad to get back to _you!_" +The Skeptic and the Philosopher wrung her hand until I know her little +fingers ached, and they stared at her, the one like a brother, the other +like--well, she must have seen for herself. No, they were not rivals. +The Philosopher had seen the Skeptic's case, I think, from the first, +and being not only a philosopher but a man, and the Skeptic's best +friend, had never allowed himself to enter the race at all. I had +detected a wistful light in his eyes now and then, and had my own notion +of what might have happened if he had let it, but--there was only a very +warm brotherliness in the greeting he gave the Gay Lady, and she looked +back into his eyes too frankly for me to think he had ever let her see +anything else. + +She sat down at the table with us for a little, while we finished, and +you should have seen the difference in the look of the room. It was +another place. She ran upstairs to her own room, and I followed her, and +from being a deserted bedroom with a lonely aspect it became a human +habitation with an atmosphere of home. She took off her travelling +dress, talking gayly to me all the while, and brushed her bright locks, +and put on one of the charming white frocks which her own hands had +made, and then came and held me tight, and laughed, and was very near +crying, and said there was never such another place as this. + +"There certainly never is when you are in it, dear," I agreed, and +received such a reward for that as only the Gay Lady knows how to give. + +All day she stayed by me, wherever I might be. The Skeptic watched and +waited--he got not the ghost of an opportunity. When I was upon the +porch with the others she was there--and not a minute after. + + * * * * * + +When evening fell it found the Gay Lady on a cushion close by my knee. +Presently the Philosopher went off with the Lad down to the river. The +Skeptic accompanied them part of the distance, then returned quite +unexpectedly by way of the shrubbery, and swung up over the porch rail +at the end at a moment when the Gay Lady, feeling safe in his absence, +had gone to that end to see the moonlight upon the river. + +"'All's fair in love and war,'" exulted the Skeptic, somewhat +breathlessly. It seemed to be a favourite maxim with him. I recalled his +having excused himself for eluding Dahlia by that same well-worn +proverb. "No--don't run! Have I become suddenly so terrifying?" + +"Why should you be terrifying?" asked Hepatica. "Come and sit down and +tell us what you've all been doing while I was away." + +Her back was toward me. There was a long window open close beside me. My +sympathy was with the Skeptic. I slipped through it. + +An hour later I went out upon the porch again. Nobody was there. I sat +down alone, feeling half excited and half depressed, and wholly anxious +to know the outcome of the Skeptic's tactics. I waited a long time, as +it seemed to me. Then, without warning, a voice spoke. I could hardly +recognize it for the Skeptic's voice, it was strung so tense--with joy. + +"Don't shoot," it said. "We'll come down." + +I looked toward the end of the porch, where the vines cast a deep +shadow. I could not see them, but they must have been there all the +time. And the shadow cast by the vines was not a wide shadow at all. + + + + +PART II + + + + +I + +DAHLIA AND THE PROFESSOR + + Amen + Stuck in my throat. + --_Macbeth._ + + +The Skeptic and his wife, Hepatica, being happily established in a +beautifully spacious flat in town, measuring thirty feet by forty over +all, invited me to visit them. As both had spent considerable time at my +country home in summer, they insisted that it was only just for me to +allow them, that second winter after their marriage, to return my +hospitality. This argument alone would hardly have sufficed, for winter +in the country--connected by trolley with the town--is hardly less +delightful to me than summer itself. But there were other and convincing +arguments, and they ended by bringing me to the city for a month's visit +in the heart of the season. + +On the first morning at breakfast--I had arrived late the night +before--there was much to talk about. + +"It's a curious fact," said the Skeptic, stirring a cup of yellow-brown +coffee with which his wife had just presented him, "as Hepatica and I +discovered only the other day, that three of those girls who visited you +that summer four years ago, when she and I were avoiding each other----" + +"You--avoiding!" I interpolated. + +"Well--I was trying to avoid being avoided by her," he explained. "Three +of those girls are married and living in town." + +"Yes, I know," said I. "At least I know Camellia and Althea are. Who +else? Azalea lives across the river, doesn't she?" + +"Yes. You haven't heard of the latest matrimonial alliance, then?" The +Skeptic chuckled. Hepatica looked at him, and he looked at her, and then +they both looked at me. "Dahlia was married yesterday," the Skeptic +announced with relish, "in a manse study, with two witnesses." + +I was astounded. I had just come from home, and Dahlia was my next +neighbour. She had been away more or less all winter, but there had +been no announcement of any engagement--nor sign of one. + +The Skeptic, enjoying my stupefaction, proceeded to give what he +considered an explanation. "I don't see why you should be so surprised," +he said. "You knew Dahlia's methods. Her net was always spread, and +though a certain wise man declares it in vain to spread it in the sight +of any bird, humans are not always so wary. A man who chanced to be +walking along with his head in the clouds might get his feet entangled +in a cunningly laid net. And so it happened to the Professor." + +"The Professor!" I ejaculated. "Not--our Professor?" + +The Skeptic nodded solemnly. + +"He was our Professor," he amended. "He's hers now. And day before +yesterday he was free!" + +He glanced at his watch, folded his napkin in haste, seized his coat and +hat, kissed his wife, patted her shoulder, nodded at me, and was gone. A +minute later we heard the whirr and slide of his car, and Hepatica, at +the window, was returning his wave. + +"He's looking extremely well," I observed. "He must be twenty pounds +heavier than he was that summer. Avoiding being avoided was probably +rather thinning." + +"He does seem to enjoy his food," admitted Hepatica, regarding the +Skeptic's empty plate with satisfaction. + +"Not much doubt of that," I agreed, remembering the delicately hearty +breakfast we had just consumed. + +"It's really quite dreadful about Dahlia and the poor Professor, isn't +it?" said Hepatica presently. "And it's just as Don says: he was +literally caught in her net. I presume he couldn't tell to-day precisely +how it happened." + +"I've no doubt she could," said I ungenerously. "I shall be anxious to +see them." + +"Oh, you'll see them. It's in the middle of term--he couldn't take her +away. And his old quarters are just two blocks below us. She knew you +were coming. You'll probably see them within forty-eight hours." + +We did, though not where we could do more than take observations upon +them. The Philosopher came in that evening--he had known of my coming +from the moment that Hepatica had planned to ask me. He was looking +rather less well-fed than the Skeptic, but quite as philosophical, and +altogether as friendly as ever. He looked hard at me, and wrung my hand, +and immediately began to lay out a programme for my visit. As a +beginning he had procured tickets for the Philharmonic Society concert +to be given on the following evening. + +We told him about Dahlia. He had not heard. He looked quickly and +dumbfoundedly at the Skeptic, and the Skeptic grinned back at him. "You +feel for him, don't you, Philo?" he queried. + +The Philosopher shook his head, and seemed, for a time, much depressed; +upon which the Skeptic rallied him. "You ought to be jubilant to think +it's not yourself," he urged his friend. "You know, there was one time +when you feared even to go home with her, though you were to be within +call from the porch all the way." + +But the Philosopher cheered up presently in the pleasure of talking over +old times at the Farm. He had spent the past summer tramping through +Germany, and he and I had not met for many months. + +We went to the concert next evening, we four, in a jovial mood. There +was considerable sly joking, on the Skeptic's part, concerning the +change of conditions which now made Hepatica my chaperon, instead of, as +in former days, my being alert to protect her from visiting philosophers +and skeptics. The Philosopher and I took it quite in good part, for +nothing could be more settled than the unimpassioned character of our +old friendship--as there could be nothing more satisfactory. + +We had not more than taken our seats when the Skeptic leaned past +Hepatica to call my attention to two people who had come down the aisle +and were finding their places just across it and in the row ahead of us. +I turned to the Philosopher. + +"There they are," I whispered. So our four pairs of eyes gazed +interestedly that way. + +As she settled into place, Dahlia, whose pretty, flushed face had been +turned in every direction over the house as she got out of her evening +coat, caught sight of us. She bowed and smiled with great cordiality, +and immediately called her companion's attention to us. The +Professor--eighteen years Dahlia's senior, but one of the best men who +ever walked the earth, as we had long since discovered--turned and +scanned us over his spectacles. Then he also responded to our smiling +recognitions with a somewhat subdued but pleased acknowledgment. Dahlia +continued to whisper to him, still glancing back at us from time to time +with looks of good-fellowship, and he appeared to lend an attentive ear, +though he did not again turn toward us. + +As for us, in the interest of our observation of the bridal pair, we +fell rather silent. I was conscious that the Philosopher, regarding them +somewhat steadily, drew a deep breath which sounded like a sigh of +dissatisfaction. Noting how thin the Professor's ash-coloured hair +seemed to be, over the crown of his head, in comparison with Dahlia's +luxuriant and elaborately dressed chestnut locks, I felt depressedly +that the disparity in age was more marked than is often seen. This, in +itself, of course, was nothing; but taken in connection with---- + +The Skeptic leaned forward again. + +"What'll you wager I couldn't get up a flirtation with her to-night, if +I happened to sit next her?" he challenged in a whisper. + +"Don!" murmured Hepatica; but she smiled. + +"I'm not anywhere near his age," continued the Skeptic. "My auburn +tresses are thick upon my head, my evening clothes were made a decade +later than his. If I were only sitting next her!" + +At this moment some more people came down the aisle and were shown to +the seats immediately beyond our friends. As the Professor and Dahlia +stood up to let them through, we saw that though the newcomers passed +the Professor without recognition, the young man exchanged greetings +with Dahlia. As they took their seats the man, a floridly handsome +person, was at Dahlia's elbow. + +For the third time the Skeptic leaned forward. "It's just as well, +perhaps," he whispered, "that my observations are to be made upon a +proxy. What do you think the new chap's chances are for fun on both +sides of him?" + +I did not condescend to answer. And without further delay the famous +conductor of a famous orchestra came commandingly to the front of the +stage, welcomed by an outburst of applause, and with the rest of the +audience we became silent. + +But amidst all the delights of the ear which were ours that evening, the +eyes of all of us would wander, from time to time, across the aisle. The +Professor sat, with arms folded and head bent, drinking in the beauties +of sound which beat against his welcoming ears. Next him, Dahlia, the +bride of three days, was vindicating the Skeptic's opinion of her +undiminished accomplishments. The young man upon her right proved an +able second. The girl on his other side, by the time the concert was +half over, was holding her head high, or bending it to study a programme +which I am sure she did not see, while her companion played Dahlia's old +game with a trained hand. + +"Can the Ethiopian change his skin?" breathed the Philosopher in my ear, +during an intermission. + +"I'm afraid not," I assented dubiously. "But, of course, she may make a +devoted wife, nevertheless. That sort of thing doesn't mean anything to +her, you know. She merely does it as a matter of habit." + +"It can't be precisely an endearing habit to a husband," protested the +Philosopher. "If she would address a remark now and then to the poor man +at her left one might excuse her. And if she could carry on a +conversation with the other one in an ordinarily well-bred, friendly +way--and confine it to the intervals between numbers--one might be able +to forget her, which would be a relief. But all those silly tricks of +hers--those smiles, those archings of the neck--those lengthy looks up +into the eyes of that fool----" + +"Don't look at them," I advised. + +"I can't help looking at them. Everybody else is looking at +them--including yourself." + +It was quite true--everybody was, even people considerably out of range. +If Dahlia herself was conscious of this--and I'm sure she must have +been--she probably ascribed it to the charm of her appearance. She is +even prettier than she used to be. But, as we were wont to say of her +when we had owned to all her attractiveness--"if only!" + +"After all," urged Hepatica, on the homeward way, "we've no right to +judge by seeing them under those conditions. Wait till we've had them +alone with us. Dahlia told me on the way out that they were planning to +come and see us very soon.--I suggested to-morrow night, so they will +come then." + +"I'll be there," accepted the Philosopher--quite before he was asked. + +So on the following evening we saw them, alone with ourselves. The dear +Professor seemed to us, more than before, the pitiable victim of a woman +in every way unsuited to him. Yet he looked at Dahlia as if he cared for +her very much, and was only a trifle bewildered by her manner with other +men. + +"What dear times we used to have on the river!" said Dahlia to the +Philosopher, at a moment when nobody else happened to be speaking. She +accompanied this observation by a glance. It was Dahlia's glances which +gave life to her remarks. + +"I haven't fished in that river for three summers," replied the +Philosopher, in his most unsentimental tone. + +"You used to have better luck when you went alone," said Dahlia. "Do +you remember how we could never stop talking long enough to lure any +fish our way?" + +"Nevertheless, there has been considerable fishing done on that river, +first and last," asserted the Skeptic, with a twinkle at the +Philosopher, who looked uncomfortable. The Professor's gentle gaze was +fixed upon each speaker in turn, and as he now waited upon the +Philosopher's reply I saw the latter person frown slightly. + +"I never considered the fishing on that river very good," said he. + +"Oh, it didn't need to be," cried Dahlia. "I can shut my eyes now and +see the water rippling in the moonlight! Can't you?" She appealed to +the Skeptic. + +"I can't," said the Skeptic. "I never noticed how it rippled in the +moonlight. The big porch is my favourite haunt at the Farm. The smoking +is good there--keeps away the midges." + +"Midges!" Dahlia gave a little shriek. "There aren't any midges in that +part of the country." + +"There are some kinds of little, annoying insects that come around in +the evening, then," persisted the Skeptic, "just when people want to +settle down and have themselves to themselves. The Philosopher was +always more annoyed by them than I. He has a sensitive skin." + +Once started on this sort of allusive nonsense it was difficult for us +to head off the Skeptic. But presently, noting the Professor's kindly +face assuming a puzzled expression as he watched his wife's kittenish +demeanour, the Skeptic desisted. It did not seem necessary for him to +demonstrate to us that, quite as of old, he could attract Dahlia to his +side and keep her there. Before the evening was over he found himself +occupied--also quite as of old--with keeping out of her way. Altogether, +it was certainly not Dahlia's fault if the Professor did not gain the +impression that both the Skeptic and the Philosopher were rejected +suitors of her own. + +When they had gone, and the door had closed upon the last of the bride's +backward looks at our two men, the Skeptic dropped into a chair. + +"Hepatica, will you kindly mix a few drops of soothing syrup for me?" +he requested. + +But the Philosopher fell to marching up and down, his hands in his +pockets, and a deeper gloom on his brow than we had ever seen there. +Although a decade the Philosopher's elder, the Professor had long +shared bachelor quarters with him in past days; it had been only +within a year or two that the necessities of their occupations had +caused them to separate. + +"Why did I ever let him go off by himself?" the Philosopher muttered +remorsefully. "Why didn't I keep an eye on him?" + +"It would have made no difference," the Skeptic offered dismally as +consolation. "'Whom the gods would destroy they first make mad!' You +couldn't have prevented his madness." + +"I could have seen to it that such deadly instruments as marriage +licences and irresponsible clergymen were kept out of his way," groaned +the Philosopher. + +"Come, cheer up!" cried Hepatica, making haste to light the spirit-lamp +under her tea-kettle. "I'm going to brew you all a cup of comfort with +lemons and sugar and things." + +"Look at her!" commanded the Skeptic, rallying, "and tell me if marriage +is a failure." + +The Philosopher paused. "You know well enough what I think of your +marriage," he owned. + + + + +II + +CAMELLIA AND THE JUDGE + + I am ashamed that women are so simple + To offer war when they should kneel for peace. + --_Taming of the Shrew._ + + +"We are invited to spend the week-end with Camellia," announced my +hostess at the breakfast-table one morning, glancing up from a note +which the hall-boy had just brought to the door. + +The Skeptic jumped in his chair. "Those same old sensations come over +me," he announced, digging away vengefully at his grapefruit. "What have +I to wear? My only consolation now is that Camellia married a man who +cares about as much what he wears as I do." + +"It's not Camellia's clothes that bother me now," said Hepatica +thoughtfully, "so much as the formality of her style of entertaining. +My dear, she has a butler." + +"How horrible!" I agreed. "Can I hope to please the eye of the butler?" + +"Camellia's husband is a downright good fellow," said the Skeptic +warmly. "The fuss and feathers of his wife's hospitality can't +prevent his giving you the real thing. Even Philo likes to go +there--particularly when Camellia is away. I presume Philo's +invited now?" + +"So she says," assented Hepatica, studying her note again, with a care +not to look at me which made me quite as self-conscious as if she had. +Why the dear people will all persist in thinking things which do not +exist! Of course I was glad the Philosopher was to be there. What +enjoyment is not the keener for his friendly sharing of it? But what of +that? Has it not been so for many years?--and will be so, I trust, for +all to come. + + * * * * * + +Hepatica and I packed with care, selecting the most expensive things we +owned. Hepatica scrutinized the Skeptic's linen critically before she +put it in. When we departed we were as correctly attired as time and +thought could make us. When we arrived we were doubly glad that this +was so, for the sight of the butler, admitting us, gave us much the same +feeling of being badly dressed that Camellia's own presence had been +wont to do. + +Camellia herself was as exquisitely arrayed as ever, but she looked +considerably older than I had expected. I wondered if constant +engagements with her tailor and dressmaker, to say nothing of incessant +interviews with those who see to the mechanism of formal entertaining, +had not begun to wear upon her. But she was very cordial with us, and +her husband, the Judge, was equally so. He was considerably her +senior--quite as much so, I decided, as the Professor was Dahlia's--but +on account of Camellia's woman-of-the-world air the contrast was not so +pronounced. + +We sat through an elaborate dinner, during which I suffered more or less +strain of anxiety concerning my forks. But the Judge, at whose right +hand I sat, diverted me so successfully by means of his own most +interesting personality and delightful powers of conversation, that in +time I forgot both forks and butler, and was only conscious of the +length of the dinner by the sense, toward its close, of having had more +to eat than I wanted. + +[Illustration: "Camellia herself was as exquisitely arrayed as ever"] + +"They have this sort of thing every night of their unfortunate lives, +to a greater or less degree," murmured the Skeptic in my ear, as the men +came into the impressively decorated room where Camellia and Hepatica +and I were talking over common memories. "The gladdest man to get into +his summer camp in Maine is the Judge, and the life of absolute abandon +to freedom he lives there ought to teach his wife a thing or two--if she +were wise enough to heed it. Why two people--but I've just eaten their +salt," he acknowledged in reply to what I suppose must have been my +accusing look, and forbore to say more. + +"I think I'll give a little dinner for you to-morrow night," said +Camellia reflectively, as we sat about. "A very informal one, of +course--just some of our neighbours." + +I felt my spirits drop. I saw those of Hepatica and the Skeptic and the +Philosopher drop, although they made haste to prop their countenances +up again. + +But the Judge protested. "Why give anything, my dear?" he questioned. "I +doubt if our friends would prefer meeting our neighbours, whom they +don't know, to visiting with ourselves, whom they do--however egotistic +that may sound." + +"I want to make things gay for you," explained Camellia; "and the +Latimers and the Elliots are very gay."--The Judge only lifted his +handsome eyebrows.--"And the Liscombes are lovely," went on Camellia. +"Mrs. Liscombe sings." + +The Judge ran his hand through the thick, slightly graying locks above +his broad forehead. He did not need to tell us that he did not enjoy +hearing Mrs. Liscombe sing, and doubted if we should. + +"Harry Hodgson recites--we always have him when we want to make things +go. Oh, he's not a professional, of course. He only gives readings among +his special friends. I believe I'll run and telephone him now. He's so +likely to have engagements." Camellia hastened away. + + * * * * * + +We could hardly tell the Judge we fully agreed with his feeling about +to-morrow's proposed festivities, neither could we discuss his wife's +tastes with him. He and we talked of other things until Camellia came +back, having made her engagement with Mr. Harry Hodgson, and so having +sealed our fate for the succeeding evening. + +The Skeptic and the Philosopher spent much of the following day--it was +a legal holiday--with the Judge in his private den up on the third +floor. This, as Camellia showed us once when the men were away, was a +big, bare room--this was her characterization--principally fireplace, +easy-chairs, books and windows. I liked it better than any other place +in the house, for it was unencumbered with useless furniture of any +sort, and the view from its windows was much finer than that from +below stairs. + +"But we're not invited up here, you observe," was Camellia's comment. "I +don't come into it once a month. The Judge spends his evenings +here--when I don't actually force him to go out with me--and I spend +mine down in the pleasanter quarters. I have the Liscombes and the +Latimers in very often, but he never comes down if he can avoid it. They +understand he's eccentric, and we let it go at that." + +She spoke with the air of being a most kindly and forbearing wife. +I followed her downstairs, pondering over points of view. +Eccentric--because he preferred wide fires and elbow-room and +outlook to Camellia's crowded and over-decorated rooms below, and +his books to Mrs. Liscombe's music and Mr. Harry Hodgson's "readings." +I felt that I knew Mrs. Liscombe and Mr. Hodgson and the rest quite +without having seen them. + + * * * * * + +I found, the next evening, that my imagination had not gone far astray. +Camellia's friends were certainly quite as "gay" as she had pictured +them, and gorgeously dressed. I felt, as I attempted to maintain my part +among them, like a country mouse suddenly precipitated into the society +of a company of town-bred squirrels. + +Mrs. Liscombe sang for us. I could not make out what it was she sang, +being unfamiliar with the music and unable to understand the words. She +possessed a voice of some beauty, but was evidently determined to be +classed among the sopranos who are able to soar highest, and when she +took certain notes I experienced a peculiar and most disagreeable +sensation in the back of my neck. + +"I wonder if we couldn't bring in a stepladder for her," murmured the +Skeptic in my ear. "It gives me a pang to see a woman, alone and +unassisted, attempt to reach something several feet above her head!" + +Mr. Hodgson recited for us with great fervour. He fought a battle on the +drawing-room floor, fought and bled and died, all in a harrowing tenor +voice. He was slender and pale, and it seemed a pity that he should have +to suffer so much with so many stalwart men at hand. From the first +moment, when he drew his sword and leaped into the fray, our sympathies +were with him, although he personified a doughty man of battles, and led +ten thousand lusty followers. There were moments when one could not +quite forget the swinging coat-tails of his evening attire, but on the +whole he was an interesting study, and I was much diverted. + +"Dear little fellow!"--it was the Skeptic again. "How came they to let +him go to war--and he so young and tender?" + +I exchanged observations with Mr. Hodgson after his final reading; I +can hardly say that I conversed with him, for our patchwork interview +could not deserve that name. At the same time I noted with interest the +Philosopher's expression as he and Mrs. Liscombe turned over a pile of +music. If I had not known him so well I should have been deceived by +that grave and interested air of his--a slight frown of concentrated +attention between his well-marked eyebrows--into thinking him deeply +impressed by the lady's dicta and by her somewhat dashing manner as she +delivered them. But, familiar of old with the quizzical expression which +at times could be discovered to underlie the exterior of charmed +absorption, I understood that the Philosopher was quietly and skilfully +classifying a new, if not a rare, specimen. + +When the guests had lingeringly departed I saw, as I went to my room, +three male forms leaping up the second flight of stairs toward the +Judge's den. + +"Don't you envy them the chance to soothe their nerves with a pipe +beside the fire up there?" I asked Hepatica as, with hair down and +trailing, loose garments, she came into my room through the door which +we had discovered could be opened between our quarters. + +"Indeed I do. They went up those stairs like three dogs loosed from the +leash, didn't they? Can one blame them?" + +"One cannot." + +Hepatica gazed at me. I stared back. But we were under our host's roof. + +"Mrs. Liscombe really has quite a voice," said Hepatica, examining the +details of the tiny travelling workbag I always carry with me. + +"So she has." + +"It was a wonderful dinner, wasn't it?" + +"It was, indeed. Would you mind having quite specially simple things to +eat for a day or two after we go back?" + +"I've been planning them," admitted Hepatica. + +"Mr. Hodgson's readings were--entirely new to me; were they to you? I +had never heard of the authors." + +"Few people can have heard of them, I think. Several were original." + +"Indeed!" + +"Would you mind taking off your society manner?" requested Hepatica, a +trifle fractiously. "I'm a little tired of seeing you wear it so +incessantly." + +"I shall be delighted," I agreed. + +I sprang up and she met me half-way, and seizing me about the neck +buried her face in my shoulder. I felt her shaking with smothered +laughter, and had great difficulty in keeping my own emotions under +control. + +We went home on Sunday afternoon, the Skeptic pleading the necessity of +his being up at an early hour next morning. By unanimous consent we went +to the evening service of a church where one goes to hear that which is +worth hearing, and invariably hears it. The music there is also worth a +long journey, though it is not at all of an elaborate sort. + +"There, I feel better after that," declared the Skeptic heartily, as we +came out. "It seems to take the taste of last evening out of my mouth." + +Nobody said anything directly about our late visit until we had reached +home. Then the Skeptic fired up his diminutive gas grate--which is much +better than none at all--and turned off the electrics. We sat before +the cheery little glow, luxuriating in a sense of relaxation. + +"It seems ungracious, somehow to discuss people, when one has just left +their hospitality," suggested Hepatica, as the Skeptic showed signs of +letting loose the dogs of war. + +"Not between ourselves, dear," affirmed the Skeptic. "We four constitute +a private Court of Inquiry into the Condition of Our Friends. When I +think of the Judge----" + +"He has his own way, after all, when it comes to refusing to join in the +sort of thing that pleases Camellia," said I. + +"Of course he does. He's too much of a man not to have it. But living +upstairs while my wife lives downstairs isn't precisely my ideal of +married happiness." + +The Philosopher shoved his hands far down into his pockets and laid his +head back, gazing up at the ceiling. "What puzzles me," he mused, "is +the attraction such a woman has, at the start, for such a man." + +"Camellia was a most attractive girl," said I. + +"You mean her clothes were most attractive," amended the Skeptic. "They +even befuddled me for a few brief hours, as I remember--till I +discovered that not all is gold that----" + +"You didn't discover that yourself," the Philosopher reminded him. "We +had to do it for you. You don't mind our recalling his temporary +paralysis of intellect?" he questioned Hepatica suddenly. "It was all +your fault, anyhow, for retiring to the background and allowing the +fireworks to have full play." + +Hepatica smiled. The Skeptic put out his hand and got hold of hers and +drew it over to his knee, where he retained it. "She knows I never +swerved a point off my allegiance to her," he declared with confidence. + +"Do you suppose," suggested Hepatica, "if the Judge and Camellia were to +lose all their money and had to come down to living in a little home +like this, it would help things any?" + +The Skeptic shook his head. The Philosopher shook his, thoughtfully. +"It's too late," said the latter. "Her ideals are a fixed quantity now, +to be reckoned with. So are his. Under any conditions there would be +absolute diversity of tastes." + +"I don't think there's any ideal more hopelessly fixed than the fine +clothes ideal." The Skeptic looked at his wife. + +"I like nice clothes," said she, smiling at him. + +"So you do," he rejoined; "thank heaven! A woman who doesn't is +abnormal. But when we walk down certain streets together you can see +something besides the shop-windows." + +"I look away so I won't want the things," confessed Hepatica. + +The Skeptic laughed, and the Philosopher and I joined him. + +"I passed Mrs. Hepatica the other day when she didn't see me," said the +Philosopher to me. "She was staring fixedly in at a shop-window. I stole +up behind her to see what held such an attraction for her.--It often +lets a great light in on a friend's character, if you can see the +particular object in a shop-window which fixes his longing attention. +When I had discovered what she was looking at I stole away again, +chuckling to myself." + +"What was it?" I asked. + +"I'll wager half I own that the wife of our friend the Judge wouldn't +have given that window a second glance," pursued the Philosopher. + +"It was probably a bargain sale of paper patterns," guessed the Skeptic. +But we knew he didn't think it. + +"A bargain sale of groceries, more likely," said Hepatica herself. + +"It was no bargain sale of anything," denied the Philosopher. "It was a +most expensive edition of the works of Charles Dickens." + +"Good for you, Patty!" cried the Skeptic. + + + + +III + +AZALEA AND THE CASHIER + + A mother is a mother still, + The holiest thing alive. + --_S. T. Coleridge._ + + +"I am to spend the day with Azalea to-morrow," I announced, as I said +good night, one evening, "and I shall not come back until so late that +you mustn't sit up for me. Azalea couldn't ask me to stay all night, on +account of using the guest-room for a nursery during the winter, but +she's very anxious to have me there in the evening, for it's the only +chance I shall have to see her husband." + +"Remain late enough to see her husband, by all means," urged the +Skeptic. "I want to hear what sort of man had the courage to marry a +musical genius who could wipe only one teaspoon at a time." + +"Azalea was a lovely girl," said Hepatica warmly. "It couldn't take much +courage to marry her." + +"All right--we'll hear about it when our guest comes back. And I'll be +over to bring you home, if you'll telephone about an hour before you'll +be ready to start." + +"Thank you--it really won't be necessary for you to come," I replied. + +The Skeptic eyed me narrowly. Then he glanced at Hepatica and grinned. +"Good night," said I, again, and walked away to my room. + +"Good night," the Skeptic called after me. "But don't hesitate to call +me if anything should detain Philo." + +I arrived at Azalea's home early next morning, having been earnestly +asked to come in time to see the babies take their bath. There is +nothing I like better than to see a baby take a bath, and to see two at +once was a bribe indeed. + +Azalea met me at the door of her suburban home, the larger of her two +children--the two-year-old--on her arm. He was evidently just ready for +his bath, for he was wrapped in a blanket, and one pink foot stuck +temptingly out from its folds. Azalea greeted me with enthusiasm, +pushing back the loose, curling locks from her forehead as she did so, +explaining that Bud had just pulled them down. She did not look in the +least like the girl who had sung for us, but it occurred to me that, +enveloped in the big flannel bath-apron, she was even more engaging than +she had been upon the porch at the Farm. + +I don't know when I have enjoyed anything so much as I enjoyed seeing +Azalea give that bath. The little baby was asleep in her crib when we +went into the nursery--which had been the guest-room before the second +baby came--so Azalea gave Bud his splash all by himself. He was plump +and dimpled and jolly, and he cried only once--when his mother +inadvertently rubbed soap in his eyes while talking with me. When he +smiled again he was a cherub of cherubs, but he had waked his small +sister, and Azalea gave me permission to take her up while she finished +with Bud. She was six months old, and she was afraid of me only for a +minute or two, and I held her and cuddled her and wanted to take her +away with me so fiercely that I had all I could do to give her over to +Azalea for her bath. Boy babies are delightful, but girl babies are +heavenly! + + * * * * * + +We had a busy day--made up of babies, with more or less talk between, +which didn't matter in the least. Late in the afternoon Azalea put +everything straight in the rooms, more or less upset by Bud during the +day; and dressed herself for the evening. She dressed both children, +also, making them fresh as rosebuds. I saw her putting flowers on the +table in the dining-room, lighting a special reading-lamp at a table in +the corner of the living-room, and pulling an easy chair to stand close +beside it. There was a small grand piano in the room. It had been closed +all day, for Bud's fingers could just reach the keyboard. Azalea opened +it. + +"You haven't had time to-day," said I, "but I'm looking forward to +hearing you sing this evening." + +"It's my husband you are to hear sing," said Azalea contentedly. "He has +a splendid voice." + +"I shall be delighted," I agreed; "but surely you will sing too." + +"My voice seems to wake up the children," said she, "Arthur's never +does. It's odd, for his voice is much heavier, of course. But I can +never take really high notes without hearing a wail from either Bud or +Dot. And that's not worth while." + +"Won't you sing now, then," I begged, "while they are awake? I really +can't go away without hearing you. And you know when the Philosopher +comes he will be so anxious to have you sing." + +"The babies will go to bed before dinner," she insisted, "so I can't +very well sing for the Philosopher. But I'll sing for you now, of +course." + +She laid little Dot in my lap, but Dot was already sleepy and protested. +So Azalea went to the piano with Dot on her arm. Bud, seeing her go, +followed and stood by her knee--on her trailing skirts. I don't know how +she managed to play her own accompaniment, but she did--at least subdued +chords enough to carry the harmony of the song. There were no notes +before her on the rack, and she looked down into one or the other of the +two small faces as she sang. And, of course, it was a lullaby which +fell like notes of pearl and silver from her lips. + +When she finished, I could only smile at her through an obscuring mist. +Never, in all the times I had heard her sing, had she reached my heart +like this. But, somehow, the picture of her, sitting in the half light +at the grand piano, with the babies in her arms and at her knee, singing +lullabies and leaving the fine music for her husband to sing by and by, +was quite irresistible. Somehow, as I listened, I was troubled by no +doubts lest she had not learned deftly to wipe ten teaspoons at once. + +Her husband came home presently; a tall, thin, young bank cashier, with +a face I liked at once. He was plainly weary, but his eyes lit up with +satisfaction at sight of the three who met him at the door, and the +welcome his young son gave him showed that Bud recognized a play-fellow. +I heard the pair romping upstairs as the Cashier made dressing for +dinner a game in which the little child could join. + +[Illustration: "The picture of her, sitting in the half light at the +grand piano, with the babies in her arms and at her knee ... was quite +irresistible"] + +But before we sat down to dinner both babies had been put to bed. The +Cashier remained with me while Azalea was busy at this task, but he +excused himself toward the last, and went tiptoeing upstairs, where I +think he must have offered his services in getting the children tucked +away. While he was gone the Philosopher arrived. + +I let him in myself, motioning the maid away. It was a small house, and +I knew she was needed in the kitchen. "Don't make a bit of noise," I +cautioned him, as he came smiling into the little hall. "The babies are +going to bed." + +"Babies!" whispered the Philosopher, in an awestruck way. "I didn't know +there were any babies." + +"Of course you knew it," I whispered back, leading him into the room. +"If you would only store away really important facts in that capacious +mind of yours, instead of limiting it to----" + +"Tell me how many babies, and of what sex--quick!" commanded the +Philosopher, "or I shall say the wrong thing. And how on earth do they +come to know enough to put their babies to bed before they ask a +bachelor to dine, anyhow?" + +I hastily set him straight upon these points, adding that Azalea had +developed wonderfully. + +"You mean she can soar to high Q now, I suppose?" interpreted the +Philosopher. + +"Not at all. I mean that she's----" + +But they were coming downstairs together. The Cashier's arm was about +his wife's shoulders; he removed it only just in time to save his +dignity as he entered. + +"I'm disappointed not to see the boy and girl," declared the Philosopher +genially. The Cashier took him by the shoulders and turned him toward +the light, laughing. "That was bravely said," he answered. "How did you +know but we might go and wake them up for you to see?" + +The dinner was quite unpretentious, but very good. Evidently Azalea had +a capable servant. We talked gaily, the Cashier proving an adept at +keeping the ball in the air, and keenly appreciative of others' attempts +to meet him at the sport. + +By and by, when we were back in the room where the grand piano stood, +and conversation had reached a momentary halt, Azalea went to the piano. +"Come, Arthur," she said, sitting down at it and patting a pile of +music, "I want our friends to hear 'The Toreador.'" + +The Cashier looked up protestingly. "You are the one they want to hear, +dear," he declared. + +She shook her head. "They've heard me often, but never you, I think. +Besides, it wakes the babies, you know, for me to sing." + +"You don't need to sing high notes, Azalea," I urged. "I'd like nothing +so well as the lullaby you sang to the babies." + +But she shook her head again. "That's their song," she said. "You were +specially privileged to hear it at all. But I can't do it for company. +Come, Arthur--please." + +So the Cashier sang. The Philosopher and I found it necessary to avoid +each other's eyes as he did it. The Cashier could roar 'The Toreador,' +no doubt of that. The voice of the bull of Bashan would have been as the +summer wind in the trees beside it. Where so much volume came from we +could not tell, as we looked at the thin frame of the performer. Why the +babies did not wake up will ever remain a mystery. Why Azalea did not +desert her accompaniment to press her hands over bursting ear drums I +cannot imagine, for it was with difficulty that I surrendered my own to +the shock. But Azalea played on to the end, and looked up into the +Cashier's flushed face at the last note with a smile of proprietary +triumph. Then she turned about to us. + +"That fairly takes me off my feet!" cried the Philosopher. I groped +hurriedly for a compliment which would match the equivocal fervour of +this, but I could not equal it. + +"How much you must enjoy singing together," I said, "when the babies are +awake,"--and felt annoyed that I could have said it, for I could really +not imagine the two voices together. + +Azalea glowed. The Cashier grinned. He is as quick-witted as he is +good-humoured. "You're a clever pair," he chuckled. + +"I've trained him myself," said Azalea. "When I knew him first he'd +never thought of singing. I only discovered his voice by accident. It +needs much more work with it, of course, but it's powerful, and it has a +quality that will improve with cultivation." + +The Cashier patted her shoulders. "Now you sing some soft little thing +for them, my girl," he commanded--and looking up at him again, Azalea +obeyed. She chose an old ballad, one with no chance in it to show the +range of her voice. She sang it exquisitely, and the Cashier stood by +and turned her music as if he considered it a high privilege. Yet, +half-way through, the little Dot woke up. Azalea broke off in the middle +of a bar, and fled up the stairs. + +"The truth is, I'm afraid," said the Cashier, looking after her with an +expression on his face which indicated that he wanted to flee, too, +"nothing really counts in this house but the babies." + +"They--and something else," suggested the Philosopher gently. + +The Cashier looked at him. He nodded. "Yes--and something else," he +agreed with his bright smile. + +We came away rather late. The Philosopher looked up at the house as the +door closed upon the warm farewells which had sent us out into the +night. "It's a little bit of a house, isn't it?" he commented. + +I looked up, too--at the nursery windows where the faintest of +night-lights showed. "Yes, it's very small," I agreed. "Yet quite big +enough, although it holds so much." + +"One would hardly have said, four years ago, that anything smaller than +the biggest musical auditorium in the city would have been big enough to +hold Azalea's voice," he mused. + +"If you could have heard her sing her lullaby to those babies," I +replied, as we walked slowly on, "you would have said her voice would be +wasted on a concert audience." + +"It seems a pleasant home." + +"It _is_ one." + +"Somehow, one distrusts the ability of musical prodigies to make +pleasant homes." + +"I wonder why. Shouldn't the knowledge of any art make one appreciative +of other arts?" + +"It took some time for a certain exhibition of the domestic art to +strike in, at your home, that summer," said the Philosopher. "But I +believe Azalea came to envy our Hepatica at the last, didn't she?" + +"Indeed she did. And she's never got over envying her her +accomplishments. She asked me ever so many questions to-day about +Hepatica's housekeeping. I wish I had had a chance before I went to tell +her that I was sure her will to succeed would make her home as dear a +one as even Hepatica's could be." + +"One thing is sure--as long as she lets the Cashier do the singing in +the limelight, while she looks after the babies, there'll be no occasion +for their friends to demand more music of an evening than is good for +her pride of spirit," chuckled the Philosopher. "What--are we at our +station already? I say--let's not make a quick trip by train--let's make +a slow one, by cab." + +"By cab! It would take two hours! No, no--here comes our train." + +"This is the first time we've gone anywhere since you've been here +without two alert chaperons--younger than myself," grumbled the +Philosopher. + +"The more reason, then, that we should give them no anxiety on my +account." + +"I'd like to walk the whole way," said he. + +I laughed as I obeyed the signal of an impatient guard and rushed upon +the train. "Now, talk to me," said I, as we took our seats. + +"My lungs weren't built for the Toreador song," he objected. + + + + +IV + +ALTHEA AND THE PROMOTER + + What an interesting fellow our host is! He is almost more + interesting because of the qualities he does not possess, than + because of the qualities that he does possess. + --_Arthur Christopher Benson._ + + +"'_Be it ever so humble_,'" quoted the Skeptic under his breath to me, +"'_there's no place like_----'" + +Hepatica turned and gave him a smiling look which nevertheless conveyed +warning. He needed it. The Skeptic was in a mad and merry mood to-night, +and no glance shot at him which, being interpreted, meant that we were +under our hosts' roof, had thus far been of avail. "We are not under +their roof," he argued defiantly, in reply to one of these silent +remonstrances. "This isn't their roof. This is the roof of the Hotel +Amazon. That's a very different thing. So different that if I lived +under it I'd----" + +But the Promoter was approaching us again, with the news that dinner +had just been announced as served. He immediately led the way with me, +Hepatica followed with the Philosopher, and Althea and the Skeptic +brought up the rear. It was on the great staircase that the Skeptic, +pausing to gaze upward, at a command from the Promoter, who had just bid +him observe certain mural decorations done by the distinguished hand of +some man of whom I fear none of us had ever heard, murmured the +well-known words concerning the humble home. + +"I always like to walk down this staircase when I'm not in a hurry," I +had heard Althea saying to the Skeptic behind us, "to get the effect +from the landing. Isn't it wonderful?" + +We all paused upon the landing, which was about thirty feet square. The +Skeptic, leaning against the marble balustrade, gazed out over the scene +with an air of prostrating himself before a shrine. Awe and wonder +dominated his aspect. Only we who were familiar with a certain curving +line over his left eyebrow knew that he was longing to break into an +apostrophe on the magnificence before him which would have alienated +Althea and her husband forevermore. + +"These columns are of the purest (something) marble," declared the +Promoter, laying his hand upon one of them. He rather mumbled the name, +and I think none of us were able to recognize it. + +"Indeed!" said the Skeptic, and laid his hand upon the column. "It +seems stout." + +"It's the same that is used in the Royal Palace at Athens," added +the Promoter. + +"That must be why it feels so Greece-y to the touch," murmured the +Skeptic; but, luckily, nobody heard him but myself. + +In due course of time, proceeding across a gorgeous lobby and traversing +an impressive corridor, passing lackeys in livery and guests in evening +finery, we arrived at the doorway of the most elaborately ornate dining +hall I had ever seen. The Promoter paused in the doorway to let the +first impression sink in. + +"I could have had our dinner served in a private dining-room, of +course," said he to us, "but Althea and I decided that you would enjoy +this better. There's nothing like it anywhere. It's absolutely +cosmopolitan. People from all over the world are dining here +to-night--are every night. Every tenth man is worth his millions. Notice +the third table on the right as we go by. That's Joseph L. Chrysler, the +iron magnate. With his party is a French actress--worshipped on both +sides the water. Keep your eyes peeled." + +A bowing potentate motioned us forward. A bending waiter put us in our +places. Orchids decorated our table. An extraordinarily expensive +orchestra celebrated our arrival with strains from a popular opera then +raging. People all around glanced at us and immediately away again. I +suppose we showed by our appearance that we were the possessors neither +of millions nor of world-renowned accomplishments. + +The Promoter leaned back in his chair with the demeanour of a large and +puffy young frog on the edge of a pool. He settled his white waistcoat +and looked from side to side with the superior glance of a man who owns +the whole thing. Althea, in her place, also wore a self-conscious air of +being hostess to a party which must appreciate the privilege of dining +under such auspices. + +Our table was a circular one, and the Skeptic sat upon my right. The +Promoter at my left occupied himself with Hepatica much of the +time--Hepatica had never looked lovelier than to-night, though her +simple, white evening frock was not cut half so low as Althea's pink, +embroidered one, nor cost half so much as my plain pale-gray. Althea +devoted herself to the Philosopher--she and the Skeptic had never got on +very well. Meanwhile the Skeptic was saying things into my ear, under +cover of the orchestra and the loud hum of talk. + +"This is a crowd," he commented. "This certainly is a crowd! Men of +millions, and men who don't know how they're going to meet the next note +due, but bluffing it through. Somebodies and nobodies. Kingfish and +minnows--and some of the kingfish are going to swallow the minnows at +the next gulp----What in the name of time is this we're eating now?" + +I expressed my ignorance. + +"And what's this we're to have with it?" he pursued. "Look out!" + +He had known I would thank him for the warning. I shielded my glass from +an imminent bottle. It was the third time already, and the dinner was +not far on its way. I saw Hepatica shield hers--also for the third time. +A tiny flush was beginning to creep up Althea's cheeks. She had refused +only the first offering of the waiter. + +The Promoter turned and viewed my empty glasses with ill-disguised +contempt. "We'll have to get you to stay in town long enough to overcome +those notions of yours," said he. "Look around you. I'll wager there's +not another in the room." + +If I flushed it was not for either of the reasons which caused the +brilliant cheeks I saw all about me. "I think you are quite right," said +I, as I looked. I saw a garrulous lady at the table on my right, whose +high laughter was beginning to carry far; I observed a sleepy one at my +left, who had spilled champagne down the front of her elaborate corsage +and was nodding over her ices. I glanced at Hepatica. Her pretty head +was held high; her eyes, too, sparkled, but not with wine. + +The Promoter began to talk of investments, telling stories of great +_coups_ made by men who had the daring. + +"Not necessary for them to have the money, I suppose?" queried the +Philosopher. + +"Not at all," agreed the Promoter. "Life's a game of poker. If you're +not afraid to sit in, and have the nerve to bluff it through, you can +win out with a hand that would make a quitter commit suicide." + +Althea listened with pride to her husband's discourse. "He's a man of +the world," one could see she was thinking, "who is making the eyes drop +out of the heads of these simple people." + +"I'm so impressed," said the Skeptic to me, "that I can hardly eat. +Think of living in a place like this--having this every day--common, +like the dust under your feet. Can I ever eat creamed codfish and +johnny-cake again, think you? Hepatica must name the hash by a French +name and serve me grape juice with it, or I can't condescend to eat it. +I say--the smoke is getting a bit thick here for you ladies, isn't it?" + +We had been late in coming down, and at many tables people were nearing +the end of the dinner. For some time the odour of expensive cigars had +been growing heavier throughout the room; a blue haze hung over the more +distant tables. + +"I don't think my lungs mind it so much as my feelings," I answered. "I +shall never be able to make it seem to me just--just----" + +"Try to subdue the expression which dominates your countenance at the +present moment," counselled the Skeptic gently, "or you will be quietly +led away from the scene as dangerous to your fellow-men." + +After what seemed like many hours we reached the end of the dinner. I +felt that I should be glad to reach the quiet and comparative purity of +air to be found in the room in which our hosts had received us--a +private drawing-room. But this was not to be. We were taken from place +to place about the hotel, to look in on this or that scene of +entertainment, of banqueting, of revelry. Gorgeousness upon gorgeousness +was revealed to us. Althea, now very gay and sparkling in manner, her +carefully dressed hair a little loosened, her mind full of schemes for +our diversion, took the lead, showing off everything with that air of +personal possession I have often observed in the frequenters of +hostelries like the Amazon. + +Hepatica, in spite of evident effort to maintain her part, grew a trifle +silent. As I regarded her I was reminded of a white dove in the company +of a pair of peacocks. The Philosopher adjusted his eyeglasses from time +to time as if they did not fit well; he seemed to feel his vision +growing distorted. I became intensely fatigued with it all, and found +myself longing for a quiet corner and a book. As for the Skeptic--but +the Skeptic was incorrigible. + +"How much does it cost, do you say," he inquired of the Promoter, "to +buy a postage stamp at the desk here? I want to put one on a letter I +have in my pocket. May I slip it into the post-box myself, or do I have +to call a flunkey, present him with a dollar, and respectfully request +him to insert it in the slit for me?" + +The Promoter smiled. "Oh, people make a joke of the Amazon," said he. +"But I notice they're the same ones who breathe deep when they go by +it, hoping to inhale the atmosphere free of charge." + +The Skeptic inflated his lungs. "I'm going to do it here, inside," said +he, "where it's more highly charged." + +At length they took us to their own rooms. I have forgotten how many +floors up they were, but it didn't matter, in a luxurious elevator, +padded and mirrored. In one of the mirrors I caught the Philosopher's +eye regarding me so steadily that I felt a sudden sense of relief at the +realization that some time we should be out and away together in the +fresh air again. It seemed to me a long while since I had been able to +see things from the Philosopher's point of view. + +We looked at our hosts' private apartments with interest. As the Skeptic +passed me on his way to inspect a system of electrical devices on the +wall, to which the Promoter was calling his attention, he was softly +humming an air. It was, "_Be it ever so humble_," again. + +The rooms were very elaborately furnished; the hangings were heavy and +sumptuous. A massive oak mantelpiece harboured a fire of gas-logs. +There were a few--not many--apparently personal belongings about the +rooms; _bric-a-brac_ and photographs--the latter mostly of actors and +opera singers. In Althea's bedroom we came upon a dressing-table which +reminded me of my own, upon the occasion of Althea's visit to me, a few +years before. Althea calmly stirred over everything upon it in the +effort to find a small jewel-case whose contents she wished to show me. +She found it in the end, although for a time the task seemed hopeless. + +We sat down in the outer room and listened again to the Promoter's tales +of the great strokes of business he had brought off--"deals," he called +them. The stories contained much food for thought in the shape of +revelations of character in this or that man of prominence. What we +should have talked about if he had not thus held the floor I could not +guess. I had noted that there were upon a ponderous table six popular +novels, as many magazines, and piles of the great dailies. Nowhere could +I descry even a small collection of books of the sort which may furnish +material for conversation. I tried to imagine the Philosopher drawing a +certain beloved book of essays from his pocket, settling himself +comfortably with his back to the drop-light, and beginning to read aloud +to us, as he is accustomed to do in the Skeptic's little rooms. Here was +not even a drop-light for him to do it by, only electric sconces set +high upon the walls, and a fanciful centre electrolier. He must, +perforce--for he needs a strong light for reading--have stood close +under one of the sconces to read from his book of essays. I tried to +fancy Althea and the Promoter politely listening--or appearing to +listen. This really drew too heavily upon my imagination, and I gave it +up. + +At a late hour we escaped. I learned afterward that before we left the +Promoter took our men aside and offered them one more thing to drink. +This really seemed superfluous, and--judging by the straightforward gait +of our escorts, to say nothing of my knowledge of their habits--there is +no doubt that it was. + +Outside the hotel the Philosopher, looking away from it and from +the other great buildings which surrounded us on every side, sent +his gaze upward to the starry winter's sky. He drew in deep breaths +of the frosty air. + +"Getting the Amazon out of your blood?" inquired the Skeptic. "Amazon's +a mighty good name for it. It thinks it's sophisticated and refined--but +it isn't. It's a great, blowsy, milkmaid of a hotel, with all her best +clothes on, perpetually going to a fair." + +"I'm not so much re-filling my insulted lungs," said the Philosopher, +"as drawing breaths of relief that I got away without buying a block of +stock in something, or putting my name down to be one of a company for +the development of something else." + +"Oh, we were safe enough," the Skeptic declared. "This was a private +dinner with ladies present; the Promoter gave us only a delicate sample +of what he could do. Wait till he gets you at luncheon with him in the +grill-room, all by yourself--then you can find out what he is when he's +after game. Unless you're tied to the mast, so to speak, with your ears +stopped with wax, you'll land on the shore of the enchanted country he +pictures for you. He's deadly, I assure you. That's why he can afford to +live at the Amazon." + +"I wonder how Althea likes it?" speculated Hepatica. + +"Likes it down to the ground--and up to the roof," asserted the Skeptic. +"That's plain enough. It saves housekeeping--and picking up her room," +he added softly to Hepatica--but I heard him. Hepatica did not reply. + +"Let's not stop at this station," proposed the Skeptic as we walked on, +"but keep on up to the next. A fast walk will do us all good after that +feast of porpoises." + +"I suppose they call that living," said the Philosopher, as we turned +aside into quieter streets. + +"Of course they do, and so does everybody else at those tables +to-night--with four exceptions." + +"Oh, come," demurred the Philosopher, "possibly there were a few other +wise men in that company besides ourselves. Who would have known from +your appearance as you sat there gorging with the rest, that you were +inwardly protesting, and greatly preferred the simple life? Don't +flatter yourself that you had the aspect of an ascetic. There were +moments during that meal when any unprejudiced observer who didn't know +you would have sworn that you were deeply gratified that no other +engagement had prevented you from dining in your favourite haunt." + +"Don't throw stones," retorted the Skeptic. "I saw you when you caught +sight of some particularly prosperous looking people at another table +and bowed convivially to them as one who says, 'You here, too? Of +course. Our set, you know!'" + +"Quits!" admitted the Philosopher. "Well then--it's the ladies who did +succeed in looking like visitants from another world." + +This was rather poetical for the Philosopher, and of course it led us to +wonder wherein he thought we differed. Hepatica asked anxiously if she +really had looked so very old-fashioned in the white evening frock which +had been three times made over. + +"Hopelessly old-fashioned," assented the Philosopher. "Hopelessly +old-fashioned. But not so much in the matter of the frock as in some +other things. Heaven forbid that it should be otherwise!" + +"Amen!" responded the Skeptic fervently. + + + + +V + +RHODORA AND THE PREACHER + + When the fight begins within himself + A man's worth something. + --_Robert Browning._ + + +The Skeptic brought up the letter with him as he came home to dinner; it +had arrived in the last mail. The Philosopher happened to be dining with +us that night, so we four were together when the news came upon us. As +Hepatica read it aloud we stared at one another, astonished. + +The letter was from Grandmother, inviting us to Rhodora's wedding, which +was to take place under her roof. Rhodora herself had been practically +under Grandmother's roof for four years now, except as she had been sent +to a school of Grandmother's selection. Rhodora had no mother. Her +father, an absorbed man of business, had, at Grandmother's suggestion, +been glad to let her have the girl to bring up--or to finish bringing +up--according to her own ideas. When we had first seen Rhodora there +could be no question that she sadly needed bringing up by somebody. To +that date she had, apparently, only come up by herself. + +"I, for one, have never seen her since that none-too-short visit she +made you, that summer," said the Skeptic reminiscently. "It has never +occurred to me to long to see her again. She was a mere lusty infant +then. And now she's to be married. How time gets on! What did you say +was the name of the unfortunate chap?" + +"'The Reverend Christopher Austen,'" re-read Hepatica from the letter. + +"He will need all the fortitude the practice of his profession can have +developed in him, if my recollections can be depended upon to furnish a +basis for the present outlook," said the Skeptic gloomily. + +"You don't know that he will, at all," I disputed. "Rhodora was only a +girl when you saw her. She has been four years under Grandmother's +influence since then. Can you imagine that has accomplished nothing?" + +The Skeptic shook his head. "That would be like a dove attempting the +education of a hawk. The girl has probably learned not to break into the +conversation of her elders with an axe," he speculated, "nor to walk +ahead of Grandmother when she comes into a room. Any girl learns those +things--in time--unless she is an idiot. But there are other things to +learn. You can't make fine china out of coarse clay." + +"But you can make very, very beautiful pottery," cried Hepatica. "And +the lump of clay that came into contact with Grandmother's wheel----" + +She paused. Metaphors are sometimes difficult things to handle. The +Philosopher, musing, did not notice that she had not finished. + +"It's rather curious that I should be asked," he said. "I never saw +either of them but once." + +"You made a great conquest on that one occasion, though," said the +Skeptic. + +"Nonsense!" The Philosopher coloured like a boy. "That girl----" + +"Not that girl," explained the Skeptic. "The Old Lady. She has never +ceased to ask after you whenever we have seen her or heard from her. As +I remember, you presented her with a bunch of garden flowers as big as +your head, and looked at her as if she were eighteen and the beauty she +undoubtedly once was.--Well, well--a preacher! What has Rhodora become +that she has blinded the eyes of a preacher? Not that their eyes are not +easily blinded!" + +"Why do you say 'preacher?'" inquired his wife. "Grandmother's letter +says a young clergyman." + +"He's no clergyman," insisted the Skeptic. "He's not even a minister. +He's just a preacher--a raw youth, just out of college--knows as much +about women as a puppy about elephant training. Rhodora probably sang a +hymn at one of his meetings and finished him. Well, well--I suppose this +means another wedding present?" He looked dubiously at Hepatica. + +"It does, of course," she admitted. + +"Send her a cut-glass punch-bowl," he suggested, preparing savagely to +carve a plump, young duck. "Anything less adapted to the use of a +preacher's family I can't conceive. And that's the main object in buying +wedding gifts, according to my observation." + +The day of Rhodora's wedding arrived, and we went down together to +Grandmother's lovely old country home--a stately house upon the banks of +a wide, frozen river. Our train brought us there two hours before the +one set for the ceremony, and we found not only Grandmother but Rhodora +and the Preacher in the fine old-time drawing-room to greet us. The +wedding was to be a quietly informal one, and such of the other guests +as had already arrived were in the room also, having a cup of tea before +they should go upstairs to dress. + +Rhodora herself was pouring the tea, and the Preacher was helping hand +the cups about. It was a beautiful opportunity to observe the pair +before their marriage. + +Grandmother gave us the welcome only Grandmother knows how to give. In +her own home she looks like a fair, little, old queen, receiving +everybody's homage, yet giving so much kindness in return that one can +never feel one's self out of debt to her hospitality. Her greeting to +the Philosopher was an especially cordial one. + +"I ventured to ask you," she said to him, "because I have always wanted +to see you again--not merely because I have heard of you in the world +where you are making a name for yourself. And I wanted, too, in justice +to my granddaughter, to have you see her again." + +Before the Philosopher could formulate an appropriate reply, Rhodora +herself, leaving her tea-table, and crossing the room with a swift and +graceful tread, was giving us welcome. + +It was amusing to see our two men look at Rhodora. Hepatica and I had +been, in a way, prepared to see a transformation, having heard sundry +rumours to that effect; but the Skeptic and the Philosopher, having +classified Rhodora once and for all, had since received no impression +sufficient to efface or modify the original one. I can say for them that +to one who did not know them well their surprise would have been +undiscoverable, yet to Hepatica and me it was perfectly evident that +they considered a miracle had been wrought. + +As to personal appearance, Rhodora had developed, as she had promised to +do, into a remarkable beauty. If she had kept on as she had begun, she +would have become one of those exuberant beauties who look as if they +had but lately quitted the stage and must shortly return thither. Even +yet, it would have taken but an error in dress, a reversion to a certain +type of manner which too often goes with looks like these, to make of +the girl that which it had seemed she must become. But, somehow, she had +not become that thing. + +Rhodora presently turned and beckoned to the Preacher, and putting down +his teacups he came to her side. She presented him, and we saw that he +was, indeed, no clergyman, no minister even--in the sense that the +Skeptic had differentiated these terms--but a preacher--and an embryo +one at that--a big, red-cheeked, honest-eyed boy, a straightforward, +clean-hearted, large-purposed young fellow, who meant to do all the good +in the world, in all the ways that he could bring about. He was but +lately graduated from his seminary, had yet to preach his first sermon +after the dignities of his ordination, but--one could not tell how--one +began to believe in him at once. + +"No, I haven't a bit of experience," he owned to me, as we stood talking +together, getting acquainted. "Not a bit--except a little mission work a +few of us went in for this last year. I'm as raw a recruit as ever put +on a uniform and fell in with the rest of the company for his first +drill. But--I mean to count one!" + +"I'm sure you will," said I, regarding him with growing pleasure in +the sight. + +"And Rhodora will count two," said he, his eyes following her. "One and +two, side by side, you know, stand for twelve." + +"So they do," said I. "And seeing Rhodora as she looks now, I should +think she would make an efficient comrade." + +His face glowed. Together we observed Rhodora, standing close by +Grandmother's side. The two, with Hepatica and our two men, made a +group, of which not the bride-elect, but Grandmother, was the precise +centre. The moment Rhodora had reached Grandmother's side she had put +herself in the background. Although she towered above the little old +lady she did not overwhelm her, and Grandmother herself had never seemed +a more gently dominating figure than now, in her sweeping black gown +with its rare laces, her white hair, in soft puffs, framing her delicate +face. And as, at a turn in the conversation, Grandmother looked up at +Rhodora, and Rhodora, bending a little, smiled back at her, answering in +the most deferential way, it was clear to me that the most efficient +element in the education of the girl had been her intercourse with this +old-time gentlewoman. + +"It was seeing those two together," said the Preacher rather shyly, in +my ear, "that attracted me first. I never knew that Youth and Age could +set each other off like that till I saw them. And I saw at once that a +girl who could be such friends with an old lady must be very much worth +while herself. They are great chums, you know--it's quite unusual, I +think. And it's a mighty fine thing for any one to know Grandmother. +I've learned more from Grandmother than from any one I ever knew." + +"She's a very rare and adorable old lady," I agreed heartily. "We all +worship her--we all feel that to be near her is a special fortune for +any one. She has plainly grown very fond of Rhodora--she will miss her." + +"No doubt of that," he agreed--but, quite naturally, more with triumph +than with sympathy. + +We went upstairs presently to make ready for the wedding. When we were +dressed, we met, according to previous agreement, in the big, square, +upper hall, with its spindled railing making a gallery about the quaint +and stately staircase. It was a little too early to go down, and we drew +some high-backed chairs together and sat down to look at one another in +our wedding garments. + +"I'd like to get married myself again to-night," declared the Skeptic, +forcibly pulling on his gloves with a man's brutal disregard for the +possible instability of seams. He eyed his wife possessively. "Tell +me--will the Preacher's bride put her in the shade?" + +"Don!" But Hepatica's falling lashes could not quite conceal her +pleasure in his pride. + +"Not for a minute." The Philosopher's benevolent gaze approved of his +friend's wife from the top of her masses of shining hair to the tip of +her white-shod foot. "At the same time, I don't feel quite such a +dispirited compassion for the Preacher himself as I did on the way down. +Can that possibly be the same girl who treated Grandmother as if she +were an inconvenient, antique family relic, and the rest of us as if she +endured but was horribly bored by us?" + +"I have never supposed grandmothers," said the Skeptic thoughtfully, "to +be particularly influential members of society. Evidently ours is +different. But there must have been other elements in the metamorphosis +of Rhodora." + +"Miss Eleanor Lockwood's school," suggested Hepatica. + +"You mention that with bated breath," said the Skeptic, "precisely as +every one, including its graduates, mentions it. I admit that Miss +Lockwood's school is a place where rich young savages are turned out +polished members of society. But there's been more than that." + +"The Preacher himself?" I suggested. + +The Skeptic looked at me. "Do you mean to imply," said he, with raised +eyebrows, "that any woman would admit the possibility of +acquaintanceship with any particular man's having had a formative +influence on her character? After school-days, I mean of course." + +"Why not?" I inquired. "What influence could be greater?" + +The Skeptic looked at the Philosopher, who returned his gaze calmly. + +"Did you ever expect to hear that?" asked the Skeptic. + +"I should not think of denying the influence of woman upon man," replied +the Philosopher. "Why should not the rule work both ways?" + +"I never heard it thus flatly formulated before," declared the Skeptic. +"It does me good, that's all. So you think the Preacher has had a hand +in the reformation?" + +"You have seen the Preacher," said I. "You know the family from which +he comes--he's of good stock. You've only to hear him speak to see +that he's a man of purpose, of action, of training--boy as he looks. +How could he fail to have a strong influence upon a girl who cared +for him?" + +The Skeptic looked at Hepatica. "Do you agree with her?" he inquired. + +"Of course I agree with her," responded Hepatica, looking from him to +me--and back again. "You are only pretending to doubt us both. It's very +clever of you, but we know perfectly that you understand how far--very +far--we are affected by your ideals, your judgments, your whole estimate +of life. Therefore--you must be very careful how you use your influence +with us!" + +The Skeptic gave her back the look he saw in her eyes. "Ah, you two +belong to the wise ones!" he said. "The wise ones, who, magnifying our +hold on you, thus acquire a far more tremendous hold on us! Eh, Philo?" + +The Philosopher smiled--inscrutably. Probably he felt that an +inscrutable smile was his safest means of navigating waters like these. + +We went down to the wedding. The Preacher stood up very straight while +he was being married, and though his boyish cheek paled and reddened +again as the ceremony proceeded, his responses were clear-cut. Rhodora +made a bonny bride. The absurd vision I had had of her, ever since I +had heard she was to be married, of her taking the officiating +clergyman's book out of his hand and steering the service for herself, +melted away before the vision of her serious young beauty as she made +her vows, and turned from the clergyman's felicitations, at the +conclusion of the service, to take Grandmother into a tender embrace. + +"I owe it all to you," she said to Grandmother by and by, in my hearing, +as we three happened to be for a little alone together. She turned to +me. "I was a barbarian when she took me," she said. "A barbarian of +barbarians. If it hadn't been for Grandmother I should be one yet, and +he"--her glance went off for an instant toward her young husband--"would +never have dreamed of looking at me." + +"You were not very different, my dear," said Grandmother, in her gentle +way, "from many girls of this day." + +"Forgive me, dear," responded Rhodora, "but I was so much worse that +only a grandmother like you could have shown me what I was." + +"I never tried to show you what you were," said Grandmother. "Only what +you could be. And now--I must lose you." + +The Preacher came up, the Skeptic by his side. The Philosopher and +Hepatica, seeing the old magic circle forming, promptly added +themselves. + +It fell out, presently, that the Philosopher and I, a step away from the +others, were observing them as we talked together. The Philosopher had +adjusted his eyeglasses, having carefully polished them. He seemed to +want to see things clearly to-day. + +"This is a scene I've witnessed a good many times, first and last," said +he. "Each time it impresses me afresh with the daring of the +participants. Brave young things, setting sail upon a mighty ocean, in a +small boat, which may or may not be seaworthy--some of them, it seems, +sometimes, with neither chart nor compass--certainly with little +knowledge of the crew. It's a trite comparison, I suppose." + +"You talk as if you stood safely on the shore," I ventured. "Is life no +ocean to you, then--and do you never feel adrift upon it?" + +The Philosopher stared curiously at me. It was, I admit, a strange +speech for me to make to him, but I had not been thinking of him. I had +been thinking of Lad, my big boy, now away at school, and of the day +when he should reach this experience for himself, and I should have to +give him up--my one near tie. I should surely feel adrift in that +day--far adrift. + +"Does it seem to you like that?" he asked, very gently, after a minute. + +I looked up, and saw a new and quite strange expression in his kindly +eyes. "No, no," I said hastily. "How could it--with so many and such +good friends?" + +I think he would have questioned me further, but the Skeptic at that +moment turned my way, and I laid hold upon him--figuratively +speaking--and did not let go again till all danger of a discussion with +the Philosopher on the subject of my loneliness was past. + + + + +VI + +WISTARIA--AND THE PHILOSOPHER + + Friendship needs delicate handling. + --_Hugh Black._ + + +"After all this dining and wine-ing of you," said Hepatica suddenly one +morning, toward the close of my visit, "you are not to escape without +our giving a dinner for you." + +"Oh, my dear," I began, "after all you have done for me, surely that +isn't necessary. I have had----" + +"Yes, I know. You have had dinners and dinners, including the +Philosopher's bachelor repast, which might or might not be called by +that name, but was certainly great fun. But I want to give you a dinner +myself." + +"Better let her," advised the Skeptic, who was putting on his overcoat +at the time, preparatory to leaving us for the day. "It won't be like +anything of that name you have ever tried before. Besides she wants you +to meet Wistaria." + +"Who is Wistaria?" I asked. + +They both looked at me. Then they looked at each other. + +"Hasn't Philo told you about Wistaria?" inquired the Skeptic, in evident +surprise. "Wasn't she at his----Oh, that's right--she was out of town. +Well, she's back, and you must meet her. She's a mighty fine girl--or, +if not exactly a girl, woman. Philo admires her rather more than he +condescends to admire most women, I should say. Any errands for me, +Patty? All right--good-bye, dear." + +He kissed her and ran for his car. I stood looking out of the window +after him. It struck me rather suddenly that it was a gray day outside, +with heavy clouds threatening to make the sky even darker. There was a +touch of gloom in the whole outer aspect of things. + +Hepatica immediately set about making preparations for her dinner. It +would be most informal, she assured me, and as I heard her giving her +invitations over the telephone I recognized from their character that +it would be so, even though I heard her inviting quite a party, +including Camellia and the Judge, Dahlia and the Professor, Althea and +the Promoter, and Azalea and the Cashier. A strange man, a Mining +Engineer, was included in the list, to make the tale of numbers evenly +divided. I judged he was likely to fall to me in the final disposition +of the guests at Hepatica's table, and inquired what he was like. + +"He's delightful," replied Hepatica enthusiastically. "You'll be sure to +like him. He lost his wife about five years ago, but hasn't re-married, +and lives mostly at his club, as he has no children. He's devoted to his +work, and has a good, big reputation, though he's still in the early +forties." + +Hepatica would not tell me what she meant to have for her dinner, but on +the appointed day shut herself up in her kitchen with a young woman whom +she had engaged, and would allow me only to set her table for her. As I +laid the required number of forks and spoons I realized that she meant +to be true to her word and serve a quite simple dinner. For this I was +thankful. For some reason, which I could not just understand myself, I +was dreading that dinner more than anything that had happened for a long +time. + +The evening came. I dressed without enthusiasm, putting on the pale-gray +frock which Hepatica had insisted upon, and pinning on a bunch of +violets which arrived for me at almost the last moment, without any card +in the box. Hepatica had three magnificent red roses at the same time. +It was like the Skeptic to be so thoughtful. + +The guests arrived--Camellia superbly attired, Althea gorgeously so, +Dahlia in youthful pink and white, Azalea in a demurely simple dress +whose laces were just a thought rumpled about the neck, and had to be +straightened out by my assisting fingers. Little Bud, she explained, had +insisted on hugging her violently at the last moment, before he would +allow her to come away. + +Wistaria came last, so that, as we all stood grouped about the little +rooms I had a fine chance to see her arrival. She had to go through the +room in which we were to reach Hepatica's bedroom, and I saw a tall and +graceful figure, all in black under a white evening cloak, and caught a +glimpse of a pair of brilliant dark eyes under the white silken scarf +which enveloped her hair. But when she came out, in Hepatica's company, +I saw, undisguised, one of the most attractive women I had ever met. + +"She's unusual, isn't she?" said the Skeptic in my ear, as, having +welcomed the new guest, and watched Hepatica present her to me, he fell +back at my side. Wistaria had greeted the Philosopher with the quiet +warmth of manner which means assured acquaintance, and the two had +remained together while we waited for the serving of the dinner. + +"She is very charming," I agreed. "It is her manner, quite as much as +her face, isn't it? She must be well worth knowing." + +"We think so," said he. He seemed to be regarding me quite steadily. I +wondered uneasily if I were not looking well. The rooms seemed rather +over-warm. The presence of so many people in such a small space is apt +to make the air oppressive. Also I remembered that the effect of +pale-gray is not to heighten one's colouring. + +Wistaria, all in filmy black, from which her white shoulders rose like +a flower, wore one splendid American Beauty rose. Somehow I felt, quite +suddenly, that pale-gray is a meaningless tint, the mere shadow of a +colour, of less character than white, of immeasurably less beauty than +simple black itself. I caught the Philosopher's eye apparently fixed for +a moment upon my violets, and I wondered, with a queer little sensation +of disquiet, if even they seemed to be without character also. + +Then dinner was announced, and I shook myself mentally, and looked up +smiling at my Mining Engineer, who was truly a man worth knowing and a +most pleasant gentleman besides, and went to dinner with him determined +that if I must look characterless I would not be characterless, nor make +my companion long to get away. + +Wistaria and the Philosopher sat exactly opposite. The Mining Engineer +on my one side, and the Judge on my other, kept me too busy to spend +much time in noting Wistaria's captivating presence or the Philosopher's +absorption. Yet, at moments when some sally of the Skeptic's, who sat +upon Wistaria's other side, brought the attention of the whole company +to bear upon that quarter of the table, I found myself unable to help +noting two things. One was that I had never seen the Philosopher so +roused and ready of speech; the other, that I had never quite +appreciated how distinguished he has, of late years, grown in +appearance. Possibly this was because I had not had the chance to +view him under just these conditions; possibly, also, it was because +he literally was growing distinguished in the world of scientific +research, and his name becoming one cited as an authority in a certain +important field. + +The dinner itself I cannot describe, for the sufficient reason that I +cannot now recall one solitary thing I ate. But the impression remains +with me that it was really an extraordinarily simple dinner, that +everything was delicious, and that one rose up from it with a sense of +having been daintily fed, not stuffed. I'm sure I could not pay it a +higher or a rarer compliment. + +After dinner the Promoter told stories of "deals," to which the +Professor listened curiously, watching the speaker as he might have +gently eyed some strange specimen in the world of insects or of birds. +The Judge and the Cashier hobnobbed for a while; then the Judge made his +way to the side of Wistaria and remained there for an indefinite period, +both looking deeply interested in their conversation. The Engineer +attempted to make something of Althea, but presently gave it up, spent a +few moments with Camellia, and came back to me. By and by Azalea and the +Cashier sang a duet for us, and after some persuasion Azalea then sang +alone. Altogether, the evening got on somehow--it is all very hazy in my +mind, except for one singular fact--I did not spend a moment with the +Philosopher. How this happened I do not know, and it was so unusual that +it seemed noteworthy. It was not because he was not several times in my +immediate vicinity, but I was always at the moment so engaged with +whomever happened to be talking with me that I had not time to turn and +include the Philosopher in the interview. + +When our guests departed they went together, having one and the same car +to catch. All but Wistaria, who had come in her own private carriage, +which was late in arriving to take her home. The Philosopher had +remained with her, and he took her down to her carriage. I cannot +remember seeing anything more attractive than Wistaria's personality as +she said good night, her sparkling face all winsome cordiality, her +white scarf lying lightly upon the masses of her black hair, the crimson +rose nodding from the folds of her long, white cloak. + +"Pretty fine looking pair, aren't they?" observed the Skeptic, with an +expansive grin, the moment the door had closed upon Wistaria and the +Philosopher. He threw himself into a chair and yawned mightily. +"Wistaria's almost as tall as Philo, isn't she? A superb woman." + +"I never saw her looking so well," agreed Hepatica, straightening chairs +and settling couch pillows, trailing here and there in her pretty frock +with all the energy of the early morning, as if it were not half-after +eleven by the little mantel clock. "Didn't you like her, dear?" She +threw an eager glance at me. She was in the restless mood of the hostess +who wishes to be assured that everything has gone well. + +"I was charmed with her," said I--I had not meant to take a seat again; +I was weary and wanted to get away to bed--"I never knew how beautiful +an American Beauty rose was till I saw it beneath her face." + +The Skeptic turned in his chair and looked at me. "Well done!" he cried. +"Couldn't have said it better myself. We must tell Philo that speech. +He'll be deeply gratified. He has every confidence in your taste." + +"The dinner was perfect," I went on. "I never imagined one so cleverly +planned. And everybody seemed in great spirits--there wasn't a dull +moment." + +"You dear thing!" said Hepatica, and came and dropped a kiss upon my +hair. "It's fun to do things for you, you're so appreciative. Didn't you +enjoy your Mining Engineer?" + +"He was so entertaining," said I, "that if it had been any other dinner +than that one I shouldn't have known what I was eating." + +"Hear, hear!" applauded the Skeptic. "Bouquets for us all! Didn't I make +an ideal host?" + +"Your geniality was rivalled only by your tact," I declared. + +They laughed together. Then the Skeptic sat up. He got up and strode +over to the window and peered down. "Philo is taking a disgracefully +long time to see the lady into her carriage," he observed. "I supposed +he'd be back, to talk it over, as usual. The best of entertaining is the +talking your guests over after they've gone--eh, Patty, girl? I don't +seem to see the carriage. Perhaps he's gone home with her." + +I laid my hand upon the door of my room. "I don't know why I am so +sleepy," I apologized. "It only came over me since the door closed. But +you must both be tired, too--and we have to be up in the morning at the +usual hour." + +Hepatica looked regretful, but she did not urge me to remain. I felt +guilty at leaving a wide-awake host and hostess who wanted to talk +things over, but really I--the perfume from my violets had been stealing +away my nerves all the evening. I felt that I must take them off or grow +faint at their odour, which seemed stronger as they drooped. I opened my +door, turned to smile back at the pair, and shut it upon the inside. A +moment later I was standing by my window which I had thrown wide, and +the winter wind was lifting the violets which I had already forgotten to +take off. + +I heard the murmur of voices in the room outside, but it soon ceased. +With no third person to praise the feast it was probably dull work +congratulating each other on its success. By and by--I don't know when +it happened--I heard the electric entrance-bell whirr in the tiny hall, +and the Skeptic go to answer it. Then I heard voices again--men's +voices. There was an interval. Then came a small knock at my door. I +opened it to Hepatica. + +"The Philosopher has come back," she whispered. I had not lit my +light--I had closed my window and had been sitting by it, my elbows on +the sill. Hepatica put out her hand and felt of me. "Oh, you haven't +undressed," she said. "Then won't you go out and see him? He seemed so +disappointed when Don said you had gone. It seems he's called out of +town quite suddenly--he's afraid he may not be back before you go--he +says he didn't have a chance to tell you about it this evening." + +There was no help for it--I had no excuse. I did not dare to snap on my +light and look at myself. I put my hands to my hair to feel if it was +still snug; then I went. + +Hepatica had mercifully turned off all the lights but the rose-shaded +drop-light on the reading-table and two of the electric candles in the +dining-room. It was a relief to feel the glare gone. The air from the +window had freshened me. The Philosopher stood by the reading-table, +upon which he had laid his hat. His overcoat was on a chair. Evidently +he was not waiting merely to say good-bye and go. + +The Skeptic, upon my entrance, immediately crossed the room to the door +of the hall, upon which his own room opened. "You people will excuse +me," he said. "I don't know _why_ I am so sleepy." His tone was +peculiar, and I recognized that he was quoting my words of a half-hour +before. "It only came over me since the door closed on our guests. And I +have to be up in the morning at the usual hour. But don't let that hurry +you, Philo, old man." And he vanished. + +The Philosopher looked as if he did not mean to let it hurry him. He +drew his chair near mine, facing me, after a fashion he has, and looked +at me in silence for a minute. + +"You are tired," he said. + +"A little. The rooms were very warm." + +"They were. They made the violets droop, I see." + +I put up my hand. "Yes. I meant to take them off." + +"Perhaps you don't like violets. If I could have found a bunch of +sweet-williams to send you instead, like those in your own garden, I +should have preferred it. I know what you like among summer flowers, but +with these florist's offerings I'm not so familiar. I'm afraid I'm not +much versed in the sending of flowers." + +"Did you send these?" I put my hand up to them again. They certainly +were drooping sadly. Perhaps if they had known who sent them---- + +"To be sure I did." + +"There was no card. I thought it was Don--and forgot to thank +him--luckily. Let me thank you now. They have been so sweet all the +evening." + +"Too sweet, haven't they? You looked a bit pale to-night, I thought." + +"It was my frock. Gray always makes people look pale." + +"Does it? I've liked that frock so much--and I had an idea gray and +purple went together." + +"They do--beautifully. And to-morrow, after the violets have been in +water, they'll be quite fresh--and so shall I. To tell the honest truth, +so many dinners--well, I'm not used to them. I'm just a little bit glad +to remember that spring is coming on soon, and I can get out in my old +garden and dig and rake, and watch the things come out." + +"Yes--you're one of the outdoor creatures," said the Philosopher, +leaning back in his chair in the old way--he had been sitting up quite +straight. "I understand it--I like gardens myself. And your garden most +of all. Do you realize, between your absences and my long stay in +Germany, it's three summers since I've strolled about your garden?" + +"So long? Yes, it must be." + +"But I mean to be at home this summer. Do you?" + +[Illustration: "And so we renewed the old vow"] + +"I? Yes, I think so. After so long a winter outing--or inning--I +couldn't bear to miss the garden this year. And Lad will be home--his +first vacation. He is fond of the old garden, too." + +"May I come?" asked the Philosopher rather abruptly. + +"To stroll about the garden? Haven't you always been welcome?" + +"I want a special welcome--from you--from my friend. When a man has only +one friend, that one's welcome means a good deal to him." + +"Only one! You have so many." + +"Have I? Yes, so I have, and pleasant friends they are, too. But +friendship--with only one. Come, Rhexia--you understand that as well as +I. Why pretend you don't? That's not like you." + +He was looking at me very steadily. He leaned forward, stretching out +his hand. I laid mine in it. And so we renewed the old vow. + + + + +PART III + + + + +I + +SIXTEEN MILES TO BOSWELL'S + + +"One passenger off the five-thirty, coming up the hill," announced Sue +Boswell, peering eagerly out of the Inn's office window. "That makes +nine for supper. I'll run and tell mother." + +"Nine--poor child," murmured Tom Boswell, behind the desk. "That's +certainly a great showing for a summer hotel, on the fifteenth day of +July. If we don't do better in August--the game's up." + +He stared out of the window at the approaching guest, who, escorted by +Tom's brother Tim, was climbing the road toward Boswell's Inn at a pace +which indicated no pressing anxiety to arrive. As the pair drew nearer, +Tom could see that the stranger was a rather peculiar-looking person. Of +medium height, as thin as a lath, with a nearly colourless face in which +was set a pair of black eyes with dark circles round them, the man had +somewhat the appearance of an invalid; yet an air of subdued nervous +energy about him in a measure offset the suggestion of ill-health. He +was surveying Boswell's Inn as he approached it in a comprehensive way +which seemed to take in every feature of its appearance. + +Across the desk in the small lobby the newcomer spoke curtly. "Good +room and a bath? I want an absolutely quiet room where I get no +kitchen noises or ballroom dancing. Windows with a breeze--if you've +got such a thing." + +"I can't give you the bath," Tom answered regretfully, "because we +haven't got one that goes with any room in the house. But you can have +plenty of hot and cold, in cans. The room will be quiet, all right. And +we always have a breeze up here, if there is one anywhere in the world. +Shall I show you?" + +"Lead on," assented the stranger. He had not offered to register, though +Tom had extended to him a freshly dipped pen. + +"He's going to make sure first," thought Tom, recognizing a sign of the +experienced traveller. He led the way himself, feeling, for some +reason, unwilling to hand young Tim the key and allow him to exploit the +rooms. As they mounted the stairs, Tom was rapidly considering. He had +brought along three keys--rather an unusual act on his part. It was hard +to say why he felt it necessary to bestow any special attention upon +this guest, who certainly was by no means of an imposing appearance, and +whose hot-weather dress was as careless as his manner. + +He opened the door of the first room, and the stranger looked in +silently. "I'll show you another before you decide," said Tom hurriedly, +without waiting for a comment. + +This was not his best empty room, and he felt somehow that the man who +wanted a room with a bath and a breeze knew it. He led the way on along +the hall to a corner room in the front. This was his second best. Tom +always preferred to reserve his choicest for a chance millionaire or a +possible wealthy society lady--though Heaven knew that, during the six +weeks the Inn had been open, no guest distantly resembling one or the +other of those desirable types had approached the little mountain +hostelry. + +"Anything better?" inquired the thin man, his extraordinarily quick +glance covering every detail of the room like lightning, as Tom felt. + +"Sure--if you want the bridal suit." Tom pronounced it proudly, as it +were a claw-hammer and white waistcoat. + +"Bring her on." + +Tom marched ahead to the two rooms opening on the little balcony above +the side porch, a balcony which belonged to the "bridal suite" alone, +and which commanded the finest view into the very heart of the mountains +that the house afforded. Seeing his guest--after one look around the +spotless room with its pink and white furnishings, and into the small +dressing-room beyond--stride toward the outer door, Tom threw it wide. +The guest stepped out on to the balcony. Here he pulled off his hat, +which he had not before removed, and let the breeze--for there was +unquestionably a breeze, even on this afternoon of a day which had been +one of the hottest the country had known--drift refreshingly against his +damp brow. The zephyr was strong enough even to lift slightly the thick +locks of black hair which lay above the white forehead. + +"Price for this?" asked the stranger, in his abrupt way, turning back +into the room. + +Tom mentioned it--with a little inward hesitation. The family had +differed a good deal on the question of prices for these best rooms. In +his opinion that settled upon for the bridal suite was almost +prohibitively high. Not a guest yet but had turned away with a sigh. For +a moment he had been tempted to reduce it, but he had promised the +others to stick by the decision at least through July. So he mentioned +the price firmly. + +The guest glanced sharply at him as he did so. There was a queer little +contraction of the stranger's thin upper lip. Then he said: "I'll take +'em--for the night, and you may hold 'em for me till to-morrow night. +Tell you then whether I'll stay longer." + +Tom understood, of course, that it was now a question of a satisfactory +table. But here he knew he was strong. Mother Boswell's cooking--there +was none better obtainable. He was already in a hurry to prove to this +laconic stranger who demanded the best he had of everything, including +breezes, that in the matter of food Boswell's Inn could satisfy the +most exacting. Not in elaborately dressed viands of rare kitchen +product, of course--that was not to be expected off here. But in +temptingly cooked everyday food, and in certain extras which were Mother +Boswell's specialties, and which the few people now in the Inn called +for with ever-increasing zest--though they seldom deigned to send any +special word of praise to the anxious cook--Boswell's needed to ask +forbearance of nobody. + +"I'll send your stuff up right away," said Tom, as the other man cast +his straw hat upon a chair and went over to a washstand, where hung +several snowy towels. "Have some hot water?" + +"Yes--and iced." + +"All right." Tom was off on the jump. It was certainly something to have +rented the bridal suite even for the night, but he felt more than +ordinarily curious to know who his guest was. + +"Might be a travelling man," he speculated, when he had given Tim his +orders, "though he doesn't exactly seem like one. But he looks like a +fellow who's used to getting what he wants." + +When the new guest came downstairs, at the peal of a gong through the +quiet house, Tom saw him cast one keen-eyed glance in turn at each of +the other occupants of the lobby, as they clustered about the door of +the dining-room. Seven of these were women, and of that number at least +five were elderly. Of the two younger ladies, neither presented any +special attractiveness beyond that of entire respectability. The eighth +guest was a man--a middle-aged man who was reading a book and who +carried the book into the dining-room with him, where he continued to +read it at his solitary table. + +Tom Boswell was at the elbow of the latest arrival as he entered the +dining-room, a long, low, but airy apartment, as spotless and shining in +its way as the bedroom upstairs had been. There was no head waiter, and +Tom himself piloted the new guest to a small table by a window, looking +off into the mountains on the opposite side of the house from that of +the bridal suite. The women boarders were all behind him, the solitary +man just across the way at a corresponding small table. Certainly the +proprietor of Boswell's Inn possessed that great desideratum for such +an official--tact. + +Sue Boswell, aged fifteen, in a blue-and-white print frock and white +apron so crisp that one could not discern a wrinkle in them, waited on +the new guest. She did not ask him what he would have, nor present to +him a card from which to select his meal. She brought him first a small +cup of chicken broth, steaming hot; and though he regarded this at first +as if he had no appetite whatever, after the first tentative sip he went +on to the bottom of the cup. When this was gone, Sue placed before him a +plate of corned-beef hash, an alluring pinkness showing beneath the +gratifying upper coat of brown. A small dish of cucumbers--thin, iced +cucumbers, with a French dressing--accompanied the hash; and with these +he was offered hot rolls so small and delicate and crisp that, after +cautiously sampling the butter with what seemed a fastidious palate, the +guest took to eating rolls as if he had seldom found anything so well +worth consuming. + +Something made of red raspberries and cream followed, and then half a +large cantaloupe, its golden heart filled with crushed ice, was placed +before him. Last appeared a cup of amber coffee. As the guest tasted +this beverage, a look of complete satisfaction overspread his pale face, +and he drained the cup clear and asked for more. + +Presently he strolled out into the lobby. Here Tom awaited him behind +the desk. The hotel register was open, and Tom's fingers suggestively +held a pen. The guest obeyed the hint. At an inn so small, it certainly +would be a pity for any guest not to add his name to the short list. + +For it was a very short list. Although a full month had gone by since +the first arrival had written her name, the bottom of the page had not +been quite reached when this latest one scratched his in characters +which looked quite as much like Arabic as English. When Tom came to +examine the name later, he made it out to be Perkins, though it might +quite as easily have been Tompkins, or Judson, or any other name which +had an elevated letter somewhere in the middle. The initials were quite +indecipherable. But Perkins it turned out to be, for when Tom +tentatively addressed the newcomer by that appellation there was no +correction made, and he continued to respond whenever so accosted. + +Mr. Perkins spent the evening smoking upon the porch, his head turned +toward the mountains. The next morning, when he had eaten a breakfast +which included some wonderful browned griddle-cakes and syrup--another +of the Inn's specialties--he strolled away into the middle distance and +was observed by various of the guests, from time to time, perched about +among the rocks, in idle attitudes. + +"He's a queer duck," observed Tom in the kitchen that day, describing +Mr. Perkins to his mother. Mrs. Boswell seldom appeared beyond her +special domain--that of the kitchen--but left the rest of the +housekeeping to her daughters Bertha and Sue; the management of the Inn +to Tom and Tim. "Silent as an owl. Seems to like his food--nothing +strange about that. He doesn't act sick, exactly, but tired, or bored, +or used up, somehow. Eyes like coals and sharper than a ferret's. I +can't make him out. He won't talk to anybody, except now and then a word +or two to Mr. Griffith. Never looks at the ladies, but I tell you they +look at him. Every one of 'em has a different notion about him. Anyhow, +he's taken the bridal suit for two weeks. Goes down to the post-office +for his mail--gave particular orders not to have it sent up here. That's +kind of funny, isn't it? Oh, I meant to tell you before: he's paid for +his rooms a week in advance." + +"It helps a little," said his sister Bertha. She was twenty-five years +old, and if any one of this family had the responsibility of the success +of Boswell's Inn heavily and anxiously at heart, it was Bertha. "But it +can't make up the difference. Here's July half over, and not a dozen +people in the house. What can be the matter? Isn't everything all +right?" + +"Sure it's all right," insisted Tom. "We just haven't got known, +that's all." + +"But how are we going to get known, if nobody comes? Our advertisement +in the city papers costs dreadfully, and it doesn't seem to bring +anybody." + +"Now see here," said Tom firmly, "don't you go to getting discouraged. +This is our first season. We can't expect to do much the first season. +We're prepared for that." + +But he realized, quite as clearly as his sister, that they had not been +prepared for so complete a failure as they were making. Boswell's Inn +stood only sixteen miles away from a large city, a great Western +railroad centre, into which, early and late, thousands of tourists were +pouring. The road out into the mountains was a good one, the trip easy +enough for the owners of motor cars, of whom the city held enough to +make a continuous procession all the way if only they could be headed in +the right direction. But how to head them? That was what Tom couldn't +figure out. + +On the third evening after Mr. Perkins's arrival, Tom, strolling +gloomily out upon the porch to see if any one was lingering there to +prevent his closing up, discovered Perkins sitting alone, smoking. There +had not been a new arrival that day; worse, one of the elderly ladies +had gone away. She had departed reluctantly, but her absence counted +just the same, and Tom was missing her as he had never expected to miss +any elderly lady with iron-gray curls and a cast in one eye. + +"Nice night," observed Tom to Mr. Perkins. + +"First-class." + +"Getting cooled off a bit up here?" + +"Pretty well." + +"Are, you--having everything you want?" + +Tom asked the question with some diffidence. It was a matter of regret +with him that he couldn't afford yet to put young Tim into buttons, but +without them he was sure the lad made as alert a bellboy and porter as +could be asked. + +"Nothing to complain of." + +Tom wished Mr. Perkins wouldn't be so taciturn. The proprietor of the +Inn That Couldn't Get a Start was feeling so blue to-night that speech +with some one besides his depressed family was almost a necessity. He +couldn't talk with the women; Mr. Griffith, though kindly enough, had +his nose forever buried in a book. Perkins looked as if he could talk if +he would, and have something to say, too. Tom tried to think of an +observation which would draw this silent man out. But quite suddenly, +and greatly to Tom's surprise, Mr. Perkins began to draw Tom out. Even +so, his questions were like shots from a gun, so brief and to the point +were they. + +"Doing any advertising?" broke the silence first, from a corner of the +thin mouth. Perkins's cigar had been shifted to the opposite corner. He +did not look at Tom, but continued to gaze off toward a certain curious +effect of moonlight against the rocky sides of the canyon. + +"We have a card in all the city papers." + +"Any specials? Write-ups?" + +"Well, this is our first season, and we didn't feel as if we could +afford to pay for that." + +"No pulls, eh?" + +"You mean----?" + +"No friends among the newspaper men?" + +"I don't know one. They don't seem to come up here. I wish they would." + +"Ever ask one?" + +"I don't know any," repeated Tom. + +A short laugh, more like a grunt, was Perkins's reply. Tom didn't see +what there was to laugh at in the misfortune of having no acquaintance +among the writing fellows. He waited eagerly for the next question. It +was worth a good deal to him merely to have this outsider show a spark +of interest in the fortunes of Boswell's Inn. + +"When did you open up?" It came just as he feared Perkins was going to +drop the subject. + +"The third of June." + +"Own the house?" + +"No--lease it, cheap. It's an old place, but we put all we could afford +into freshening it up." + +"Cook a permanent one?" + +The form of the question perplexed Tom for an instant, but it presently +resolved itself, and he was grinning as he replied: "Sure she is. It's +my mother. Do you like her cooking?" + +"A-1." + +Ah, Tom would tell his mother that! The young man flushed slightly in +the darkness of the porch. It was almost the first compliment that had +been paid her, and she worked like a slave, too. + +"Little waitress your sister?" + +"Yes. Sue's young, but we think she does pretty well." + +"Delivers the goods. Housekeeper a member of the family, too?" + +"Yes--and Tim's my brother. Oh, it's all in the family. The only +trouble is----" he hesitated. + +"Lack of patronage?" + +"We can't keep open much longer if things don't improve." The moment the +words were out Tom regretted them. He didn't know how he had come to +speak them. He hadn't meant to give this fact away. Certainly there had +been nothing particularly sympathetic in the tone of Perkins's choppy +questions. But the other man's next words knocked his regrets out of his +mind in a jiffy. + +"Could you entertain a dozen men at supper to-morrow night if they came +in a bunch without warning?" + +"Give us the chance!" + +"Chance might happen--better be prepared. I expect to be away over +to-morrow night myself, but have the tip that a crowd may be coming out +to sample the place. It may be a mistake--don't know." + +"We'll be ready. Would they come by train?" + +"Don't ask me--none of my picnic. Merely overheard the thing suggested." +And Perkins, rising, cast away the close-smoked stub of his cigar. +"Good-night," said he, carelessly enough, and strolled in through the +wide hall of the old stone house. Tom looked after him as he mounted the +stairs. The young innkeeper's spirits had gone up with a bound. A dozen +men to supper! Well--he thought they could entertain them. He would go +and tell his mother and Bertha on the instant; the prospect would cheer +them immensely. He wondered how or where Perkins had overheard this +rumour. At the post-office, most likely. It was a gossipy place, the +centre of the tiny burg at the foot of the mountain, an eighth of a mile +away, where a dozen small shops and half a hundred houses strung along +the one small street, at the end of which the two daily trains made +their half-minute stops. + + * * * * * + +The dozen men had come and gone. There were fourteen of them, to be +exact, and they had climbed out of a couple of big touring cars with +sounds of hilarity which made the elderly ladies jump in their chairs. +They had swarmed over the place as if they owned it, had talked and +laughed and joked and shouted, all in a perfectly agreeable way which +woke up Boswell's as if it were in the centre of somewhere instead of +off in the mountains. They had scrawled fourteen vigorous scrawls upon +the register and made it necessary to turn the page, this of itself +affording the clerk a satisfaction quite out of proportion to the +apparent unimportance of the incident. Then they had gone gayly in to +supper, had sat about two stainless tables close by the open windows, +and had been waited upon by both Sue and Tim in such alert fashion that +their plates arrived almost before they had unfurled their napkins. + +Out in the kitchen, crimson-cheeked and solicitous, Mrs. Boswell had +sent in relays of broiled chicken, young and tender, browned as only +artists of her rank can brown them, flanked by potatoes cooked in a way +known only to herself. These were two of her "specialties," which the +elderly ladies were accustomed to enjoy without mentioning it. Pickles +and jellies such as the fourteen men had tasted only in childhood +accompanied these dishes, and the little hot rolls came on in piles +which melted away before the delighted attacks of the hungry guests; so +that the kitchen itself became alarmed, and cut the elderly ladies a +trifle short, at which complaints were promptly filed, though it was the +first time such a shortage had occurred. + +Other toothsome dishes followed and were partaken of with such zest and +so many frank expressions of approval that Sue and Tim carried to the +kitchen reports which forced their mother to ask them to stop, lest she +lose her head. When the amber coffee with a fine cheese and crisp +toasted wafers ended the meal, the guests were in such a state of +satisfaction that Tom, though he did not know it, had acquired with them +his first "pull." + +He did not know it--not then. He only knew that they were very cordial +with him, asking him a good many interested questions, and that one +requested to be shown rooms, remarking that his wife and children might +like to run out for a little while before the summer was over. Most of +them looked back at the Inn as the automobiles bore them away, and one +waved his cigar genially at Tom standing on the top step. + +He was standing on the top step again the next morning when Mr. Perkins +returned. Tom was wishing Perkins had been there the night before, to +see confirmed the truth of the rumour he had reported. + +"Well, we had the crowd here last night," was Tom's greeting, as +Perkins's sharp black eyes looked up at him from the bottom step. + +"So I see." Perkins held up a morning paper. The inevitable cigar was in +his mouth. His face indicated no particular interest. He went along into +the house as Tom grasped the paper. So he saw! What did Perkins mean by +that? It couldn't be that any of that party of men had, unsolicited, +taken the trouble to---- + +But they had, or one of them had. In a fairly conspicuous position on +one of the local pages of the best city daily was an item of at least a +dozen lines setting forth the fact that a party of prominent men, +including several newspaper men, had taken supper the night before at +Boswell's Inn, Mount o' Pines, and had found that place decidedly +attractive. The paragraph stated that such a supper was seldom found at +summer hotels, added that the air and the view were worth a long trip to +obtain when the city was sweltering with heat, and ended by speaking of +the prime condition of the roads leading to the Inn. Altogether, it was +such an item as Tom had often longed to see, and the reading of it went +to his head. When, ten minutes later, Tim, coming up from the +post-office with the mail and another of the morning papers, excitedly +called Tom's attention to a second paragraph headed, "Have You Had a +Supper at Boswell's Inn?" Tom became positively delirious. + +"It pays to set it up to a bunch like that," was Perkins's comment when +Tom showed him this second free advertisement. + +"But I didn't treat them. They paid their bills," cried the young host. + +"Charge your usual price?" + +"Sure. We didn't have anything extra--except the cheese. Tim drove ten +miles for that." + +"Usual price was all the treat those fellows needed." + +"Do you mean you don't think I charge enough?" Tom's eyes opened wide. +He had felt as if he were robbing those men when he counted up the sum +total. + +"Ever dine at the Arcadia?--or the Princess?" + +"No." + +"They do." + +Tom did not know the prices at these imposing popular hotels in the +nearby city, but he supposed they were high. He felt as if he were the +greenest innkeeper who ever invited the patronage of city guests. + +"Would you advise me to put up the price?" Tom asked presently, with +some hesitation. + +Perkins glanced at him out of those worn, brilliant, black eyes of his, +which looked as if they had seen more of the world than Tom's ever would +see in the longest life he could live, though Perkins himself could +hardly be over forty, perhaps not quite that. + +"Not yet, son," said he. "By and by--yes. But keep up the quality +now--and then." + +That evening a young man, whom Tom recognized as one of the party of the +night before, the one who had waved to him as he had driven away, +appeared again. He came in a runabout this time and brought two women, +who proved to be his mother and sister. The young man himself--Mr. +Haskins--smiled genially at Tom, and said by way of explanation: + +"I liked your place so well I brought them up to see if my fairy tales +were true." + +Upon which Tom naturally did his best to make the fairy tales seem true, +and thought, by the signs he noted, that he had succeeded. + +During the following week three or four others of the men of the +original fourteen came up to Boswell's or sent small parties. Evidently +the flattering paragraphs in the two dailies had also made some +impression on people eager to get away from the intense heat of a season +more than ordinarily trying. They found the air stirring upon the +porches and through the rooms at the Inn; and they found--which was, of +course, the greater attraction--a table so inviting with appetizing +food, and an unpretentious service so satisfactory, that mouth-to-mouth +advertising of the little new resort, that most-to-be-desired means of +becoming known, began, gradually but surely, to tell. + +Strange to say, several more paragraphs now appeared: brief, crisp +mention of the simple but perfect cooking to be had for the short drive +of sixteen miles over the best of roads. These inevitably had their +effect, and at the end of the third week Tom declared to Perkins that +he was more than making expenses. + +"Much more?" inquired that gentleman, his eyes as usual upon the view. + +"Enough so we're satisfied and won't have to close up. Why, there's been +from one to three big autos here every day this week." + +One of Perkins's short laughs answered this--Tom never could tell just +what that throaty chuckle indicated. Presently he found out. + +"What you want, Boswell," said Perkins, removing his cigar--an unusual +sign of interest with him--"is a boom. I'd like to see you get it. +Gradual building up's all right, but quick methods pay better." + +"A boom! How on earth are we to get a boom?" Tom felt a bit +disconcerted. + +He had noticed for several days an increasing restlessness in the silent +guest. Instead of sitting quietly upon the porch with his cigar, Perkins +had fallen to pacing up and down with a long, nervous stride. At first +he had seemed moody and fatigued, now he had the appearance of a man +eager to be at something from which he was restrained. + +When Tom asked his startled question about the desirable boom, Perkins +got out of his chair with one abrupt movement, threw one leg over the +porch rail, and began suddenly to talk. He could not be said really to +have talked before. Tom listened, his eyes sticking out of his head. + +"Bunch of motoring fellows down in town--Mercury Club--want to get up an +auto parade, end with supper somewhere. Hotels at Lake Lucas, Pleasant +Valley, and half a dozen others all crazy to get 'em. Happen to know a +chap or two in town who could swing it out here for you if you cared to +make the bid, and could handle the crowd. Chance for you, if you want +it. Make a big thing of it--lanterns, bonfires, fireworks, +orchestra--regular blow-out." + +Tom's breath came in gasps. "Why--why----" he stammered. "How could +we--how could we--afford----What----? How----?" + +Perkins threw away the stub of his cigar, chewed to a pulp at the mouth +end. His eyes had an odd glitter. "I've what you might call a bit of +experience in that sort of thing," he said in a quiet tone which yet had +a certain edge of energy. "Going away next week, but might put this +thing through for you, if you cared to trust me." + +"But--the money?" urged Tom. + +"Willing to stand for that--pay me back, if you make enough. +Otherwise--my risk. Something of a gambler, I am. Club'll pay for the +fireworks--that's their show. Bonfires on the mountains around are easy. +Lanterns cheap. Get special terms on the music--friend of mine can. +Supper's up to you. Can you get extra help?" + +"We can manage the supper," agreed Tom, his round cheeks deeply flushed +with excitement. "Say, you're--you're awfully kind. I don't know +why----" + +Perkins vaulted over the porch rail. From the ground below he looked +back at Tom. For the first time since he had come to Boswell's Inn Tom +caught sight of the gleam of white teeth, as an oddly brilliant smile +broke out for an instant on the face which was no longer deadly white +but brown with tan. "Son," said Perkins, preparing to swing away down to +the post-office, "I told you I was a gambler. Gambler out of work's the +lamest duck on the shore. Game of booming the Inn interests me--that's +all." + +Tom watched the lithe, slim figure in the distance for a minute before +he went in to break the plan to the force of Boswell's. "He's no +gambler," said he to himself, "or I couldn't trust him the way I do. +He's queer, but I don't believe he has any other motive for this than +wanting to help us." + +With which innocent faith in the goodness of the man who had already +seen more of the world than Tom Boswell would ever see, he rushed in to +tell Bertha and the rest of his excited family the astounding talk he +had just had with Perkins. + + * * * * * + +"Mother Boswell, you've got to come out on the porch--just one +minute--and look." + +"No, no, child, I can't. I----" + +"Not where the folks are--just out on Mr. Perkins's balcony. He told me +to take you." + +"But I can't leave----" + +"Yes, you can. Everything's all right. Come--quick. The first autos are +coming--you can see 'em miles off." + +With one glance about the kitchen, where two extra helpers were busy +with the last preparations, over which Mrs. Boswell had kept a +supervising eye to the smallest detail, herself working harder than +anybody, the mistress of the place suffered herself to be led away. Up +the back stairs, through Mr. Perkins's empty rooms, out upon the +balcony, Sue hustled her mother, and then with one triumphant "There!" +swept an arm about the entire horizon. + +"My goodness!" burst from the lady's lips, and she stood gazing, +transfixed. + +At the foot of the mountainside, where lay the little village street +with its row of shops and houses, glowed a line of Chinese lanterns, +hung thickly along the entire distance. The winding road up to the Inn +was outlined by lanterns; the trees about the Inn held out long arms +dancing with the parti-coloured lights; the porch below, as could be +told by the rainbow tints thrown upon the ground beneath, was hung with +them from end to end. + +"My goodness!" came again from Mrs. Boswell, in stupefied amazement. +"There must be a thousand of those things. How on earth----?" + +But her ear was caught by a distant boom, and her eyes lifted to the +surrounding mountain heights. In a dozen different places bonfires +flashed and leaped, with an indescribable effect of beauty. + +"They're firing dynamite up on West Peak!" explained Sue. "Jack +Weatherbee offered to do that. Tim's got boys at all those places to +keep up the fires--and put 'em out afterward. Oh, look!--now you can see +the parade beginning to show!" + +Down upon the distant plain, across which lay the winding road out from +the city, one could discern a trail of light--thrown by many +searchlights--and make out its rapid advance. The sight moved Mrs. +Boswell instantly to action again. + +"I must get back to the kitchen!" she cried, and vanished from the +balcony. + +"If you could only see the Inn from outside!" Sue called after her, but +uselessly. Mrs. Boswell felt that the entire success of the "boom" +depended upon the kitchen. They might string lanterns from Boswell's to +Jericho, but if the supper shouldn't be good--the thought sent her down +the back stairs at a speed reckless for one of her years. But she +reached the bottom safely, or this story would never have been told. + +The first cars in the procession came up the steep road with open +cut-outs. The bigger cars made nothing of it; the smaller ones got into +their low gears and ground a bit as they pulled. In fifteen minutes from +the first arrival, the wide plateau upon which the Inn stood looked like +an immense garage, cars of every description having been packed in +together at all angles. Up the Inn steps flowed a steady stream of +people: men in driving attire and motor caps; women in long coats and +floating veils, under which showed pretty summer frocks; a few children, +dressed like their elders in motoring rig, their faces eager with +interest in everything. In the hall, behind a screen of flags and +evergreen, the orchestra played merrily. It presently had to play its +loudest to be heard above the chorus of voices. + +In less time than it takes to tell, every table in the airy dining-room, +lit by more Chinese lanterns and hung with streamers of bunting, was +filled. Reservations had been made by mail and telephone for the past +three days, and with a list in his hand Tom hurried about. He could +never have kept his head if it had not been for young Haskins at his +elbow. Haskins was secretary of the Mercury Club and knew everybody. He +was a genial fellow, and if anybody attempted to tell Tom that a mistake +had been made, and certain reservations should have been for the first +or second table, instead of the third, Haskins would cut in with a joke +and have the murmurer appeased and laughing in a trice. + +As for Perkins--but where was Perkins? Up to the last minute before the +first car arrived, Perkins had been in evidence enough--in fact, he had +been everywhere all day, personally supervising every detail, working +like a fiend himself and inspiring everybody else to work, proving +himself the ablest of generals and a perfect genius at effective +decoration. The Inn, inside and out, was a fairyland of light and +colour--even the sated eyes of the city people, accustomed to every +trick of effect in such affairs, were charmed with the picturesque +quality of the scene. But now Tom could see nothing of Perkins +anywhere. Tim, hurriedly questioned, shook his head, also puzzled. + +Late in the evening there came a moment when Tom could free himself long +enough to run up to Perkins's room. He was uneasy about his guest--and +friend--for that the stranger seemed to have become. Perkins certainly +didn't look quite strong--could he have overdone and be ill, alone in +his room? After one hasty knock, to which he got no answer, Tom turned +the knob. Through the open balcony door he saw a leg and shoulder--and +smelled the familiar fragrance of the special brand. + +"Hello, son!" was Perkins's greeting. + +"You're not sick?" + +"Never. Things going O. K.?" + +"Oh, splendid! Such a crowd--such a jolly crowd! But--why don't you come +down?" + +"To help make things go?" + +"No, no--to enjoy it. You've done enough. You must know some of these +people, and if you don't--it's worth something just to look at 'em. I +didn't know ladies dressed like that--under those things they wear in +the autos. Say, Mr. Perkins, the Lieutenant-Governor's here--and his +wife!" + +"So?" + +"Mr. Haskins thinks they want to stay all night. The lady hasn't been +sleeping well through the heat. Mr. Haskins says she's taken a fancy to +the Inn. But I haven't a really good room for 'em." + +"Take mine." + +Tom gasped. "Oh, no! Not yours--after all you've done----" + +"Going to-morrow, you know. It doesn't matter where I hang up to-night. +Matters a good deal where Mrs. Lieutenant-Governor hangs up." + +"But where----?" + +"Anywhere. May sit up till morning, anyhow. Feel like it. Your show sort +of goes to my head." + +"My show? Yours! But why on earth don't you come down and----?" + +"By and by, son. Say, send me some clean linen and I'll see that this +room's in shape for the lady--girls all busy yet. Room swept yesterday. +My truck's packed. I'll have things ready in ten minutes." + +Tom went downstairs feeling more than ever that his guest was an enigma. +But he was too busy to stop just then to think about it. + +The hours went by. The guests talked and laughed, ate and promenaded. +They crowded the porch to watch the fireworks on the mountain; they +swept over the smooth space and the roadway in front of the Inn, looking +up at it and remarking upon the quaint charm of it, the desirability of +its location, its attractiveness as a resort. Tom heard one pretty girl +planning a luncheon here next week; he heard a group of men talking +about entertaining a visiting delegation of bankers up here at Boswell's +out of the heat. + +Everywhere people were asking, "Why haven't we known about this?" and to +one and another Arthur Haskins, in Tom's hearing, was saying such things +as, "Just opened up. Jolly place, isn't it? Going to be the most popular +anywhere around. Deserves it, too." + +"But is the table as good every day as it is to-night?" one skeptic +inquired. + +"Better." Haskins might have been an owner of the place, he was so +prompt with his flattering statements. "First time I came up was with a +crowd of fellows. We took them unawares, and they served a supper that +made us smile all over. Their cook can't be beaten--and the service is +first-class." + +It was over at last. But it was at a late hour that the first cars began +to roll away down the hill, and later still when the last got under way. +They carried a gay company, and the final rockets, spurting from West +Peak, flashed before the faces of people in the high good humour of +those who have been successfully and uniquely entertained. + +The Lieutenant-Governor and his wife had gone to the pink and white +welcome of the bridal suite when Perkins at last came strolling +downstairs. Only Haskins's party remained in the flag-hung lobby, the +women sheathing themselves in veils, as their motor chugged at the porch +steps. + +Haskins turned as Perkins crossed the lobby. He stared an instant, then +advanced with outstretched hand, smiling. + +"Why, Mr. Parker," he said, "I didn't know you were here. Doctor Austin +was asking me to-day if I knew where you were. He seems to have got you +on his mind. He'll be delighted to see you. I'll call him--he's just +outside. He's with our party." + +With an expression half dismayed, half amused, Perkins looked after the +Mercury Club's secretary as he darted to the outer door, where a big +figure in a motoring coat was pacing up and down. + +Tom, leaning over the office desk, looked at Perkins. But Haskins had +called the man "Parker." What----? + +The big figure in the motoring coat came hurriedly in at the doorway and +grasped the hand of Tom's guest. "Parker," he cried, "what are you doing +here? Are you responsible for this panjandrum to-night? Didn't I send +you off for an absolute rest?" + +"Been obeying directions strictly, Doctor. I've lain around up here till +the grass sprouted under my feet. You haven't seen me here to-night, +have you?" + +"No, but the thing looks like one of your managing." + +"No interest in this place whatever. Never heard of it till I stumbled +on it." But Perkins's eyes were dancing. + +"You're looking a lot better, anyhow. Come out here and meet Mrs. +Austin. I want to show her the toughest patient I ever had to pull loose +from his work." + +The two went out upon the porch. Tom gazed at young Haskins, as the +latter looked at him with a smile. + +"Did he engineer this part of the thing, too, Boswell?" questioned the +young man, interestedly. + +"Sure, he did. But who is he?" + +"Didn't you know who he was? That's so--you've called him Perkins all +along, but this is the first time I've seen him here, and I didn't put +two and two together. His letters and 'phones about this supper came +from in town somewhere. Why, he's Chris Parker, the biggest hotel man in +the country. Nobody like him--he'd make the deadest hotel in the +loneliest hamlet pay in a month. Head of all the hotel organizations you +can count. Most original chap in the world. Doctor Austin was telling me +to-night about ordering him off for a rest because he'd put such a lot +of nerve tension into his schemes he was on the edge of a bad breakdown. +Well, well, you're mighty lucky if you've got him backing you. No other +man on earth could have got the Mercury Club up here to-night--a place +they'd never heard of." + +So Tom was thinking. He was still thinking it when the motor car shot +away down the hill with its load, the physician calling back at his +ex-patient: "Don't get going too soon again, Parker! So far, so good, +but don't----" + +The last words were lost in a final boom from West Peak. + +Tom went slowly out upon the porch, feeling embarrassed and uncertain. +How could he ever express his gratitude to this mighty man of valour? + +"Perkins" was sitting, as usual, astride the porch rail, the red light +of his cigar glowing against the dark background of the mountains where +the bonfires were dying to mere sparks. He looked around as Tom +appeared, and grinned in a friendly way under the Chinese lanterns. + +"Tough luck, to get caught at the last minute, eh?" he said. + +"Mr. Per--Parker----" began Tom, and stopped. + +The "biggest hotel man in the country" looked at the greenest young +innkeeper, and there was satisfaction in his bright black eyes. + +"Not any thanks, son. Should have croaked in one week more if I couldn't +have worked off a few pounds of high pressure. This sort of thing to +me's like a game to a gambler--as I told you. Had to keep incog., or I'd +have had a dozen parties from town after me on one deal or another. +Thought I could put this little stunt through without giving myself +away--but came downstairs five minutes too soon. Went off pretty +well--eh? You'll have patronage after this, all right. No--no thanks, I +said. I'm under obligations to you for trusting me to run the thing. +It's saved my life!" + +Well, if it were all a game, Tom thought, as he watched Mr. Christopher +Parker run lightly up the stairs, a few minutes later, it was certainly +a wondrous friendly one. + +_And Boswell's Inn was now known to be only sixteen short motor miles +from town._ + + + + +II + +HONOUR AND THE GIRL + + +He lay back among the crimson pillows in his big chair, close beside the +fire, with his eyes on the burning logs. A tablet and pen lay in his +lap, and he had written a few paragraphs, but he was listening now to +certain sounds which came from below stairs: voices, laughter, +scurryings up and down the hall and staircase; then the slam of a heavy +door, the tuneful ring of sleighbells in a rapid _decrescendo_ down the +street, and absolute silence within the house. Three times in the last +fifteen minutes before the door closed somebody had looked in upon the +occupant of the big chair to say something like this: + +"Oh, Jerry--sorry we couldn't spend Nan's last evening with you. Too bad +this wretched Van Antwerp dance had to come to-night--Christmas Eve, +too. Busy, aren't you, as usual? At work on those sketches of country +life in winter? You clever boy--who but you could make so much out of so +little? Anything we can do for you before we are off? Nan hates to go, +since it's the very last evening of her visit. She thought we all ought +to give up and stay with you, but we told her you disliked to be +'babied.' Well--good-night, old fellow. Don't write too late. You know +the doctor thinks plenty of sleep is part of your cure." + +That was the sort of thing they had been saying to him for a year now--a +year. And he seemed no nearer health than when he had been sent home +from his gloriously busy, abounding life in New York, where he was +succeeding brilliantly, far beyond anybody's expectations--except those +of the few knowing ones who had recognized the genius in him in his +school and college days. But he had never given up. Invalided in body, +his mind worked unceasingly; and a certain part of the literary work he +had been doing he did still. He said it kept him from going off his +head. + +When the stillness of the usually noisy house had become oppressive he +took up his tablet and pen again. He wrote a sentence or two--slowly; +then another--more slowly; and drew an impatient line through them all. +He tossed the tablet over to a table near at hand and sat staring into +the fire. Certain lines about his mouth grew deep. + +A knock on his door roused him, and he realized that it had sounded +before. "Come in," he called, and the door opened and closed behind him. +An unmistakable sound, as of the soft rustle of delicate skirts, swept +across the floor and paused behind his chair. He drew himself up among +his pillows, and strained his neck to look over his shoulder. A young +face, full of life and colour, laughed down into his. + +"You?" he said in an amazed breath. "_You?_ Why, Nan!" + +He reached up one hand and took hers and drew her with his slight +strength around where he could see her. It did not take much strength. +She came, laughing still, and sweeping a graceful low bend before him. + +"Don't ask me why," she said with a shake of her head. "I didn't want to +go. I knew I wouldn't go all the time I was dressing. But I dressed. I +knew I could argue with them better when I got this gown on. I think I +have rather a regal air in it, don't you?" + +"I could tell better if you were not wearing that shapeless thing over +it." + +"Oh, but I've taken off my gloves, and I can't stand bare arms and +shoulders here at home." She shrugged the shoulders under the thin +silken garment with which she had covered them. + +"And you're not going to the Van Antwerps' at all?" + +"Certainly not. I preferred to stay at home." + +"Why?" + +"I told you not to ask me why. But I suppose you won't talk about +anything else until you know." + +She sat down opposite him before the fire, looking up at the great +branches of holly on the chimney-piece above, their scarlet berries +gleaming saucily among the rich green of their leaves. She reached up +and pulled off a spray; then she glanced at him. He was silently +surveying her. In her delicate blue gauzy gown she was something to +look at in the fire-glow. + +"I wanted to spend my last evening here with you," she said. + +He smiled back at her. "Three people looked in here this evening and +told me you thought you ought." + +She answered indignantly: "I didn't say I ought. I didn't think it. I +wanted to. And I didn't want them to stay. That is why I let them all +array themselves before I refused to go." + +He was still smiling. "Delicate flattery," he said, "adapted to an +invalid. You should never let an invalid think you pity him--at least +not a man-invalid who got knocked out while playing a vigorous game for +all it was worth." + +"Jerry," she said, looking full at him out of a pair of eyes which were +capable of saying eloquent things quite by themselves, "do you think all +the hours I've spent with you in this month I've been visiting Hester +were spent from pity?" + +"I hope not," he answered lightly. "I'm sure not. We've had some +pleasant times, haven't we?" + +She turned from him without speaking, and, clasping her hands loosely +in front of her, bent forward and studied the fire. Presently she got up +and took a fresh log from the basket. + +"Be careful," he warned, as she stooped to lay it in place. "Put it on +gently. The sparks might fly, and that cobweb dress of yours----" + +She laid the log across the other half-burnt sticks, and started back +with a little cry as a dozen brilliant points of flame flew toward her. + +"Don't do that again," he protested sternly, with nothing of the invalid +in his voice. "I don't like to see you do such things when I couldn't +stir to save you no matter what happened." + +She stood looking down at him. "Jerry," she said, "I'll tell you why I +stayed to-night. I wanted to talk with you about something. I want your +help." + +His eyes told her that he would give it if he could. + +"Do you mind if I sit on a pillow here before the fire?" she asked, +bringing one from the couch. Jerry had plenty of pillows. Since his +breakdown every girl who had ever known him had sent him a fresh one. + +"Somehow I can talk better," she explained. + +She settled herself on her cushion, her blue skirts lying in light folds +about her, her chin on her hand, her elbow on her knee. + +"I always go straight to the point," she said. "I never know how to lead +artfully up to a thing. Jerry, you know I go to Paris in January, to do +some special work in illustrating?" + +"Yes." + +"I go with Aunt Elizabeth, and we shall live very quietly and properly, +and I shall not have any of the--trials--so many young women workers +have. My work will keep me very busy, and, I think, happy. I mean it +shall. But, Jerry--I want something. You know you have always known me, +because I was Hester's friend." + +"Is this 'straight to the point'?" he asked, and there was a gleam of +fun in his eyes, though his lips were sober. But his interest was +unmistakable. + +"Very straight. But we have never been special friends, you and I." + +"Haven't we? I congratulated myself we had." + +"Not what I mean by that word." She sat looking into the fire for some +little time, while he remained motionless, watching her, his eyes shaded +by his hand. At length she said very earnestly, still staring fireward, +while her cheeks took on a slight access of colour: + +"I want to feel I have a friend--one friend--a real one, whom I leave +behind me here--who will understand me and write to me, and whom I can +count on--differently from the way I count on other friends." + +He was studying her absorbedly. There came into his eyes a peculiar look +as she made her frank statement. + +"Then you haven't just that sort of a friend among all the men you know +at home?" + +"Not a single one. And I miss it. Not because I have ever had it," she +added quickly. + +He was silent for a little while, then he said very quietly: "You are +offering me a good deal, Nan. Do you realize just how much? +Friendship--such friendship--means more to me now than it ever did +before." + +"Does it?" she asked with equal quietness. "I'm glad of that." + +"Because," he went on gravely, "I realize that it is the only thing I +can ever have, and it must take the place of all I once--hoped for." + +"Oh, why do you say that?" she cried impetuously. + +"Since you are to be my friend now--my special friend--I can tell you +what Doctor McDonough told me just two days ago. May I tell you that? I +have told and shall tell no one else. Before you take the vows"--he +smiled grimly--"you should know what you are accepting." + +"Tell me." + +"He said I might be better--much better--but I could never hope to +be--my old self again." + +"Oh, Jerry! Oh, Jerry!" Her voice was almost a sob. She turned about and +reached up both hands to him, clasping his with a warm and tender +pressure. + +"Is that what your friendship means?" he asked, holding her hands +closely and looking down steadily into her eyes while his own grew +brilliant. "If it does--it is going to be something a man might give up +a good deal for." + +"Oh, how can you take such a cruel disappointment so?" she breathed. +"And to hear it just at Christmas, too. I've said all along that you +were just the bravest person I ever knew. But now!--Jerry, I'm not +worthy to be your friend." + +"Ah, I'll not let you take back what you offered me. If you knew how +I've wanted to ask it----" + +"Have you, really?" she asked so eagerly that he turned his head away +for a moment and set his lips firmly together as if he feared he might +presently be tempted to go beyond those strait boundaries of friendship. +Somehow from the lips of such a girl as Nan this sort of thing was the +most appealing flattery; at the same time it was unquestionably sincere. + +"So you will seal the compact? Think it over carefully. I can never give +you the strong arm a well man could." + +"If you will teach me to acquire the sort of strength you have learned +yourself," she said--and there was a hint of mistiness about those eyes +of hers--"you will have given me something worth while." + +Presently they were talking of her journey, to be begun on the morrow; +of her work, in which she had come in the last year to remarkable +success; of his work--the part which he could do and would continue to +do, he said, with added vigour. They talked quietly but earnestly, and +each time she looked up into his face she saw there a new brightness, +something beyond the mere patient acceptance of his hard trial. + +"Jerry," she said all at once, breaking off in the midst of a discussion +of certain phases of the illustrator's art, "you don't know how suddenly +rich I feel. All the while you were doing such wonderful, beautiful +things with your pen in New York and being made so much of, I was +thinking, 'What an inspiration Jerrold Fullerton would be as a real +friend.' But all the girls were----" + +He laughed. "They won't trouble you, now." + +"But your friendship is worth more now than then." + +He shook his head. + +"It is--because _you_ are more than you were then." + +"I'm a mere wreck of what I was, Nan." He did not say it bitterly, but +he could not quite keep the sadness out of the uncompromising phrase. + +She looked up at him, studying his face intently. It had always been a +remarkably fine face, and on it the suffering of the past year had done +a certain work which added to its beauty. He did not look ill, but the +refinement which illness sometimes lends to faces of a somewhat too +strongly cut type had softened it into an exceeding charm. Out of it the +eyes shone with an undaunted spirit which told of hidden fires. + +"I am glad a share in the wreckage falls to me," she said softly. + +"Nan," he told her, while his lips broke irresistibly into a smile +again, "I believe you are deliberately trying to burn a sweet incense +before me to-night. Just how fragrant it is to a fellow in my shape I +can't tell you. You would never do it if I were on my feet, I appreciate +that; but I'm very grateful just the same." + +"I'd like," she said with eyes which fell now to the hands folded in her +lap--and the droop of her head as he saw it, with the turned-away +profile cut like an exquisite silhouette against the fire, was burnt +into his memory afterward--"to have you remember this Christmas Eve--as +I shall." + +"Remember it!" + +"Shall you?" + +"Shall I!" + +"Ah--who is deliberately trying to say nice things now?" But she said it +rather faintly. + +He lay back among his pillows with a long breath. "So you go to-morrow +morning?" + +"Early--at six o'clock. You will not see me. And I must go now. See, it +is after eleven. Think of their making me go out this evening when I +must be up at five and travel the next forty-eight hours. On Christmas +Day, too. Isn't that too bad? But that's the price of my staying over to +spend Christmas Eve with Jerry Fullerton--like the foolish girl that I +am." + +She rose and stood before him. + +"Would you mind slipping off that--domino?" he requested. "I'd like to +see you just as all the other fellows would have seen you if you had +gone to the Van Antwerps'." + +Smiling, and flushing a little, she drew off the silken garment, and the +firelight bathed her softly rounded shoulders and arms in a rosy glow. +He looked at her silently for a minute, until she said again that she +must go, and took a step toward him, smiling down at him and holding out +both hands. + +"I don't know how I can spare my friend, when I've just found her," he +said, searching her face with an intentness she found it difficult to +bear. "I suppose I ought not to ask it, but--it's Christmas Eve, you +know--and--you'll give me one more thing to remember--won't you, Nan?" + +She bent, like a warm-hearted child, and laid her lips lightly upon his +forehead, but he caught her hands. + +"Is that the proper degree for friendship--and you feel that more would +be too much?" + +She hesitated; then, as his grasp drew her, she stooped lower, blushing +beautifully, to give the kiss upon his lips. But it was not the breath +of a caress she would have made it. Invalids are sometimes possessed of +unsuspected reserves of strength. + +She turned away then in a pretty confusion, said, "Good-night," and +went slowly toward the door. + +"Oh, come back!" he cried. "Tell me--you will write often?" + +"Oh, yes; every--month." + +"Month? Won't you write every mail?" + +"Oh, Jerry!" + +"Every week, then?" + +"Will you?" + +"I will, whether you do or not." + +"Your ideas of friendship----" + +"Are they too exacting?" + +"No-o," she admitted, as if reluctantly. She was behind him now, her +hands clasped together tightly, her eyes glowing with the light of a +frightened purpose which was over-mastering her. He tried to turn and +see her, but she defeated this. + +"Please come here," he begged. + +She was silent, trying to breathe more naturally. + +"Please----" + +"What good will it do?" she asked at last. "I shall have to go, and +you--won't----" + +"Won't--what?" + +She crept up close behind his chair. + +"--_say it_," she whispered. + +He reached out his hand with a commanding gesture. "Nan, come here. +Say--what?" + +She bent over the back of his chair and laid a soft, trembling hand on +each side of his face. + +"Please say it," she breathed. + +He seized her hands and drew them to his lips. "Nan, you are tempting me +almost beyond my power. Do you mean to tempt me? Are you trying to?" + +She leaned low, so that her breath swept his cheek, and whispered, +"Yes." + +"Oh, my God," he groaned. "Nan--are you insane? What if I say it--then +how much worse will it be? I can bear it better as it is now--and +you--can't mean it." + +"_Say it!_" came the breath in his ear again. + +He was silent for a while, breathing heavily. Presently he began to +speak in a quiet tone whose vibrations showed, nevertheless, the most +rigid self-control. He still held her hands, resting there upon his +shoulders, but he made no further effort to see her face. + +"Nan," he said, "this friendship you give me is the dearest thing I ever +knew. It is worth everything to me. Let me keep it while you go away +for your year of work. Be the warmest friend to me you know how, and +write me everything about yourself. Meanwhile--keep your heart free +for--the man will surely come to claim it some day--a man who will be +worthy of you in every way, soul, mind, and--body. I shall be happy in +your----" + +Her hand pulled itself away from his, and was laid with a gentle +insistence upon his mouth. + +"Jerry," she said very softly, "that's enough--please. I understand. +That had to be said. I knew you would say it. It's what you think you +ought to say, of course. But--it's said now. You needn't repeat it. For +it's not the thing--I'm waiting for you to say." + +"Nan----" + +"Would you make a poor girl do it all?" she questioned, with a +suggestion of both laughter and tears in her voice. + +"But, Nan----" + +"I'm not used to it," she urged. "It's very embarrassing. And I ought to +be asleep this minute, getting ready for my early start. I'm not quite +sure that I shall sleep if you say it"--her voice dropped to a whisper +again--"but I'm sure I shall not if--you--don't." + +"My dear girl----" + +"That's hardly warm enough, is it--under the circumstances--when you +won't see me for a year? Jerry--a whole year----" + +"Nan--for the love of Heaven come around here!" + +"Not so much for the love of Heaven as----" + +"No--for the love of you--you--_you!_" + +She came at last--and then she saw his eyes. But she could not meet them +after the first glance. She lay in his arms, held there by a grasp so +strong that it astonished her beyond measure. So, for a time; then he +began to speak--in her ear now, where, in its pinkness, with a little +brown curl touching his lips, it listened. + +"You've made me say it, dear, when for your sake I would have kept it +back. But you know--you must know, nothing can come of it." + +He heard her murmur, "Why?" + +"You know why." + +"I don't." + +He drew a deep breath. + +"Don't you want me?" she asked--into his shoulder. + +"Want you!" + +"You've everything to offer me." + +"Nan----" + +"Everything I want. Jerry"--she lifted her head and looked for an +instant into his eyes--"I shall die of heartache if you won't offer it." + +"A wreck of a life----" + +"I won't let you call it that again," she flashed. "You--Jerrold +Fullerton--whose merest scrawl is reviewed by every literary editor in +the land. Do you think you can't do still better work with--with me?" + +"But you wouldn't be marrying Jerrold Fullerton's mind alone." + +"No--his soul--all there is of him--his great personality--himself. And +that's so much more than I can give in return----" + +"Nan, darling----" + +"Yes----" + +"Go to Paris for a year, but don't bind yourself to me. Then, when you +come back, if----" + +"If I'm still of the same mind----Jerry, you sound like the counsel of a +wise and worldly grandmother," with a gleeful laugh. + +"--if I'm no worse--if I'm a little better----This is great medicine, +Nan. I feel like a new man now. If then----" + +"I shall not go at all unless--unless----" + +"Yes----" + +"--unless I am bound tight--tight--to you. I--I shouldn't feel sure of +you!" + +"Oh, there's no use resisting you," he said, half under his breath. +"It's the sorriest bargain a woman ever made, but----" + +"If she will make it----" + +"Look at me, Nan." + +"I can't--long," she complained. "Somehow you--you--blind me." + +He laughed softly. "I realize that--you are blind--blind. But I can't +open your eyes. Somehow I'm losing the strength to try." + +"I must go now," she said gently, trying to release herself. "Really I +must! Yes, I must! Please, Jerry--let me go, dear----Yes, yes--you +must!" It took time, however, and was accomplished with extreme +difficulty. "But I _can_ go now. I couldn't when I said good-night +before----Oh! it's striking twelve! Good-night, Jerry----Merry +Christmas, Jerry!" + +Before she quite went, however, she came back once more to lean over the +back of his chair and whisper in his ear: + +"Jerry----" + +"Yes?" + +"Am I really--engaged--to you?" + +"Darling--bless you--I'm afraid you are." + +"Afraid?" + +"Nan--I'm the happiest cripple on earth." + +So she went softly out and closed the door. But it was not to sleep. As +for the man she left behind, his eyes looked into the smouldering fire +till well toward morning. It was not the doctor's prescription, but it +was the beginning of his cure. + + + + +III + +THEIR WORD OF HONOUR + + +The president of the Great B---- railway system laid down the letter he +had just re-read three times, and turned about in his chair with an +expression of annoyance. + +"I wish it were possible," he said slowly, "to find one boy or man in a +thousand who would receive instructions and carry them out to the letter +without a single variation from the course laid down. Cornelius"--he +looked up sharply at his son, who sat at a desk close by--"I hope you +are carrying out my ideas with regard to your sons. I've not seen much +of them lately. The lad Cyrus seems to me a promising fellow, but I'm +not so sure of Cornelius. He appears to be acquiring a sense of his own +importance as Cornelius Woodbridge, 3d, which is not desirable, sir--not +desirable. By the way, Cornelius, have you yet applied the Hezekiah +Woodbridge test to your boys?" + +Cornelius Woodbridge, Junior, looked up from his work with a smile. "No, +I haven't, father," he said. + +"It's a family tradition, and if the proper care has been taken that the +boys should not learn of it, it will be as much of a test for them as it +was for you and for me, and for my father. You have not forgotten the +day I gave it to you, Cornelius?" + +"That would be impossible," said his son, still smiling. + +The elder man's somewhat stern features relaxed, and he sat back in his +chair with a chuckle. "Do it at once," he requested, "and make it a +stiff one. You know their characteristics; give it to them hard. I feel +pretty sure of Cyrus, but Cornelius----" He shook his head doubtfully +and returned to his letter. Suddenly he wheeled about again. + +"Do it Thursday, Cornelius," he said in his peremptory way, "and +whichever one of them stands it shall go with us on the tour of +inspection. That will be reward enough, I fancy." + +"Very well, sir," replied his son, and the two men went on with their +work without further words. They were in the habit of dispatching +important business with the smallest possible waste of breath. + +On Thursday morning, immediately after breakfast, Cyrus Woodbridge found +himself summoned to his father's library. He presented himself at once, +a round-cheeked, bright-eyed lad of fifteen, with an air of alertness in +every line of him. + +"Cyrus," said his father, "I have a commission for you to undertake, of +a character which I cannot now explain to you. I want you to take this +envelope"--he held out a large and bulky packet--"and without saying +anything to any one follow its instructions to the letter. I ask of you +your word of honour that you will do so." + +The two pairs of eyes looked into each other for a moment, singularly +alike in a certain intent expression, developed into great keenness in +the man, but showing as yet only an extreme wide-awakeness in the boy. +Cyrus Woodbridge had an engagement with a young friend in half an hour, +but he responded firmly: + +"I will, sir." + +"On your honour?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"That is all I want. Go to your room and read your instructions. Then +start at once." + +Mr. Woodbridge turned back to his desk with the nod and smile of +dismissal to which Cyrus was accustomed. The boy went to his room, +opening the envelope as soon as he had closed the door. It was filled +with smaller envelopes, numbered in regular order. Enfolding these was a +typewritten paper which read as follows: + + Go to the reading-room of the Westchester Library. There open + Env. No. 1. Remember to hold all instructions secret. C. W., Jr. + +Cyrus whistled. "That's funny!" he thought. "And it means my date with +Harold is off. Well, here goes!" + +On his way out he stopped to telephone his friend of his detention, took +a Westchester Avenue car at the nearest point, and in twenty minutes was +at the library. He found an obscure corner and opened "Env. No. 1." + + Go to office of W. K. Newton, Room 703, seventh floor, Norwalk + Building, X Street, reaching there by 9:30 A. M. Ask for letter + addressed to Cornelius Woodbridge, Jr. On way down elevator open + Env. No. 2. C. W., Jr. + +Cyrus began to laugh. At the same time he felt a trifle irritated. +"What's father at?" he questioned, in perplexity. "Here I am away +uptown, and he orders me back to the Norwalk Building. I passed it on my +way up. Must be he made a mistake. Told me to obey instructions, though. +He usually knows just about why he does things." + +Meanwhile Mr. Woodbridge had sent for his elder son, Cornelius. A tall +youth of seventeen, with the strong family features, varied by a droop +in the eyelids and a slight drawl in the speech, lounged to the door of +the library. Before entering he straightened his shoulders; he did not, +however, quicken his pace. + +"Cornelius," said his father promptly, "I wish to send you upon an +errand of some importance, but of possible inconvenience to you. I have +not time to give you instructions, but you will find them in this +envelope. I ask you to keep the matter and your movements strictly to +yourself. May I have from you your word of honour that I can trust you +to follow the orders to the smallest detail?" + +Cornelius put on a pair of eyeglasses, and held out his hand for the +envelope. His manner was nonchalant to the point of indifference. + +Mr. Woodbridge withheld the packet and spoke with decision: + +"I cannot allow you to look at the instructions until I have your word +of honour that you will fulfil them." + +"Isn't that asking a good deal, sir?" + +"Perhaps so," said Mr. Woodbridge, "but no more than is asked of trusted +messengers every day. I will assure you that the instructions are mine +and represent my wishes." + +"How long will it take?" inquired Cornelius, stooping to flick an +imperceptible spot of dust from his trousers. + +"I do not find it necessary to tell you." Something in his father's +voice sent the languid Cornelius to an erect position and quickened his +speech. + +"Of course I will go," he said, but he did not speak with enthusiasm. + +"And--your word of honour?" + +"Certainly, sir." The hesitation before the promise was momentary. + +"Very well. I will trust you. Go to your room before opening your +instructions." + +And the second somewhat mystified boy went out of the library on that +memorable Thursday morning, to find his first order one which sent him +to a remote district of the city, with the direction to arrive there +within three quarters of an hour. + +Out on an electric car Cyrus was speeding to another suburb. After +getting the letter from the seventh floor of the Norwalk Building, he +had read: + + Take cross-town car on L Street, transfer to Louisville Avenue, + and go out to Kingston Heights. Find corner West and Dwight + streets and open Env. No. 3. C. W. Jr. + +Cyrus was growing more and more puzzled, but he was also getting +interested. At the corner specified he hurriedly tore open No. 3, but +found, to his amazement, only the singular direction: + + Take Suburban Elevated Road for Duane Street Station. From there + go to _Sentinel_ Office and secure third edition of yesterday's + paper. Open Env. No. 4. C. W. Jr. + +"Well, what under the sun, moon, and stars did he send me out to +Kingston Heights for?" cried Cyrus aloud. He caught the next train, +thinking longingly of his broken engagement with Harold Dunning, and of +certain plans for the afternoon which he was beginning to fear might be +thwarted if this seemingly endless and aimless excursion continued. He +looked at the packet of unopened envelopes. + +"It would be mighty easy to break open the whole outfit and see what +this game is," he thought. "Never knew father to do a thing like this +before. If it's a joke"--his fingers felt the seal of "Env. No. 4"--"I +might as well find it out at once. Still, father never would joke with a +fellow's promise the way he asked it of me. 'My word of honour'--that's +putting it pretty strong. I'll see it through, of course. My, but I'm +getting hungry! It must be near luncheon-time." + +It was not; but by the time Cyrus had been ordered twice across the city +and once up a sixteen-story building in which the elevator was out of +order it was past noon, and he was in a condition to find "Env. No. 7" a +very satisfactory one: + + Go to Cafe Reynard on Westchester Square. Take seat at table in + left alcove. Ask waiter for card of Cornelius Woodbridge, Jr. + Before ordering luncheon read Env. No. 8. C. W. Jr. + +The boy lost no time in obeying this command, and sank into his chair in +the designated alcove with a sigh of relief. He mopped his brow and +drank off a glass of ice water at a gulp. It was a warm October day, and +the sixteen flights had been somewhat trying. He asked for his father's +card, and then sat studying the attractive menu. The Cafe Reynard was a +place famous the country over for its cookery. + +"I think I'll have--" he mused for a moment then said helplessly with a +laugh--"well, I'm about hungry enough to eat the whole thing. Bring me +the----" + +Then he recollected, paused, and reluctantly pulled out "Env. No. 8" and +broke the seal. "Just a minute," he murmured to the waiter. Then his +face turned scarlet, and he stammered under his breath, "Why--why--this +can't be----" + +"Env. No. 8" ought to have been bordered with black, judging by the +dismay it caused the famished lad. It read remorselessly: + + Leave Cafe immediately, without stopping for luncheon, + remembering to fee waiter for place retained. Proceed to + box office, Metropolitan Theatre, buy a parquet ticket for + matinee--"The Pied Piper." At end of first act read Env. + No. 9. C. W. Jr. + +The Woodbridge blood was up now, and it was with an expression +resembling that of his Grandfather Cornelius under strong indignation +that Cyrus stalked out of that charming place to proceed grimly toward +the Metropolitan Theatre. + +"Who wants to see a matinee on an empty stomach?" he groaned. "I suppose +I'll be ordered out, anyway, the minute I sit down and stretch my legs. +Wonder if father can be exactly right in his mind. He doesn't believe in +wasting time, but I'm wasting it to-day by the bucketful. Suppose he's +doing this to size me up some way; he isn't going to tire me out as +quick as he thinks. I'll keep going till I drop." + +Nevertheless, when at the end of the first act of a pretty play by a +well-trained company of school children he was ordered to go three miles +to a football field, and then ordered away again without a sight of the +game he had planned for a week to see, his disgust was intense. + +All through that long, warm afternoon he raced about the city and +suburbs, growing wearier and more empty with every step. The worst of it +was the orders were beginning to assume the form of a schedule, and +commanded that he be here at 3:15, and there at 4:05, and so on, which +forbade loitering had he been inclined to loiter. In it all he could see +no purpose, except the possible one of trying his physical endurance. He +was a strong boy, or he would have been quite exhausted long before he +reached "Env. No. 17," which was the last but three of the packet. This +read: + + Reach home at 6:20 P. M. Before entering house read + No. 18. C. W., Jr. + +Leaning against one of the big white stone pillars of the porch of his +home, Cyrus wearily tore open No. 18--and the words fairly swam before +his eyes. He had to rub them hard to make sure that he was not mistaken. + + Go again to Kingston Heights, corner West and Dwight streets, + reaching there by 6:50. Read No. 19. C. W., Jr. + +The boy looked up at the windows, desperately angry at last. If his +pride and his sense of the meaning of that phrase, "My word of honour," +as the men of the Woodbridge family were in the habit of teaching it to +their sons, had not been both of the strongest sort, he would have +rebelled and gone defiantly and stormily in. As it was, he stood for one +long minute with his hands clenched and his teeth set; then he turned +and walked down the steps, away from the longed-for dinner, and out +toward L Street and the car for Kingston Heights. + +As he did so, inside the house, on the other side of the curtain, from +behind which he had been anxiously peering, Cornelius Woodbridge, +Senior, turned about and struck his hands together, rubbing them in a +satisfied way. + +"He's come--and gone," he cried softly, "and he's on time to the +minute!" + +Cornelius, Junior, did not so much as lift his eyes from the evening +paper, as he quietly answered, "Is he?" But the corners of his mouth +slightly relaxed. One who knew him well might have guessed that he +thought it a simple matter to risk any number of chances on a sure +thing. + +The car seemed to crawl out to Kingston Heights. As it at last neared +its terminus, a strong temptation seized the boy Cyrus. He had been on a +purposeless errand to this place once that day. The corner of West and +Dwight streets lay more than half a mile from the end of the car route, +and it was an almost untenanted district. His legs were very tired; his +stomach ached with emptiness. Why not wait out the interval which it +would take to walk to the corner and back in the little suburban +station, read "Env. No. 19," and spare himself? He had certainly done +enough to prove that he was a faithful messenger. + +Had he? Certain old and well-worn words came into his mind: they had +been in his "writing-book" in his early school-days: "_A chain is no +stronger than its weakest link._" Cyrus jumped off the car before it +fairly stopped and started at a hot pace for the corner of West and +Dwight streets. There must be no weak places in his word of honour. + +Doggedly he went to the extreme limit of the indicated route, even +taking the longest way round to make the turn. As he started back, +beneath the arc light at the corner there suddenly appeared a city +messenger boy. He approached Cyrus grinning, and held out an envelope. + +"Ordered to give you this," he said, "if you made connections. If you'd +been later than five minutes past seven, I was to keep dark. You've got +seven minutes and a half to spare. Queer orders, but the big railroad +boss, Woodbridge, give 'em to me." + +Cyrus made his way back to the car with some self-congratulations that +served to brace up the muscles behind his knees. This last incident +showed him plainly that his father was putting him to a severe test of +some sort, and he could have no doubt that it was for a purpose. His +father was the kind of man who does things with a very definite purpose +indeed. Cyrus looked back over the day with an anxious searching of his +memory to be sure that no detail of the singular service required of +him had been slighted. + +As he once more ascended the steps of his own home, he was so confident +that his labours were now ended that he almost forgot about "Env. No. +20" which he had been directed to read in the vestibule before entering +the house. With his thumb on the bell-button he recollected, and with a +sigh broke open the final seal: + + Turn about and go to Lenox Street Station, B---- Railroad, + reaching there by 8.05. Wait for messenger in west end of + station, by telegraph office. C. W., Jr. + +It was a blow, but Cyrus had his second wind now. He felt like a +machine--a hollow one--which could keep on going indefinitely. + +"I know how an automobile feels," he said to himself, "rolling about +from one place to another--never knowing where it's due next--always +waiting outside--never getting fed. Wonder if eating is on this +schedule. I'd have laid in something besides a chop and a roll this +morning at breakfast if I'd known what was ahead." + +The Lenox Station was easily reached on time. The hands of the big clock +were only at one minute past eight when Cyrus entered. At the designated +spot the messenger met him. Cyrus recognized the man as a porter on one +of the trains of the road of which his grandfather and father were +officers. Why, yes, he was the porter of the Woodbridge special car! He +brought the boy a card which ran thus: + + Give porter the letter from Norwalk Building, the card + received at restaurant, the matinee coupon, yesterday + evening's _Sentinel_, and the envelope received at + Kingston Heights. C. W., Jr. + +Cyrus silently delivered up these articles, feeling a sense of +thankfulness that not one was missing. The porter went away with them, +but was back in three minutes. + +"This way, sir," he said, and Cyrus followed, his heart beating fast. +Down the track he recognized the "Fleetwing," President Woodbridge's +private car. And Grandfather Cornelius he knew to be just starting on a +tour of his own and other roads, which included a flying trip to Mexico. +Could it be possible---- + +In the car his father and grandfather rose to meet him. Cornelius +Woodbridge, Senior, was holding out his hand. + +"Cyrus, lad," he said, his face one broad, triumphant smile, "you have +stood the test--the Hezekiah Woodbridge test, sir--and you may be proud +of it. Your word of honour can be depended upon. You are going with us +through nineteen states and Mexico. Is that reward enough for one day's +hardship?" + +"I think it is, sir," agreed Cyrus, his round face reflecting his +grandfather's smile, intensified. + +"Was it a hard pull, Cyrus?" questioned the elder Woodbridge with +interest. + +Cyrus looked at his father. "I don't think so--now, sir," he said. Both +gentlemen laughed. + +"Are you hungry?" + +"Well, just a little, grandfather." + +"Dinner will be served the moment we are off. We've only six minutes to +wait. I'm afraid--I'm very much afraid"--the old gentleman turned to +gaze searchingly out of the car window into the station--"that another +boy's word of honour isn't----" + +He stood, watch in hand. The conductor came in and remained, awaiting +orders. "Two minutes more, Mr. Jefferson," he said. "One and a +half----one half a minute." He spoke sternly: "Pull out at 8:14 on the +second, sir. Ah----" + +The porter entered hurriedly, and delivered a handful of envelopes into +Grandfather Cornelius's grasp. The old gentleman scanned them at a +glance. + +"Yes--yes--all right!" he cried, with the strongest evidences of +excitement Cyrus had ever seen in his usually imperturbable manner. As +the train made its first gentle motion of departure, a figure appeared +in the doorway. Quietly, not at all out of breath, and with precisely +his own nonchalant manner, Cornelius Woodbridge 3d walked into the car. + +Then Grandfather Woodbridge grew impressive. He advanced and shook hands +with his grandson as if he were greeting a distinguished member of the +board of directors. Then he turned to his son and shook hands with him +also, solemnly. His eyes shone through his gold-rimmed spectacles, but +his voice was grave with feeling. + +"I congratulate you, Cornelius," he said, "on possessing two sons whose +word of honour is of the sort to satisfy the Hezekiah Woodbridge +standard. The smallest deviation from the outlined schedule would have +resulted disastrously. Ten minutes' tardiness at the different points +would have failed to obtain the requisite documents. Your sons did not +fail. They can be depended upon. The world is in search of men built on +those lines. I congratulate you, sir." + +Cyrus was glad presently to escape to his stateroom with Cornelius. +"Say, what did you have to do?" he asked eagerly. "Did you trot your +legs off all over town?" + +"Not much, I didn't!" said Cornelius, grimly, from the depths of a big +towel. "I spent the whole day in a little hole of a room at the top of +an empty building, with just ten trips down the stairs to the ground +floor to get envelopes at certain minutes. Not a crumb to eat nor a +thing to do. Couldn't even snatch a nap for fear I'd oversleep one of my +dates at the bottom. Had five engagements, too--one with Helena Fowler +at the links. All I could do was to cut 'em and stick it out. +Casabianca was nothing to me." + +"I believe that was worse than mine," commented Cyrus reflectively. + +"I should say it was. If you don't think so, try it." + +"Dinner, boys," said their father's voice at the door, and they lost no +time in responding. When they had taken their seats and the waiter came +for Cornelius's order, that youth simply pushed the card of the +elaborate menu to one side, and said emphatically, quite without his +customary drawl: "Bring me everything, and twice of it." + +"Me, too!" said Cyrus, with enthusiasm. + + + + +IV + +HALF A LEAGUE ONWARD + + +The Rev. Arthur Thorndyke stirred at his desk with a vague impatience on +account of a little droning sound which had been bothering him for the +last ten minutes without his realizing what it was. He recognized at +last that it was the boy David, in the alcove, where he had asked to be +allowed to stay, promising not to bother Uncle Arthur with his work. For +Uncle Arthur was very busy with his Memorial Day address. At least he +was struggling desperately to be very busy with it, although so far he +had succeeded only in spoiling half a dozen sheets of paper with as many +inadequate introductions. + +"For you see, Major," Arthur Thorndyke had explained to the boy, when he +had come tap-tapping on his crutches into his uncle's study that +morning, "this is such very new business to me. I'm having a pretty +hard time trying to think of anything good and fine enough to say to +the men in blue--and gray--and brown, for we have all sorts here, you +know." + +It was true that Uncle Arthur was a very boyish-looking uncle; but he +was tall and big, and he had been preaching for a year now, and David +thought that he preached very good sermons indeed. Besides, he had been +in the Spanish War, one of the youngest privates in Uncle Stephen's +company, and he ought to know all about it, even though he had really +been in very few engagements. + +"I guess you can do it, Uncle Arthur," said David comfortingly. "And +I'll keep very still in the alcove. I would play somewhere else, only, +you see, it's the only window that looks out over the square, and my +playing is out there." + +Uncle Arthur had not taken time to ask him what he meant, but afterward, +when the little droning sound had begun to annoy him, he found out. He +peeped in between the curtains of the alcove, and saw at once what was +out in the square. It was the major's "regiment." To other people the +square might have seemed to be a very quiet place, full of trees and +May sunshine, with a few babies and nurses and placid pedestrians as its +only occupants. But Uncle Arthur perceived at once, from the aspect of +the major, that it was a place of wild carnage, of desperate assault, of +the clash and shock of arms. + +The major stood erect, supported by one crutch. The other crutch was +being waved in the air, as by one who orders on a mass of fighting men. +From the major's lips issued the subdued but passionate words: + + "Flash'd all their sabres bare, + Flash'd as they turned in air + Sabring th' gunners there, + Charging an army, while + All th' world wonder'd: + Plunged in th' batt'ry-smoke + Right through th' line they broke; + Cossack an' Russian + Reeled from th' sabre-stroke + Scatter'd an' shunder'd. + Then they rode back, but not----" + +The boy's voice wavered. Uncle Arthur saw him put up a thin hand and +wipe his white little brow. Major David's plays were always intensely +real to him. + +"_Not--the six hundred_," he murmured, and sank down on the window-seat, +gazing mournfully out over the square. But in a moment he was up again. + +"Cannon to right of 'em," he began again, sternly. "Cannon to left of +'em----" + +Uncle Arthur crept away without bidding him remember his promise. What +is a Memorial Day address beside the charge of a Light Brigade? + +It was only two days after this that David's mother summoned David's +four uncles to a conference. David had no father. There was a granite +boulder up in the cemetery which ever since David was four years old--he +was ten now--had been draped once a year with a beautiful silken flag. +All the Thorndyke men had been soldiers, and David's father had died at +the front, where the Thorndyke men usually died. It was a matter of +great pride to David every year--that silken flag. + +David's four uncles were all soldiers--in a way. There was Uncle +Chester; he had been breveted colonel at the close of the Civil War, +and Colonel Thorndyke he was--against his will--always called still. +Next came Uncle Stephen; he was a captain of artillery in the regular +army, and had lately come home on a furlough, after three years' service +in the Philippines. Then there was Uncle Stuart, just getting strong +after an attack of typhoid fever. In a week he would be back at West +Point, where he was a first classman and a cadet lieutenant. As for +Uncle Arthur, David always regretted deeply that he was no longer in +either volunteer or regular army, although he took some comfort from the +fact that Uncle Arthur sometimes told him that he had never felt more +like a soldier than he did now. + +It was a hasty and a serious conference, this to which Mrs. Roger +Thorndyke had summoned her dead husband's three brothers and his uncle. +She felt the need of all their counsel, for she had a grave question to +settle. She was a young woman with a sweet decisiveness of character all +her own, yet when a woman has four men upon whom she can call for wisdom +to support her own judgment, she would be an unwise person to ignore +that fact. + +"It's just this," she told them, when she had closed the door of +Arthur's study, where they had assembled. "You know how long we've been +hoping something could be done for David, and how you've all insisted +that when Doctor Wendell should decide he was strong enough for the +operation on the hip-joint we must have it. Well, he says a great +English surgeon, Sir Edmund Barrister, will be here for just two days. +He comes to see the little Woodbridge girl, and to operate on her if he +thinks it best. And Doctor Wendell urges upon me that--it's my chance." + +She had spoken quietly, but her face paled a little as she ended. Her +youngest brother-in-law, Stuart, the cadet, himself but lately out of +hospital, was first to speak. + +"When does he come?" + +"To-morrow." + +"Great guns! The little chap's close up to it! Does he know?" + +"Oh, no! I wouldn't tell him till it was all arranged. Indeed, I wasn't +sure whether----" + +"You'd better tell him at all? Oh, yes, you will, Helen; the major +mustn't stand up to be fired at blindfold." This was from Captain +Stephen, the only one of the four now in active service. + +"You all think it's best to have it done?" + +"Why, it's as Wendell says: now's the chance to have the best man in +that line. You can rest assured the Woodbridges would never stop at +anything short of the finest. Besides, the Englishman's reputation is +international. Of course it must be done." This was Stuart again. The +cadet lieutenant had already acquired the tone of command--he was an +excellent cadet lieutenant. + +But Mrs. Thorndyke looked past Stuart at her Uncle Chester, Colonel +Thorndyke, Civil War veteran. It was upon his opinion that she most +relied. He nodded at her. + +"He's right, Nell," he said. "It's our chance. The boy seems to me in as +good condition for it as he'll ever be." He spoke very gently, for to +his mind, as to them all, rose the vision of a delicate little face and +figure, frail with the frailty of the child who has been for six years a +cripple. + +So it was decided, with few words, that the great surgeon should see +David upon the morrow, to operate upon him at once if he thought wise, +as the local surgeon, Doctor Wendell, was confident he would. Then arose +another question: Who should tell David? + +"Somehow I think," said Mrs. Thorndyke, looking from one to another of +the four who surrounded her, "it would be easier for him from one of +you. He thinks so much of your being soldiers. You know he's always +playing he's a soldier, and if--if one of you could put it to him--in a +sort of military way----" + +She stopped, for this time her lips were really trembling. They looked +at one another, the four men, and there was not a volunteer for the +task. After a minute, however, Arthur, lifting his eyes from the rug +which he had been intently studying, found the others were all facing +him. + +"You're the one," said Captain Stephen Thorndyke. + +"I think you are," agreed Colonel Chester Thorndyke. + +"It's up to you, Art," declared Cadet Lieutenant Thorndyke, with his +usual decision of manner. + +So, although Arthur protested that he was not as fit for the mission as +any of the others, they would not let him off. + +"You're the one he swears by," Stephen said, and Stuart added: + +"Put on your old khaki clothes, Art; that'll tickle the major so he +won't mind what you tell him." + +It was a suggestion which appealed to the young clergyman as he lay +awake that night, thinking how he should tell the boy in the morning. It +seemed to him somehow that it would take the edge off the thing if he +could meet David in the old uniform which the child was always begging +to see. + +Just before he fell asleep he thought of his Memorial Day address. Since +the morning, day before yesterday, when David's play had interrupted his +first futile efforts at it, he had found no time to work on it. He had +had a wedding and two funerals to attend, besides having to look after +the preparation for his Sunday services. The following Saturday would be +Memorial Day. Meanwhile--there was David. + +The next morning Mrs. Thorndyke, on her way to Arthur's study to tell +him that the doctor had telephoned that he would bring the English +surgeon to the house at eleven o'clock for the preliminary examination, +ran into a tall figure in a khaki uniform, a battered slouch hat in his +hand. + +"Why, Arthur!" she cried, then added quickly: "Oh, my dear, that's just +what will please him! I'm so glad it's you who are to tell him--you'll +know how." + +"I don't know how," said her brother, and she saw that his eyes were +heavy. "But I expect the Commander-in-Chief will show me how." And with +these words he went into his study and closed the door for a moment +before David should come, in order that he might get his instructions +from headquarters. + +When the boy came in on his crutches, he found a soldierly figure +awaiting him. He saluted, and the tall corporal returned the salute. The +deep eyes of the man met the clear, bright ones of the child, and the +corporal said to the major: + +"I am ordered to report to you, sir, that the enemy is encamped on the +opposite shore, and is preparing to attack." + +Half an hour afterward Mrs. Thorndyke came anxiously to the door of the +study. Hearing cheerful voices within, she knocked, and was bidden to +enter. + +Her first glance was at little David's face. To her surprise, she saw +there neither fear nor nervousness, only an excited shining of the eyes +and an unusual flushing of the cheeks. The boy rose to meet her. + +"I'm ready, mammy," he announced in his childish treble. "Uncle Arthur +says I've got a chance to prove I'm a soldier's son and a Thorndyke, and +I'm going to do it. The enemy's encamped over in the hospital, and I'm +going to move on his works to-day. I'm going over with my staff. This is +Corporal Thorndyke, and Colonel Chester Thorndyke and Captain Stephen +Thorndyke and Lieutenant Stuart Thorndyke are my staff. And the corporal +has promised that they'll go with me in uniform. I'm going to wear my +uniform, too--may I?" + +The oddness of the question, made in a tone which dropped suddenly and +significantly from the proud address of the officer to the humble +request of the subaltern, brought a very tender smile to Mrs. +Thorndyke's lips, as she gave her brother a grateful glance. "Yes," she +said, "I think you certainly ought to wear your uniform. I'll get it +ready." + +"I may be taken prisoner over there," the little soldier pursued, "but +if I do, Uncle Ar--the corporal says that's the fortunes of war, and I +must take it as it comes." + +Downstairs, presently, David, under a flag of truce, met the opposing +general and his staff. The bluff-looking Englishman with the kind manner +made an excellent general, David thought. + +They detained him only a half-hour, but when he left them it was with +the understanding that his army should move forward at once and attack +upon the morrow. It seemed a bit unusual, not to say unmilitary, to +David, to arrange such matters so thoroughly with the enemy, but his +corporal assured him that under certain conditions the thing was done. + +There being no other part of the "Charge" that would fit, David said +over to himself a great many times on the way to the hospital the +opening lines: + + "Half a league, half a league, + Half a league onward. + All in th' valley of Death + Rode th' six hundred...." + +As he went up the hospital steps, tap-tapping on his crutches because he +would not let anybody carry him, the situation seemed to him much +better. He stopped upon the top step, balanced himself upon one crutch, +and waved the other at his staff--and at the "Six Hundred," pressing on +behind. + + "Forward, th' Light Brigade! + 'Charge for th' guns!' he said...." + +"What's the little chap saying?" Uncle Chester murmured into the ear of +Uncle Arthur, as the small figure hurried on. + +"He's living out 'The Charge of the Light Brigade,'" Arthur answered, +and there was no smile on his lips. Uncle Chester swallowed something in +his throat. + +It may have been a common thing for the hospital nurses and doctors to +see a patient in military clothes arrive accompanied by four other +military figures--the uniforms a little mixed; but if they were +surprised they gave no sign. The nurse who put David to bed wore a Red +Cross badge on her sleeve--hastily constructed by Doctor Wendell. This +badge David regarded with delight. + +"Why, you're a real army nurse, aren't you?" he asked happily. + +"Of course. They are the kind to take care of soldiers," she returned. +And after that there was a special bond between them. + +When they had finished with David that night he was rather glad to have +Corporal Thorndyke say to him that there was a brief cessation of +hostilities, and that the men were to have the chance for a few hours' +sleep. + +"But you'll stay by, won't you, Corporal?" requested the major sleepily. + +"Certainly, sir," responded the corporal, saluting. "I'll be right here +all night." + +The corporal at this point was so unmilitary as to bend over and kiss +him; but as this was immediately followed by a series of caresses from +his mother, the major thought it best not to mind. Indeed, it was very +comforting, and he might have missed it if it had not happened, even +though he was supposed to be in the field and sleeping upon his arms. + +The next morning things happened rather rapidly. + +"No rations, Major," said the Red Cross nurse, when he inquired for his +breakfast. + +"Commissary department left far to the rear," explained the corporal, +with his salute; and of course there was nothing more to be said, +although it did seem a little hard to face "the jaws of death" with no +food to hearten one. + +A number of things were done to David. Then Doctor Wendell came in and +sat down by the high white bed, and, with a reassuring smile at his +patient, gave him a few brief directions. The corporal took David's hand +in his, and held it with the tight grip of the comrade who means to +stand by to the last ditch. + + "Forward, th' Light Brigade! + Was 'ere a man dismay'd? + Not though the soldier knew + Some 'un had blunder'd...." + +"God forbid!" murmured the corporal, as the words trailed slowly out +into the air from under Doctor Wendell's hand. + + "Theirs not to make reply-- + Theirs--not to--reason--why-- + Theirs--but--to--do--an'--die----" + +The corporal set his teeth. Presently he looked across the bed and met +the eyes of the major's mother. "So far, so good," he said, nodding to +her, as the small hand in his relaxed its hold. + +"Talk about sheer pluck!" growled Captain Stephen Thorndyke, in the +waiting-room, where he and Colonel Chester and Cadet Stuart were +marching up and down during the period of suspense. + +"It's that 'Charge of the Light Brigade' that floors me," said Stuart. +"If the youngster'd just whimper a little; but to go under whispering, +'Theirs not to make reply----'" He choked, and frankly drew his gray +sleeve across his eyes. + +"It's the Thorndyke spirit," said Colonel Chester proudly. "He's Roger's +boy, all right." + +There were two or three doubtful bulletins. Then Arthur brought them the +good news that the major had been brought back from the firing-line and +was rallying bravely. + +"But will he pull through? These successful operations don't always end +successfully," said Stuart, as he and Arthur paced down the corridor +together. + +"That's what we've got to wait and hope and pray for," answered Arthur. +"It's the 'stormed at with shot and shell' the major'd be reciting now, +if he could do anything but shut his lips together and try to bear the +pain. It'll be five or six days, they say, before we can call him out of +danger. Hip-joint disease of Davy's form isn't cured by anything short +of this grave operation, and it's taking a good many chances, of course, +in the little chap's delicate condition. But--we've all his own staunch +courage on our side--and somehow, well--Stuart, I've got to preach +to-morrow. And next week--that Memorial address! How do you suppose I'm +going to do it? The major wants me on hospital duty every hour between +now and then." + +That Memorial Day address! How was a distraught young clergyman to +think of material for such an address when he was held captive at the +bedside of a little soldier fighting for his life? + +It was the fourth day before anxiety began to lessen its grip; the +fifth, the sixth, before Doctor Wendell would begin to speak +confidently. Through it all the words of the "Charge" beat in Arthur +Thorndyke's brain till it seemed to him that if David died he should +never hear anything else. For they were constantly on the boy's lips. + +Finally, on the morning of Saturday, Arthur said to David: "Major, this +is the day for you to say the last lines. You know this afternoon the +'Six Hundred' are going by. You'll hear the band play, and Uncle Chester +and Uncle Stephen will be marching in the ranks. Stuart and I will be +there, too, somewhere, and I think if we can just prop you up a little +bit you'll be able to see at least the heads of the men. And you can +salute, you know, even if they can't see you." + +"After the procession are you going to speak to them?" asked David. + +Arthur smiled. "After some sort of fashion I'm going to open my mouth," +he said. "I hardly know myself what will come out. All I do know is, I +never had quite so much respect for the courage that faces the cannon's +mouth as now. And it's you, Major, who are the pluckiest soldier I +know." + +He smiled down at the white little face, its great gray eyes staring up +at him. + +"Uncle Arthur--but--but--I wasn't plucky--all the time. Sometimes--it +hurt so I--had to cry." + +The words were a whisper, but Uncle Arthur still smiled. "That doesn't +count, Major," he said. "Now I must go. Watch for the band." + +Away in the distance, by and by, came the music. As it approached, +mingled with it David could hear the sound of marching feet. His mother +and the Red Cross nurse propped his head up a very little, so that he +could see into the street. Louder and louder grew the strains, then +stopped; the drums beat. + +"Oh, they're not going to play as they go by!" cried David, +disappointed. + +The tramp of the marching feet came nearer. Suddenly the band burst +with a crash into the "Star-Spangled Banner." David's eyes shone with +delight. + +"They're halting in front of us, David," said the nurse. So they were; +David could see them. + +The music reached the end of the tune and stopped. A shout broke upon +the air; it was a cheer. It took words, and swelled into David's room; +but it was a gentle cheer, not a vociferous one. It was given by +Lieutenant Roger Thorndyke's old company. And the words of it were +wonderful: + +_"'Rah, 'rah, 'rah--comrade!"_ + +David lay back on his pillow, his face shining with happiness. He would +never forget that those soldiers of his father's regiment, the ----th +New York, had called him comrade. He thought of them tenderly; he +murmured the closing words of the "Charge," and by them he meant the men +who had stood outside his window and cheered: + + "When can their glory fade? + O th' wild charge they made! + All th' world wonder'd. + Honour th' charge they made! + Honour th' Light Brigade, + Noble six hundred!" + +An hour afterward they came in together, his four Thorndyke soldiers, in +their uniforms--all but Uncle Arthur, who, because he was a clergyman, +and had had to make a speech, had felt obliged to put on a frock coat. + +"Here's the fellow who's been worrying over his Memorial Day address!" +cried Uncle Stephen proudly. + +"It was a rousing good one," declared Stuart. + +"Never heard a better," agreed Uncle Chester. "He's gone 'half a league +onward,' if the rest of us have stood still." + +Uncle Arthur came round, his face rather red, and sat down beside David. + +"Don't you believe them, Major," he said softly. "I could have done it +much better if I could have worn my corporal's uniform." + +THE END + + + + +A COURT OF INQUIRY + +BY GRACE S. RICHMOND. + + +This is a charming story of a group of girl and men friends and the +effect of their pairing off upon the narrator and her "Philosopher." +Althea, Azalea, Camellia, Dahlia, Hepatica--and their several +entanglements with the Promoter, the Cashier, the Skeptic, the Judge and +the Professor, form an admirable background of diverse personalities +against which grows the main love story. One sees these charming groups +through the eyes of the one who tells the tale--and very shrewd and +delightful eyes they are, seeing life in its true perspective with much +real philosophy and true feeling. Mrs. Richmond has never written +anything more fresh and human and entertaining. + + +ALSO BY THE SAME AUTHOR: + + Red Pepper Burns. + Mrs. Red Pepper. + The Indifference of Juliet. + Round the Corner in Gay Street. + With Juliet in England. + Strawberry Acres. + The Second Violin. + + +A. L. BURT COMPANY + +Publishers,--New York + + + + +[Transcriber's notes: + +"Where-ever" on page 78 has been changed to "Wherever" to be consistent +with the spelling in the rest of the text. + +"everbody" on page 96 has been changed to "everybody".] + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Court of Inquiry, by Grace S. 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