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+Project Gutenberg's At the Sign of the Jack O'Lantern, by Myrtle Reed
+
+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: At the Sign of the Jack O'Lantern
+
+Author: Myrtle Reed
+
+Release Date: September 20, 2008 [EBook #26673]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AT THE SIGN OF THE JACK O'LANTERN ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note: Underscore marks are used to mark passages that were
+originally in italics, _as in this phrase_. There are sections of several
+paragraphs that use this markup throughout the book.
+
+------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+AT THE SIGN OF THE JACK O'LANTERN
+
+By
+MYRTLE REED
+
+Author of
+
+Lavender and Old Lace
+The Master's Violin
+A Spinner in the Sun
+Old Rose and Silver
+A Weaver of Dreams
+Flower of the Dusk
+Etc.
+
+New York
+GROSSET & DUNLAP
+Publishers
+
+------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+Copyright, 1902
+
+BY
+MYRTLE REED
+
+By Myrtle Reed:
+
+A Weaver of Dreams          Sonnets to a Lover
+Old Rose and Silver         Master of the Vineyard
+Lavender and Old Lace       Flower of the Dusk
+The Master's Violin         At the Sign of the Jack-o'-Lantern
+Love Letters of a Musician  A Spinner in the Sun
+The Spinster Book           Later Love Letters of a Musician
+The Shadow of Victory       Love Affairs of Literary Men
+Myrtle Reed Year Book
+
+This edition is issued under arrangement with the publishers
+G. P. Putnam's Sons, New York and London
+
+------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+CONTENTS
+
+CHAPTER                                   PAGE
+     I.  The End of the Honeymoon            1
+    II.  The Day Afterward                  18
+   III.  The First Caller                   35
+    IV.  Finances                           53
+     V.  Mrs. Smithers                      68
+    VI.  The Coming of Elaine               84
+   VII.  An Uninvited Guest                100
+  VIII.  More                              119
+    IX.  Another                           136
+     X.  Still More                        154
+    XI.  Mrs. Dodd's Third Husband         173
+   XII.  Her Gift to the World             191
+  XIII.  A Sensitive Soul                  210
+   XIV.  Mrs. Dodd's Fifth Fate            226
+    XV.  Treasure-Trove                    243
+   XVI.  Good Fortune                      264
+  XVII.  The Lady Elaine Knows Her Heart   282
+ XVIII.  Uncle Ebeneezer's Diary           299
+   XIX.  Various Departures                319
+    XX.  The Love of Another Elaine        338
+
+------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+The End of the Honeymoon
+
+
+It was certainly a queer house. Even through the blinding storm they could
+distinguish its eccentric outlines as they alighted from the stage.
+Dorothy laughed happily, heedless of the fact that her husband's umbrella
+was dripping down her neck. "It's a dear old place," she cried; "I love it
+already!"
+
+For an instant a flash of lightning turned the peculiar windows into
+sheets of flame, then all was dark again. Harlan's answer was drowned by a
+crash of thunder and the turning of the heavy wheels on the gravelled
+road.
+
+"Don't stop," shouted the driver; "I'll come up to-morrer for the money.
+Good luck to you--an' the Jack-o'-Lantern!"
+
+"What did he mean?" asked Dorothy, shaking out her wet skirts, when they
+were safely inside the door. "Who's got a Jack-o'-Lantern?"
+
+"You can search me," answered Harlan, concisely, fumbling for a match. "I
+suppose we've got it. Anyhow, we'll have a look at this sepulchral mansion
+presently."
+
+His deep voice echoed and re-echoed through the empty rooms, and Dorothy
+laughed; a little hysterically this time. Match after match sputtered and
+failed. "Couldn't have got much wetter if I'd been in swimming," he
+grumbled. "Here goes the last one."
+
+By the uncertain light they found a candle and Harlan drew a long breath
+of relief. "It would have been pleasant, wouldn't it?" he went on. "We
+could have sat on the stairs until morning, or broken our admirable necks
+in falling over strange furniture. The next thing is a fire. Wonder where
+my distinguished relative kept his wood?"
+
+Lighting another candle, he went off on a tour of investigation, leaving
+Dorothy alone.
+
+She could not repress a shiver as she glanced around the gloomy room. The
+bare loneliness of the place was accentuated by the depressing furniture,
+which belonged to the black walnut and haircloth period. On the
+marble-topped table, in the exact centre of the room, was a red plush
+album, flanked on one side by a hideous china vase, and on the other by a
+basket of wax flowers under a glass shade.
+
+Her home-coming! How often she had dreamed of it, never for a moment
+guessing that it might be like this! She had fancied a little house in a
+suburb, or a cosy apartment in the city, and a lump came into her throat
+as her air castle dissolved into utter ruin. She was one of those rare,
+unhappy women whose natures are so finely attuned to beauty that ugliness
+hurts like physical pain.
+
+She sat down on one of the slippery haircloth chairs, facing the mantel
+where the single candle threw its tiny light afar. Little by little the
+room crept into shadowy relief--the melodeon in the corner, the what-not,
+with its burden of incongruous ornaments, and even the easel bearing the
+crayon portrait of the former mistress of the house, becoming faintly
+visible.
+
+Presently, from above the mantel, appeared eyes. Dorothy felt them first,
+then looked up affrighted. From the darkness they gleamed upon her in a
+way that made her heart stand still. Human undoubtedly, but not in the
+least friendly, they were the eyes of one who bitterly resented the
+presence of an intruder. The light flickered, then flamed up once more and
+brought into view the features that belonged with the eyes.
+
+Dorothy would have screamed, had it not been for the lump in her throat. A
+step came nearer and nearer, from some distant part of the house,
+accompanied by a cheery, familiar whistle. Still the stern, malicious face
+held her spellbound, and even when Harlan came in with his load of wood,
+she could not turn away.
+
+"Now," he said, "we'll start a fire and hang ourselves up to dry."
+
+"What is it?" asked Dorothy, her lips scarcely moving.
+
+His eyes followed hers. "Uncle Ebeneezer's portrait," he answered. "Why,
+Dorothy Carr! I believe you're scared!"
+
+"I was scared," she admitted, reluctantly, after a brief silence, smiling
+a little at her own foolishness. "It's so dark and gloomy in here, and you
+were gone so long----"
+
+Her voice trailed off into an indistinct murmur, but she still shuddered
+in spite of herself.
+
+"Funny old place," commented Harlan, kneeling on the hearth and laying
+kindlings, log-cabin fashion, in the fireplace. "If an architect planned
+it, he must have gone crazy the week before he did it."
+
+"Or at the time. Don't, dear--wait a minute. Let's light our first fire
+together."
+
+He smiled as she slipped to her knees beside him, and his hand held hers
+while the blazing splinter set the pine kindling aflame. Quickly the whole
+room was aglow with light and warmth, in cheerful contrast to the stormy
+tumult outside.
+
+"Somebody said once," observed Harlan, as they drew their chairs close to
+the hearth, "that four feet on a fender are sufficient for happiness."
+
+"Depends altogether on the feet," rejoined Dorothy, quickly. "I wouldn't
+want Uncle Ebeneezer sitting here beside me--no disrespect intended to
+your relation, as such."
+
+"Poor old duck," said Harlan, kindly. "Life was never very good to him,
+and Death took away the only thing he ever loved.
+
+"Aunt Rebecca," he continued, feeling her unspoken question. "She died
+suddenly, when they had been married only three or four weeks."
+
+"Like us," whispered Dorothy, for the first time conscious of a tenderness
+toward the departed Mr. Judson, of Judson Centre.
+
+"It was four weeks ago to-day, wasn't it?" he mused, instinctively seeking
+her hand.
+
+"I thought you'd forgotten," she smiled back at him. "I feel like an old
+married woman, already."
+
+"You don't look it," he returned, gently. Few would have called her
+beautiful, but love brings beauty with it, and Harlan saw an exquisite
+loveliness in the deep, dark eyes, the brown hair that rippled and shone
+in the firelight, the smooth, creamy skin, and the sensitive mouth that
+betrayed every passing mood.
+
+"None the less, I am," she went on. "I've grown so used to seeing 'Mrs.
+James Harlan Carr' on my visiting cards that I've forgotten there ever was
+such a person as 'Miss Dorothy Locke,' who used to get letters, and go
+calling when she wasn't too busy, and have things sent to her when she had
+the money to buy them."
+
+"I hope--" Harlan stumbled awkwardly over the words--"I hope you'll never
+be sorry."
+
+"I haven't been yet," she laughed, "and it's four whole weeks. Come, let's
+go on an exploring expedition. I'm dry both inside and out, and most
+terribly hungry."
+
+Each took a candle and Harlan led the way, in and out of unexpected doors,
+queer, winding passages, and lonely, untenanted rooms. Originally, the
+house had been simple enough in structure, but wing after wing had been
+added until the first design, if it could be dignified by that name, had
+been wholly obscured. From each room branched a series of apartments--a
+sitting-room, surrounded by bedrooms, each of which contained two or
+sometimes three beds. A combined kitchen and dining-room was in every
+separate wing, with an outside door.
+
+"I wonder," cried Dorothy, "if we've come to an orphan asylum!"
+
+"Heaven knows what we've come to," muttered Harlan. "You know I never was
+here before."
+
+"Did Uncle Ebeneezer have a large family?"
+
+"Only Aunt Rebecca, who died very soon, as I told you. Mother was his only
+sister, and I her only child, so it wasn't on our side."
+
+"Perhaps," observed Dorothy, "Aunt Rebecca had relations."
+
+"One, two, three, four, five," counted Harlan. "There are five sets of
+apartments on this side, and three on the other. Let's go upstairs."
+
+From the low front door a series of low windows extended across the house
+on each side, abundantly lighting the two front rooms, which were
+separated by the wide hall. A high, narrow window in the lower hall,
+seemingly with no purpose whatever, began far above the low door and ended
+abruptly at the ceiling. In the upper hall, a similar window began at the
+floor and extended upward no higher than Harlan's knees. As Dorothy said,
+"one would have to lie down to look out of it," but it lighted the hall,
+which, after all, was the main thing.
+
+In each of the two front rooms, upstairs, was a single round window, too
+high for one to look out of without standing on a chair, though in both
+rooms there was plenty of side light. One wing on each side of the house
+had been carried up to the second story, and the arrangement of rooms was
+the same as below, outside stairways leading from the kitchens to the
+ground.
+
+"I never saw so many beds in my life," cried Dorothy.
+
+"Seems to be a perfect Bedlam," rejoined Harlan, making a poor attempt at
+a joke and laughing mirthlessly. In his heart he began to doubt the wisdom
+of marrying on six hundred dollars, an unexplored heirloom in Judson
+Centre, and an overweening desire to write books.
+
+For the first time, his temerity appeared to him in its proper colours. He
+had been a space writer and Dorothy the private secretary of a Personage,
+when they met, in the dreary basement dining-room of a New York
+boarding-house, and speedily fell in love. Shortly afterward, when Harlan
+received a letter which contained a key, and announced that Mr. Judson's
+house, fully furnished, had been bequeathed to his nephew, they had
+light-heartedly embarked upon matrimony with no fears for the future.
+
+Two hundred dollars had been spent upon a very modest honeymoon, and the
+three hundred and ninety-seven dollars and twenty-three cents remaining,
+as Harlan had accurately calculated, seemed pitifully small. Perplexity,
+doubt, and foreboding were plainly written on his face, when Dorothy
+turned to him.
+
+"Isn't it perfectly lovely," she asked, "for us to have this nice, quiet
+place all to ourselves, where you can write your book?"
+
+Woman-like, she had instantly touched the right chord, and the clouds
+vanished.
+
+"Yes," he cried, eagerly. "Oh, Dorothy, do you think I can really write
+it?"
+
+"Write it," she repeated; "why, you dear, funny goose, you can write a
+better book than anybody has ever written yet, and I know you can! By next
+week we'll be settled here and you can get down to work. I'll help you,
+too," she added, generously. "If you'll buy me a typewriter, I can copy
+the whole book for you."
+
+"Of course I'll buy you a typewriter. We'll send for it to-morrow. How
+much does a nice one cost?"
+
+"The kind I like," she explained, "costs a hundred dollars without the
+stand. I don't need the stand--we can find a table somewhere that will
+do."
+
+"Two hundred and ninety-seven dollars and twenty-three cents," breathed
+Harlan, unconsciously.
+
+"No, only a hundred dollars," corrected Dorothy. "I don't care to have it
+silver mounted."
+
+"I'd buy you a gold one if you wanted it," stammered Harlan, in some
+confusion.
+
+"Not now," she returned, serenely. "Wait till the book is done."
+
+Visions of fame and fortune appeared before his troubled eyes and set his
+soul alight with high ambition. The candle in his hand burned unsteadily
+and dripped tallow, unheeded. "Come," said Dorothy, gently, "let's go
+downstairs again."
+
+An open door revealed a tortuous stairway at the back of the house,
+descending mysteriously into cavernous gloom. "Let's go down here," she
+continued. "I love curly stairs."
+
+"These are kinky enough to please even your refined fancy," laughed
+Harlan. "It reminds me of travelling in the West, where you look out of
+the window and see your engine on the track beside you, going the other
+way."
+
+"This must be the kitchen," said Dorothy, when the stairs finally ceased.
+"Uncle Ebeneezer appears to have had a pronounced fancy for kitchens."
+
+"Here's another wing," added Harlan, opening the back door. "Sitting-room,
+bedroom, and--my soul and body! It's another kitchen!"
+
+"Any more beds?" queried Dorothy, peering into the darkness. "We can't
+keep house unless we can find more beds."
+
+"Only one more. I guess we've come down to bed rock at last."
+
+"In other words, the cradle," she observed, pulling a little old-fashioned
+trundle bed out into the light.
+
+"Oh, what a joke!" cried Harlan. "That's worth three dollars in the office
+of any funny paper in New York!"
+
+"Sell it," commanded Dorothy, inspired by the prospect of wealth, "and
+I'll give you fifty cents for your commission."
+
+Outside, the storm still raged and the old house shook and creaked in the
+blast. The rain swirled furiously against the windows, and a swift rush of
+hailstones beat a fierce tattoo on the roof. Built on the summit of a hill
+and with only a few trees near it, the Judson mansion was but poorly
+protected from the elements.
+
+None the less, there was a sense of warmth and comfort inside. "Let's
+build a fire in the kitchen," suggested Dorothy, "and then we'll try to
+find something to eat."
+
+"Which kitchen?" asked Harlan.
+
+"Any old kitchen. The one the back stairs end in, I guess. It seems to be
+the principal one of the set."
+
+Harlan brought more wood and Dorothy watched him build the fire with a
+sense that a god-like being was here put to base uses. Hampered in his
+log-cabin design by the limitations of the fire box, he handled the
+kindlings awkwardly, got a splinter into his thumb, said something under
+his breath which was not meant for his wife to hear, and powdered his
+linen with soot from the stove pipe. At length, however, a respectable
+fire was started.
+
+"Now," he asked, "what shall I do next?"
+
+"Wind all the clocks. I can't endure a dead clock. While you're doing it,
+I'll get out the remnants of our lunch and see what there is in the pantry
+that is still edible."
+
+In the lunch basket which the erratic ramifications of the road leading to
+Judson Centre had obliged them to carry, there was still, fortunately, a
+supply of sandwiches and fruit. A hasty search through the nearest pantry
+revealed jelly, marmalade, and pickles, a box of musty crackers and a
+canister of tea. When Harlan came back, Dorothy had the kitchen table set
+for two, with a lighted candle dispensing odorous good cheer from the
+centre of it, and the tea kettle singing merrily over the fire.
+
+"Seems like home, doesn't it?" he asked, pleasantly imbued with the
+realisation of the home-making quality in Dorothy. Certain rare women with
+this gift take their atmosphere with them wherever they go.
+
+"To-morrow," he went on, "I'll go into the village and buy more things to
+eat."
+
+"The ruling passion," she smiled. "It's--what's that!"
+
+Clear and high above the sound of the storm came an imperious "Me-ow!"
+
+"It's a cat," said Harlan. "You don't suppose the poor thing is shut up
+anywhere, do you?"
+
+"If it had been, we'd have found it. We've opened every door in the house,
+I'm sure. It must be outside."
+
+"Me-ow! Me-ow! Me-ow!" The voice was not pleading; it was rather a
+command, a challenge.
+
+"Kitty, kitty, kitty," she called. "Where are you, kitty?"
+
+Harlan opened the outside door, and in rushed a huge black cat, with the
+air of one returning home after a long absence.
+
+"Poor kitty," said Dorothy, kindly, stooping to stroke the sable visitor,
+who instinctively dodged the caress, and then scratched her hand.
+
+"The ugly brute!" she exclaimed. "Don't touch him, Harlan."
+
+Throughout the meal the cat sat at a respectful distance, with his
+greenish yellow eyes fixed unwaveringly upon them. He was entirely black,
+save for a white patch under his chin, which, in the half-light, carried
+with it an uncanny suggestion of a shirt front. Dorothy at length became
+restless under the calm scrutiny.
+
+"I don't like him," she said. "Put him out."
+
+"Thought you liked cats," remarked Harlan, reaching for another sandwich.
+
+"I do, but I don't like this one. Please put him out."
+
+"What, in all this storm? He'll get wet."
+
+"He wasn't wet when he came in," objected Dorothy. "He must have some
+warm, dry place of his own outside."
+
+"Come, kitty," said Harlan, pleasantly.
+
+"Kitty" merely blinked, and Harlan rose.
+
+"Come, kitty."
+
+With the characteristic independence of cats, the visitor yawned. The
+conversation evidently bored him.
+
+"Come, kitty," said Harlan, more firmly, with a low swoop of his arm. The
+cat arched his back, erected an enlarged tail, and hissed threateningly.
+In a dignified but effective manner, he eluded all attempts to capture
+him, even avoiding Dorothy and her broom.
+
+"There's something more or less imperial about him," she remarked, wiping
+her flushed cheeks, when they had finally decided not to put the cat out.
+"As long as he's adopted us, we'll have to keep him. What shall we name
+him?"
+
+"Claudius Tiberius," answered Harlan. "It suits him down to the ground."
+
+"His first name is certainly appropriate," laughed Dorothy, with a rueful
+glance at her scratched hand. Making the best of a bad bargain, she spread
+an old grey shawl, nicely folded, on the floor by the stove, and requested
+Claudius Tiberius to recline upon it, but he persistently ignored the
+invitation.
+
+"This is jolly enough," said Harlan. "A cosy little supper in our own
+house, with a gale blowing outside, the tea kettle singing over the fire,
+and a cat purring on the hearth."
+
+"Have you heard Claudius purr?" asked Dorothy, idly.
+
+"Come to think of it, I haven't. Perhaps something is wrong with his
+purrer. We'll fix him to-morrow."
+
+From a remote part of the house came twelve faint, silvery tones. The
+kitchen clock struck next, with short, quick strokes, followed immediately
+by a casual record of the hour from the clock on the mantel beneath Uncle
+Ebeneezer's portrait. Then the grandfather's clock in the hall boomed out
+twelve, solemn funereal chimes. Afterward, the silence seemed acute.
+
+"The end of the honeymoon," said Dorothy, a little sadly, with a quick,
+inquiring look at her husband.
+
+"The end of the honeymoon!" repeated Harlan, gathering her into his arms.
+"To-morrow, life begins!"
+
+Several hours later, Dorothy awoke from a dreamless sleep to wonder
+whether life was any different from a honeymoon, and if so, how and why.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+The Day Afterward
+
+
+By the pitiless light of early morning, the house was even uglier than at
+night. With an irreverence essentially modern, Dorothy decided, while she
+was dressing, to have all the furniture taken out into the back yard,
+where she could look it over at her leisure. She would make a bonfire of
+most of it, or, better yet, have it cut into wood for the fireplace. Thus
+Uncle Ebeneezer's cumbrous bequest might be quickly transformed into
+comfort.
+
+"And," thought Dorothy, "I'll take down that hideous portrait over the
+mantel before I'm a day older."
+
+But when she broached the subject to Harlan, she found him unresponsive
+and somewhat disinclined to interfere with the existing order of things.
+"We'll be here only for the Summer," he said, "so what's the use of
+monkeying with the furniture and burning up fifty or sixty beds? There's
+plenty of wood in the cellar."
+
+"I don't like the furniture," she pouted.
+
+"My dear," said Harlan, with patronising kindness, "as you grow older,
+you'll find lots of things on the planet which you don't like. Moreover,
+it'll be quite out of your power to cremate 'em, and it's just as well to
+begin adjusting yourself now."
+
+This bit of philosophy irritated Mrs. Carr unbearably. "Do you mean to
+say," she demanded, with rising temper, "that you won't do as I ask you
+to?"
+
+"Do you mean to say," inquired Harlan, wickedly, in exact imitation of her
+manner, "that you won't do as I ask you to? Four weeks ago yesterday, if I
+remember rightly, you promised to obey me!"
+
+"Don't remind me of what I'm ashamed of!" flashed Dorothy. "If I'd known
+what a brute you were, I'd never have married you! You may be sure of
+that!"
+
+Claudius Tiberius insinuated himself between Harlan's feet and rubbed
+against his trousers, leaving a thin film of black fur in his wake. Being
+fastidious about his personal appearance, Harlan kicked Claudius Tiberius
+vigorously, grabbed his hat and went out, slamming the door, and whistling
+with an exaggerated cheerfulness.
+
+"Brute!" The word rankled deeply as he went downhill with his hands in his
+pockets, whistling determinedly. So Dorothy was sorry she had married him!
+After all he'd done for her, too. Giving up a good position in New York,
+taking her half-way around the world on a honeymoon, and bringing her to a
+magnificent country residence in a fashionable locality for the Summer!
+
+Safely screened by the hill, he turned back to look at the "magnificent
+country residence," then swore softly under his breath, as, for the first
+time, he took in the full meaning of the eccentric architecture.
+
+Perched high upon the hill, with intervening shrubbery carefully cut down,
+the Judson mansion was not one to inspire confidence in its possessor.
+Outwardly, it was grey and weather-worn, with the shingles dropping off in
+places. At the sides, the rambling wings and outside stairways, branching
+off into space, conveyed the impression that the house had been recently
+subjected to a powerful influence of the centrifugal sort. But worst of
+all was the front elevation, with its two round windows, its narrow, long
+window in the centre, and the low windows on either side of the front
+door--the grinning, distorted semblance of a human face.
+
+The bare, uncurtained windows loomed up boldly in the searching sunlight,
+which spared nothing. The blue smoke rising from the kitchen chimney
+appeared strangely like a plume streaming out from the rear. Harlan noted,
+too, that the railing of the narrow porch extended almost entirely across
+the front of the house, and remembered, dimly, that they had found the
+steps at one side of the porch the night before. Not a single unpleasant
+detail was in any way hidden, and he clutched instinctively at a tree as
+he realised that the supports of the railing were cunningly arranged to
+look like huge teeth.
+
+"No wonder," he said to himself "that the stage driver called it the
+Jack-o'-Lantern! That's exactly what it is! Why didn't he paint it yellow
+and be done with it? The old devil!" The last disrespectful allusion, of
+course, being meant for Uncle Ebeneezer.
+
+"Poor Dorothy," he thought again. "I'll burn the whole thing, and she
+shall put every blamed crib into the purifying flames. It's mine, and I
+can do what I please with it. We'll go away to-morrow, we'll go----"
+
+Where could they go, with less than four hundred dollars? Especially when
+one hundred of it was promised for a typewriter? Harlan had parted with
+his managing editor on terms of great dignity, announcing that he had
+forsworn journalism and would hereafter devote himself to literature. The
+editor had remarked, somewhat cynically, that it was a better day for
+journalism than for literature, the fine, inner meaning of the retort not
+having been fully evident to Harlan until he was some three squares away
+from the office.
+
+Much chastened in spirit, and fully ready to accept his wife's estimate of
+him, he went on downhill into Judson Centre.
+
+It was the usual small town, the post-office, grocery, meat market, and
+general loafing-place being combined under one roof. Near by was the
+blacksmith shop, and across from it was the inevitable saloon. Far up in
+the hills was the Judson Centre Sanitarium, a worthy institution of some
+years standing, where every human ailment from tuberculosis to fits was
+more or less successfully treated.
+
+Upon the inmates of the sanitarium the inhabitants of Judson Centre lived,
+both materially and mentally. Few of them had ever been nearer to it than
+the back door, but tales of dark doings were widely prevalent throughout
+the community, and mothers were wont to frighten their young offspring
+into obedience with threats of the "san-tor-i-yum."
+
+"Now what do you reckon ails _him_?" asked the blacksmith of the
+stage-driver, as Harlan went into the village store.
+
+"Wouldn't reckon nothin' ailed him to look at him, would you?" queried the
+driver, in reply.
+
+Indeed, no one looking at Mr. Carr would have suspected him of an
+"ailment." He was tall and broad-shouldered and well set up, with clear
+grey eyes and a rosy, smooth-shaven, boyish face which had given him the
+nickname of "The Cherub" all along Newspaper Row. In his bearing there was
+a suggestion of boundless energy, which needed only proper direction to
+accomplish wonders.
+
+"You can't never tell," continued the driver, shifting his quid. "Now,
+I've took folks up there goin' on ten year now, an' some I've took up
+looked considerable more healthy than I be when I took 'em up. Comin'
+back, howsumever, it was different. One young feller rode up with me in
+the rain one night, a-singin' an' a-whistlin' to beat the band, an' when I
+took him back, a month or so arterward, he had a striped nurse on one side
+of him an' a doctor on t' other, an' was wearin' a shawl. Couldn't hardly
+set up, but he was a-tryin' to joke just the same. 'Hank,' says he, when
+we got a little way off from the place, 'my book of life has been edited
+by the librarians an' the entire appendix removed.' Them's his very words.
+'An',' says he, 'the time to have the appendix took out is before it does
+much of anythin' to your table of contents.'
+
+"The doctor shut him up then, an' I didn't hear no more, but I remembered
+the language, an' arterwards, when I got a chanst, I looked in the
+school-teacher's dictionary. It said as how the appendix was sunthin'
+appended or added to, but I couldn't get no more about it. I've hearn tell
+of a 'devil child' with a tail to it what was travellin' with the circus
+one year, an' I've surmised as how mebbe a tail had begun to grow on this
+young feller an' it was took off."
+
+"You don't say!" ejaculated the blacksmith.
+
+By reason of his professional connection with the sanitarium, Mr. Henry
+Blake was, in a sense, the oracle of Judson Centre, and he enjoyed his
+proud distinction to the full. Ordinarily, he was taciturn, but the
+present hour found him in a conversational mood.
+
+"He's married," he went on, returning to the original subject. "I took him
+an' his wife up to the Jack-o'-Lantern last night. Come in on the nine
+forty-seven from the Junction. Reckon they're goin' to stay a spell,
+'cause they've got trunks--one of a reasonable size, an' 'nother that
+looks like a dog-house. Box, too, that's got lead in it."
+
+"Books, maybe," suggested the blacksmith, with unexpected discernment.
+"Schoolteacher boarded to our house wunst an' she had most a car-load of
+'em. Educated folks has to have books to keep from losin' their
+education."
+
+"Don't take much stock in it myself," remarked the driver. "It spiles most
+folks. As soon as they get some, they begin to pine an' hanker for more. I
+knowed a feller wunst that begun with one book dropped on the road near
+the sanitarium, an' he never stopped till he was plum through college. An'
+a woman up there sent my darter a book wunst, an' I took it right back to
+her. 'My darter's got a book,' says I, 'an' she ain't a-needin' of no
+duplicates. Keep it,' says I, 'fer somebody that ain't got no book."
+
+"Do you reckon," asked the blacksmith, after a long silence, "that they're
+goin' to live in the Jack-o'-Lantern?"
+
+"I ain't a-sayin'," answered Mr. Blake, cautiously. "They're educated, an'
+there's no tellin' what educated folks is goin' to do. This young lady,
+now, that come up with him last night, she said it was 'a dear old place
+an' she loved it a'ready.' Them's her very words!"
+
+"Do tell!"
+
+"That's c'rrect, an' as I said before, when you're dealin' with educated
+folks, you're swimmin' in deep water with the shore clean out o' sight.
+Education was what ailed him." By a careless nod Mr. Blake indicated the
+Jack-o'-Lantern, which could be seen from the main thoroughfare of Judson
+Centre.
+
+"I've hearn," he went on, taking a fresh bite from his morning purchase of
+"plug," "that he had one hull room mighty nigh plum full o' nothin' but
+books, an' there was always more comin' by freight an' express an' through
+the post-office. It's all on account o' them books that he's made the
+front o' his house into what it is. My wife had a paper book wunst,
+a-tellin' 'How to Transfer a Hopeless Exterior,' with pictures of houses
+in it like they be here an' more arter they'd been transferred. You bet I
+burnt it while she was gone to sewin' circle, an' there ain't no book come
+into my house since."
+
+Mr. Blake spoke with the virtuous air of one who has protected his home
+from contamination. Indeed, as he had often said before, "you can't never
+tell what folks'll do when books gets a holt of 'em."
+
+"Do you reckon," asked the blacksmith, "that there'll be company?"
+
+"Company," snickered Mr. Blake, "oh, my Lord, yes! A little thing like
+death ain't never going to keep company away. Ain't you never hearn as how
+misery loves company? The more miserable you are the more company you'll
+have, an' vice versey, etcetery an' the same."
+
+"Hush!" warned the blacksmith, in a harsh whisper. "He's a-comin'!"
+
+"City feller," grumbled Mr. Blake, affecting not to see.
+
+"Good-morning," said Harlan, pleasantly, though not without an air of
+condescension. "Can you tell me where I can find the stage-driver?"
+
+"That's me," grunted Mr. Blake. "Be you wantin' anythin'?"
+
+"Only to pay you for taking us up to the house last night, and to arrange
+about our trunks. Can you deliver them this afternoon?"
+
+"I ain't a-runnin' of no livery, but I can take 'em up, if that's what
+you're wantin'."
+
+"Exactly," said Harlan, "and the box, too, if you will. And the things
+I've just ordered at the grocery--can you bring them, too?"
+
+Mr. Blake nodded helplessly, and the blacksmith gazed at Harlan,
+open-mouthed, as he started uphill. "Must sure have a ailment," he
+commented, "but I hear tell, Hank, that in the city they never carry
+nothin' round with 'em but perhaps an umbrell. Everythin' else they have
+'sent.'"
+
+"Reckon it's true enough. I took a ham wunst up to the sanitarium for a
+young sprig of a doctor that was too proud to carry it himself. He was
+goin' that way, too--walkin' up to save money--so I charged him for
+carryin' up the ham just what I'd have took both for. 'Pigs is high,' I
+told him, 'same price for one as for 'nother,' but he didn't pay no
+attention to it an' never raised no kick about the price. Thinkin' 'bout
+sunthin' else, most likely--most of 'em are."
+
+Harlan, most assuredly, was "thinkin' 'bout sunthin' else." In fact, he
+was possessed by portentous uneasiness. There was well-defined doubt in
+his mind regarding his reception at the Jack-o'-Lantern. Dorothy's parting
+words had been plain--almost to the point of rudeness, he reflected,
+unhappily, and he was not sure that "a brute" would be allowed in her
+presence again.
+
+The bare, uncurtained windows gave no sign of human occupancy. Perhaps she
+had left him! Then his reason came to the rescue--there was no way for her
+to go but downhill, and he would certainly have seen her had she taken
+that path.
+
+When he entered the yard, he smelled smoke, and ran wildly into the house.
+A hasty search through all the rooms revealed nothing--even Dorothy had
+disappeared. From the kitchen window, he saw her in the back yard, poking
+idly through a heap of smouldering rubbish with an old broomstick.
+
+"What are you doing?" he demanded, breathlessly, before she knew he was
+near her.
+
+Dorothy turned, disguising her sudden start by a toss of her head. "Oh,"
+she said, coolly, "it's you, is it?"
+
+Harlan bit his lips and his eyes laughed. "I say, Dorothy," he began,
+awkwardly; "I was rather a beast, wasn't I?"
+
+"Of course," she returned, in a small, unnatural voice, still poking
+through the ruins. "I told you so, didn't I?"
+
+"I didn't believe you at the time," Harlan went on, eager to make amends,
+"but I do now."
+
+"That's good." Mrs. Carr's tone was not at all reassuring.
+
+There was an awkward pause, then Harlan, putting aside his obstinate
+pride, said the simple sentence which men of all ages have found it
+hardest to say--perhaps because it is the sign of utter masculine
+abasement. "I'm sorry, dear, will you forgive me?"
+
+In a moment, she was in his arms. "It was partly my fault," she admitted,
+generously, from the depths of his coat collar. "I think there must be
+something in the atmosphere of the house. We never quarrelled before."
+
+"And we never will again," answered Harlan, confidently. "What have you
+been burning?"
+
+"It was a mattress," whispered Dorothy, much ashamed. "I tried to get a
+bed out, but it was too heavy."
+
+"You funny, funny girl! How did you ever get a mattress out, all alone?"
+
+"Dragged it to an upper window and dumped it," she explained, blushing,
+"then came down and dragged it some more. Claudius Tiberius didn't like to
+have me do it."
+
+"I don't wonder," laughed Harlan. "That is," he added hastily, "he
+couldn't have been pleased to see you doing it all by yourself. Anybody
+would love to see a mattress burn."
+
+"Shall we get some more? There are plenty."
+
+"Let's not take all our pleasure at once," he suggested, with rare tact.
+"One mattress a day--how'll that do?"
+
+"We'll have it at night," cried Dorothy, clapping her hands, "and when the
+mattresses are all gone, we'll do the beds and bureaus and the haircloth
+furniture in the parlour. Oh, I do so love a bonfire!"
+
+Harlan's heart grew strangely tender, for it had been this underlying
+childishness in her that he had loved the most. She was stirring the ashes
+now, with as much real pleasure as though she were five instead of
+twenty-five.
+
+As it happened, Harlan would have been saved a great deal of trouble if he
+had followed out her suggestion and burned all of the beds in the house
+except two or three, but the balance between foresight and retrospection
+has seldom been exact.
+
+"Beast of a smudge you're making," he commented, choking.
+
+"Get around to the other side, then. Why, Harlan, what's that?"
+
+"What's what?"
+
+She pointed to a small metal box in the midst of the ashes.
+
+"Poem on Spring, probably, put into the corner-stone by the builder of the
+mattress."
+
+"Don't be foolish," she said, with assumed severity. "Get me a pail of
+water."
+
+With two sticks they lifted it into the water and waited, impatiently
+enough, until they were sure it was cool. Then Dorothy, asserting her
+right of discovery, opened it with trembling fingers.
+
+"Why-ee!" she gasped.
+
+Upon a bed of wet cotton lay a large brooch, made wholly of clustered
+diamonds, and a coral necklace, somewhat injured by the fire.
+
+"Whose is it?" demanded Dorothy, when she recovered the faculty of
+speech.
+
+"I should say," returned Harlan, after due deliberation, "that it belonged
+to you."
+
+"After this," she said, slowly, her eyes wide with wonder, "we'll take
+everything apart before we burn it."
+
+Harlan was turning the brooch over in his hand and roughly estimating its
+value at two thousand dollars. "Here's something on the back," he said.
+"'R. from E., March 12, 1865.'"
+
+"Rebecca from Ebeneezer," cried Dorothy. "Oh, Harlan, it's ours! Don't you
+remember the letter said: 'my house and all its contents to my beloved
+nephew, James Harlan Carr'?"
+
+"I remember," said Harlan. But his conscience was uneasy, none the less.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+The First Caller
+
+
+As Mr. Blake had heard, there was "one hull room mighty nigh plum full o'
+nothin' but books"; a grievous waste, indeed, when one already "had a
+book." It was the front room, opposite the parlour, and every door and
+window in it could be securely bolted from the inside. If any one desired
+unbroken privacy, it could be had in the library as nowhere else in the
+house.
+
+The book-shelves were made of rough pine, unplaned, unpainted, and were
+scarcely a seemly setting for the treasure they bore. But in looking at
+the books, one perceived that their owner had been one who passed by the
+body in his eager search for the soul.
+
+Here were no fine editions, no luxurious, costly volumes in full levant.
+Illuminated pages, rubricated headings, and fine illustrations were
+conspicuous by their absence. For the most part, the books were simply but
+serviceably bound in plain cloth covers. Many a paper-covered book had
+been bound by its purchaser in pasteboard, flimsy enough in quality, yet
+further strengthened by cloth at the back. Cheap, pirated editions were so
+many that Harlan wondered whether his uncle had not been wholly without
+conscience in the matter of book-buying.
+
+Shelf after shelf stretched across the long wall, with its company of mute
+consolers whose master was no more. The fine flowering of the centuries,
+like a single precious drop of imperishable perfume, was hidden in this
+rude casket. The minds and hearts of the great, laid pitilessly bare, were
+here in this one room, shielded merely by pasteboard and cloth.
+
+Far up in the mountains, amid snow-clad steeps and rock-bound fastnesses,
+one finds, perchance, a shell. It is so small a thing that it can be held
+in the hollow of the hand; so frail that a slight pressure of the finger
+will crush it to atoms, yet, held to the ear, it brings the surge and
+sweep of that vast, primeval ocean which, in the inconceivably remote
+past, covered the peak. And so, to the eye of the mind, the small brown
+book, with its hundred printed pages, brings back the whole story of the
+world.
+
+A thin, piping voice, to which its fellows have paid no heed, after a time
+becomes silent, and, ceaselessly marching, the years pass on by. Yet that
+trembling old hand, quietly laid at last upon the turbulent heart, in the
+solitude of a garret has guided a pen, and the manuscript is left. Ragged,
+worn, blotted, spotted with candle drippings and endlessly interlined, why
+should these few sheets of paper be saved?
+
+Because, as it happens, the only record of the period is there--a record
+so significant that fifty years can be reconstructed, as an entire
+language was brought to light by a triple inscription upon a single stone.
+Thrown like the shell upon Time's ever-receding shore, it is,
+nevertheless, the means by which unborn thousands shall commune with him
+who wrote in his garret, see his whole life mirrored in his book, know his
+philosophy, and take home his truth. For by way of the printed page comes
+Immortality.
+
+There was no book in the library which had not been read many times. Some
+were falling apart, and others had been carefully sewn together and
+awkwardly rebound. Still open, on a rickety table in the corner, was that
+ponderous volume with an extremely limited circulation: _The Publishers'
+Trade List Annual_. Pencilled crosses here and there indicated books to be
+purchased, or at least sent on approval, to "customers known to the
+House."
+
+"Some day," said Dorothy, "when it's raining and we can't go out, we'll
+take down all these books, arrange them in something like order, and
+catalogue them."
+
+"How optimistic you are!" remarked Harlan. "Do you think it could be done
+in one day?"
+
+"Oh, well," returned Dorothy; "you know what I mean."
+
+Harlan paced restlessly back and forth, pausing now and then to look out
+of the window, where nothing much was to be seen except the orchard, at a
+little distance from the house, and Claudius Tiberius, sunning himself
+pleasantly upon the porch. Four weeks had been a pleasant vacation, but
+two weeks of comparative idleness, added to it, were too much for an
+active mind and body to endure. Three or four times he had tried to begin
+the book that was to bring fame and fortune, and as many times had failed.
+Hitherto Harlan's work had not been obliged to wait for inspiration, and
+it was not so easy as it had seemed the day he bade his managing editor
+farewell.
+
+"Somebody is coming," announced Dorothy, from the window.
+
+"Nonsense! Nobody ever comes here."
+
+"A precedent is about to be established, then. I feel it in my bones that
+we're going to have company."
+
+"Let's see." Harlan went to the window and looked over her shoulder. A
+little man in a huge silk hat was toiling up the hill, aided by a cane. He
+was bent and old, yet he moved with a certain briskness, and, as Dorothy
+had said, he was inevitably coming.
+
+"Who in thunder--" began Harlan.
+
+"Our first company," interrupted Dorothy, with her hand over his mouth.
+"The very first person who has called on us since we were married!"
+
+"Except Claudius Tiberius," amended Harlan. "Isn't a cat anybody?"
+
+"Claudius is. I beg his imperial pardon for forgetting him."
+
+The rusty bell-wire creaked, then a timid ring came from the rear depths
+of the house. "You let him in," said Dorothy, "and I'll go and fix my
+hair."
+
+"Am I right," queried the old gentleman, when Harlan opened the door, "in
+presuming that I am so fortunate as to address Mr. James Harlan Carr?"
+
+"My name is Carr," answered Harlan, politely. "Will you come in?"
+
+"Thank you," answered the visitor, in high staccato, oblivious of the fact
+that Claudius Tiberius had scooted in between his feet; "it will be my
+pleasure to claim your hospitality for a few brief moments.
+
+"I had hoped," he went on, as Harlan ushered him into the parlour, "to be
+able to make your acquaintance before this, but my multitudinous
+duties----"
+
+He fumbled in his pocket and produced a card, cut somewhat irregularly
+from a sheet of white cardboard, and bearing in tremulous autographic
+script: "Jeremiah Bradford, Counsellor at Law."
+
+"Oh," said Harlan, "it was you who wrote me the letter. I should have
+hunted you up when I first came, shouldn't I?"
+
+"Not at all," returned Mr. Bradford. "It is I who have been remiss. It is
+etiquette that the old residents should call first upon the newcomers.
+Many and varied duties in connection with the practice of my profession
+have hitherto--" His eyes sought the portrait over the mantel. "A most
+excellent likeness of your worthy uncle," he continued, irrelevantly, "a
+gentleman with whom, as I understand, you never had the pleasure and
+privilege of becoming acquainted."
+
+"I never met Uncle Ebeneezer," rejoined Harlan, "but mother told me a
+great deal about him and we had one or two pictures--daguerreotypes, I
+believe they were."
+
+"Undoubtedly, my dear sir. This portrait was painted from his very last
+daguerreotype by an artist of renown. It is a wonderful likeness. He was
+my Colonel--I served under him in the war. It was my desire to possess a
+portrait of him in uniform, but he would never consent, and would not
+allow anyone save myself to address him as Colonel. An eccentric, but very
+estimable gentleman."
+
+"I cannot understand," said Harlan, "why he should have left the house to
+me. I had never even seen him."
+
+"Perhaps," smiled Mr. Bradford, enigmatically, "that was his reason, or
+rather, perhaps I should say, if you had known your uncle more intimately
+and had visited him here, or, if he had had the privilege of knowing
+you--quite often, as you know, a personal acquaintance proves
+disappointing, though, of course, in this case----"
+
+The old gentleman was floundering helplessly when Harlan rescued him. "I
+want you to meet my wife, Mr. Bradford. If you will excuse me, I will call
+her."
+
+Left to himself, the visitor slipped back and forth uneasily upon his
+haircloth chair, and took occasion to observe Claudius Tiberius, who sat
+near by and regarded the guest unblinkingly. Hearing approaching
+footsteps, he took out his worn silk handkerchief, unfolded it, and wiped
+the cold perspiration from his legal brow. In his heart of hearts, he
+wished he had not come, but Dorothy's kindly greeting at once relieved him
+of all embarrassment.
+
+"We have been wondering," she said, brightly, "who would be the first to
+call upon us, and you have come at exactly the right time. New residents
+are always given two weeks, are they not, in which to get settled?"
+
+"Quite so, my dear madam, quite so, and I trust that you are by this time
+fully accustomed to your changed environment. Judson Centre, while
+possessing few metropolitan advantages, has distinct and peculiar
+recommendations of an individual character which endear the locality to
+those residing therein."
+
+"I think I shall like it here," said Dorothy. "At least I shall try to."
+
+"A very commendable spirit," rejoined the old gentleman, warmly, "and
+rather remarkable in one so young."
+
+Mrs. Carr graciously acknowledged the compliment, and the guest flushed
+with pleasure. To perception less fine, there would have been food for
+unseemly mirth in his attire. Never in all her life before had Dorothy
+seen rough cow-hide boots, and grey striped trousers worn with a rusty and
+moth-eaten dress-coat in the middle of the afternoon. An immaculate
+expanse of shirt-front and a general air of extreme cleanliness went far
+toward redeeming the unfamiliar costume. The silk hat, with a bell-shaped
+crown and wide, rolling brim, belonged to a much earlier period, and had
+been brushed to look like new. Even Harlan noted that the ravelled edges
+of his linen had been carefully trimmed and the worn binding of the hat
+brim inked wherever necessary.
+
+His wrinkled old face was kindly, though somewhat sad. His weak blue eyes
+were sheltered by an enormous pair of spectacles, which he took off and
+wiped continually. He was smooth-shaven and his scanty hair was as white
+as the driven snow. Now, as he sat in Uncle Ebeneezer's parlour, he seemed
+utterly friendless and forlorn--a complete failure of that pitiful type
+which never for a moment guesses that it has failed.
+
+"It will be my delight," the old man was saying, his hollow cheeks faintly
+flushed, "to see that the elite of Judson Centre pay proper respect to you
+at an early date. If I were not most unfortunately a single gentleman, my
+wife would do herself the honour of calling upon you immediately and of
+tendering you some sort of hospitality approximately commensurate with
+your worth. As it is----"
+
+"As it is," said Harlan, taking up the wandering thread of the discourse,
+"that particular pleasure must be on our side. We both hope that you will
+come often, and informally."
+
+"It would be a solace to me," rejoined the old gentleman, tremulously, "to
+find the niece and nephew of my departed friend both congenial and
+companionable. He was my Colonel--I served under him in the war--and until
+the last, he allowed me to address him as Colonel--a privilege accorded to
+no one else. He very seldom left his own estate, but at his request I
+often spent an evening or a Sunday afternoon in his society, and after his
+untimely death, I feel the loss of his companionship very keenly. He was
+my Colonel--I----"
+
+"I should imagine so," said Harlan, kindly, "though, as I have told you, I
+never knew him at all."
+
+"A much-misunderstood gentleman," continued Mr. Bradford, carefully wiping
+his spectacles. "My grief is too recent, at present, to enable me to
+discourse freely of his many virtues, but at some future time I shall hope
+to make you acquainted with your benefactor. He was my Colonel, and in
+serving under him in the war, I had an unusual opportunity to know him as
+he really was. May I ask, without intruding upon your private affairs,
+whether or not it is your intention to reside here permanently?"
+
+"We have not made up our minds," responded Harlan. "We shall stay here
+this Summer, anyway, as I have some work to do which can be done only in a
+quiet place."
+
+"Quiet!" muttered the old gentleman, "quiet place! If I might venture to
+suggest, I should think you would find any other season more agreeable for
+prolonged mental effort. In Summer there are distractions----"
+
+"Yes," put in Dorothy, "in Summer, one wants to be outdoors, and I am
+going to keep chickens and a cow, but my husband hopes to have his book
+finished by September."
+
+"His book!" repeated Mr. Bradford, in genuine astonishment. "Am I actually
+addressing an author?"
+
+He beamed upon Harlan in a way which that modest youth found positively
+disconcerting.
+
+"A would-be author only," laughed Harlan, the colour mounting to his
+temples. "I've done newspaper work heretofore, and now I'm going to try
+something else."
+
+"My dear sir," said Mr. Bradford, rising, "I must really beg the privilege
+of clasping your hand. It is a great honour for Judson Centre to have an
+author residing in its midst!"
+
+Taking pity upon Harlan, Dorothy hastened to change the subject. "We hope
+it may be," she observed, lightly, "and I wonder, Mr. Bradford, if you
+could not give me some good advice?"
+
+"I shall be delighted, my dear madam. Any knowledge I may possess is
+trebly at your service, for the sake of the distinguished author whose
+wife you have the honour to be, for the sake of your departed relative,
+who was my friend, my Colonel, and last, but not least, for your own
+sake."
+
+"It is only about a maid," said Dorothy.
+
+"A ---- my dear madam, I beg your pardon?"
+
+"A maid," repeated Dorothy; "a servant."
+
+"Oh! A hired girl, or more accurately, in the parlance of Judson Centre,
+the help. Do I understand that it is your desire to become an employer of
+help?"
+
+"It is," answered Dorothy, somewhat awed by the solemnity of his tone, "if
+help is to be found. I thought you might know where I could get some
+one."
+
+"If I might be permitted to suggest," replied Mr. Bradford, after due
+deliberation, "I should unhesitatingly recommend Mrs. Sarah Smithers, who
+did for your uncle during the entire period of his residence here and
+whose privilege it was to close his eyes in his last sleep. She is at
+present without prospect of a situation, and I believe would be very ready
+to accept a new position, especially so desirable a position as this, in
+your service."
+
+"Thank you. Could you--could you send her to me?"
+
+"I shall do so, most assuredly, providing she is willing to come, and
+should she chance not to be agreeably disposed toward so pleasing a
+project, it will be my happiness to endeavour to persuade her." Drawing
+out a memorandum book and a pencil, the old gentleman made an entry upon a
+fresh page. "The multitudinous duties in connection with the practice of
+my profession," he began--"there, my dear madam, it is already attended
+to, since it is placed quite out of my power to forget."
+
+"I am greatly obliged," said Dorothy.
+
+"And now," continued the visitor, "I must go. I fear I have already
+outstayed the limitation of a formal visit, such as the first should be,
+and it is not my desire to intrude upon an author's time. Moreover, my own
+duties, slight and unimportant as they are in comparison, must ultimately
+press upon my attention."
+
+"Come again," said Harlan, kindly, following him to the door.
+
+"It will be my great pleasure," rejoined the guest, "not only on your own
+account, but because your personality reminds me of that of my departed
+friend. You favour him considerably, more particularly in the eyes, if I
+may be permitted to allude to details. I think I told you, did I not, that
+he was my Colonel and I was privileged to serve under him in the war?
+My--oh, I walked, did I not? I remember that it was my intention to come
+in a carriage, as being more suitable to a formal visit, but Mr. Blake had
+other engagements for his vehicle. Dear sir and madam, I bid you good
+afternoon."
+
+So saying, he went downhill, briskly enough, yet stumbling where the way
+was rough. They watched him until the bobbing, bell-shaped crown of the
+ancient head-gear was completely out of sight.
+
+"What a dear old man!" said Dorothy. "He's lonely and we must have him
+come up often."
+
+"Do you think," asked Harlan, "that I look like Uncle Ebeneezer?"
+
+"Indeed you don't!" cried Dorothy, "and that reminds me. I want to take
+that picture down."
+
+"To burn it?" inquired Harlan, slyly.
+
+"No, I wouldn't burn it," answered Dorothy, somewhat spitefully, "but
+there's no law against putting it in the attic, is there?"
+
+"Not that I know of. Can we reach it from a chair?"
+
+Together they mounted one of the haircloth monuments, slipping, as Dorothy
+said, until it was like walking on ice.
+
+"Now then," said Harlan, gaily, "come on down, Uncle! You're about to be
+moved into the attic!"
+
+The picture lunged forward, almost before they had touched it, the heavy
+gilt frame bruising Dorothy's cheek badly. In catching it, Harlan turned
+it completely around, then gave a low whistle of astonishment.
+
+Pasted securely to the back was a fearsome skull and cross-bones, made on
+wrapping paper with a brush and India ink. Below it, in great capitals,
+was the warning inscription: "LET MY PICTURE ALONE!"
+
+"What shall we do with it?" asked Harlan, endeavouring to laugh, though,
+as he afterward admitted, he "felt creepy." "Shall I take it up to the
+attic?"
+
+"No," answered Dorothy, in a small, unnatural voice, "leave it where it
+is."
+
+While Harlan was putting it back, Dorothy, trembling from head to foot,
+crept around to the back of the easel which bore Aunt Rebecca's portrait.
+She was not at all surprised to find, on the back of it, a notice to this
+effect: "ANYONE DARING TO MOVE MRS. JUDSON'S PICTURE WILL BE HAUNTED FOR
+LIFE BY US BOTH."
+
+"I don't doubt it," said Dorothy, somewhat viciously, when Harlan had
+joined her. "What kind of a woman do you suppose she could have been, to
+marry him? I'll bet she's glad she's dead!"
+
+Dorothy was still wiping blood from her face and might not have been
+wholly unprejudiced. Aunt Rebecca was a gentle, sweet-faced woman, if her
+portrait told the truth, possessed of all the virtues save self-assertion
+and dominated by habitual, unselfish kindness to others. She could not
+have been discourteous even to Claudius Tiberius, who at this moment was
+seated in state upon the sofa and purring industriously.
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+Finances
+
+
+"I've ordered the typewriter," said Dorothy, brightly, "and some nice new
+note-paper, and a seal. I've just been reading about making virtue out of
+necessity, so I've ordered 'At the Sign of the Jack-o'-Lantern' put on our
+stationery, in gold, and a yellow pumpkin on the envelope flap, just above
+the seal. And I want you to make a funny sign-board to flap from a pole,
+the way they did in 'Rudder Grange.' If you could make a wooden
+Jack-o'-Lantern, we could have a candle inside it at night, and then the
+sign would be just like the house. We can get the paint and things down in
+the village. Won't it be cute? We're farmers, now, so we'll have to
+pretend we like it."
+
+Harlan repressed an exclamation, which could not have been wholly inspired
+by pleasure.
+
+"What's the matter?" asked Dorothy, easily. "Don't you like the design for
+the note-paper? If you don't, you won't have to use it. Nobody's going to
+make you write letters on paper you don't like, so cheer up."
+
+"It isn't the paper," answered Harlan, miserably; "it's the typewriter."
+Up to the present moment, sustained by a false, but none the less
+determined pride, he had refrained from taking his wife into his
+confidence regarding his finances. With characteristic masculine
+short-sightedness, he had failed to perceive that every moment of delay
+made matters worse.
+
+"Might I inquire," asked Mrs. Carr, coolly, "what is wrong with the
+typewriter?"
+
+"Nothing at all," sighed Harlan, "except that we can't afford it." The
+whole bitter truth was out, now, and he turned away wretchedly, ashamed to
+meet her eyes.
+
+It seemed ages before she spoke. Then she said, in smooth, icy tones:
+"What was your object in offering to get it for me?"
+
+"I spoke impulsively," explained Harlan, forgetting that he had never
+suggested buying a typewriter. "I didn't stop to think. I'm sorry," he
+concluded, lamely.
+
+"I suppose you spoke impulsively," snapped Dorothy, "when you asked me to
+marry you. You're sorry for that, too, aren't you?"
+
+"Dorothy!"
+
+"You're not the only one who's sorry," she rejoined, her cheeks flushed
+and her eyes blazing. "I had no idea what an expense I was going to be!"
+
+"Dorothy!" cried Harlan, angrily; "you didn't think I was a millionaire,
+did you? Were you under the impression that I was an active branch of the
+United States Mint?"
+
+"No," she answered, huskily; "I merely thought I was marrying a gentleman
+instead of a loafer, and I beg your pardon for the mistake!" She slammed
+the door on the last word, and he heard her light feet pattering swiftly
+down the hall, little guessing that she was trying to gain the shelter of
+her own room before giving way to a tempest of sobs.
+
+Happy are they who can drown all pain, sorrow, and disappointment in a
+copious flood of tears. In an hour, at the most, Dorothy would be her
+sunny self again, penitent, and wholly ashamed of her undignified
+outburst. By to-morrow she would have forgotten it, but Harlan, made of
+sterner clay, would remember it for days.
+
+"Loafer!" The cruel word seemed written accusingly on every wall of the
+room. In a sudden flash of insight he perceived the truth of it--and it
+hurt.
+
+"Two months," bethought; "two months of besotted idleness. And I used to
+chase news from the Battery to the Bronx every day from eight to six!
+Murders, smallpox, East Side scraps, and Tammany Hall. Why in the
+hereafter can't they have a fire at the sanitarium, or something that I
+can wire in?"
+
+"The Temple of Healing," as Dorothy had christened it in a happier moment,
+stood on a distant hill, all but hidden now by trees and shrubbery. A
+column of smoke curled lazily upward against the blue, but there was no
+immediate prospect of a fire of the "news" variety.
+
+Harlan stood at the window for a long time, deeply troubled. The call of
+the city dinned relentlessly into his ears. Oh, for an hour in the midst
+of it, with the rumble and roar and clatter of ceaseless traffic, the
+hurrying, heedless throng rushing in every direction, the glare of the sun
+on the many-windowed cliffs, the fever of the struggle in his veins!
+
+And yet--was two months so long, when a fellow was just married, and
+hadn't had more than a day at a time off for six years? Since the "cub
+reporter" was first "licked into shape" in the office of _The Thunderer_,
+there had been plenty of work for him, year in and year out.
+
+"I wonder," he mused, "if the old man would take me back on my job?
+
+"I can see 'em in the office now," went on Harlan, mentally, "when I go
+back and tell 'em I want my place again. The old man will look up and say:
+'The hell you do! Thought you'd accepted a position on the literary
+circuit as manager of the nine muses! Better run along and look after 'em
+before they join the union.'
+
+"And the exchange man will yell at me not to slam the door as I go out,
+and I'll be pointed out to the newest kid as a horrible example of
+misdirected ambition. Brinkman will say: 'Sonny, there's a bloke that got
+too good for his job and now he's come back, willing to edit The Mother's
+Corner.'
+
+"It'd be about the same in the other offices, too," he thought. "'Sorry,
+nothing to-day, but there might be next month. Drop in again sometime
+after six weeks or so and meanwhile I'll let you know if anything turns
+up. Yes, I can remember your address. Don't slam the door as you go out.
+Most people seem to have been born in a barn.'
+
+"Besides," he continued to himself, fiercely, "what is there in it?
+They'll take your youth, all your strength and energy, and give you a
+measly living in exchange. They'll fill you with excitement till you're
+never good for anything else, any more than a cavalry horse is fitted to
+pull a vegetable wagon. Then, when you're old, they've got no use for
+you!"
+
+Before his mental vision, in pitiful array, came that unhappy procession
+of hacks that files, day in and day out, along Newspaper Row, drawn by
+every instinct to the arena that holds nothing for them but a meagre,
+uncertain pittance, dwindling slowly to charity.
+
+"That's where I'd be at the last of it," muttered Harlan, savagely, "with
+even the cubs offering me the price of a drink to get out. And
+Dorothy--good God! Where would Dorothy be?"
+
+He clenched his fists and marched up and down the room in utter despair.
+"Why," he breathed, "why wasn't I taught to do something honest, instead
+of being cursed with this itch to write? A carpenter, a bricklayer, a
+stone-mason,--any one of 'em has a better chance than I!"
+
+And yet, even then, Harlan saw clearly that save where some vast cathedral
+reared its unnumbered spires, the mason and the bricklayer were without
+significance; that even the builders were remembered only because of the
+great uses to which their buildings were put. "That, too, through print,"
+he murmured. "It all comes down to the printed page at last."
+
+On a table, near by, was a sheaf of rough copy paper, and six or eight
+carefully sharpened pencils--the dull, meaningless stone waiting for the
+flint that should strike it into flame. Day after day the table had stood
+by the window, without result, save in Harlan's uneasy conscience.
+
+"I'm only a tramp," he said, aloud, "and I've known it, all along."
+
+He sat down by the table and took up a pencil, but no words came.
+Remorsefully, he wrote to an acquaintance--a man who had a book published
+every year and filled in the intervening time with magazine work and
+newspaper specials. He sealed the letter and addressed it idly, then
+tossed it aside purposelessly.
+
+"Loafer!" The memory of it stung him like a lash, and, completely
+overwhelmed with shame, he hid his face in his hands.
+
+Suddenly, a pair of soft arms stole around his neck, a childish, tear-wet
+cheek was pressed close to his, and a sweet voice whispered, tenderly:
+"Dear, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry I can't live another minute unless you tell
+me you forgive me!"
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Am I really a loafer?" asked Harlan, half an hour later.
+
+"Indeed you're not," answered Dorothy, her trustful eyes looking straight
+into his; "you're absolutely the most adorable boy in the whole world, and
+it's me that knows it!"
+
+"As long as you know it," returned Harlan, seriously, "I don't care a hang
+what other people think."
+
+"Now, tell me," continued Dorothy, "how near are we to being broke?"
+
+Obediently, Harlan turned his pockets inside out and piled his worldly
+wealth on the table.
+
+"Three hundred and seventy-four dollars and sixteen cents," she said, when
+she had finished counting. "Why, we're almost rich, and a little while ago
+you tried to make me think we were poor!"
+
+"It's all I have, Dorothy--every blooming cent, except one dollar in the
+savings bank. Sort of a nest egg I had left," he explained.
+
+"Wait a minute," she said, reaching down into her collar and drawing up a
+loop of worn ribbon. "Straight front corset," she observed, flushing,
+"makes a nice pocket for almost everything." She drew up a chamois-skin
+bag, of an unprepossessing mouse colour, and emptied out a roll of bills.
+"Two hundred and twelve dollars," she said, proudly, "and eighty-three
+cents and four postage stamps in my purse.
+
+"I saved it," she continued, hastily, "for an emergency, and I wanted some
+silk stockings and a French embroidered corset and some handmade lingerie
+worse than you can ever know. Wasn't I a brave, heroic, noble woman?"
+
+"Indeed you were," he cried, "but, Dorothy, you know I can't touch your
+money!"
+
+"Why not?" she demanded.
+
+"Because--because--because it isn't right. Do you think I'm cad enough to
+live on a woman's earnings?"
+
+"Harlan," said Dorothy, kindly, "don't be a fool. You'll take my whole
+heart and soul and life--all that I have been and all that I'm going to
+be--and be glad to get it, and now you're balking at ten cents that I
+happened to have in my stocking when I took the fatal step."
+
+"Dear heart, don't. It's different--tremendously different. Can't you see
+that it is?"
+
+"Do you mean that I'm not worth as much as two hundred and twelve dollars
+and eighty-three cents and four postage stamps?"
+
+"Darling, you're worth more than all the rest of the world put together.
+Don't talk to me like that. But I can't touch your money, truly, dear, I
+can't; so don't ask me."
+
+"Idiot," cried Dorothy, with tears raining down her face, "don't you know
+I'd go with you if you had to grind an organ in the street, and collect
+the money for you in a tin cup till we got enough for a monkey? What kind
+of a dinky little silver-plated wedding present do you think I am, anyway?
+You----"
+
+The rest of it was sobbed out, incoherently enough, on his hitherto
+immaculate shirt-front. "You don't mind," she whispered, "if I cry down
+your neck, do you?"
+
+"If you're going to cry," he answered, his voice trembling, "this is the
+one place for you to do it, but I don't want you to cry."
+
+"I won't, then," she said, wiping her eyes on a wet and crumpled
+handkerchief. In a time astonishingly brief to one hitherto unfamiliar
+with the lachrymal function, her sobs had ceased.
+
+"You've made me cry nearly a quart since morning," she went on, with
+assumed severity, "and I hope you'll behave so well from now on that I'll
+never have to do it again. Look here."
+
+She led him to the window, where a pair of robins were building a nest in
+the boughs of a maple close by. "Do you see those birds?" she demanded,
+pointing at them with a dimpled, rosy forefinger.
+
+"Yes, what of it?"
+
+"Well, they're married, aren't they?"
+
+"I hope they are," laughed Harlan, "or at least engaged."
+
+"Who's bringing the straw and feathers for the nest?" she asked.
+
+"Both, apparently," he replied, unwillingly.
+
+"Why isn't she rocking herself on a bough, and keeping her nails nice, and
+fixing her feathers in the latest style, or perhaps going off to some fool
+bird club while he builds the nest by himself?"
+
+"Don't know."
+
+"Nor anybody else," she continued, with much satisfaction. "Now, if she
+happened to have two hundred and twelve feathers, of the proper size and
+shape to go into that nest, do you suppose he'd refuse to touch them, and
+make her cry because she brought them to him?"
+
+"Probably he wouldn't," admitted Harlan.
+
+There was a long silence, then Dorothy edged up closer to him. "Do you
+suppose," she queried, "that Mr. Robin thinks more of his wife than you do
+of yours?"
+
+"Indeed he doesn't!"
+
+"And still, he's letting her help him."
+
+"But----"
+
+"Now, listen, Harlan. We've got a house, with more than enough furniture
+to make it comfortable, though it's not the kind of furniture either of us
+particularly like. Instead of buying a typewriter, we'll rent one for
+three or four dollars a month until we have enough money to buy one. And
+I'm going to have a cow and some chickens and a garden, and I'm going to
+sell milk and butter and cream and fresh eggs and vegetables and chickens
+and fruit to the sanitarium, and----"
+
+"The sanitarium people must have plenty of those things."
+
+"But not the kind I'm going to raise, nor put up as I'm going to put it
+up, and we'll be raising most of our own living besides. You can write
+when you feel like it, and be helping me when you don't feel like it, and
+before we know it, we'll be rich. Oh, Harlan, I feel like Eve all alone in
+the Garden with Adam!"
+
+The prospect fired his imagination, for, in common with most men, a
+chicken-ranch had appealed strongly to Harlan ever since he could
+remember.
+
+"Well," he began, slowly, in the tone which was always a signal of
+surrender.
+
+"Won't it be lovely," she cried ecstatically, "to have our own bossy cow
+mooing in the barn, and our own chickens for Sunday dinner, and our own
+milk, and butter, and cream? And I'll drive the vegetable waggon and you
+can take the things in----"
+
+"I guess not," interrupted Harlan, firmly. "If you're going to do that
+sort of thing, you'll have people to do the work when I can't help you.
+The idea of my wife driving a vegetable cart!"
+
+"All right," answered Dorothy, submissively, wise enough to let small
+points settle themselves and have her own way in things that really
+mattered. "I've not forgotten that I promised to obey you."
+
+A gratified smile spread over Harlan's smooth, boyish face, and,
+half-fearfully, she reached into her sleeve for a handkerchief which she
+had hitherto carefully concealed.
+
+"That's not all," she smiled. "Look!"
+
+"Twenty-three dollars," he said. "Why, where did you get that?"
+
+"It was in my dresser. There was a false bottom in one of the small
+drawers, and I took it out and found this."
+
+"What in--" began Harlan.
+
+"It's a present to us from Uncle Ebeneezer," she cried, her eyes sparkling
+and her face aglow. "It's for a coop and chickens," she continued,
+executing an intricate dance step. "Oh, Harlan, aren't you awfully glad we
+came?"
+
+Seeing her pleasure he could not help being glad, but afterward, when he
+was alone, he began to wonder whether they had not inadvertently moved
+into a bank.
+
+"Might be worse places," he reflected, "for the poor and deserving to move
+into. Diamonds and money--what next?"
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+Mrs. Smithers
+
+
+The chickens were clucking peacefully in their corner of Uncle Ebeneezer's
+dooryard, and the newly acquired bossy cow mooed unhappily in her
+improvised stable. Harlan had christened the cow "Maud" because she
+insisted upon going into the garden, and though Dorothy had vigorously
+protested against putting Tennyson to such base uses, the name still held,
+out of sheer appropriateness.
+
+Harlan was engaged in that pleasant pastime known as "pottering." The
+instinct to drive nails, put up shelves, and to improve generally his
+local habitation is as firmly seated in the masculine nature as
+housewifely characteristics are ingrained in the feminine soul. Never
+before having had a home of his own, Harlan was enjoying it to the full.
+
+Early hours had been the rule at the Jack-o'-Lantern ever since the
+feathered sultan with his tribe of voluble wives had taken up his abode on
+the hilltop. Indeed, as Harlan said, they were obliged to sleep when the
+chickens did--if they slept at all. So it was not yet seven one morning
+when Dorothy went in from the chicken coop, singing softly to herself, and
+intent upon the particular hammer her husband wanted, never expecting to
+find Her in the kitchen.
+
+"I--I beg your pardon?" she stammered, inquiringly.
+
+A gaunt, aged, and preternaturally solemn female, swathed in crape, bent
+slightly forward in her chair, without making an effort to rise, and
+reached forth a black-gloved hand tightly grasping a letter, which was
+tremulously addressed to "Mrs. J. H. Carr."
+
+  "My dear Madam," Dorothy read.
+
+  "The multitudinous duties in connection with the practice of my
+  profession have unfortunately prevented me, until the present hour,
+  from interviewing Mrs. Sarah Smithers in regard to your requirements.
+  While she is naturally unwilling to commit herself entirely without a
+  more definite idea of what is expected of her, she is none the less
+  kindly disposed. May I hope, my dear madam, that at the first
+  opportunity you will apprise me of ensuing events in this connection,
+  and that in any event I may still faithfully serve you?
+
+  "With kindest personal remembrances and my polite salutations to the
+  distinguished author whose wife you have the honour to be, I am, my
+  dear madam,
+
+  "Yr. most respectful and obedient servant,
+
+                                                 "Jeremiah Bradford.
+
+"Oh," said Dorothy, "you're Sarah. I had almost given you up."
+
+"Begging your parding, Miss," rejoined Mrs. Smithers in a chilly tone of
+reproof, "but I take it it's better for us to begin callin' each other by
+our proper names. If we should get friendly, there'd be ample time to
+change. Your uncle, God rest 'is soul, allers called me 'Mis' Smithers.'"
+
+Somewhat startled at first, Mrs. Carr quickly recovered her equanimity.
+"Very well, Mrs. Smithers," she returned, lightly, reflecting that when in
+Rome one must follow Roman customs; "Do you understand all branches of
+general housework?"
+
+"If I didn't, I wouldn't be makin' no attempts in that direction," replied
+Mrs. Smithers, harshly. "I doesn't allow nobody to do wot I does no better
+than wot I does it."
+
+Dorothy smiled, for this was distinctly encouraging, from at least one
+point of view.
+
+"You wear a cap, I suppose?"
+
+"Yes, mum, for dustin'. When I goes out I puts on my bonnet."
+
+"Can you do plain cooking?" inquired Dorothy, hastily, perceiving that she
+was treading upon dangerous ground.
+
+"Yes, mum. The more plain it is the better all around. Your uncle was
+never one to fill hisself with fancy dishes days and walk the floor with
+'em nights, that's wot 'e wasn't."
+
+"What wages do you have, Sa--Mrs. Smithers?"
+
+"I worked for your uncle for a dollar and a half a week, bein' as we'd
+knowed each other so long, and on account of 'im bein' easy to get along
+with and never makin' no trouble, but I wouldn't work for no woman for
+less 'n two dollars."
+
+"That is satisfactory to me," returned Dorothy, trying to be dignified. "I
+daresay we shall get on all right. Can you stay now?"
+
+"If you've finished," said Mrs. Smithers, ignoring the question, "there's
+a few things I'd like to ask. 'Ow did you get that bruise on your face?"
+
+"I--I ran into something," answered Dorothy, unwillingly, and taken quite
+by surprise.
+
+"Wot was it," demanded Mrs. Smithers. "Your 'usband's fist?"
+
+"No," replied Mrs. Carr, sternly, "it was a piece of furniture."
+
+"I've never knowed furniture," observed Mrs. Smithers, doubtfully, "to get
+up and 'it people in the face wot wasn't doin' nothink to it. If you
+disturb a rockin'-chair at night w'en it's restin' quiet, you'll get your
+ankle 'it, but I've never knowed no furniture to 'it people under the eye
+unless it 'ad been threw, that's wot I ain't.
+
+"I mind me of my youngest sister," Mrs. Smithers went on, her keen eyes
+uncomfortably fixed upon Dorothy. "'Er 'usband was one of these 'ere
+masterful men, 'e was, same as wot yours is, and w'en 'er didn't please
+'im, 'e 'd 'it 'er somethink orful. Many's the time I've gone there and
+found 'er with 'er poor face all cut up and the crockery broke bad. 'I
+dropped a cup' 'er'd say to me, 'and the pieces flew up and 'it me in the
+face.' 'Er face looked like a crazy quilt from 'aving dropped so many
+cups, and wunst, without thinkin' wot I might be doin' of, I gave 'er a
+chiny tea set for 'er Christmas present.
+
+"Wen I went to see 'er again, the tea set was all broke and 'er 'ad court
+plaster all over 'er face. The pieces must 'ave flew more 'n common from
+the tea set, cause 'er 'usband's 'ed was laid open somethink frightful and
+they'd 'ad in the doctor to take a seam in it. From that time on I never
+'eard of no more cups bein' dropped and 'er face looked quite human and
+peaceful like w'en 'e died. God rest 'is soul, 'e ain't a-breakin' no tea
+sets now by accident nor a-purpose neither. I was never one to interfere
+between man and wife, Miss Carr, but I want you to tell your 'usband that
+should 'e undertake to 'it me, 'e'll get a bucket of 'ot tea throwed in
+'is face."
+
+"It's not at all likely," answered Dorothy, biting her lip, "that such a
+thing will happen." She was swayed by two contradictory impulses--one to
+scream with laughter, the other to throw something at Mrs. Smithers.
+
+"'E's been at peace now six months come Tuesday," continued Mrs. Smithers,
+"and on account of 'is 'avin' broke the tea set, I don't feel no call to
+wear mourning for 'im more 'n a year, though folks thinks as 'ow it brands
+me as 'eartless for takin' it off inside of two. Sakes alive, wot's that?"
+she cried, drawing her sable skirts more closely about her as a dark
+shadow darted across the kitchen.
+
+"It's only the cat," answered Dorothy, reassuringly. "Come here,
+Claudius."
+
+Mrs. Smithers repressed an exclamation of horror as Claudius, purring
+pleasantly, came out into the sunlight, brandishing his plumed tail, and
+sat down on the edge of Dorothy's skirt, blinking his green eyes at the
+intruder.
+
+"'E's the very cat," said Mrs. Smithers, hoarsely, "wot your uncle killed
+the week afore 'e died!"
+
+"Before who died?" asked Dorothy, a chill creeping into her blood.
+
+"Your uncle," whispered Mrs. Smithers, her eyes still fixed upon Claudius
+Tiberius. "'E killed that very cat, 'e did, 'cause 'e couldn't never abide
+'im, and now 'e's come back!"
+
+"Nonsense!" cried Dorothy, trying to be severe. "If he killed the cat, it
+couldn't come back--you must know that."
+
+"I don't know w'y not, Miss. Anyhow, 'e killed the cat, that's wot 'e did,
+and I saw 'is dead body, and even buried 'im, on account of your uncle not
+bein' able to abide cats, and 'ere 'e is. Somebody 's dug 'im up, and 'e
+'s come to life again, thinkin' to 'aunt your uncle, and your uncle 'as
+follered 'im, that's wot 'e 'as, and there bein' nobody 'ere to 'aunt but
+us, 'e's a 'auntin' us and a-doin' it 'ard."
+
+"Mrs. Smithers," said Dorothy, rising, "I desire to hear no more of this
+nonsense. The cat happens to be somewhat similar to the dead one, that's
+all."
+
+"Begging your parding, Miss, for askin', but did you bring that there cat
+with you from the city?"
+
+Affecting not to hear, Dorothy went out, followed by Claudius Tiberius,
+who appeared anything but ghostly.
+
+"I knowed it," muttered Mrs. Smithers, gloomily, to herself. "'E was 'ere
+w'en 'er come, and 'e's the same cat. 'E's come back to 'aunt us, that's
+wot 'e 'as!"
+
+"Harlan," said Dorothy, half-way between smiles and tears, "she's come."
+
+Harlan dropped his saw and took up his hammer. "Who's come?" he asked.
+"From your tone, it might be Mrs. Satan, or somebody else from the
+infernal regions."
+
+"You're not far out of the way," rejoined Dorothy. "It's Sa--Mrs.
+Smithers."
+
+"Oh, our maid of all work?"
+
+"I don't know what she's made of," giggled Dorothy, hysterically. "She
+looks like a tombstone dressed in deep mourning, and carries with her the
+atmosphere of a graveyard. We have to call her 'Mrs. Smithers,' if we
+don't want her to call us by our first names, and she has two dollars a
+week. She says Claudius is a cat that uncle killed the week before he
+died, and she thinks you hit me and gave me this bruise on my cheek."
+
+"The old lizard," said Harlan, indignantly. "She sha'n't stay!"
+
+"Now don't be cross," interrupted Dorothy. "It's all in the family, for
+your uncle hit me, as you well know. Besides, we can't expect all the
+virtues for two dollars a week and I'm tired almost to death from trying
+to do the housework in this big house and take care of the chickens, too.
+We'll get on with her as best we can until we see a chance to do better."
+
+"Wise little woman," responded Harlan, admiringly. "Can she milk the
+cow?"
+
+"I don't know--I'll go in and ask her."
+
+"Excuse me, Miss," began Mrs. Smithers, before Dorothy had a chance to
+speak, "but am I to 'ave my old rooms?"
+
+"Which rooms were they?"
+
+"These 'ere, back of the kitchen. My own settin' room and bedroom and
+kitchen and pantry and my own private door outside. Your uncle was allers
+a great hand for bein' private and insistin' on other folks keepin'
+private, that 's wot 'e was, but God rest 'is soul, it didn't do the poor
+old gent much good."
+
+"Certainly," said Dorothy, "take your old rooms. And can you milk a cow?"
+
+Mrs. Smithers sighed. "I ain't never 'ad it put on me, Miss," she said,
+with the air of a martyr trying to make himself comfortable up against the
+stake, "not as a regler thing, I ain't, but wotever I'm asked to do in the
+line of duty whiles I'm dwellin' in this sufferin' and dyin' world, I aims
+to do the best wot I can, w'ether it's milkin' a cow, drownin' kittens, or
+buryin' a cat wot can't stay buried."
+
+"We have breakfast about half-past seven," went on Dorothy, quickly;
+"luncheon at noon and dinner at six."
+
+"Wot at six?" demanded Mrs. Smithers, pricking up her ears.
+
+"Dinner! Dinner at six."
+
+"Lord preserve us," said Mrs. Smithers, half to herself. "Your uncle
+allers 'ad 'is dinner at one o'clock, sharp, and 'e wouldn't like it to
+'ave such scandalous goin's on in 'is own 'ouse."
+
+"You're working for me," Dorothy reminded her sharply, "and not for my
+uncle."
+
+There was a long silence, during which Mrs. Smithers peered curiously at
+her young mistress over her steel-bowed spectacles. "I'm not so sure as
+you," she said. "On account of the cat 'avin come back from 'is grave, it
+wouldn't surprise me none to see your uncle settin' 'ere at any time in
+'is shroud, and a-askin' to 'ave mush and milk for 'is supper, the which
+'e was so powerful fond of that I was more 'n 'alf minded at the last
+minute to put some of it in 's coffin."
+
+"Mrs. Smithers," said Dorothy, severely, "I do not want to hear any more
+about dead people, or resurrected cats, or anything of that nature. What's
+gone is gone, and there's no use in continually referring to it."
+
+At this significant moment, Claudius Tiberius paraded somewhat
+ostentatiously through the kitchen and went outdoors.
+
+"You see, Miss?" asked Mrs. Smithers, with ill-concealed satisfaction.
+"Wot's gone ain't always gone for long, that's wot it ain't."
+
+Dorothy retreated, followed by a sepulchral laugh which grated on her
+nerves. "Upon my word, dear," she said to Harlan, "I don't know how we're
+going to stand having that woman in the house. She makes me feel as if I
+were an undertaker, a grave digger, and a cemetery, all rolled into one."
+
+"You're too imaginative," said Harlan, tenderly, stroking her soft cheek.
+He had not yet seen Mrs. Smithers.
+
+"Perhaps," Dorothy admitted, "when she gets that pyramid of crape off her
+head, she'll seem more nearly human. Do you suppose she expects to wear it
+in the house all the time?"
+
+"Miss Carr!"
+
+The gaunt black shadow appeared in the doorway of the kitchen and the
+high, harsh voice shrilled imperiously across the yard.
+
+"I'm coming," answered Dorothy, submissively, for in the tone there was
+that which instinctively impels obedience. "What is it?" she asked, when
+she entered the kitchen.
+
+"Nothink. I only wants to know wot it is you're layin' out to 'ave for
+your--luncheon, if that's wot you call it."
+
+"Poached eggs on toast, last night's cold potatoes warmed over, hot
+biscuits, jam, and tea."
+
+Mrs. Smithers's articulate response resembled a cluck more closely than
+anything else.
+
+"You can make biscuits, can't you?" went on Dorothy, hastily.
+
+"I 'ave," responded Mrs. Smithers, dryly. "Begging your parding, Miss, but
+is that there feller sawin' wood out by the chicken coop your 'usband?"
+
+"The gentleman in the yard," said Dorothy, icily, "is Mr. Carr."
+
+"Be n't you married to 'im?" cried Mrs. Smithers, dropping a fork. "I
+understood as 'ow you was, else I wouldn't 'ave come. I was never one
+to----"
+
+"I most assuredly _am_ married to him," answered Dorothy, with due
+emphasis on the verb.
+
+"Oh! 'E's the build of my youngest sister's poor dead 'usband; the one wot
+broke the tea set wot I give 'er over 'er poor 'ed. 'E can 'it powerful
+'ard, can't 'e?"
+
+Quite beyond speech, Dorothy went outdoors again, her head held high and a
+dangerous light in her eyes. To-morrow, or next week at the latest, should
+witness the forced departure of Mrs. Smithers. Mrs. Carr realised that the
+woman did not intend to be impertinent, and that the social forms of
+Judson Centre were not those of New York. Still, some things were
+unbearable.
+
+The luncheon that was set before them, however, went far toward atonement.
+With the best intentions in the world, Dorothy's cooking nearly always
+went wide of the mark, and Harlan welcomed the change with unmistakable
+pleasure.
+
+"I say, Dorothy," he whispered, as they rose from the table; "get on with
+her if you can. Anybody who can make such biscuits as these will go out of
+the house only over my dead body."
+
+The latter part of the speech was unfortunate. "My surroundings are so
+extremely cheerful," remarked Dorothy, "that I've decided to spend the
+afternoon in the library reading Poe. I've always wanted to do it and I
+don't believe I'll ever feel any creepier than I do this blessed minute."
+
+In spite of his laughing protest, she went into the library, locked the
+door, and curled up in Uncle Ebeneezer's easy chair with a well-thumbed
+volume of Poe, finding a two-dollar bill used in one place as a book mark.
+She read for some time, then took down another book, which opened of
+itself at "The Gold Bug."
+
+The pages were thickly strewn with marginal comments in the fine, small,
+shaky hand she had learned to associate with Uncle Ebeneezer. The
+paragraph about the skull, in the tree above the treasure, had evidently
+filled the last reader with unprecedented admiration, for on the margin
+was written twice, in ink: "A very, very pretty idea."
+
+She laughed aloud, for her thoughts since morning had been persistently
+directed toward things not of this world. "I'm glad I'm not
+superstitious," she thought, then jumped almost out of her chair at the
+sound of an ominous crash in the kitchen.
+
+"I won't go," she thought, settling back into her place. "I'll let that
+old monument alone just as much as I can."
+
+Upon the whole, it was just as well, for the "old monument" was on her
+bony knees, with her head and shoulders quite lost in the secret depths of
+the kitchen range. "I wonder," she was muttering, "where 'e could 'ave put
+it. It would 'ave been just like that old skinflint to 'ave 'id it in the
+stove!"
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+The Coming of Elaine
+
+
+There is no state of mental wretchedness akin to that which precedes the
+writing of a book. Harlan was moody and despairing, chiefly because he
+could not understand what it all meant. Something hung over him like a
+black cloud, completely obscuring his usual sunny cheerfulness.
+
+He burned with the desire to achieve, yet from the depths of his soul came
+only emptiness. Vague, purposeless aspirations, like disembodied spirits,
+haunted him by night and by day. Before his inner vision came unfamiliar
+scenes, detached fragments of conversation, the atmosphere, the feeling of
+an old romance, then, by a swift change, darkness from which there seemed
+no possible escape.
+
+A woman with golden hair, mounted upon a white horse, gay with scarlet and
+silver trappings--surely her name was Elaine? And the company of gallant
+knights who followed her as she set forth upon her quest--who were they,
+and from whence did they hail? The fool of the court, with his bauble and
+his cracked, meaningless laughter, danced in and out of the picture with
+impish glee. Behind it all was the sunset, such a sunset as was never seen
+on land or sea. Ribbons of splendid colour streamed from the horizon to
+the zenith and set the shields of the knights aglow with shimmering flame.
+Clashing cymbals sounded from afar, then, clear and high, a bugle call,
+the winding silvery notes growing fainter and fainter till they were lost
+in the purple silence of the hills. Elaine turned, smiling--was not her
+name Elaine? And then----
+
+Darkness fell and the picture was utterly wiped out. Harlan turned away
+with a sigh.
+
+To take the dead, dry bones of words, the tiny black things that march in
+set spaces across the page; to set each where it inevitably
+belongs--truly, it seems simple enough. But from the vast range of our
+written speech to select those which fittingly clothe the thought is quite
+another matter, and presupposes the thought. Even then, by necessity, the
+outcome is uncertain.
+
+Within the mind of the writer, the Book lives and breathes; a child of the
+brain, yearning for birth. At a white heat, after long waiting, the words
+come--merely a commentary, an index, a marginal note of that within.
+Reading afterward the written words, the fine invisible links, the colour
+and the music, are treacherously supplied by the imagination, which is at
+once the best friend and the worst enemy. How is one to know that only a
+small part of it has been written, that the best of it, far past writing,
+lingers still unborn?
+
+Long afterward, when the original picture has faded as though it had never
+been, one may read his printed work, and wonder, in abject self-abasement,
+by what miracle it was ever printed. He has trusted to some unknown
+psychology which strongly savours of the Black Art to reproduce in the
+minds of his readers the picture which was in his, and from which these
+fragmentary, marginal notes were traced. Only the words, the dead,
+meaningless words, stripped of all the fancy which once made them fair, to
+make for the thousands the wild, delirious bliss that the writer knew! To
+write with the tears falling upon the page, and afterward to read, in some
+particularly poignant and searching review, that "the book fails to
+convince!" Happy is he whose written pages reproduce but faintly the glow
+from whence they came. For "whoso with blood and tears would dig Art out
+of his soul, may lavish his golden prime in pursuit of emptiness, or,
+striking treasure, find only fairy gold, so that when his eyes are purged
+of the spell of morning, he sees his hands are full of withered leaves."
+
+A meadow-lark, rising from a distant field, dropped golden notes into the
+still, sunlit air, then vanished into the blue spaces beyond. A bough of
+apple bloom, its starry petals anchored only by invisible cobwebs, softly
+shook white fragrance into the grass. Then, like a vision straight from
+the golden city with the walls of pearl, came Elaine, the beautiful, her
+blue eyes laughing, and her scarlet lips parted in a smile.
+
+Harlan's heart sang within him. His trembling hands grasped feverishly at
+the sheaf of copy-paper which had waited for this, week in and week out.
+The pencil was ready to his hand, and the words fairly wrote themselves:
+
+_It came to pass that when the year was at the Spring, the Lady Elaine
+fared forth upon the Heart's Quest. She was mounted upon a snowy palfrey,
+whose trappings of scarlet and silver gleamed brightly in the sun. Her
+gown was of white satin, wondrously embroidered in fine gold thread, which
+was no less gold than her hair, falling in unchecked splendour about
+her._
+
+_Blue as sapphires were the eyes of Elaine, and her fair cheek was like
+that of an apple-blossom. Set like a rose upon pearl was the dewy,
+fragrant sweetness of her mouth, and her breath was like that of the rose
+itself. Her hands--but how shall I write of the flower-like hands of
+Elaine? They--_
+
+The door-bell pealed portentously through the house, echoing and
+re-echoing through the empty rooms. No answer. Presently it rang again,
+insistently, and Elaine, with her snowy palfrey, whisked suddenly out of
+sight.
+
+Gone, except for these few lines! Harlan stifled a groan and the bell rang
+once more.
+
+Heavens! Where was Dorothy? Where was Mrs. Smithers? Was there no one in
+the house but himself? Apparently not, for the bell rang determinedly, and
+with military precision.
+
+"March, march, forward march!" grumbled Harlan, as he ran downstairs, the
+one-two, one-two-three being registered meanwhile on the bell-wire.
+
+It was not a pleasant person who violently wrenched the door open, but in
+spite of his annoyance, Harlan could not be discourteous to a lady. She
+was tall, and slender, and pale, with blue eyes and yellow hair, and so
+very fragile that it seemed as though a passing zephyr might almost blow
+her away.
+
+"How do you do," she said, wearily. "I thought you were never coming."
+
+"I was busy," said Harlan, in extenuation. "Will you come in?" She was
+evidently a friend of Dorothy's, and, as such, demanded proper
+consideration.
+
+The invitation was needless, however, for even as he spoke, she brushed
+past him, and went into the parlour. "I'm so tired," she breathed. "I
+walked up that long hill."
+
+"You shouldn't have done it," returned Harlan, standing first on one foot
+and then on the other. "Couldn't you find the stage?"
+
+"I didn't look for it. I never had any ambition to go on the stage," she
+concluded, with a faint smile. "Where is Uncle Ebeneezer?"
+
+"No friend of Dorothy's," thought Harlan, shifting to the other foot.
+"Uncle Ebeneezer," he said, clearing his throat, "is at peace."
+
+"What do you mean?" demanded the girl, sinking into one of the haircloth
+chairs. "Where is Uncle Ebeneezer?"
+
+"Uncle Ebeneezer is dead," explained Harlan, somewhat tartly. Then, as he
+remembered the utter ruin of his work, he added, viciously, "never having
+known him intimately, I can't say just where he is."
+
+She leaned back in her chair, her face as white as death. Harlan thought
+she had fainted, when she relieved his mind by bursting into tears. He was
+more familiar with salt water, but, none the less, the situation was
+awkward.
+
+There were no signs of Dorothy, so Harlan, in an effort to be consoling,
+took the visitor's cold hands in his. "Don't," he said, kindly; "cheer up.
+You are among friends."
+
+"I have no friends," she answered, between sobs. "I lost the last when my
+dear mother died. She made me promise, during her last illness, that if
+anything happened to her, I would come to Uncle Ebeneezer. She said she
+had never imposed upon him and that he would gladly take care of me, for
+her sake. I was ill a long, long time, but as soon as I was able to, I
+came, and now--and now----"
+
+"Don't," said Harlan, again, awkwardly patting her hands, and deeply
+touched by the girl's distress. "We are your friends. You can stay here
+just as well as not. I am married and----"
+
+Upon his back, Harlan felt eyes. He turned quickly, and saw Dorothy
+standing in the door--quite a new Dorothy, indeed; very tall, and stately,
+and pale.
+
+Through sheer nervousness, Mr. Carr laughed--an unfortunate, high-pitched
+laugh with no mirth in it. "Let me present my wife," he said, sobering
+suddenly. "Mrs. Carr, Miss----"
+
+Here he coughed, and the guest, rising, filled the pause. "I am Elaine St.
+Clair," she explained, offering a white, tremulous hand which Dorothy did
+not seem to see. "It is very good of your husband to ask me to stay with
+you."
+
+"Very," replied Dorothy, in a tone altogether new to her husband. "He is
+always doing lovely things for people. And now, Harlan, if you will show
+Miss St. Clair to her room, I will speak with Mrs. Smithers about
+luncheon, which should be nearly ready by this time."
+
+"Thunder," said Harlan to himself, as Dorothy withdrew. "What in the devil
+do I know about 'her room'? Have you ever been here before?" he inquired
+of the guest.
+
+"Never in my life," answered Miss St. Clair, wiping her eyes.
+
+"Well," replied Harlan, confusedly, "just go on upstairs, then, and help
+yourself. There are plenty of rooms, and cribs to burn in every blamed one
+of 'em," he added, savagely, remembering the look in Dorothy's eyes.
+
+"Thank you," said Miss St. Clair, diffidently; "it is very kind of you to
+let me choose. Can some one bring my trunk up this afternoon?"
+
+"I'll attend to it," replied her host, brusquely.
+
+She trailed noiselessly upstairs, carrying her heavy suit case, and
+Harlan, not altogether happy at the prospect, went in search of Dorothy.
+At the kitchen door he paused, hearing voices within.
+
+"They've usually et by themselves," Mrs. Smithers was saying. "Is this a
+new one, or a friend of yours?"
+
+The sentence was utterly without meaning, either to Harlan or Dorothy, but
+the answer was given, as quick as a flash. "A friend, Mrs. Smithers--a
+very dear old friend of Mr. Carr's."
+
+"'Mr. Carr's,'" repeated Harlan, miserably, tiptoeing away to the library,
+where he sat down and wiped his forehead. "'A very dear old friend.'"
+Disconnectedly, and with pronounced emphasis, Harlan mentioned the place
+which is said to be paved with good intentions.
+
+The clock struck twelve, and it was just eleven when he had begun on _The
+Quest of the Lady Elaine_. "'One crowded hour of glorious life is
+worth'--what idiot said it was worth anything?" groaned Harlan, inwardly.
+"Anyway, I've had the crowded hour. 'Better fifty years of Europe than a
+cycle of Cathay'"--the line sang itself into his consciousness. "Europe be
+everlastingly condemned," he muttered. "Oh, how my head aches!"
+
+He leaned back in his chair, wondering where "Cathay" might be. It sounded
+like a nice, quiet place, with no "dear old friends" in it--a peaceful
+spot where people could write books if they wanted to. "Just why," he
+asked himself more than once, "was I inspired to grab the shaky paw of
+that human sponge? 'Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean'--oh, the
+devil! She must have a volume of Tennyson in her grip, and it's soaking
+through!"
+
+Mrs. Smithers came out into the hall, more sepulchral and grim-visaged
+than ever, and rang the bell for luncheon. To Harlan's fevered fancy, it
+sounded like a sexton tolling a bell for a funeral. Miss St. Clair, with
+the traces of tears practically removed, floated gracefully downstairs,
+and Harlan, coming out of the library with the furtive step of a wild
+beast from its lair, met her inopportunely at the foot of the stairs.
+
+She smiled at him in a timid, but friendly fashion, and at the precise
+moment, Dorothy appeared in the dining-room door.
+
+"Harlan, dear," she said, in her sweetest tones, "will you give our guest
+your arm and escort her out to luncheon? I have it all ready!"
+
+Miss St. Clair clutched timidly at Harlan's rigid coat sleeve, wondering
+what strange custom of the house would be evident next, and the fog was
+thick before Mr. Carr's eyes, when he took his accustomed seat at the head
+of the table. As a sign of devotion, he tried to step on Dorothy's foot
+under the table, after a pleasing habit of their courtship in the New York
+boarding-house, but he succeeded only in drawing an unconscious "ouch" and
+a vivid blush from Miss St. Clair, by which he impressed Dorothy more
+deeply than he could have hoped to do otherwise.
+
+"Have you come far, Miss St. Clair?" asked Dorothy, conventionally.
+
+"From New York," answered the guest, taking a plate of fried chicken from
+Harlan's shaky hand.
+
+"I know," said Dorothy sweetly. "We come from New York, too." Then she
+took a bold, daring plunge. "I have often heard my husband speak of you."
+
+"Of me, Mrs. Carr? Surely not! It must have been some other Elaine."
+
+"Perhaps," smiled Dorothy, shrugging her shoulders. "No doubt I am
+mistaken, but you may have heard of me?"
+
+"Indeed I haven't," Elaine assured her. "I never heard of you in my life
+before. Why should I?" A sudden and earnest crow under the window behind
+her startled her so that she dropped her knife. Harlan stooped for it at
+the same time she did and their heads bumped together smartly.
+
+"Our gentleman chicken," went on Dorothy, tactfully. "We call him 'Abdul
+Hamid.' You know the masculine nature is instinctively polygamous."
+
+Harlan cackled mirthlessly, wondering, subconsciously, how Abdul Hamid
+could have escaped from the coop. After that there was silence, save as
+Dorothy, in her most hospitable manner, occasionally urged the guest to
+have more of something. Throughout luncheon, she never once spoke to
+Harlan, nor took so much as a single glance at his red, unhappy face. Even
+his ears were scarlet, and the delicious fried chicken which he was eating
+might have been a section of rag carpet, for all he knew to the contrary.
+
+"And now, Miss St. Clair," said Dorothy, kindly, as they rose from the
+table, "I am sure you will wish to lie down and rest after your long
+journey. Which room did you choose?"
+
+"I looked at all of them," responded Elaine, touched to the heart by this
+unexpected kindness from strangers, "and finally chose the suite in the
+south wing. It's a nice large room, with such a darling little
+sitting-room attached, and such a dear work basket."
+
+Harlan nearly burst, for the description was of Dorothy's own particular
+sanctum.
+
+"Yes," said Mrs. Carr, very quietly; "I thought my husband would choose
+that room for you--dear Harlan is always so thoughtful! I will go up with
+you and take out a few of my things which have been unfortunately left
+there."
+
+Shortly afterward, Mr. Carr also climbed the stairs, his head swimming and
+his knees knocking together. Nervously, he turned over the few pages of
+his manuscript, then, hearing Dorothy coming, grabbed it and fled like a
+thief to the library on the first floor. In his panic he bolted the doors
+and windows of Uncle Ebeneezer's former retreat. It was unnecessary,
+however, for no one came near him.
+
+Throughout the long, sweet Spring afternoon, Miss St. Clair slept the
+dreamless sleep of utter exhaustion, Harlan worked fruitlessly at _The
+Quest of Lady Elaine_, and Dorothy busied herself about her household
+tasks, singing with forced cheerfulness whenever she was within hearing of
+the library.
+
+"I'll explain" thought Harlan, wretchedly. But after all what was there to
+explain, except that he had never seen Miss St. Clair before, never in all
+his life heard of her, never knew there was such a person, or had never
+met anybody who knew anything about her? "Besides," he continued to
+himself "even then, what excuse have I got for stroking a strange woman's
+hand and telling her I'm married?"
+
+As the afternoon wore on, he decided that it would be policy to ignore the
+whole matter. It was an unfortunate misunderstanding all around, which
+could not be cleared away by speech, unless Dorothy should ask him about
+it--which he was very certain she would not do. "She ought to trust me,"
+he said to himself, resentfully, forgetting the absolute openness of
+thought and deed upon which a woman's trust is founded. "I'll read her the
+book to-night," he thought, happily, "and that will please her."
+
+But it was fated not to. After dinner, which was much the same as
+luncheon, as far as conversation was concerned, Harlan invited Dorothy to
+come into the library.
+
+She followed him, obediently enough, and he closed the door.
+
+"Dearest," he began, with a grin which was meant to be cheerful and was
+merely ridiculous, "I've begun the book--I actually have! I've been
+working on it all day. Just listen!"
+
+Hurriedly possessing himself of the manuscript, he read it in an unnatural
+voice, down to the flower-like hands.
+
+"I don't see how you can say that, Harlan," interrupted Dorothy, coolly
+critical; "I particularly noticed her hands and they're not nice at all.
+They're red and rough and nearly the size of a policeman's."
+
+"Whose hands?" demanded Harlan, in genuine astonishment.
+
+"Why, Elaine's--Miss St. Clair's. If you're going to do a book about her,
+you might at least try to make it truthful."
+
+Mrs. Carr went out, closing the door carefully, but firmly. Then, for the
+first time, the whole wretched situation dawned upon the young and
+aspiring author.
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+An Uninvited Guest
+
+
+Dorothy sat alone in her room, facing the first heartache of her married
+life. She repeatedly told herself that she was not jealous; that the
+primitive, unlovely emotion was far beneath such as she. But if Harlan had
+only told her, instead of leaving her to find out in this miserable way!
+It had never entered her head that the clear-eyed, clean-minded boy whom
+she had married, could have anything even remotely resembling a past, and
+here it was in her own house! Moreover, it had inspired a book, and she
+herself had been unable to get him to work at all.
+
+Just why women should be concerned in regard to old loves has never been
+wholly clear. One might as well fancy a clean slate, freshly and
+elaborately dedicated to noble composition, being bothered by the addition
+and subtraction which was once done upon its surface.
+
+With her own eyes she had seen Miss St. Clair weeping, while Harlan held
+her hands and explained that he was married. Undoubtedly Miss St. Clair
+accounted for various metropolitan delays and absences which she had
+joyously forgiven on the score of Harlan's "work." Bitterest of all was
+the thought that she must endure it--that the long years ahead of her
+offered no escape, no remedy, except the ignoble, painful one which she
+would not for a moment consider.
+
+A sudden flash of resentment stiffened her backbone, metaphorically
+speaking. In spite of Miss St. Clair, Harlan had married her, and it was
+Miss St. Clair who was weeping over the event, not Harlan. She had seen
+that the visitor made Harlan unhappy--very well, she would generously
+throw them together and make him painfully weary of her, for Love's
+certain destroyer is Satiety. Deep in Dorothy's consciousness was the
+abiding satisfaction that she had never once, as she put it to herself,
+"chased him." Never a note, never a telephone call, never a question as to
+his coming and going appeared now to trouble her. The ancient, primeval
+relation of the Seeker and the Sought had not for a single moment been
+altered through her.
+
+Meanwhile, Elaine had settled down peacefully enough. Having been regaled
+since infancy with tales of Uncle Ebeneezer's generous hospitality, it
+seemed only fitting and proper that his relatives should make her welcome,
+even though Elaine's mother had been only a second cousin of Mrs.
+Judson's. Elaine had been deeply touched by Harlan's solicitude and
+Dorothy's kindness, seeing in it nothing more than the manifestation of a
+beautiful spirit toward one who was helpless and ill.
+
+A modest wardrobe and a few hundred dollars, saved from the wreck of her
+mother's estate, and the household furniture in storage, represented
+Elaine's worldly goods. As too often happens in a material world, she had
+been trained to do nothing but sing a little, play a little, and paint
+unspeakably. She planned, vaguely, to stay where she was during the
+Summer, and in the Autumn, when she had quite recovered her former
+strength, to take her money and learn some method of self-support.
+
+Just now she was resting. A late breakfast, a walk through the country, a
+light luncheon, and a long nap accounted for Elaine's day until
+dinner-time. After dinner, for an hour, she exchanged commonplaces with
+the Carrs, then retired to her own room with a book from Uncle Ebeneezer's
+library. Even Dorothy was forced to admit that she made very little
+trouble.
+
+The train rumbled into the station--the very same train which had brought
+the Serpent into Paradise. Dorothy smiled a little at the idea of a snake
+travelling on a train unless it belonged to a circus, and wiped her eyes.
+Having mapped out her line of conduct, the rest was simple enough--to
+abide by it even to the smallest details, and patiently await results.
+
+When she went downstairs again she was outwardly quite herself, but
+altogether unprepared for the surprise that awaited her in the parlour.
+
+"Hello," cried a masculine voice, cheerily, as she entered the room. "I've
+never seen you before, have I?"
+
+"Not that I know of," replied Dorothy, startled, but not in the least
+afraid.
+
+The young man who rose to greet her was not at all unpleasant to look
+upon. He was taller than Harlan, smooth-shaven, had nice brown eyes, and a
+mop of curly brown hair which evidently annoyed him. Moreover, he was
+laughing, as much from sheer joy of living as anything else.
+
+"Which side of the house are you a relative of?" he asked.
+
+"The inside," returned Dorothy. "I keep house here."
+
+"You don't say so! What's become of Sally? Uncle shoo her off the lot?"
+
+"I don't know what you're talking about," answered Dorothy, with a
+fruitless effort to appear matronly and dignified. "If by 'uncle' you mean
+Uncle Ebeneezer, he's dead."
+
+"You don't tell me! Reaped at last, after all this delay! Then how did you
+come here?"
+
+"By train," responded Dorothy, enjoying the situation to the utmost.
+"Uncle Ebeneezer left the house and furniture to my husband."
+
+The young man sank into a chair and wiped the traces of deep emotion from
+his ruddy face. "Hully Gee!" he said, when he recovered speech. "I suppose
+that's French for 'Dick, chase yourself.'"
+
+"Perhaps not," suggested Mrs. Carr, strangely loath to have this breezy
+individual take his departure. "You might tell me who you are; don't you
+think so?"
+
+"Not a bad notion at all. I'm the Dick of the firm of 'Tom, Dick, and
+Harry,' you've doubtless heard about from your childhood. My other name is
+Chester, but few know it. I'm merely 'Dick' to everybody, yourself
+included, I trust," he added with an elaborate bow. "If you will sit down,
+and make yourself comfortable, I will now unfold to you the sad story of
+my life.
+
+"I was born of poor but honest parents about twenty-three years ago,
+according to the last official census. They brought me up until I reached
+the ripe age of twelve, then got tired of their job and went to heaven.
+Since then I've brought myself up. I've just taught a college all it can
+learn from me, and been put out. Prexy confided to me that I wasn't going
+to graduate, so I shook the classic dust from my weary feet and fled
+hither as to a harbour of refuge. I've always spent my Summers with Uncle
+Ebeneezer, because it was cheap for me and good for him, but I can't
+undertake to follow him up this Summer, not knowing exactly where he is,
+and not caring for a warm climate anyway."
+
+Inexpressibly shocked, Dorothy looked up to the portrait over the mantel
+half fearfully, but there was no change in the stern, malicious old face.
+
+"You're afraid of him, aren't you?" asked Dick, with a hearty laugh.
+
+"I always have been," admitted Dorothy. "He scared me the first time we
+came here--it was at night, and raining."
+
+"I've known him to scare people in broad daylight, and they weren't always
+women either. He used to be a pleasant old codger, but he got over it, and
+after he learned to swear readily, he was a pretty tough party to buck up
+against. It took nerve to stay here when uncle was in a bad mood, but most
+people have more nerve than they think they have. You haven't told me your
+name yet."
+
+"Mrs. Carr--Dorothy Carr."
+
+"Pretty name," remarked Dick, with evident admiration. "If you don't mind,
+I'll call you 'Dorothy' till the train goes back. It will be something for
+me to remember in the desert waste of my empty years to come."
+
+A friendly, hospitable impulse seized Mrs. Carr. "Why should you go?" she
+inquired, smiling. "If you've been in the habit of spending your Summers
+here, you needn't change on our account. We'd be glad to have you, I'm
+sure. A dear old friend of my husband's is already here."
+
+"Fine or superfine?"
+
+"Superfine," returned Dorothy, feeling very much as though the clock had
+been turned back twenty years or more and she was at a children's party
+again.
+
+"You can bet your sweet life I'll stay," said Dick, "and if I bother you
+at any time, just say so and I'll skate out, with no hard feelings on
+either side. You may need me when the rest of the bunch gets here."
+
+"The rest of--oh Harlan, come here a minute!"
+
+She had caught him as he was going into the library with his work,
+thinking that a change of environment might possibly produce an acceptable
+change in the current of his thoughts.
+
+"Dick," said Dorothy, when Harlan came to the door, "this is my husband.
+Mr. Chester, Mr. Carr."
+
+For days Harlan had not seen Dorothy with such rosy cheeks, such dancing
+eyes, nor half as many dimples. Bewildered, and not altogether pleased, he
+awkwardly extended his hand to Mr. Chester, with a conventional "how do
+you do?"
+
+Dick wrung the offered hand in a mighty grip which made Harlan wince. "I
+congratulate you, Mr. Carr," he said gallantly, "upon possessing the
+fairest ornament of her sex. Guess this letter is for you, isn't it? I
+found it in the post-office while the keeper was out, and just took it. If
+it doesn't belong here, I'll skip back with it."
+
+"Thanks," murmured Harlan, rubbing the injured hand with the other.
+"I--where did you come from?"
+
+"The station," explained Dick, pleasantly. "I never trace myself back of
+where I was last seen."
+
+"He's going to stay with us, Harlan," put in Dorothy, wickedly, "so you
+mustn't let us keep you away from your work. Come along, Dick, and I'll
+show you our cow."
+
+They went out, followed by a long, low whistle of astonishment from Harlan
+which Dorothy's acute ears did not miss. Presently Mr. Carr retreated into
+the library, and locked the door, but he did not work. The book was at a
+deadlock, half a paragraph beyond "the flower-like hands of Elaine," of
+which, indeed, the author had confessed his inability to write.
+
+"Dick," thought Harlan. "Mr. Chester. A young giant with a grip like an
+octopus. 'The fairest ornament of her sex.' Never, never heard of him
+before. Some old flame of Dorothy's, who has discovered her whereabouts
+and brazenly followed her, even on her honeymoon."
+
+And he, Harlan, was absolutely prevented from speaking of it by an unhappy
+chain of circumstances which put him in a false light! For the first time
+he fully perceived how a single thoughtless action may bind all one's
+future existence.
+
+"Just because I stroked the hand of a distressed damsel," muttered Harlan,
+"and told her I was married, I've got to sit and see a procession of my
+wife's old lovers marking time here all Summer!" In his fevered fancy, he
+already saw the Jack-o'-Lantern surrounded by Mrs. Carr's former admirers,
+heard them call her "Dorothy," and realised that there was not a single
+thing he could do.
+
+"Unless, of course," he added, mentally, "it gets too bad, and I have an
+excuse to order 'em out. And then, probably, Dorothy will tell Elaine to
+take her dolls and go home, and the poor thing's got nowhere to
+go--nowhere in the wide world.
+
+"How would Dorothy like to be a lonely orphan, with no husband, no
+friends, and no job? She wouldn't like it much, but women never have any
+sympathy for each other, nor for their husbands, either. I'd give twenty
+dollars this minute not to have stroked Elaine's hand, and fifty not to
+have had Dorothy see it, but there's no use in crying over spilt milk nor
+in regretting hands that have already been stroked."
+
+In search of diversion, he opened his letter, which was in answer to the
+one he had written some little time ago, inquiring minutely, of an
+acquaintance who was supposed to be successful, just what the prospects
+were for a beginner in the literary craft.
+
+"Dear Carr," the letter read. "Sorry not to have answered before, but I've
+been away and things got mixed up. Wouldn't advise anybody but an enemy to
+take up writing as a steady job, but if you feel the call, go in and win.
+You can make all the way from eight dollars a year, which was what I made
+when I first struck out, up to five thousand, which was what I averaged
+last year. I've always envied you fellows who could turn in your stuff and
+get paid for it the following Tuesday. In my line, you work like the devil
+this year for what you're going to get next, and live on the year after.
+
+"However, if you're bitten with it, there's no cure. You'll see magazine
+articles in stones and books in running brooks all the rest of your life.
+When you get your book done, I'll trot you around to my publisher, who
+enjoys the proud distinction of being an honest one, and if he likes your
+stuff, he'll take it, and if he doesn't, he'll turn you down so pleasantly
+that you'll feel as though he'd made you a present of something. If you
+think you've got genius, forget it, and remember that nothing takes the
+place of hard work. And, besides, it's a pretty blamed poor book that
+can't get itself printed these days.
+
+                                                     "Yours as usual,
+                                                                 "C. J."
+
+The communication was probably intended as encouragement, but the effect
+was depressing, and at the end of an hour, Harlan had written only two
+lines more in his book, neither of which pleased him.
+
+Meanwhile, Dick was renewing his old acquaintance with Mrs. Smithers, much
+to that lady's pleasure, though she characteristically endeavoured to
+conceal it. She belonged to a pious sect which held all mirth to be
+ungodly.
+
+"Sally," Dick was saying, "I've dreamed of your biscuits night and day
+since I ate the last one. Are we going to have 'em for lunch?"
+
+"No biscuits in this house to-day," grumbled the deity of the kitchen, in
+an attempt to be properly stern, "and as I've told you more than once, my
+name ain't 'Sally.' It's Mis' Smithers, that's wot it is, and I'll thank
+you to call me by it."
+
+"Between those who love," continued Dick, with a sidelong glance at
+Dorothy, who stood near by, appalled at his daring, "the best is none too
+good for common use. If my heart breaks the bonds of conventional
+restraint, and I call you by the name under which you always appear to me
+in my longing dreams, why should you not be gracious, and forgive me? Be
+kind to me, Sally, be just a little kind, and throw together a pan of
+those biscuits in your own inimitable style!"
+
+"Run along with you, you limb of Satan," cried Mrs. Smithers, brandishing
+a floury spoon.
+
+"Come along, Dorothy," said Dick, laying a huge but friendly paw upon Mrs.
+Carr's shoulder; "we're chased out." He put his head back into the
+kitchen, however, to file a parting petition for biscuits, which was
+unnecessary, for Mrs. Smithers had already found her rolling-pin and had
+begun to sift her flour.
+
+Outside, he duly admired Maud, who was chewing the cud of reflection under
+a tree, created a panic in the chicken yard by lifting Abdul Hamid
+ignominiously by the legs, to see how heavy he was, and chased Claudius
+Tiberius under the barn.
+
+"If that cat turns up missing some day," he said, "don't blame me. He
+looks so much like Uncle Ebeneezer that I can't stand for him."
+
+"There's something queer about Claudius, anyway," ventured Dorothy. "Mrs.
+Smithers says that uncle killed him the week before he died, and----"
+
+"Before who died?"
+
+"Claudius--no, before uncle died, and she buried him, and he's come to
+life again."
+
+"Uncle, or Claudius?"
+
+"Claudius, you goose," laughed Dorothy.
+
+"If I knew just how nearly related we were," remarked Dick, irrelevantly
+enough, "I believe I'd kiss you. You look so pretty with all your dimples
+hung out and your hair blowing in the wind."
+
+Dorothy glanced up, startled, and inclined to be angry, but it was
+impossible to take offence at such a mischievous youth as Dick was at that
+moment. "We're not related," she said, coolly, "except by marriage."
+
+"Well, that's near enough," returned Dick, who was never disposed to be
+unduly critical. "Your husband is only related to you by marriage. Don't
+be such a prude. Come to the waiting arms of your uncle, or cousin, or
+brother-in-law, or whatever it is that I happen to be."
+
+"Go and kiss your friend Sally in the kitchen," laughed Dorothy. "You have
+my permission." Dick made a wry face. "I don't hanker to do it," he said,
+"but if you want me to, I will. I suppose she isn't pleased with her place
+and you want to make it more homelike for her."
+
+"What relation were you to Uncle Ebeneezer?" queried Dorothy, curiously.
+
+"Uncle and I," sighed Dick, "were connected by the closest ties of blood
+and marriage. Nobody could be more related than we were. I was the only
+child of Aunt Rebecca's sister's husband's sister's husband's sister. Say,
+on the dead, if I ever bother you will you tell me so and invite me to
+skip?"
+
+"Of course I will."
+
+"Shake hands on it, then; that's a good fellow. And say, did you say there
+was another skirt stopping here?"
+
+"A--a what?"
+
+"Petticoat," explained Dick, patiently; "mulier, as the ancient dagoes had
+it. They've been getting mulier ever since, too. How old is she?"
+
+"Oh," answered Dorothy. "She's not more than twenty or twenty-one." Then,
+endeavouring to be just to Elaine, she added: "And a very pretty girl,
+too."
+
+"Lead me to her," exclaimed Dick ecstatically. "Already she is mine!"
+
+"You'll see her at luncheon. There's the bell, now."
+
+Mr. Chester was duly presented to Miss St. Clair, and from then on,
+appeared to be on his good behaviour. Elaine's delicate, fragile beauty
+appealed strongly to the susceptible Dick, and from the very beginning, he
+was afraid of her--a dangerous symptom, if he had only known it.
+
+Harlan, making the best of a bad bargain, devoted himself to his guests
+impartially, and, upon the whole, the luncheon went off very well, though
+the atmosphere was not wholly festive.
+
+Afterward, when they sat down in the parlour, there was an awkward pause
+which no one seemed inclined to relieve. At length Dorothy, mindful of her
+duty as hostess, asked Miss St. Clair if she would not play something.
+
+Willingly enough, Elaine went to the melodeon, which had not been opened
+since the Carrs came to live at the Jack-o'-Lantern, and lifted the lid.
+Immediately, however, she went off into hysterics, which were so violent
+that Harlan and Dorothy were obliged to assist her to her room.
+
+Dick strongly desired to carry Elaine upstairs, but was forbidden by the
+hampering conventionalities. So he lounged over to the melodeon, somewhat
+surprised to find that "It" was still there.
+
+"It" was a brown, wavy, false front of human hair, securely anchored to
+the keys underneath by a complicated system of loops of linen thread.
+Pinned to the top was a faded slip of paper on which Uncle Ebeneezer had
+written, long ago: "Mrs. Judson always kept her best false front in the
+melodeon. I do not desire to have it disturbed.--E. J."
+
+"His Nibs never could bear music," thought Dick, as he closed the
+instrument, little guessing that a vein of sentiment in Uncle Ebeneezer's
+hard nature had impelled him to keep the prosaic melodeon forever sacred
+to the slender, girlish fingers that had last brought music from its
+yellowed keys.
+
+From upstairs still came the sound of crying, which was not altogether to
+be wondered at, considering Miss St. Clair's weak, nervous condition.
+Harlan came down, scowling, and took back the brandy flask, moving none
+too hastily.
+
+"They don't like Elaine," murmured Dick to himself, vaguely troubled. "I
+wonder why--oh, I wonder why!"
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+More
+
+
+_Blue as sapphires were the eyes of Elaine, and her fair cheek was like
+that of an apple blossom. Set like a rose upon pearl was the dewy,
+fragrant sweetness of her mouth, and her breath was that of the rose
+itself. Her hands--but how shall I write of the flower-like hands of
+Elaine? They seemed all too frail to hold the reins of her palfrey, much
+less to guide him along the rocky road that lay before her._
+
+_Safely sheltered in a sunny valley was the Castle of Content, wherein
+Elaine's father reigned as Lord. Upon the hills close at hand were the
+orchards, which were now in bloom. A faint, unearthly sweetness came with
+every passing breeze, and was wafted through the open windows of the
+Castle, where, upon the upper floor, Elaine was wont to sit with her maids
+at the tapestry frames._
+
+_But, of late, a strange restlessness was upon her, and the wander-lust
+surged through her veins._
+
+_"My father," she said, "I am fain to leave the Castle of Content, and set
+out upon the Heart's Quest. Among the gallant knights of thy retinue,
+there is none whom I would wed, and it is seemly that I should set out to
+find my lord and master, for behold, father, as thou knowest, twenty years
+and more have passed over my head, and my beauty hath begun to fade."_
+
+_The Lord of the Castle of Content smiled in amusement, that Elaine, the
+beautiful, should fancy her charms were on the wane. But he was ever eager
+to gratify the slightest wish of this only child of his, and so he gave
+his ready consent._
+
+_"Indeed, Elaine," he answered, "and if thou choosest, thou shalt go, but
+these despised knights shall attend thee, and also our new fool, who hath
+come from afar to make merry in our court. His motley is of an unfamiliar
+pattern, his quips and jests savour not so much of antiquity, and his
+songs are pleasing. He shall lighten the rigours of thy journey and cheer
+thee when thou art sad."_
+
+_"But, father, I do not choose to have the fool."_
+
+_"Say no more, Elaine, for if thou goest, thou shall have the fool. It is
+most fitting that in thy retinue there shouldst be more than one to wear
+the cap and bells, and it is in my mind to consider this quest of thine
+somewhat more than mildly foolish. Unnumbered brave and faithful knights
+are at thy feet and yet thou canst not choose, but must needs fare onward
+in search of a stranger to be thy lord and master."_
+
+_Elaine raised her hand. "As thou wilt, father," she said, submissively.
+"Thou canst not understand the way of a maid. Bid thy fool to prepare
+himself quickly for a long journey, since we start at sunset."_
+
+_"But why at sunset, daughter? The way is long. Mayst not thy mission wait
+until sunrise?"_
+
+_"Nay, father, for it is my desire to sleep to-night upon the ground. The
+tapestried walls of my chamber stifle me and I would fain lie in the fresh
+air with only the green leaves for my canopy and the stars for my taper
+lights."_
+
+_"As thou wilt, Elaine, but my heart is sad at the prospect of losing
+thee. Thou art my only child, the image of thy dead mother, and my old
+eyes shall be misty for the sight of thee long before my gallant knights
+bring thee back again."_
+
+_"So shall I gain some hours, father," she answered. "Perhaps my sunset
+journeying shall bring my return a day nearer. Cross me not in this wish,
+father, for it is my fancy to go."_
+
+_So it was that the cavalcade was made ready and Elaine and her company
+left the Castle of Content at sunset. Two couriers rode at the head, to
+see that the way was clear, and with a silver bugle to warn travellers to
+stand aside until the Lady Elaine and her attendants had passed._
+
+_Upon a donkey, caparisoned in a most amusing manner, rode Le Jongleur,
+the new fool of whom the Lord of the Castle of Content had spoken. His
+motley, as has been said, was of an unfamiliar pattern, but was none the
+less striking, being made wholly of scarlet and gold. The Lady Elaine
+could not have guessed that it was assumed as a tribute to the trappings
+of her palfrey, for Le Jongleur's heart was most humble and loyal, though
+leaping now with the joy of serving the fair Lady Elaine._
+
+_The Lord of Content stood at the portal of the Castle to bid the retinue
+Godspeed, and as the cymbals crashed out a sounding farewell, he
+impatiently wiped away the mist, which already had clouded his vision.
+Long he waited, straining his eyes toward the distant cliffs, where, one
+by one, the company rode upward. The valley was in shadow, but the long
+light lay upon the hills, changing the crags to a wonder of purple and
+gold. To him, too, came the breath of apple bloom, but it brough no joy to
+his troubled heart._
+
+_What dangers lay in wait for Elaine as she fared forth upon her wild
+quest? What monsters haunted the primeval forests through which her path
+must lie? And where was the knight who should claim her innocent and
+maidenly heart? At this thought, the Lord of Content shuddered, then was
+quickly ashamed._
+
+_"I am as foolish," he muttered, "as he in motley, who rides at the side
+of Elaine. Surely my daughter, the child of a soldier, can make no
+unworthy choice."_
+
+_The cavalcade had reached the summit of the cliff, now, and at the brink,
+turned back. The cymbals and the bugles pealed forth another sounding
+farewell to the Lord of the Castle of Content, whom Elaine well knew was
+waiting in the shadow of the portal till her company should be entirely
+lost to sight._
+
+_The last light shone upon the wonderful mass of gold which rippled to her
+waist, unbound, from beneath her close-fitting scarlet cap, and gave her
+an unearthly beauty. Le Jongleur held aloft his bauble, making it to nod
+in merry fashion, but the Lord of Content did not see, his eyes being
+fixed upon Elaine. She waved her hand to him, but he could not answer, for
+his shoulders were shaking with grief, nor, indeed, across the merciless
+distance that lay between, could he guess at Elaine's whispered prayer:
+"Dear Heavenly Father, keep thou my earthly father safe and happy, till
+his child comes back again."_
+
+_Over the edge of the cliff and out upon a wide plain they fared. Ribbons
+of glorious colour streamed from the horizon to the zenith, and touched to
+flame the cymbals and the bugles and the trappings of the horses and the
+shields of the knights. Piercingly sweet, across the fields of blowing
+clover, came the even song of a feathered chorister, and_--what on earth
+was that noise?
+
+Harlan went to the window impatiently, like one wakened from a dream by a
+blind impulse of action.
+
+The village stage, piled high with trunks, was at his door, and from the
+cavernous depths of the vehicle, shrieks of juvenile terror echoed and
+re-echoed unceasingly. Mr. Blake, driving, merely waited in supreme
+unconcern.
+
+"What in the hereafter," muttered Harlan, savagely. "More old lovers of
+Dorothy's, I suppose, or else the--Good Lord, it's twins!"
+
+A child of four or five fell out of the stage, followed by another, who
+lit unerringly on top of the prostrate one. In the meteoric moment of the
+fall, Harlan had seen that the two must have discovered America at about
+the same time, for they were exactly alike, making due allowance for the
+slight difference made by masculine and feminine attire.
+
+An enormous doll, which to Harlan's troubled sight first appeared to be an
+infant in arms, was violently ejected from the stage and added to the
+human pile which was wriggling and weeping upon the gravelled walk. A cub
+of seven next leaped out, whistling shrilly, then came a querulous,
+wailing, feminine voice from the interior.
+
+"Willie," it whined, "how can you act so? Help your little brother and
+sister up and get Rebbie's doll."
+
+To this the lad paid no attention whatever, and the mother herself
+assorted the weeping pyramid on the walk. Harlan ran downstairs, feeling
+that the hour had come to defend his hearthstone from outsiders. Dick and
+Dorothy were already at the door.
+
+"Foundlings' Home," explained Dick, briefly, with a wink at Harlan.
+"They're late this year."
+
+Dorothy was speechless with amazement and despair. Before Harlan had begun
+to think connectedly, one of the twins had darted into the house and
+bumped its head on the library door, thereupon making the Jack-o'-Lantern
+hideous with much lamentation.
+
+The mother, apparently tired out, came in as though she had left something
+of great value there and had come to get it, pausing only to direct Harlan
+to pay the stage driver, and have her trunks taken into the rooms opening
+off the dining-room on the south side.
+
+Willie took a mouth-organ out of his pocket and rendered a hitherto
+unknown air upon it with inimitable vigour. In the midst of the confusion,
+Claudius Tiberius had the misfortune to appear, and, immediately
+perceiving his mistake, whisked under the sofa, from whence the other twin
+determinedly haled him, using the handle which Nature had evidently
+intended for that purpose.
+
+"Will you kindly tell me," demanded Mrs. Carr, when she could make herself
+heard, "what is the meaning of all this?"
+
+"I do not understand you," said the mother of the twins, coldly. "Were you
+addressing me?"
+
+"I was," returned Mrs. Carr, to Dick's manifest delight. "I desire to know
+why you have come to my house, uninvited, and made all this disturbance."
+
+"The idea!" exclaimed the woman, trembling with anger. "Will you please
+send for Mr. Judson?"
+
+"Mr. Judson," said Dorothy, icily, "has been dead for some time. This
+house is the property of my husband."
+
+"Indeed! And who may your husband be?" The tone of the question did not
+indicate even faint interest in the subject under discussion.
+
+Dorothy turned, but Harlan had long since beat an ignominious retreat,
+closely followed by Dick, whose idea, as audibly expressed, was that the
+women be allowed to "fight it out by themselves."
+
+"I can readily understand," went on Dorothy, with a supreme effort at
+self-control, "that you have made a mistake for which you are not in any
+sense to blame. You are tired from your journey, and you are quite welcome
+to stay until to-morrow."
+
+"To-morrow!" shrilled the woman. "I guess you don't know who I am! I am
+Mrs. Holmes, Rebecca Judson's own cousin, and I have spent the Summer here
+ever since Rebecca was married! I guess if Ebeneezer knew you were
+practically ordering his wife's own cousin out of his house, he'd rise
+from his grave to haunt you!"
+
+Dorothy fancied that Uncle Ebeneezer's portrait moved slightly. Aunt
+Rebecca still surveyed the room from the easel, gentle, sweet-faced, and
+saintly. There was no resemblance whatever between Aunt Rebecca and the
+sallow, hollow-cheeked, wide-eyed termagant, with a markedly receding
+chin, who stood before Mrs. Carr and defied her.
+
+"This is my husband's house," suggested Dorothy, pertinently.
+
+"Then let your husband do the talking," rejoined Mrs. Holmes,
+sarcastically. "If he was sure it was his, I guess he wouldn't have run
+away. I've always had my own rooms here, and I intend to go and come as I
+please, as I always have done. You can't make me believe that Ebeneezer
+gave my apartments to your husband, nor him either, and I wouldn't advise
+any of you to try it."
+
+Sounds of fearful panic came from the chicken yard, and Dorothy rushed
+out, swiftly laying avenging hands on the disturber of the peace. One of
+the twins was chasing Abdul Hamid around the coop with a lath, as he
+explained between sobs, "to make him lay." Mrs. Holmes bore down upon
+Dorothy before any permanent good had been done.
+
+"How dare you!" she cried. "How dare you lay hands on my child! Come,
+Ebbie, come to mamma. Bless his little heart, he shall chase the chickens
+if he wants to, so there, there. Don't cry, Ebbie. Mamma will get you
+another lath and you shall play with the chickens all the afternoon.
+There, there!"
+
+Harlan appeared at this juncture, and in a few quiet, well-chosen words
+told Mrs. Holmes that the chicken coop was his property, and that neither
+now nor at any other time should any one enter it without his express
+permission.
+
+"Upon my word," remarked Mrs. Holmes, still soothing the unhappy twin.
+"How high and mighty we are when we're living off our poor dead uncle's
+bounty! Telling his wife's own cousin what she's to do, and what she
+isn't! Upon my word!"
+
+So saying, Mrs. Holmes retired to the house, her pace hastened by howls
+from the other twin, who was in trouble with her older brother somewhere
+in her "apartment."
+
+Dorothy looked at Harlan, undecided whether to laugh or to cry. "Poor
+little woman," he said, softly; "don't you fret. We'll have them out of
+the house no later than to-morrow."
+
+"All of them?" asked Dorothy, eagerly, as Miss St. Clair strolled into the
+front yard.
+
+Harlan's brow clouded and he shifted uneasily from one foot to the other.
+"I don't know," he said, slowly, "whether I've got nerve enough to order a
+woman out of my house or not. Let's wait and see what happens."
+
+A sob choked Dorothy, and she ran swiftly into the house, fortunately
+meeting no one on her way to her room. Dick ventured out of the barn and
+came up to Harlan, who was plainly perplexed.
+
+"Very, very mild arrival," commented Mr. Chester, desiring to put his host
+at his ease. "I've never known 'em to come so peacefully as they have
+to-day. Usually there's more or less disturbance."
+
+"Disturbance," repeated Harlan. "Haven't we had a disturbance to-day?"
+
+"We have not," answered Dick, placidly. "Wait till young Ebeneezer and
+Rebecca get more accustomed to their surroundings, and then you'll have a
+Fourth of July every day, with Christmas, Thanksgiving, and St. Patrick's
+Day thrown in. Willie is the worst little terror that ever went unlicked,
+and the twins come next."
+
+"Perhaps you don't understand children," remarked Harlan, with a
+patronising air, and more from a desire to disagree with Dick than from
+anything else. "I've always liked them."
+
+"If you have," commented Dick, with a knowing chuckle, "you're in a fair
+way to get cured of it."
+
+"Tell me about these people," said Harlan, ignoring the speech, and
+dominated once more by healthy human curiosity. "Who are they and where do
+they come from?"
+
+"They're dwellers from the infernal regions," explained Dick, with an air
+of truthfulness, "and they came from there because the old Nick turned 'em
+out. They were upsetting things and giving the place a bad name. Mrs.
+Holmes says she's Aunt Rebecca's cousin, but nobody knows whether she is
+or not. She's come here every Summer since Aunt Rebecca died, and poor old
+uncle couldn't help himself. He hinted more than once that he'd enjoy her
+absence if she could be moved to make herself scarce, but it had no more
+effect than a snowflake would in the place she came from. The most he
+could do was to build a wing on the house with a separate kitchen and
+dining-room in it, and take his own meals in the library, with the door
+bolted.
+
+"Willie is a Winter product and Judson Centre isn't a pleasant place in
+the cold months, but the twins were born here, five years ago this Summer.
+They came in the night, but didn't make any more trouble then than they
+have every day since."
+
+"What would you do?" asked Harlan, after a thoughtful silence, "if you
+were in my place?"
+
+"I'd be tickled to death because a kind Providence had married me to
+Dorothy instead of to Mrs. Holmes. Poor old Holmes is in his well-earned
+grave."
+
+With great dignity, Harlan walked into the house, but Dick, occupied with
+his own thoughts, did not guess that his host was offended.
+
+After the first excitement was over, comparative peace settled down upon
+the Jack-o'-Lantern. Mrs. Holmes decided the question of where she should
+eat, by setting four more places at the table when Mrs. Smithers's back
+was turned. Dorothy did not appear at luncheon, and Mrs. Smithers
+performed her duties with such pronounced ungraciousness that Elaine felt
+as though something was about to explode.
+
+A long sleep, born of nervous exhaustion, came at last to Dorothy's
+relief. When she awoke, it was night and the darkness dazed her at first.
+She sat up and rubbed her eyes, wondering whether she had been dead, or
+merely ill.
+
+There was not a sound in the Jack-o'-Lantern, and the events of the day
+seemed like some hideous nightmare which waking had put to rout. She
+bathed her face in cool water, then went to look out of the window.
+
+A lantern moved back and forth under the trees in the orchard, and a tall,
+dark figure, armed with a spade, accompanied it. "It's Harlan," thought
+Dorothy. "I'll go down and see what he's burying."
+
+But it was only Mrs. Smithers, who appeared much startled when she saw her
+mistress at her side.
+
+"What are you doing?" demanded Dorothy, seeing that Mrs. Smithers had dug
+a hole at least a foot and a half each way.
+
+"Just a-satisfyin' myself," explained the handmaiden, with a note of
+triumph in her voice, "about that there cat. 'Ere's where I buried 'im,
+and 'ere's where there ain't no signs of 'is dead body. 'E's come back to
+'aunt us, that's wot 'e 'as, and your uncle'll be the next."
+
+"Don't be so foolish," snapped Dorothy. "You've forgotten the place,
+that's all, and I don't wish to hear any more of this nonsense."
+
+"'Oo was it?" asked Mrs. Smithers, "as come out of a warm bed at midnight
+to see as if folks wot was diggin' for cats found anythink? 'T warn't me,
+Miss, that's wot it warn't, and I take it that them as follers is as
+nonsensical as them wot digs. Anyhow, Miss, 'ere's where 'e was buried,
+and 'ere's where 'e ain't now. You can think wot you likes, that's wot you
+can."
+
+Claudius Tiberius suddenly materialised out of the surrounding darkness,
+and after sniffing at the edge of the hole, jumped in to investigate.
+
+"You see that, Miss?" quavered Mrs. Smithers. "'E knows where 'e's been,
+and 'e knows where 'e ain't now."
+
+"Mrs. Smithers," said Dorothy, sternly, "will you kindly fill up that hole
+and come into the house and go to bed? I don't want to be kept awake all
+night."
+
+"You don't need to be kept awake, Miss," said Mrs. Smithers, slowly
+filling up the hole. "The worst is 'ere already and wot's comin' is comin'
+anyway, and besides," she added, as an afterthought, "there ain't a
+blessed one of 'em come 'ere at night since your uncle fixed over the
+house."
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+Another
+
+
+For the first time in her life, Mrs. Carr fully comprehended the
+sensations of a wild animal caught in a trap. In her present painful
+predicament, she was absolutely helpless, and she realised it. It was
+Harlan's house, as he had said, but so powerful and penetrating was the
+personality of the dead man that she felt as though it was still largely
+the property of Uncle Ebeneezer.
+
+The portrait in the parlour gave her no light upon the subject, though she
+studied it earnestly. The face was that of an old man, soured and
+embittered by what Life had brought him, who seemed now to have a
+peculiarly malignant aspect. Dorothy fancied, in certain morbid moments,
+that Uncle Ebeneezer, from some safe place, was keenly relishing the whole
+situation.
+
+Upon her soul, too, lay heavily that ancient Law of the House, which
+demands unfailing courtesy to the stranger within our gates. Just why the
+eating of our bread and salt by some undesired guest should exert any
+particular charm of immunity, has long been an open question, but the Law
+remains.
+
+She felt, dimly, that the end was not yet--that still other strangers were
+coming to the Jack-o'-Lantern for indefinite periods. She saw, now, why
+wing after wing had been added to the house, but could not understand the
+odd arrangement of the front windows. Through some inner sense of loyalty
+to Uncle Ebeneezer, she forebore to question either Mrs. Smithers or
+Dick--two people who could probably have given her some light on the
+subject. She had gathered, however, from hints dropped here and there, as
+well as from the overpowering evidence of recent events, that a horde of
+relatives swarmed each Summer at the queer house on the hilltop and
+remained until late Autumn.
+
+Harlan said nothing, and nowadays Dorothy saw very little of him. Most of
+the time he was at work in the library, or else taking long, solitary
+rambles through the surrounding country. At meals he was moody and
+taciturn, his book obliterating all else from his mind.
+
+He doubtless knew, subconsciously, that his house was disturbed by alien
+elements, but he dwelt too securely in the upper regions to be troubled by
+the obvious fact. Once in the library, with every door securely bolted, he
+could afford to laugh at the tumult outside, if, indeed, he should ever
+become aware of its existence. The children might make the very air vocal
+with their howls, Elaine might have hysterics, Mrs. Smithers render hymns
+in a cracked, squeaky voice, and Dick whistle eternally, but Harlan was in
+a strange new country, with a beautiful lady, a company of gallant
+knights, and a jester.
+
+The rest was all unreal. He seemed to see people through a veil, to hear
+what they said without fully comprehending it, and to walk through his
+daily life blindly, without any sort of emotion. Worst of all, Dorothy
+herself seemed detached and dream-like. He saw that her face was white and
+her eyes sad, but it affected him not at all. He had yet to learn that in
+this, as in everything else, a price must inevitably be paid, and that the
+sudden change of all his loved realities to hazy visions was the terrible
+penalty of his craft.
+
+Yet there was compensation, which is also inevitable. To him, the book was
+vital, reaching down into the very heart of the world. Fancy took his
+work, and, to the eyes of its creator, made it passing fair. At times he
+would sit for an hour or more, nibbling at the end of his pencil, only
+negatively conscious, like one who stares fixedly at a blank wall.
+Presently, Elaine and her company would come back again, and he would go
+on with them, writing down only what he saw and felt.
+
+Chapter after chapter was written and tossed feverishly aside. The words
+beat in his pulses like music, each one with its own particular
+significance. In return for his personal effacement came moments of
+supremest joy, when his whole world was aflame with light, and colour, and
+sound, and his physical body fairly shook with ecstasy.
+
+Little did he know that the Cup was in his hands, and that he was draining
+it to the very dregs of bitterness. For this temporary intoxication, he
+must pay in every hour of his life to come. Henceforward he was set apart
+from his fellows, painfully isolated, eternally alone. He should have
+friends, but only for the hour. The stranger in the street should be the
+same to him as one he had known for many years, and he should be equally
+ready, at any moment, to cast either aside. With a quick, merciless
+insight, like the knife of a surgeon used without an anæsthetic, he should
+explore the inmost recesses of every personality with which he came in
+contact, involuntarily, and find himself interested only as some new trait
+or capacity was revealed. Calm and emotionless, urged by some hidden
+power, he should try each individual to see of what he was made; observing
+the man under all possible circumstances, and at times enmeshing new
+circumstances about him. He should sacrifice himself continually if by so
+doing he could find the deep roots of the other man's selfishness, and,
+conversely, be utterly selfish if necessary to discover the other's power
+of self-sacrifice.
+
+Unknowingly, he had ceased to be a man and had become a ferret. It was no
+light payment exacted in return for the pleasure of writing about Elaine.
+He had the ability to live in any place or century he pleased, but he had
+paid for it by putting his present reality upon precisely the same
+footing. Detachment was his continually. Henceforth he was a spectator
+merely, without any particular concern in what passed before his eyes.
+Some people he should know at a glance, others in a week, a month, or a
+year. Across the emptiness between them, some one should clasp his hand,
+yet share no more his inner life than one who lies beside a dreamer and
+thinks thus to know where the other wanders on the strange trails of
+sleep.
+
+In the dregs of the Cup lay the potential power to cast off his present
+life as a mollusk leaves his shell, and as completely forget it. For Love,
+and Death, and Pain are only symbols to him who is enslaved by the pen.
+Moreover, he suffers always the pangs of an unsatisfied hunger, the
+exquisite torture of an unappeased and unappeasable thirst, for something
+which, like a will-o'-the-wisp, hovers ever above and beyond him, past the
+power of words to interpret or express.
+
+It is often reproachfully said that one "makes copy" of himself and his
+friends--that nothing is too intimately sacred to be seized upon and
+dissected in print. Not so long ago, it was said that a certain man was
+"botanising on his mother's grave," a pardonable confusion, perhaps, of
+facts and realities. The bitter truth is that the writer lives his
+books--and not much else. From title to colophon, he escapes no pang,
+misses no joy. The life of the book is his from beginning to end. At the
+close of it, he has lived what his dream people have lived and borne the
+sorrows of half a dozen entire lifetimes, mercilessly concentrated into
+the few short months of writing.
+
+One by one, his former pleasures vanish. Even the divine consolation of
+books is partly if not wholly gone. Behind the printed page, he sees ever
+the machinery of composition, the preparation for climax, the repetition
+in its proper place, the introduction and interweaving of major and minor,
+of theme and contrast. For the fine, glowing fancy of the other man has
+not appeared in his book, and to the eye of the fellow-craftsman only the
+mechanism is there. Mask-like, the author stands behind his Punch-and-Judy
+box, twitching the strings that move his marionettes, heedless of the fact
+that in his audience there must be a few who know him surely for what he
+is.
+
+If only the transfiguring might of the Vision could be put into print,
+there would be little in the world save books. Happily heedless of the
+mockery of it all, Harlan laboured on, destined fully to sense his entire
+payment much later, suffer vicariously for a few hours on account of it,
+then to forget.
+
+Dorothy, meanwhile, was learning a hard lesson. Harlan's changeless
+preoccupation hurt her cruelly, but, woman-like, she considered it a
+manifestation of genius and endeavoured to be proud accordingly. It had
+not occurred to her that there could ever be anything in Harlan's thought
+into which she was not privileged to go. She had thought of marriage as a
+sort of miraculous welding of two individualities into one, and was
+perceiving that it changed nothing very much; that souls went on their way
+unaltered. She saw, too, that there was no one in the wide world who could
+share her every mood and tense, that ultimately each one of us lives and
+dies alone, within the sanctuary of his own inner self, cheered only by
+some passing mood of friend or stranger, which chances to chime with his.
+
+It was Dick who, blindly enough, helped her over many a hard place, and
+quickened her sense of humour into something upon which she might securely
+lean. He was too young and too much occupied with the obvious to look
+further, but he felt that Dorothy was troubled, and that it was his duty,
+as a man and a gentleman, to cheer her up.
+
+Privately, he considered Harlan an amiable kind of a fool, who shut
+himself up needlessly in a musty library when he might be outdoors, or
+talking with a charming woman, or both. When he discovered that Harlan had
+hitherto earned his living by writing and hoped to continue doing it, he
+looked upon his host with profound pity. Books, to Dick, were among the
+things which kept life from being wholly pleasant and agreeable. He had
+gone through college because otherwise he would have been separated from
+his friends, and because a small legacy from a distant relative, who had
+considerately died at an opportune moment, enabled him to pay for his
+tuition and his despised books.
+
+"I was never a pig, though," he explained to Dorothy, in a confidential
+moment. "There was one chump in our class who wanted to know all there was
+in the book, and made himself sick trying to cram it in. All of a sudden,
+he graduated. He left college feet first, three on a side, with the class
+walking slow behind him. I never was like that. I was sort of an epicure
+when it came to knowledge, tasting delicately here and there, and never
+greedy. Why, as far back as when I was studying algebra, I nobly refused
+to learn the binomial theorem. I just read it through once, hastily, like
+taking one sniff at a violet, and then let it alone. The other fellows
+fairly gorged themselves with it, but I didn't--I had too much sense."
+
+When Mr. Chester had been there a week, he gave Dorothy two worn and
+crumpled two-dollar bills.
+
+"What's this?" she asked, curiously. "Where did you find it?"
+
+"'Find it' is good," laughed Dick. "I earned it, my dear lady, in hard and
+uncongenial toil. It's my week's board."
+
+"You're not going to pay any board here. You're a guest."
+
+"Not on your life. You don't suppose I'm going to sponge my keep off
+anybody, do you? I paid Uncle Ebeneezer board right straight along and
+there's no reason why I shouldn't pay you. You can put that away in your
+sock, or wherever it is that women keep money, or else I take the next
+train. If you don't want to lose me, you have to accept four plunks every
+Monday. I've got lots of four plunks," he added, with a winning smile.
+
+"Very well," said Dorothy, quite certain that she could not spare Dick.
+"If it will make you feel any better about staying, I'll take it."
+
+He had quickly made friends with Elaine, and the three made a more
+harmonious group than might have been expected under the circumstances.
+With returning strength and health, Miss St. Clair began to take more of
+an interest in her surroundings. She gathered the white clover blossoms in
+which Dorothy tied up her pats of sweet butter, picked berries in the
+garden, skimmed the milk, helped churn, and fed the chickens.
+
+Dick took entire charge of the cow, thus relieving Mrs. Smithers of an
+uncongenial task and winning her heartfelt gratitude. She repaid him with
+unnumbered biscuits of his favourite kind and with many a savoury "snack"
+between meals. He also helped Dorothy in many other ways. It was Dick who
+collected the eggs every morning and took them to the sanitarium, along
+with such other produce as might be ready for the market. He secured
+astonishing prices for the things he sold, and set it down to man's
+superior business ability when questioned by his hostess. Dorothy never
+guessed that most of the money came out of his own pocket, and was charged
+up, in the ragged memorandum book which he carried, to "Elaine's board."
+
+Miss St. Clair had never thought of offering compensation, and no one
+suggested it to her, but Dick privately determined to make good the
+deficiency, sure that a woman married to "a writing chump" would soon be
+in need of ready money if not actually starving at the time. That people
+should pay for what Harlan wrote seemed well-nigh incredible. Besides,
+though Dick had never read that "love is an insane desire on the part of a
+man to pay a woman's board bill for life," he took a definite satisfaction
+out of this secret expenditure, which he did not stop to analyse.
+
+He brought back full price for everything he took to the "repair-shop," as
+he had irreverently christened the sanitarium, though he seldom sold much.
+On the other side of the hill he had a small but select graveyard where he
+buried such unsalable articles as he could not eat. His appetite was
+capricious, and Dorothy had frequently observed that when he came back
+from the long walk to the sanitarium, he ate nothing at all.
+
+He established a furniture factory under a spreading apple tree at a
+respectable distance from the house, and began to remodel the black-walnut
+relics which were evidence of his kinsman's poor taste. He took many a bed
+apart, scraped off the disfiguring varnish, sandpapered and oiled the
+wood, and put it together in new and beautiful forms. He made several
+tables, a cabinet, a bench, half a dozen chairs, a set of hanging shelves,
+and even aspired to a desk, which, owing to the limitations of the
+material, was not wholly successful.
+
+Dorothy and Elaine sat in rocking-chairs under the tree and encouraged him
+while he worked. One of them embroidered a simple design upon a burlap
+curtain while the other read aloud, and together they planned a shapely
+remodelling of the Jack-o'-Lantern. Fortunately, the woodwork was plain,
+and the ceilings not too high.
+
+"I think," said Elaine, "that the big living room with the casement
+windows will be perfectly beautiful. You couldn't have anything lovelier
+than this dull walnut with the yellow walls."
+
+Whatever Mrs. Carr's thoughts might be, this simple sentence was usually
+sufficient to turn the current into more pleasant channels. She had
+planned to have needless partitions taken out, and make the whole lower
+floor into one room, with only a dining-room, kitchen, and pantry back of
+it. She would take up the unsightly carpets, over which impossible plants
+wandered persistently, and have them woven into rag rugs, with green and
+brown and yellow borders. The floor was to be stained brown and the pine
+woodwork a soft, old green. Yellow walls and white net curtains, with the
+beautiful furniture Dick was making, completed a very charming picture in
+the eyes of a woman who loved her home.
+
+Outspeeding it in her fancy was the finer, truer living which she believed
+lay beyond. Some day she and Harlan, alone once more, with the cobwebs of
+estrangement swept away, should begin a new and happier honeymoon in the
+transformed house. When the book was done--ah, when the book was done! But
+he was not reading any part of it to her now and would not let her begin
+copying it on the typewriter.
+
+"I'll do it myself, when I'm ready," he said, coldly. "I can use a
+typewriter just as well as you can."
+
+Dorothy sighed, unconsciously, for the woman's part is always to wait
+patiently while men achieve, and she who has learned to wait patiently,
+and be happy meanwhile, has learned the finest art of all--the art of
+life.
+
+"Now," said Dick, "that's a peach of a table, if I do say it as
+shouldn't."
+
+They readily agreed with him, for it was low and massive, built on simple,
+dignified lines, and beautifully finished. The headboards of three
+ponderous walnut beds and the supporting columns of a hideous sideboard
+had gone into its composition, thus illustrating, as Dorothy said, that
+ugliness may be changed to beauty by one who knows how and is willing to
+work for it.
+
+The noon train whistled shrilly in the distance, and Dorothy started out
+of her chair. "She's afraid," laughed Dick, instantly comprehending.
+"She's afraid somebody is coming on it."
+
+"More twins?" queried Elaine, from the depths of her rocker. "Surely there
+can't be any more twins?"
+
+"I don't know," answered Dorothy, vaguely troubled. "Someway, I feel as
+though something terrible were going to happen."
+
+Nothing happened, however, until after luncheon, just as she had begun to
+breathe peacefully again. Willie saw the procession first and ran back
+with gleeful shouts to make the announcement. So it was that the entire
+household, including Harlan, formed a reception committee on the front
+porch.
+
+Up the hill, drawn by two straining horses, came what appeared at first to
+be a pyramid of furniture, but later resolved itself into the component
+parts of a more ponderous bed than the ingenuity of man had yet contrived.
+It was made of black walnut, and was at least three times as heavy as any
+of those in the Jack-o'-Lantern. On the top of the mass was perched a
+little old man in a skull cap, a slippered foot in a scarlet sock airily
+waving at one side. A bright green coil closely clutched in his withered
+hands was the bed cord appertaining to the bed--a sainted possession from
+which its owner sternly refused to part.
+
+"By Jove!" shouted Dick; "it's Uncle Israel and his crib!"
+
+Paying no heed to the assembled group, Uncle Israel dismounted nimbly
+enough, and directed the men to take his bed upstairs, which they did,
+while Harlan and Dorothy stood by helplessly. Here, under his profane and
+involved direction, the structure was finally set in place, even to the
+patchwork quilt, fearfully and wonderfully made, which surmounted it all.
+
+Financial settlement was waved aside by Uncle Israel as a matter in which
+he was not interested, and it was Dick who counted out two dimes and a
+nickel to secure peace. A supplementary procession appeared with a small,
+weather-beaten trunk, a folding bath-cabinet, and a huge case which, from
+Uncle Israel's perturbation, evidently contained numerous fragile articles
+of great value.
+
+"Tell Ebeneezer," wheezed the newcomer, "that I have arrived."
+
+"Ebeneezer," replied Dick, in wicked imitation of the old man's asthmatic
+speech, "has been dead for some time."
+
+"Then," creaked Uncle Israel, waving a tremulous, bony hand suggestively
+toward the door, "kindly leave me alone with my grief."
+
+
+
+
+X
+
+Still More
+
+
+Uncle Israel, whose other name was Skiles, adjusted himself to his grief
+in short order. The sounds which issued from his room were not those
+commonly associated with mourning. Dick, fully accustomed to various
+noises, explained them for the edification of the Carrs, who at present
+were sorely in need of edification.
+
+"That's the bath cabinet," remarked Mr. Chester, with the air of a
+connoisseur. "He's setting it up near enough to the door so that if
+anybody should come in unexpectedly while it's working, the whole thing
+will be tipped over and the house set on fire. Uncle Israel won't have any
+lock or bolt on his door for fear he should die in the night. He relies
+wholly on the bath cabinet and moral suasion. Nobody knocks on doors here,
+anyway--just goes in.
+
+"That's his trunk. He keeps it under the window. The bed is set up first,
+then the bath cabinet, then the trunk, and last, but not least, the
+medicine chest. He keeps his entire pharmacopoeia on a table at the head
+of his bed, with a candle and matches, so that if he feels badly in the
+night, the proper remedy is instantly at hand. He prepares some of his
+medicines himself, but he isn't bigoted about it. He buys the rest at
+wholesale, and I'll eat my hat if he hasn't got a full-sized bottle of
+every patent medicine that's on sale anywhere in the United States."
+
+"How old," asked Harlan, speaking for the first time, "is Uncle Israel?"
+
+"Something over ninety, I believe," returned Dick. "I've lost my book of
+vital statistics, so I don't know, exactly."
+
+"How long," inquired Dorothy, with a forced smile, "does Uncle Israel
+stay?"
+
+"Lord bless you, my dear lady, Uncle Israel stays all Summer. Hello--there
+are some more!"
+
+A private conveyance of uncertain age and purposes drew up before the
+door. From it dismounted a very slender young man of medium height, whose
+long auburn hair hung over his coat-collar and at times partially obscured
+his soulful grey eyes. It resembled the mane of a lion, except in colour.
+He carried a small black valise, and a roll of manuscript tied with a
+badly soiled ribbon.
+
+An old lady followed, stepping cautiously, but still finding opportunity
+to scrutinise the group in the doorway, peering sharply over her
+gold-bowed spectacles. It was she who paid the driver, and even before the
+two reached the house, it was evident that they were not on speaking
+terms.
+
+The young man offered Mr. Chester a thin, tremulous hand which lay on
+Dick's broad palm in a nerveless, clammy fashion. "Pray," he said, in a
+high, squeaky voice, "convey my greetings to dear Uncle Ebeneezer, and
+inform him that I have arrived."
+
+"I am at present holding no communication with Uncle Ebeneezer," explained
+Dick. "The wires are down."
+
+"Where is Ebeneezer?" demanded the old lady.
+
+"Dead," answered Dorothy, wearily; "dead, dead. He's been dead a long
+time. This is our house--he left it to my husband and me."
+
+"Don't let that disturb you a mite," said the old lady, cheerfully. "I
+like your looks a whole lot, an' I'd just as soon stay with you as with
+Ebeneezer. I dunno but I'd ruther."
+
+She must have been well past sixty, but her scanty hair was as yet
+untouched with grey. She wore it parted in the middle, after an ancient
+fashion, and twisted at the back into a tight little knob, from which the
+ends of a wire hairpin protruded threateningly. Dorothy reflected,
+unhappily, that the whole thing was done up almost tight enough to play a
+tune on.
+
+For the rest, her attire was neat, though careless. One had always the
+delusion that part or all of it was on the point of coming off.
+
+The young man was wiping his weak eyes upon a voluminous silk handkerchief
+which had evidently seen long service since its last washing. "Dear Uncle
+Ebeneezer," he breathed, running his long, bony fingers through his hair.
+"I cannot tell you how heavily this blow falls upon me. Dear Uncle
+Ebeneezer was a distinguished patron of the arts. Our country needs more
+men like him, men with fine appreciation, vowed to the service of the
+Ideal. If you will pardon me, I will now retire to my apartment and remain
+there a short time in seclusion."
+
+So saying, he ran lightly upstairs, as one who was thoroughly at home.
+
+"Who in--" began Harlan.
+
+"Mr. Harold Vernon Perkins, poet," said Dick. "He's got his rhyming
+dictionary and all his odes with him."
+
+"Without knowing," said Dorothy, "I should have thought his name was
+Harold or Arthur or Paul. He looks it."
+
+"It wa'n't my fault," interjected the old lady, "that he come. I didn't
+even sense that he was on the same train as me till I hired the carriage
+at the junction an' he clim' in. He said he might as well come along as we
+was both goin' to the same place, an' it would save him walkin', an' not
+cost me no more than 't would anyway."
+
+While she was speaking, she had taken off her outer layer of drapery and
+her bonnet. "I'll just put these things in my room, my dear," she said to
+Dorothy, "an' then I'll come back an' talk to you. I like your looks
+first-rate."
+
+"Who in--," said Harlan, again, as the old lady vanished into one of the
+lower wings.
+
+"Mrs. Belinda something," answered Dick. "I don't know who she's married
+to now. She's had bad luck with her husbands."
+
+Mrs. Carr, deeply troubled, was leaning against the wall in the hall, and
+Dick patted her hand soothingly. "Don't you fret," he said, cheerily; "I'm
+here to see you through."
+
+"That being the case," remarked Harlan, with a certain acidity in his
+tone, "I'll go back to my work."
+
+The old lady appeared again as Harlan slammed the library door, and
+suggested that Dick should go away.
+
+"Polite hint," commented Mr. Chester, not at all disturbed. "See you
+later." He went out, whistling, with his cap on the back of his head and
+his hands in his pockets.
+
+"I reckon you're a new relative, be n't you?" asked the lady guest, eyeing
+Dorothy closely. "I disremember seein' you before."
+
+"I am Mrs. Carr," repeated Dorothy, mechanically. "My husband, Harlan
+Carr, is Uncle Ebeneezer's nephew, and the house was left to him."
+
+"Do tell!" ejaculated the other. "I wouldn't have thought it of Ebeneezer.
+I'm Belinda Dodd, relict of Benjamin Dodd, deceased. How many are there
+here, my dear?"
+
+"Miss St. Clair, Mr. Chester, Mrs. Holmes and her three children, Uncle
+Israel Skiles, and you two, besides Mr. Carr, Mrs. Smithers, and myself."
+
+"Is that all?" asked the visitor, in evident surprise.
+
+"All!" repeated Dorothy. "Isn't that enough?"
+
+"Lord love you, my dear, it's plain to be seen that you ain't never been
+here before. Only them few an' so late in the season, too. Why, there's
+Cousin Si Martin, an' his wife, an' their eight children, some of the
+children bein' married an' havin' other children, an' Sister-in-law Fanny
+Wood with her invalid husband, her second husband, that is, an' Rebecca's
+Uncle James's third wife with her two daughters, an' Rebecca's sister's
+second husband with his new wife an' their little boy, an' Uncle Jason an'
+his stepson, the one that has fits, an' Cousin Sally Simmons an' her
+daughter, an' the four little Riley children an' their Aunt Lucretia, an'
+Step-cousin Betsey Skiles with her two nieces, though I misdoubt their
+comin' this year. The youngest niece had typhoid fever here last Summer
+for eight weeks, an' Betsey thinks the location ain't healthy, in spite of
+it's bein' so near the sanitarium. She was threatenin' to get the health
+department or somethin' after Ebeneezer an' have the drinkin' water looked
+into, so's they didn't part on the pleasantest terms, but in the main
+we've all got along well together.
+
+"If Betsey knowed Ebeneezer was dead, she wouldn't hesitate none about
+comin', typhoid or no typhoid. Mebbe it was her fault some, for Ebeneezer
+wa'n't to blame for his drinkin' water no more 'n I'd be. Our minister
+used to say that there was no discipline for the soul like livin' with
+folks, year in an' year out hand-runnin', an' Betsey is naturally that
+kind. Ebeneezer always lived plain, but we're all simple folks, not carin'
+much for style, so we never minded it. The air's good up here an' I dunno
+any better place to spend the Summer. My gracious! You be n't sick, be
+you?"
+
+"I don't know what to do," murmured Dorothy, her white lips scarcely
+moving; "I don't know what to do."
+
+"Well, now," responded Mrs. Dodd, "I can see that I've upset you some.
+Perhaps you're one of them people that don't like to have other folks
+around you. I've heard of such, comin' from the city. Why, I knew a woman
+that lived in the city, an' she said she didn't know the name of the woman
+next door to her after livin' there over eight months,--an' their windows
+lookin' right into each other, too."
+
+"I hate people!" cried Dorothy, in a passion of anger. "I don't want
+anybody here but my husband and Mrs. Smithers!"
+
+"Set quiet, my dear, an' make your mind easy. I'm sure Ebeneezer never
+intended his death to make any difference in my spendin' the Summer here,
+especially when I'm fresh from another bereavement, but if you're in
+earnest about closin' your doors on your poor dead aunt's relations, why
+I'll see what I can do."
+
+"Oh, if you could!" Dorothy almost screamed the words. "If you can keep
+any more people from coming here, I'll bless you for ever."
+
+"Poor child, I can see that you're considerable upset. Just get me the pen
+an' ink an' some paper an' envelopes an' I'll set down right now an' write
+to the connection an' tell 'em that Ebeneezer's dead an' bein' of unsound
+mind at the last has willed the house to strangers who refuse to open
+their doors to the blood relations of poor dead Rebecca. That's all I can
+do an' I can't promise that it'll work. Ebeneezer writ several times to us
+all that he didn't feel like havin' no more company, but Rebecca's
+relatives was all of a forgivin' disposition an' never laid it up against
+him. We all kep' on a-comin' just the same."
+
+"Tell them," cried Dorothy her eyes unusually bright and her cheeks
+burning, "that we've got smallpox here, or diphtheria, or a lunatic
+asylum, or anything you like. Tell them there's a big dog in the yard that
+won't let anybody open the gate. Tell them anything!"
+
+"Just you leave it all to me, my dear," said Mrs. Dodd, soothingly. "On
+account of the connection bein' so differently constituted, I'll have to
+tell 'em all different. Disease would keep away some an' fetch others.
+Betsey Skiles, now, she feels to turn her hand to nursin' an' I've knowed
+her to go miles in the dead of Winter to set up with a stranger that had
+some disease she wa'n't familiar with. Dogs would bring others an' only
+scare a few. Just you leave it all to me. There ain't never no use in
+borrerin' trouble an' givin' up your peace of mind as security, 'cause you
+don't never get the security back. I've been married enough to know that
+there's plenty of trouble in life besides what's looked for, an' it'll get
+in, without your holdin' open the door an' spreadin' a mat out with
+'Welcome' on it. Did Ebeneezer leave any property?"
+
+"Only the house and furniture," answered Dorothy, feeling that the whole
+burden of the world had been suddenly shifted to her young shoulders.
+
+"Rebecca had a big diamond pin," said Mrs. Dodd, after a brief silence,
+"that she allers said was to be mine when she got through with it.
+Ebeneezer give it to her for a weddin' present. You ain't seen it layin'
+around, have you?"
+
+"No, I haven't seen it 'laying around,'" retorted Dorothy, conscious that
+she was juggling with the truth.
+
+"Well," continued Mrs. Dodd, easily, nibbling her pen holder, "when it
+comes to light, just remember that it's mine. I don't doubt it'll turn up
+sometime. An' now, my dear, I'll just begin on them letters. Cousin Si
+Martin's folks are a-packin' an' expectin' to get here next week. I
+suppose you're willin' to furnish the stamps?"
+
+"Willing!" cried Dorothy, "I should say yes!"
+
+Mrs. Dodd toiled long at her self-imposed task, and, having finished it,
+went out into the kitchen, where for an hour or more she exchanged
+mortuary gossip with Mrs. Smithers, every detail of the conversation being
+keenly relished by both ladies.
+
+At dinner-time, eleven people sat down to partake of the excellent repast
+furnished by Mrs. Smithers under the stimulus of pleasant talk. Harlan was
+at the head, with Miss St. Clair on his right and Mrs. Dodd on his left.
+Next to Miss St. Clair was the poet, whose deep sorrow did not interfere
+with his appetite. The twins were next to him, then Mrs. Holmes, then
+Willie, then Dorothy, at the foot of the table. On her right was Dick, the
+space between Dick and Mrs. Dodd being occupied by Uncle Israel.
+
+To a careless observer, it might have seemed that Uncle Israel had more
+than his share of the table, but such in reality was not the case. His
+plate was flanked by a goodly array of medicine bottles, and cups and
+bowls of predigested and patent food. Uncle Israel, as Dick concisely
+expressed it, was "pie for the cranks."
+
+"My third husband," remarked Mrs. Dodd, pleasantly, well aware that she
+was touching her neighbour's sorest spot, "was terribly afflicted with
+stomach trouble."
+
+"The only stomach trouble I've ever had," commented Mr. Chester, airily
+spearing another biscuit with his fork, "was in getting enough to put into
+it."
+
+"Have a care, young man," wheezed Uncle Israel, warningly. "There ain't
+nothin' so bad for the system as hot bread."
+
+"It would be bad for my system," resumed Dick, "not to be able to get
+it."
+
+"My third husband," continued Mrs. Dodd, disregarding the interruption,
+"wouldn't have no bread in the house at all. He et these little straw
+mattresses, same as you've got, so constant that he finally died from the
+tic doleroo. Will you please pass me them biscuits, Mis' Carr?"
+
+Mrs. Dodd was obliged to rise and reach past Uncle Israel, who declined to
+be contaminated by passing the plate, before she attained her desired
+biscuit.
+
+"Next time, Aunt Belinda," said Dick, "I'll throw you one. Suffering
+Moses, what new dope is that?"
+
+A powerful and peculiarly penetrating odour filled the room. Presently it
+became evident that Uncle Israel had uncorked a fresh bottle of medicine.
+Miss St. Clair coughed and hastily excused herself.
+
+"It's time for me to take my pain-killer," murmured Uncle Israel, pouring
+out a tablespoonful of a thick, brown mixture. "This here cured a
+Congressman in less 'n half a bottle of a gnawin' pain in his vitals. I
+ain't never took none of it yet, but I aim to now."
+
+The vapour of it had already made the twins cry and brought tears to Mrs.
+Dodd's eyes, but Uncle Israel took it clear and smacked his lips over it
+enjoyably. "It seems to be a searchin' medicine," he commented, after an
+interval of silence. "I don't misdoubt that it'll locate that pain that
+was movin' up and down my back all night last night."
+
+Uncle Israel's wizened old face, with its fringe of white whisker, beamed
+with the joy of a scientist who has made a new and important discovery. He
+had a long, hooked nose, and was painfully near-sighted, but refused to
+wear glasses. Just now he sniffed inquiringly at the open bottle of
+medicine. "Yes," he said, nodding his bald head sagely, "I don't misdoubt
+this here can locate it."
+
+"I don't, either," said Harlan, grimly, putting his handkerchief to his
+nose. "Will you excuse me, Dorothy?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+Mrs. Holmes took the weeping twins away from the table, and Willie, his
+mentor gone, began to eat happily with his fingers. The poet rose and drew
+a roll of manuscript from his coat pocket.
+
+"This afternoon," he said, clearing his throat, "I employed my spare
+moments in composing an ode to the memory of our sainted relative, under
+whose hospitable roof we are all now so pleasantly gathered. I will read
+it to you."
+
+Mrs. Dodd hastily left the table, muttering indistinctly, and Dick
+followed her. Willie slipped from his chair, crawled under the table, and
+by stealthily sticking a pin into Uncle Israel's ankle, produced a violent
+disturbance, during which the pain-killer was badly spilled. When the air
+finally cleared, there was no one in the room but the poet, who sadly
+rolled up his manuscript.
+
+"I will read it at breakfast," he thought. "I will give them all the
+pleasure of hearing it. Art is for the many, not for the few. I must use
+it to elevate humanity to the Ideal."
+
+He went back to his own room to add some final reverent touches to the
+masterpiece, and to meditate upon the delicate blonde beauty of Miss St.
+Clair.
+
+From Mrs. Dodd, meanwhile, Dick had gathered the pleasing purport of her
+voluminous correspondence, and insisted on posting all the letters that
+very night, though morning would have done just as well. When he had gone
+downhill on his errand of mercy, whistling cheerily as was his wont, Mrs.
+Dodd went into her own room and locked the door, immediately beginning a
+careful search of the entire apartment.
+
+She scrutinised the walls closely, and rapped softly here and there,
+listening intently for a hollow sound. Standing on a chair, she felt all
+along the mouldings and window-casings, taking unto herself much dust in
+the process. She spent half an hour in the stuffy closet, investigating
+the shelves and recesses, then she got down on her rheumatic old knees and
+crept laboriously over the carpet, systematically taking it breadth by
+breadth, and paying special attention to that section of it which was
+under the bed.
+
+"When you've found where anythin' ain't," she said to herself, "you've
+gone a long way toward findin' where 't is. It's just like Ebeneezer to
+have hid it."
+
+She took down the pictures, which were mainly family portraits, life-size,
+presented to the master of the house by devoted relatives, and rapidly
+unframed them. In one of them she found a sealed envelope, which she
+eagerly tore open. Inside was a personal communication which, though
+brief, was very much to the point.
+
+"Dear Cousin Belinda," it read, "I hope you're taking pleasure in your
+hunt. I have kept my word to you and in this very room, somewhere, is a
+sum of money which represents my estimate of your worth, as nearly as
+sordid coin can hope to do. It is all in cash, for greater convenience in
+handling. I trust you will not spend it all in one store, and that you
+will, out of your abundance, be generous to the poor. It might be well to
+use a part of it in making a visit to New York. When you find this, I
+shall be out in the cemetery all by myself, and very comfortable.
+
+                                              "Yours, Ebeneezer Judson."
+
+"I knowed it," she said to herself, excitedly. "Ebeneezer was a hard man,
+but he always kep' his word. Dear me! What makes me so trembly!"
+
+She removed all the bedclothes and pounded the pillows and mattress in
+vain, then turned her attention to the furniture. It was almost one
+o'clock when Mrs. Dodd finally retired, worn in body and jaded in spirit,
+but still far from discouraged.
+
+"Ebeneezer must have mistook the room," she said to herself, "but how
+could he unless his mind was failin'? I've had this now, goin' on ten
+year."
+
+In the night she dreamed of finding money in the bureau, and got up to see
+if by chance she had not received mysterious guidance from an unknown
+source. There was money in the bureau, sure enough, but it was only two
+worn copper cents wrapped in many thicknesses of old newspaper, and she
+went unsuspiciously back to bed.
+
+"He's mistook the room," she breathed, drowsily, as she sank into troubled
+slumber, "an' to-morrer I'll have it changed. It's just as well I've
+scared them others off, if so be I have."
+
+
+
+
+XI
+
+Mrs. Dodd's Third Husband
+
+
+Insidiously, a single idea took possession of the entire household. Mrs.
+Smithers kept a spade near at hand and systematically dug, as opportunity
+offered. Dorothy became accustomed to an odorous lantern which stood near
+the back door in the daytime and bobbed about among the shrubbery at
+night.
+
+There was definite method in the madness of Mrs. Smithers, however, for
+she had once seen the departed Mr. Judson going out to the orchard with a
+tin box under his arm and her own spade but partially concealed under his
+long overcoat. When he came back, he was smiling, which was so unusual
+that she forgot all about the box, and did not observe whether or not he
+had brought it back with him. Long afterward, however, the incident
+assumed greater significance.
+
+"If I'd 'ave 'ad the sense to 'ave gone out there the next day," she
+muttered, "and 'ave seen where 'e 'ad dug, I might be a rich woman now,
+that's wot I might. 'E was a clever one, 'e was, and 'e's 'id it. The old
+skinflint wasn't doin' no work, 'e wasn't, and 'e lived on 'ere from year
+to year, a-payin' 'is bills like a Christian gent, and it stands to reason
+there's money 'id somewheres. Findin' is keepin', and it's for me to keep
+my 'ead shut and a sharp lookout. Them Carrs don't suspect nothink."
+
+She was only half right, however. Harlan, lost in his book, was heedless
+of everything that went on around him, but Mrs. Dodd's reference to the
+diamond pin, and her own recollection of the money she had found in the
+bureau drawer, began to work stealthily upon Dorothy's mind, surrounded,
+as she was, by people who were continually thinking of the same thing.
+
+Then, too, their funds were getting low. There was little to send to the
+sanitarium now, for eleven people, as students of domestic economics have
+often observed, eat more than one or two. Dick was also affected by the
+current financial depression, and at length conceived the idea that Uncle
+Ebeneezer's worldly goods were somewhere on the premises.
+
+Mrs. Holmes spent a great deal of time in the attic, while the care-free
+children, utterly beyond control, rioted madly through the house. Dorothy
+discovered Mr. Perkins, the poet, half-way up the parlour chimney, and sat
+down to see what he would do when he came out and found her there. He had
+seemed somewhat embarrassed when he wiped the soot from his face, but had
+quickly explained that he was writing a poem on chimney-swallows and had
+come to a point where original research was essential.
+
+Even Elaine, not knowing what she sought, began to investigate, idly
+enough, the furniture and hangings in her room, and Mrs. Dodd, eagerly
+seizing opportunities, was forever keen on the scent. Uncle Israel, owing
+to the poor state of his health, was one of the last to be affected by the
+surrounding atmosphere, but when he caught the idea, he made up for lost
+time.
+
+He was up with the chickens, and invariably took a long afternoon nap, so
+that, during the night, there was bound to be a wakeful interval.
+Ordinarily, he took a sleeping potion to tide him over till morning, but
+soon decided that a little mild exercise with some pleasant purpose
+animating it, would be far better for his nerves.
+
+Mrs. Dodd was awakened one night by the feeling that some one was in her
+room. A vague, mysterious Presence gradually made itself known. At first
+she was frightened, then the Presence wheezed, and reassured her. Across
+the path of moonlight that lay on her floor, Uncle Israel moved
+cautiously.
+
+He was clad in a piebald dressing-gown which had been so patched with
+various materials that the original fabric was uncertain. An old-fashioned
+nightcap was on his head, the tassel bobbing freakishly in the back, and
+he wore carpet slippers.
+
+Mrs. Dodd sat up in bed, keenly relishing the situation. When he opened a
+bureau drawer, she screamed out: "What are you looking for?"
+
+Uncle Israel started violently. "Money," he answered, in a shrill whisper,
+taken altogether by surprise.
+
+"Then," said Mrs. Dodd, kindly, "I'll get right up and help you!"
+
+"Don't, Belinda," pleaded the old man. "You'll wake up everybody. I am
+a-walkin' in my sleep, I guess. I was a-dreamin' of money that I was to
+find and give to you, and I suppose that's why I've come to your room. You
+lay still, Belinda, and don't tell nobody. I am a-goin' right away."
+
+Before she could answer in a way that seemed suitable, he was gone, and
+the next day he renewed his explanations. "I dunno, Belinda, how I ever
+come to be a-walkin' in my sleep. I ain't never done such a thing since I
+was a child, and then only wunst. How dretful it would have been if I had
+gone into any other room and mebbe have been shot or have scared some
+young and unprotected female into fits. To think of me, with my
+untarnished reputation, and at my age, a-doin' such a thing! You don't
+reckon it was my new pain-killer, do you?"
+
+"I don't misdoubt it had sunthin' to do with payin'," returned Mrs. Dodd,
+greatly pleased with her own poor joke, "an', as you say, it might have
+been dretful. But I am a friend to you, Israel, an' I don't 'low to make
+your misfortune public, but, by workin' private, help you overcome it."
+
+"What air you a-layin' out to do?" demanded Uncle Israel, fearfully.
+
+"I ain't rightly made up my mind as yet, Israel," she answered, pleasantly
+enough, "but I don't intend to have it happen to you again. Sunthin' can
+surely be done that'll cure you of it."
+
+"Don't, Belinda," wheezed her victim; "I don't think I'll ever have it
+again."
+
+"Don't you fret about it, Israel, 'cause you ain't goin' to have it no
+more. I'll attend to it. It 's a most distressin' disease an' must be took
+early, but I think I know how to fix it."
+
+During her various investigations, she had found a huge bunch of keys
+beneath a pile of rubbish on the floor of a closet in an unoccupied room.
+It was altogether possible, as she told herself, that one of these keys
+should fit the somnambulist's door.
+
+While Uncle Israel was brewing a fresh supply of medicine on the kitchen
+stove, she found, as she had suspected that one of them did fit, and
+thereafter, every night, when Uncle Israel had retired, she locked him in,
+letting him out shortly after seven each morning. When he remonstrated
+with her, she replied, triumphantly, that it was necessary--otherwise he
+would never have known that the door was locked.
+
+On her first visit to "town" she made it her business to call upon Lawyer
+Bradford and inquire as to Mr. Judson's last will and testament. She
+learned that it did not concern her at all, and was to be probated, in
+accordance with the dead man's instructions, at the Fall term of court.
+
+"Then, as yet," she said, with a gleam of satisfaction in her small, beady
+eyes, "they ain't holdin' the house legal. Any of us has the same right to
+stay as them Carrs."
+
+"That's as you look at it," returned Mr. Bradford, squirming uneasily in
+his chair.
+
+Try as she might, she could extract no further information, but she at
+least had a bit of knowledge to work on. She went back, earnestly desiring
+quiet, that she might study the problem without hindrance, but,
+unfortunately for her purpose, the interior of the Jack-o'-Lantern
+resembled pandemonium let loose.
+
+Willie was sliding down the railing part of the time, and at frequent
+intervals coasting downstairs on Mrs. Smithers's tea tray, vocally
+expressing his pleasure with each trip. The twins, seated in front of the
+library door, were pounding furiously on a milk-pan, which had not been
+empty when they dragged it into the hall, but was now. Mrs. Smithers was
+singing: "We have our trials here below, Oh, Glory, Hallelujah," and a
+sickening odour from a fresh concoction of Uncle Israel's permeated the
+premises. Having irreverently detached the false front from the keys of
+the melodeon, Mr. Perkins was playing a sad, funereal composition of his
+own, with all the power of the instrument turned loose on it. Upstairs,
+Dick was whistling, with shrill and maddening persistence, and Dorothy,
+quite helpless, sat miserably on the porch with her fingers in her ears.
+
+Harlan burst out of the library, just as Mrs. Dodd came up the walk, his
+temper not improved by stumbling over the twins and the milk-pan, and
+above their united wails loudly censured Dorothy for the noise and
+confusion. "How in the devil do you expect me to work?" he demanded,
+irritably. "If you can't keep the house quiet, I'll go back to New York!"
+
+Too crushed in spirit to reply, Dorothy said nothing, and Harlan whisked
+back into the library again, barely escaping Mrs. Dodd.
+
+"Poor child," she said to Dorothy; "you look plum beat out."
+
+"I am," confessed Mrs. Carr, the quick tears coming to her eyes.
+
+"There, there, my dear, rest easy. I reckon this is the first time you've
+been married, ain't it?"
+
+"Yes," returned Dorothy, forcing a pitiful little smile.
+
+"I thought so. Now, when you're as used to it as I be, you won't take it
+so hard. You may think men folks is all different, but there's a dretful
+sameness to 'em after they've been through a marriage ceremony. Marriage
+is just like findin' a new penny on the walk. When you first see it, it's
+all shiny an' a'most like gold, an' it tickles you a'most to pieces to
+think you're gettin' it, but after you've picked it up you see that what
+you've got is half wild Indian, or mebbe more--I ain't never been in no
+mint. You may depend upon it, my dear, there's two sides to all of us, an'
+before marriage, you see the wreath--afterwards a savage.
+
+"I've had seven of 'em," she continued, "an' I know. My father give me a
+cemetery lot for a weddin' present, with a noble grey marble monumint in
+it shaped like a octagon--leastways that's what a school-teacher what
+boarded with us said it was, but I call it a eight-sided piece. I'm
+speakin' of my first marriage now, my dear. My father never give me no
+weddin' present but the once. An' I can't never marry again, 'cause
+there's a husband lyin' now on seven sides of the monumint an' only one
+place left for me. I was told once that I could have further husbands
+cremationed an' set around the lot in vases, but I don't take to no such
+heathenish custom as that.
+
+"So I've got to go through my declinin' years without no suitable
+companion an' I call it hard, when one's so used to marryin' as what I
+be."
+
+"If they're all savages," suggested Dorothy, "why did you keep on
+marrying?"
+
+"Because I hadn't no other way to get my livin' an' I was kinder in the
+habit of it. There's some little variety, even in savages, an' it's human
+natur' to keep on a-hopin.' I've had 'em stingy an' generous, drunk an'
+sober, peaceful an' disturbin'. After the first few times, I learned to
+take real pleasure out'n their queer notions. When you've learned to enjoy
+seein' your husband make a fool of himself an' have got enough
+self-control not to tell him he's doin' it, nor to let him see where your
+pleasure lies, you've got marryin' down to a fine point.
+
+"The third time, it was, I got a food crank, an' let me tell you right
+now, my dear, them's the worst kind. A man what's queer about his food is
+goin' to be queerer about a'most everything else. Give me any man that can
+eat three square meals a day an' enjoy 'em, an' I'll undertake to live
+with him peaceful, but I don't go to the altar again with no food crank,
+if I know it.
+
+"It was partly my own fault, too, as I see later. I'd seen him a-carryin'
+a passel of health food around in his pocket an' a-nibblin' at it, but I
+supposed it was because the poor creeter had never had no one to cook
+proper for him, an' I took a lot of pleasure out of thinkin' how tickled
+he'd be when I made him one of my chicken pies.
+
+"After we was married, we took a honeymoon to his folks, an' I'll tell you
+right now, my dear, that if there was more honeymoons took beforehand to
+each other's folks, there'd be less marryin' done than what there is. They
+was all a-eatin' hay an' straw an' oats just like the dumb creeters they
+disdained, an' a-carryin' wheat an' corn around in their pockets to piece
+out with between greens.
+
+"So the day we got home, never knowin' what I was a-stirrin' up for
+myself, I turned in an' made a chicken an' oyster pie, an' it couldn't be
+beat, not if I do say it as shouldn't. The crust was as soft an' flaky an'
+brown an' crisp at the edges as any I ever turned out, an' the inside was
+all chicken an' oysters well-nigh smothered in a thick, creamy yellow
+gravy.
+
+"Well, sir, I brung in that pie, an' I set it on the table, an' I chirped
+out that dinner was ready, an' he come, an'--my dear! You never saw such
+goins'-on in all your born days! Considerin' that not eatin' animals makes
+people's dispositions mild an' pleasant, it was sunthin' terrible, an' me
+all the time as innercent as a lamb!
+
+"I can't begin to tell you the things my new-made husband said to me. If
+chickens an' oysters was human, I'll bet they'd have sued him for slander.
+He said that oysters was 'the scavengers of the sea'--yes'm, them's his
+very words, an' that chickens was even worse. He went on to tell me how
+they et worms an' potato bugs an' beetles an' goodness knows what else,
+an' that he wa'n't goin' to turn the temple of his body into no
+slaughter-house. He asked me if I desired to eat dead animals, an' when he
+insisted on an answer, I told him I certainly shouldn't care to eat 'em
+less'n they _was_ dead, and from then on it was worse 'n ever.
+
+"He said that no dead animal was goin' to be interred in the insides of
+him or his lawful wife, an' he was goin' to see to it. It come out then
+that he'd never tasted meat an' hadn't rightly sensed what he was
+missin'.
+
+"Well, my dear, some women would have took the wrong tack an' would have
+argyfied with him. There's never no use in argyfyin' with a husband, an'
+never no need to, 'cause if you're set on it, there's all the rest of the
+world to choose from. When he'd talked himself hoarse an' was beginnin' to
+calm down again, I took the floor.
+
+"'Say no more,' says I, calm an' collected-like. 'This here is your house
+an' the things you're accustomed to eatin' can be cooked in it, no matter
+what they be. If I don't know how to put the slops together, I reckon I
+can learn, not being a plum idjit. If you want baked chicken feed and
+boiled hay, I'm here to bake 'em and boil 'em for you. All you have to do
+is to speak once in a polite manner and it'll be done. I must insist on
+the politeness, howsumever,' says I. 'I don't propose to live with any man
+what gets the notion a woman ceases to be a lady when she marries him. A
+creeter that thinks so poor of himself as that ain't fit to be my
+husband,' says I, 'nor no other decent woman's.'
+
+"At that he apologised some, an' when a husband apologises, my dear, it's
+the same as if he'd et dirt at your feet. 'The least said the soonest
+mended,' says I, an' after that, he never had nothin' to complain of.
+
+"But I knowed what his poor, cranky system needed, an' I knowed how to get
+it into him, especially as he'd never tasted meat in all his life. From
+that time on, he never saw no meat on our table, nor no chickens, nor sea
+scavengers, nor nothin', but all day, while he was gone, I was busy with
+my soup pot, a-makin' condensed extracts of meat for flavourin' vegetables
+an' sauces an' so on.
+
+"He took mightily to my cookin' an' frequently said he'd never et such
+exquisite victuals. I'd make cream soups for him, an' in every one,
+there'd be over a cupful of solid meat jelly, as rich as the juice you
+find in the pan when you cook a first-class roast of beef. I'd stew
+potatoes in veal stock, and cook rice slow in water that had had a chicken
+boiled to rags in it. Once I put a cupful of raw beef juice in a can of
+tomatoes I was cookin' and he et a'most all of 'em.
+
+"As he kep' on havin' more confidence in me, I kep' on usin' more an'
+more, an' a-usin' oyster liquor for flavourin' in most everything durin'
+the R months. Once he found nearly a bushel of clam-shells out behind the
+house an' wanted to know what they was an' what they was doin' there. I
+told him the fish man had give 'em to me for a border for my flower beds,
+which was true. I'd only paid for the clams--there wa'n't nothin' said
+about the shells--an' the juice from them clams livened up his soup an'
+vegetables for over a week. There wa'n't no day that he didn't have the
+vital elements of from one to four pounds of meat put in his food, an' all
+the time, he was gettin' happier an' healthier an' more peaceful to live
+with. When he died, he was as mild as a spring lamb with mint sauce on
+it.
+
+"Now, my dear, some women would have told him what they was doin', either
+after he got to likin' the cookin' or when he was on his death-bed an'
+couldn't help himself, but I never did. I own that it took self-control
+not to do it, but I'd learned my lesson from havin' been married twicet
+before an' never havin' fit any to speak of. I had to take my pleasure
+from seein' him eat a bowl of rice that had a whole chicken in it,
+exceptin' only the bones and fibres of its mortal frame, an' a-lappin' up
+mebbe a pint of tomato soup that was founded on eight nice pork chops. I'm
+a-tellin' you all this merely to show you my point. Every day, Henry was
+makin' a blame fool of himself without knowin' it. He'd prattle by the
+hour of slaughter-houses an' human cemeteries an' all the time he'd be
+honin' for his next meal.
+
+"He used to say as how it was dretful wicked to kill the dumb animals for
+food, an' I allers said that there was nothin' to hinder his buyin' as
+many as he could afford to an' savin' their lives by pennin' 'em up in the
+back yard, an' a-feedin' 'em the things they liked best to eat till they
+died of old age or sunthin'. I told him they was all vegetarians, the same
+as he was, an' they could live together peaceful an' happy. I even pointed
+out that it was his duty to do it, an' that if all believers would do the
+same, the dread slaughter-houses would soon be a thing of the past, but I
+ain't never seen no food crank yet that's advanced that far in his
+humanity.
+
+"I never told him a single word about it, nor even hinted it to him, nor
+told nobody else, though I often felt wicked to think I was keepin' so
+much pleasure to myself, but my time is comin'.
+
+"When I'm dead an' have gone to heaven, the first thing I'm goin' to do is
+to hunt up Henry. They say there ain't no marriage nor givin' in marriage
+up there, but I reckon there's seven men there that'll at least recognise
+their wife when they see her a-comin' in. I'm goin' to pick up my skirts
+an' take off my glasses, so's I'll be all ready to skedaddle, for I expect
+to leave my rheumatiz behind me, my dear, when I go to heaven--leastways,
+no place will be heaven for me that's got rheumatiz in it--an' then I'm
+goin' to say: 'Henry, in all the four years you was livin' with me, you
+was eatin' meat, an' you never knowed it. You're nothin' but a human
+cemetery.' Oh, my dear, it's worth while dyin' when you know you're goin'
+to have pleasure like that at the other end!"
+
+
+
+
+XII
+
+Her Gift to the World
+
+
+"I regret, my dear madam," said Lawyer Bradford, twisting uneasily in his
+chair, "that I can offer you no encouragement whatsoever. The will is
+clear and explicit in every detail, and there are no grounds for a
+contest. I am, perhaps, trespassing upon the wishes of my client in giving
+you this information, but if you are remaining here with the hope of
+pecuniary profit, you are remaining here unnecessarily."
+
+He rose as though to indicate that the interview was at an end, but Mrs.
+Holmes was not to be put away in that fashion. Her eyes were blazing and
+her weak chin trembled with anger.
+
+"Do you mean to tell me," she demanded, "that Ebeneezer voluntarily died
+without making some sort of provision for me and my helpless little
+children?"
+
+"Your distinguished relation," answered Mr. Bradford, slowly, "certainly
+died voluntarily. He announced the date of his death some weeks before it
+actually occurred, and superintended the making of his own coffin. He
+wrote out minute directions for his obsequies, had his grave dug, and his
+shroud made, burned his papers, rearranged his books, made his will--and
+was found dead in his bed on the morning of the day set for his departure.
+A methodical person," muttered the old man, half to himself; "a most
+methodical and systematic person."
+
+Mrs. Holmes shuddered. She was not ordinarily a superstitious woman, but
+there was something uncanny in this open partnership with Death.
+
+"There was a diamond pin," she suggested, moodily, "worth, I should think,
+some fifteen or sixteen hundred dollars. Ebeneezer gave it to dear Rebecca
+on their wedding day, and she always said it was to be mine. Have you any
+idea where it is?"
+
+Mr. Bradford fidgeted. "If it was intended for you," he said, finally, "it
+will be given to you at the proper time, or you will be directed to its
+location. Mrs. Judson died, did she not, about three weeks after their
+marriage?"
+
+"Yes," snapped Mrs. Holmes, readily perceiving the line of his thought,
+"and I saw her twice in those three weeks. Both times she spoke of the
+pin, which she wore constantly, and said that if anything happened to her,
+she wanted me to have it, but that old miser hung on to it."
+
+"Madam," said Mr. Bradford, a faint flush mounting to his temples as he
+opened the office door, "you are speaking of my Colonel, under whom I
+served in the war. He was my best friend, and though he is dead, it is
+still my privilege to protect him. I bid you good afternoon!"
+
+She did not perceive until long afterward that she had practically been
+ejected from the legal presence. Even then, she was so intent upon the
+point at issue that she was not offended, as at another time she certainly
+would have been.
+
+"He's lying," she said to herself, "they're all lying. There's money
+hidden in that house, and I know it, and what's more, I'm going to have
+it!"
+
+She had searched her own rooms on the night of her arrival, but found
+nothing, and the attic, so far, had yielded her naught save discouragement
+and dust. "To think," she continued, mentally, "that after two of my
+children were born here and named for them, that we are left in this way!
+I call it a shame, a disgrace, an outrage!"
+
+Her anger swiftly cooled, however, as she went into the house, and her
+fond sight rested upon her darlings. Willie had a ball and had already
+broken two of the front windows. The small Rebecca was under the sofa,
+tempering the pleasure of life for Claudius Tiberius, while young
+Ebeneezer, having found a knife somewhere, was diligently scratching the
+melodeon.
+
+"Just look," said Mrs. Holmes, in delighted awe, as Dorothy entered the
+room. "Don't make any noise, or you will disturb Ebbie. He is such a
+sensitive child that the sound of a strange voice will upset him. Did you
+ever see anything like those figures he is drawing on the melodeon? I
+believe he's going to be an artist!"
+
+Crushed as she was in spirit by her uncongenial surroundings, Dorothy
+still had enough temper left to be furiously angry. In these latter days,
+however, she had gained largely in self-control, and now only bit her lips
+without answering.
+
+But Mrs. Holmes would not have heard her, even if she had replied. A
+sudden yowl from the distressed Claudius impelled Dorothy to move the sofa
+and rescue him.
+
+"How cruel you are!" commented Mrs. Holmes. "The idea of taking Rebbie's
+plaything away from her! Give it back this instant!"
+
+Mrs. Carr put the cat out and returned with a defiant expression on her
+face, which roused Mrs. Holmes to action. "Willie," she commanded, "go out
+and get the kitty for your little sister. There, there, Rebbie, darling,
+don't cry any more! Brother has gone to get the kitty. Don't cry!"
+
+But "brother" had not gone. "Chase it yourself," he remarked, coolly. "I'm
+going out to the barn."
+
+"Dear Willie's individuality is developing every day," Mrs. Holmes went
+on, smoothly. "There, there, Rebbie, don't cry any more. Go and tell Mrs.
+Smithers to give you a big piece of bread with lots of butter and jam on
+it. Tell her mamma said so. Run along, that's a nice little girl."
+
+Rude squares, triangles, and circles appeared as by magic on the shining
+surface of the melodeon, the young artist being not at all disturbed by
+the confusion about him.
+
+"I am blessed in my children," Mrs. Holmes went on, happily. "I often
+wonder what I have done that I should have so perfect a boy as Willie for
+my very own. Everybody admires him so that I dwell in constant fear of
+kidnappers."
+
+"I wouldn't worry," said Dorothy, with ill-concealed sarcasm. "Anybody who
+took him would bring him back inside of two hours."
+
+"I try to think so," returned the mother, with a deep sigh. "Willie's
+indomitable will is my deepest comfort. He gets it from my side of the
+family. None of the children take after their father at all. Ebbie was a
+little like his father's folks at first, but I soon got it out of him and
+made him altogether like my people. I do not think anybody could keep
+Willie away from me except by superior physical force. He absolutely
+adores his mother, as my other children do. You never saw such beautiful
+sentiment as they have. The other day, now, when I went away and left
+Rebbie alone in my apartment, she took down my best hat and put it on. The
+poor little thing wanted to be near her mother. Is it not touching?"
+
+"It is indeed," Dorothy assented, dryly.
+
+"My children have never been punished," continued Mrs. Holmes, now
+auspiciously launched upon her favourite theme. "It has never been
+necessary. I rule them entirely through love, and they are so accustomed
+to my methods that they bitterly resent any interference by outsiders.
+Why, just before we came here, Ebbie, young as he is, put out the left eye
+of a woman who tried to take his dog away from him. He did it with his
+little fist and with apparently no effort at all. Is it not wonderful to
+see such strength and power of direction in one so young? The woman was in
+the hospital when we came away, and I trust by this time, she has learned
+not to interfere with Ebbie. No one is allowed to interfere with my
+children."
+
+"Apparently not," remarked Mrs. Carr, somewhat cynically.
+
+"It is beautiful to be a mother--the most beautiful thing on earth! Just
+think how much I have done for the world!" Her sallow face glowed with the
+conscious virtue bestowed by one of the animal functions upon those who
+have performed it.
+
+"In what way?" queried Mrs. Carr, wholly missing the point.
+
+"Why, in raising Willie and Ebbie and Rebbie! No public service can for a
+moment be compared with that! All other things sink into insignificance
+beside the glorious gift of maternity. Look at Willie--a form that a
+sculptor might dream of for a lifetime and never hope to imitate--a head
+that already has inspired great artists! The gentleman who took Willie's
+last tintype said that he had never seen such perfect lines, and insisted
+on taking several for fear something should happen to Willie. He wanted to
+keep some of them for himself--it was pathetic, the way he pleaded, but I
+made him sell me all of them. Willie is mine and I have the first right to
+his tintypes. And a lady once painted Willie at his play in black and
+white and sent it to one of the popular weeklies. I have no doubt they
+gave her a fortune for it, but it never occurred to her to give us
+anything more than one copy of the paper."
+
+"Which paper was it?"
+
+"One of the so-called comic weeklies. You know they publish superb
+artistic things. I think they are doing a wonderful work in educating the
+masses to a true appreciation of art. One of the wonderful parts of it was
+that Willie knew all about it and was not in the least conceited. Any
+other child would have been set up at being a model for a great artist,
+but Willie was not affected at all. He has so much character!"
+
+At this point the small Rebecca entered, dragging her doll by one arm, and
+munching a thick slice of bread, thinly coated with molasses.
+
+"I distinctly said jam," remarked Mrs. Holmes. "Servants are so heedless.
+I do not know that molasses is good for Rebbie. What would you think, Mrs.
+Carr?"
+
+"I don't think it will hurt her if she doesn't get too much of it."
+
+"There's no danger of her getting too much of it. Mrs. Smithers is too
+stingy for that. Why, only yesterday, Willie told me that she refused to
+let him dip his dry bread in the cream, and gave him a cup of plain milk
+instead. Willie knows when his system needs cream and I want him to have
+all the nourishment he can get. The idea that she should think she knew
+more about it than Willie! She was properly punished for it, however. I
+myself saw Willie throw a stick of stove wood at her and hit her foolish
+head with it. I think Willie is going to be a soldier, a commander of an
+army. He has so much executive ability and never misses what he aims at.
+
+"Rebbie, don't chew on that side, darling; remember your loose tooth is
+there. Mamma doesn't want it to come out."
+
+"Why?" asked Dorothy, with a gleam of interest.
+
+"Because I can't bear to have her little baby teeth come out and make her
+grow up! I want to keep her just as she is. I have all my children's
+teeth, and some day I am going to have them set into a beautiful bracelet.
+Look at that! How generous and unselfish of Rebbie! She is trying to share
+her bread with her doll. I believe Rebbie is going to be a philanthropist,
+or a college-settlement worker. See, she is trying to give the doll the
+molasses--the very best part of it. Did you ever see such a beautiful
+spirit in one so young?"
+
+Before Mrs. Carr could answer, young Ebeneezer had finished his wood
+carving and had grabbed his protesting twin by the hair.
+
+"There, there, Rebbie," soothed the mother, "don't cry. Brother was only
+loving little sister. Be careful, Ebbie. You can take hold of sister's
+hair, but not too hard. They love each other so," she went on. "Ebbie is
+really sentimental about Rebbie. He loves to touch and stroke her glorious
+blonde hair. Did you ever see such hair as Rebbie's?"
+
+It came into Mrs. Carr's mind that "Rebbie's" hair looked more like a
+plate of cold-slaw than anything else, but she was too wise to put the
+thought into words.
+
+Willie slid down the railing and landed in the hall with a loud whoop of
+glee. "How beautiful to hear the sounds of childish mirth," said Mrs.
+Holmes. "How----"
+
+From upstairs came a cry of "Help! Help!"
+
+Muffled though the voice was, it plainly issued from Uncle Israel's room,
+and under the impression that the bath cabinet had finally set the house
+on fire, Mrs. Carr ran hastily upstairs, followed closely by Mrs. Holmes,
+who was flanked at the rear by the grinning Willie and the interested
+twins.
+
+From a confused heap of bedding, Uncle Israel's scarlet ankles waved
+frantically. "Help! Help!" he cried again, his voice being almost wholly
+deadened by the pillows, which had fallen on him after the collapse.
+
+Dorothy helped the trembling old man to his feet. He took a copious
+draught from the pain-killer, then sat down on his trunk, much perturbed.
+
+Investigation proved that the bed cord had been cut in a dozen places by
+some one working underneath, and that the entire structure had instantly
+caved in when Uncle Israel had crept up to the summit of his bed and lain
+down to take his afternoon nap. When questioned, Willie proudly admitted
+that he had done it.
+
+"Go down and ask Mrs. Smithers for the clothes-line," commanded Dorothy,
+sternly.
+
+"I won't," said Willie, smartly, putting his hands in his pockets.
+
+"You had better go yourself, Mrs. Carr," suggested Mrs. Holmes. "Willie is
+tired. He has played hard all day and needs rest. He must not on any
+account over-exert himself, and, besides, I never allow any one else to
+send my children on errands. They obey me and me alone."
+
+"Go yourself," said Willie, having gathered encouragement from the
+maternal source.
+
+"I'll go," wheezed Uncle Israel. "I can't sleep in no other bed.
+Ebeneezer's beds is all terrible drafty, and I took two colds at once
+sleepin' in one of 'em when I knowed better 'n to try it." He tottered out
+of the room, the very picture of wretchedness.
+
+"Was it not clever of Willie?" whispered Mrs. Holmes, admiringly, to
+Dorothy. "So much ingenuity--such a fine sense of humor!"
+
+"If he were my child," snapped Dorothy, at last losing her admirable
+control of a tempestuous temper, "he'd be soundly thrashed at least three
+times a week!"
+
+"I do not doubt it," replied Mrs. Holmes, contemptuously. "These married
+old maids, who have no children of their own, are always wholly out of
+sympathy with a child's nature."
+
+"When I was young," retorted Mrs. Carr, "children were not allowed to rule
+the entire household. There was a current superstition to the effect that
+older people had some rights."
+
+"And yet," Mrs. Holmes continued, meditatively, "as the editor of _The
+Ladies' Own_ so pertinently asks, what is a house for if not to bring up a
+child in? The purpose of architecture is defeated, where there are no
+children."
+
+Uncle Israel, accompanied by Dick, hobbled into the room with the
+clothes-line. Mrs. Holmes discreetly retired, followed by her offspring,
+and, late in the afternoon, when Dorothy and Dick were well-nigh fagged
+out, the structure was in place again. Tremulously the exhausted owner lay
+down upon it, and asked that his supper be sent to his room.
+
+By skilful manoeuvring with Mrs. Smithers, Dick compelled the
+proud-spirited Willie to take up Uncle Israel's tray and wait for it.
+"I'll tell my mother," whimpered the sorrowful one.
+
+"I hope you will," replied Dick, significantly; but for some reason of his
+own, Willie neglected to mention it.
+
+At dinner-time, Mr. Perkins drew a rolled manuscript, tied with a black
+ribbon, from his breast pocket, and, without preliminary, proceeded to
+read as follows:
+
+TO THE MEMORY OF EBENEEZER JUDSON
+
+                  A face we loved has vanished,
+                    A voice we adored is now still,
+                  There is no longer any music
+                    In the tinkling rill.
+
+                  His hat is empty of his head,
+                    His snuff-box has no sneezer,
+                  His cane is idle in the hall
+                    For gone is Ebeneezer.
+
+                  Within the house we miss him,
+                    Let fall the sorrowing tear,
+                  Yet shall we gather as was our wont
+                    Year after sunny year.
+
+                  He took such joy in all his friends
+                    That he would have it so;
+                  He left his house to relatives
+                    But none of us need go.
+
+                  In fact, we're all related,
+                    Sister, friend, and brother;
+                  And in this hour of our grief
+                    We must console each other.
+
+                  He would not like to have us sad,
+                    Our smiles were once his pleasure
+                  And though we cannot smile at him,
+                    His memory is our treasure.
+
+When he had finished, there was a solemn silence, which was at last
+relieved by Mrs. Dodd. "Poetry broke out in my first husband's family,"
+she said, "but with sulphur an' molasses an' quinine an' plenty of
+wet-sheet packs it was finally cured."
+
+"You do not understand," said the poet, indulgently. "Your aura is not
+harmonious with mine."
+
+"Your--what?" demanded Mrs. Dodd, pricking up her ears.
+
+"My aura," explained Mr. Perkins, flushing faintly. "Each individuality
+gives out a spiritual vapour, like a cloud, which surrounds one. These are
+all in different colours, and the colours change with the thoughts we
+think. Black and purple are the gloomy, morose colours; deep blue and the
+paler shades show a sombre outlook on life; green is more cheerful, though
+still serious; yellow and orange show ambition and envy, and red and white
+are emblematic of all the virtues--red of the noble, martial qualities of
+man and white of the angelic disposition of woman," he concluded, with a
+meaning glance at Elaine, who had been much interested all along.
+
+"What perfectly lovely ideas," she said, in a tone which made Dick's blood
+boil. "Are they original with you, Mr. Perkins?"
+
+The poet cleared his throat. "I cannot say that they are wholly original
+with me," he admitted, reluctantly, "though of course I have modified and
+amplified them to accord with my own individuality. They are doing
+wonderful things now in the psychological laboratories. They have a system
+of tubes so finely constructed that by breathing into one of them a
+person's mental state is actually expressed. An angry person, breathing
+into one of these finely organised tubes, makes a decided change in the
+colour of the vapour."
+
+"Humph!" snorted Mrs. Dodd, pushing back her chair briskly. "I've been
+married seven times, an' I never had to breathe into no tube to let any of
+my husbands know when I was mad!"
+
+The poet crimsoned, but otherwise ignored the comment. "If you will come
+into the parlour just as twilight is falling," he said to the others, "I
+will gladly recite my ode on Spring."
+
+Subdued thanks came from the company, though Harlan excused himself on the
+score of his work, and Mrs. Holmes was obliged to put the twins to bed.
+When twilight fell, no one was at the rendezvous but Elaine and the poet.
+
+"It is just as well," he said, in a low tone. "There are several under
+dear Uncle Ebeneezer's roof who are afflicted with an inharmonious aura.
+With yours only am I in full accord. It is a great pleasure to an artist
+to feel such beautiful sympathy with his work. Shall I say it now?"
+
+"If you will," murmured Elaine, deeply honoured by acquaintance with a
+real poet.
+
+Mr. Perkins drew his chair close to hers, leaned over with an air of
+loving confidence, and began:
+
+                Spring, oh Spring, dear, gentle Spring,
+                My poet's garland do I bring
+                To lay upon thy shining hair
+                Where rests a wreath of flowers so fair.
+                There is a music in the brook
+                Which answers to thy tender look
+                And in thy eyes there is a spell
+                Of soft enchantment too sweet to tell.
+                My heart to thine shall ever turn
+                For thou hast made my soul to burn
+                With rapture far beyond----
+
+Elaine screamed, and in a twinkling was on her chair with her skirts
+gathered about her. It was only Claudius Tiberius, dressed in Rebecca's
+doll's clothes, scooting madly toward the front door, but it served
+effectually to break up the entertainment.
+
+
+
+
+XIII
+
+A Sensitive Soul
+
+
+Uncle Israel was securely locked in for the night, and was correspondingly
+restless. He felt like a caged animal, and sleep, though earnestly wooed,
+failed to come to his relief. A powerful draught of his usual sleeping
+potion had been like so much water, as far as effect was concerned.
+
+At length he got up, his lifelong habit of cautious movement asserting
+itself even here, and with tremulous, withered hands, lighted his candle.
+Then he put on his piebald dressing-gown and his carpet slippers, and sat
+on the declivity of his bed, blinking at the light, as wide awake as any
+owl.
+
+Presently it came to him that he had not as yet made a thorough search of
+his own apartment, so he began at the foundation, so to speak, and crawled
+painfully over the carpet, paying special attention to the edges. Next, he
+fingered the baseboards carefully, rapping here and there, as though he
+expected some significant sound to penetrate his deafness. Rising, he went
+over the wall systematically, and at length, with the aid of a chair,
+reached up to the picture-moulding. He had gone nearly around the room,
+without any definite idea of what he was searching for, when his
+questioning fingers touched a small, metallic object.
+
+A smile of childlike pleasure transfigured Uncle Israel's wizened old
+face. Trembling, he slipped down from the chair, falling over the bath
+cabinet in his descent, and tried the key in the lock. It fitted, and the
+old man fairly chuckled.
+
+"Wait till I tell Belinda," he muttered, delightedly. Then a crafty second
+thought suggested that it might be wiser to keep "Belinda" in the dark,
+lest she might in some way gain possession of the duplicate key.
+
+"Lor'," he thought, "but how I pity them husbands of her'n. Bet their
+graves felt good when they got into 'em, the hull seven graves. What with
+sneerin' at medicines and things a person eats, it must have been awful,
+not to mention stealin' of keys and a-lockin' 'em in nights. S'pose the
+house had got afire, where'd I be now?" Grasping his treasure closely,
+Uncle Israel blew out his candle and tottered to bed, thereafter sleeping
+the sleep of the just.
+
+Mrs. Dodd detected subdued animation in his demeanour when he appeared at
+breakfast the following morning, and wondered what had occurred.
+
+"You look 's if sunthin' pleasant had happened, Israel," she began in a
+sprightly manner.
+
+"Sunthin' pleasant has happened," he returned, applying himself to his
+imitation coffee with renewed vigour. "I disremember when I've felt so
+good about anythin' before."
+
+"Something pleasant happens every day," put in Elaine. The country air had
+made roses bloom on her pale cheeks. Her blue eyes had new light in them,
+and her golden hair fairly shone. She was far more beautiful than the sad,
+frail young woman who had come to the Jack-o'-Lantern not so many weeks
+before.
+
+"How optimistic you are!" sighed Mr. Perkins, who was eating Mrs.
+Smithers's crisp, hot rolls with a very unpoetic appetite. "To me, the
+world grows worse every day. It is only a few noble souls devoted to the
+Ideal and holding their heads steadfastly above the mire of commercialism
+that keep our so-called civilisation from becoming an absolute hotbed of
+greed--yes, a hotbed of greed," he repeated, the words sounding
+unexpectedly well.
+
+"Your aura seems to have a purple tinge this morning," commented Dorothy,
+slyly.
+
+"What's a aura, ma?" demanded Willie, with an unusual thirst for
+knowledge.
+
+"Something that goes with a soft person, Willie, dear," responded Mrs.
+Holmes, quite audibly. "You know there are some people who have no
+backbone at all, like the jelly-fish we saw at the seashore the year
+before dear papa died."
+
+"I've knowed folks," continued Mrs. Dodd, taking up the wandering thread
+of the discourse, "what was so soft when they was little that their mas
+had to carry 'em around in a pail for fear they'd slop over and spile the
+carpet."
+
+"And when they grew up, too," Dick ventured.
+
+"Some people," said Harlan, in a polite attempt to change the
+conversation, "never grow up at all. Their minds remain at a fixed point.
+We all know them."
+
+"Yes," sighed Mrs. Dodd, looking straight at the poet, "we all know
+them."
+
+At this juncture the sensitive Mr. Perkins rose and begged to be excused.
+It was the small Ebeneezer who observed that he took a buttered roll with
+him, and gratuitously gave the information to the rest of the company.
+
+Elaine flushed painfully, and presently excused herself, following the
+crestfallen Mr. Perkins to the orchard, where, entirely unsuspected by the
+others, they had a trysting-place. At intervals, they met, safely screened
+by the friendly trees, and communed upon the old, idyllic subject of
+poetry, especially as represented by the unpublished works of Harold
+Vernon Perkins.
+
+"I cannot tell you, Mr. Perkins," Elaine began, "how deeply I appreciate
+your fine, uncommercial attitude. As you say, the world is sordid, and it
+needs men like you."
+
+The soulful one ran his long, bony fingers through his mane of auburn
+hair, and assented with a pleased grunt. "There are few, Miss St. Clair,"
+he said, "who have your fine discernment. It is almost ideal."
+
+"Yet it seems too bad," she went on, "that the world-wide appreciation of
+your artistic devotion should not take some tangible form. Dollars may be
+vulgar and sordid, as you say, but still, in our primitive era, they are
+our only expression of value. I have even heard it said," she went on,
+rapidly, "that the amount of wealth honestly acquired by any individual
+was, after all, only the measure of his usefulness to his race."
+
+"Miss St. Clair!" exclaimed the poet, deeply shocked; "do I understand
+that you are actually advising me to sell a poem?"
+
+"Far from it, Mr. Perkins," Elaine reassured him. "I was only thinking
+that by having your work printed in a volume, or perhaps in the pages of a
+magazine, you could reach a wider audience, and thus accomplish your ideal
+of uplifting the multitude."
+
+"I am pained," breathed the poet; "inexpressibly pained."
+
+"Then I am sorry," answered Elaine. "I was only trying to help."
+
+"To think," continued Mr. Perkins, bitterly, "of the soiled fingers of a
+labouring man, a printer, actually touching these fancies that even I
+hesitate to pen! Once I saw the fair white page of a book that had been
+through that painful experience. You never would have known it, my dear
+Miss St. Clair--it was actually filthy!"
+
+"I see," murmured Elaine, duly impressed, "but are there not more
+favourable conditions?"
+
+"I have thought there might be," returned the poet, after a significant
+silence, "indeed, I have prayed there might be. In some little nook among
+the pines, where the brook for ever sings and the petals of the apple
+blossoms glide away to fairyland upon its shining surface, while
+butterflies float lazily here and there, if reverent hands might put the
+flowering of my genius into a modest little book--I should be tempted,
+yes, sorely tempted."
+
+"Dear Mr. Perkins," cried Elaine, ecstatically clapping her hands, "how
+perfectly glorious that would be! To think how much sweetness and beauty
+would go into the book, if that were done!"
+
+"Additionally," corrected Mr. Perkins, with a slight flush.
+
+"Yes, of course I mean additionally. One could smell the apple blossoms
+through the printed page. Oh, Mr. Perkins, if I only had the means, how
+gladly would I devote my all to this wonderful, uplifting work!"
+
+The poet glanced around furtively, then drew closer to Elaine. "I may tell
+you," he murmured, "in strict confidence, something which my lips have
+never breathed before, with the assurance that it will be as though
+unsaid, may I not?"
+
+"Indeed you may!"
+
+"Then," whispered Mr. Perkins, "I am living in that hope. My dear Uncle
+Ebeneezer, though now departed, was a distinguished patron of the arts.
+Many a time have I read him my work, assured of his deep, though
+unexpressed sympathy, and, lulled by the rhythm of our spoken speech, he
+has passed without a jar from my dreamland to his own. I know he would
+never speak of it to any one--dear Uncle Ebeneezer was too finely grained
+for that--but still I feel assured that somewhere within the walls of that
+sorely afflicted house, a sum of--of money--has been placed, in the hope
+that I might find it and carry out this beautiful work."
+
+"Have you hunted?" demanded Elaine, her eyes wide with wonder.
+
+"No--not hunted. I beg you, do not use so coarse a word. It jars upon my
+poet's soul with almost physical pain."
+
+"I beg your pardon," returned Elaine, "but----"
+
+"Sometimes," interrupted the poet, in a low tone, "when I have felt
+especially near to Uncle Ebeneezer's spirit, I have barely glanced in
+secret places where I have felt he might expect me to look for it, but, so
+far, I have been wholly unsuccessful, though I know that I plainly read
+his thought."
+
+"Some word--some clue--did he give you none?"
+
+"None whatever, except that once or twice he said that he would see that I
+was suitably provided for. He intimated that he intended me to have a sum
+apportioned to my deserts."
+
+"Which would be a generous one; but now--Oh, Mr. Perkins, how can I help
+you?"
+
+"You have never suspected, have you," asked Mr. Perkins, colouring to his
+temples, "that the room you now occupy might once have been my own? Have
+no poet's dreams, lingering in the untenanted spaces, claimed your
+beauteous spirit in sleep?"
+
+"Oh, Mr. Perkins, have I your room? I will so gladly give it up--I----"
+
+The poet raised his hand. "No. The place where you have walked is holy
+ground. Not for the world would I dispossess you, but----"
+
+A meaning look did the rest. "I see," said Elaine, quickly guessing his
+thought, "you want to hunt in my room. Oh, Mr. Perkins, I have
+thoughtlessly pained you again. Can you ever forgive me?"
+
+"My thoughts," breathed Mr. Perkins, "are perhaps too finely phrased for
+modern speech. I would not trespass upon the place you have made your own,
+but----"
+
+There was a brief silence, then Elaine understood. "I see," she said,
+submissively, "I will hunt myself. I mean, I will glance about in the hope
+that the spirit of Uncle Ebeneezer may make plain to me what you seek.
+And----"
+
+"And," interjected the poet, quite practical for the moment, "whatever you
+find is mine, for it was once my room. It is only on account of Uncle
+Ebeneezer's fine nature and his constant devotion to the Ideal that he did
+not give it to me direct. He knew it would pain me if he did so. You will
+remember?"
+
+"I will remember. You need not fear to trust me."
+
+"Then let us shake hands upon our compact." For a moment, Elaine's warm,
+rosy hand rested in the clammy, nerveless palm of Harold Vernon Perkins.
+"Last night," he sighed, "I could not sleep. I was distressed by noises
+which appeared to emanate from the apartment of Mr. Skiles. Did you hear
+nothing?"
+
+"Nothing," returned Elaine; "I sleep very soundly."
+
+"The privilege of unpoetic souls," commented Mr. Perkins. "But, as usual,
+my restlessness was not without definite and beautiful result. In the
+still watches of the night, I achieved a--poem."
+
+"Read it," cried Elaine, rapturously. "Oh, if I might hear it!"
+
+Thus encouraged, Mr. Perkins drew a roll from his breast pocket. A fresh
+blue ribbon held it in cylindrical form, and the drooping ends waved in
+careless, artistic fashion.
+
+"As you might expect, if you knew about such things," he began, clearing
+his throat, and all unconscious of the rapid approach of Mr. Chester, "it
+is upon sleep. It is done in the sonnet form, a very beautiful measure
+which I have made my own. I will read it now.
+
+                            "SONNET ON SLEEP
+
+          "O Sleep, that fillst the human breast with peace,
+            When night's dim curtains swing from out the West,
+            In what way, in what manner, could we rest
+          Were thy beneficent offices to cease?
+          O Sleep, thou art indeed the snowy fleece
+            Upon Day's lamb. A welcome guest
+            That comest alike to palace and to nest
+          And givest the cares of life a glad release.
+          O Sleep, I beg thee, rest upon my eyes,
+            For I am weary, worn, and sad,--indeed,
+            Of thy great mercies have I piteous need
+          So come and lead me off to Paradise."
+
+His voice broke at the end, not so much from the intrinsic beauty of the
+lines as from perceiving Mr. Chester close at hand, grinning like the
+fabled pussy-cat of Cheshire, except that he did not fade away, leaving
+only the grin.
+
+Elaine felt the alien presence and looked around. Woman-like, she quickly
+grasped the situation.
+
+"I have been having a rare treat, Mr. Chester," she said, in her smoothest
+tones. "Mr. Perkins has very kindly been reading to me his beautiful
+_Sonnet on Sleep_, composed during a period of wakefulness last night. Did
+you hear it? Is it not a most unusual sonnet?"
+
+"It is, indeed," answered Dick, dryly. "I never before had the privilege
+of hearing one that contained only twelve lines. Dante and Petrarch and
+Shakespeare and all those other ducks put fourteen lines in every blamed
+sonnet, for good measure."
+
+Hurt to the quick, the sensitive poet walked away.
+
+"How can you speak so!" cried Elaine, angrily. "Is not Mr. Perkins
+privileged to create a form?"
+
+"To create a form, yes," returned Dick, easily, "but not to monkey with an
+old one. There's a difference."
+
+Elaine would have followed the injured one had not Dick interfered. He
+caught her hand quickly, a new and unaccountable lump in his throat
+suddenly choking his utterance. "I say, Elaine," he said, huskily, "you're
+not thinking of hooking up with that red-furred lobster, are you?"
+
+"I do not know," responded Elaine, with icy dignity, "what your uncouth
+language may mean, but I tolerate no interference whatever with my
+personal affairs." In a moment she was gone, and Dick watched the slender,
+pink-clad figure returning to the house with ill-concealed emotion.
+
+All Summer, so far, he and Elaine had been good friends. They had laughed
+and joked and worked together in a care-free, happy-go-lucky fashion. The
+arrival of Mr. Perkins and his sudden admiration of Elaine had
+crystallised the situation. Dick knew now what caused the violent antics
+of his heart--a peaceful and well-behaved organ which had never before
+been so disturbed by a woman.
+
+"I've got it," said Dick, to himself, deeply shamed. "Moonlight, poetry,
+mit-holding, and all the rest of it. Never having had it before, it's
+going hard with me. Why in the devil wasn't I taught to write doggerel
+when I was in college? A fellow don't stand any show nowadays unless he's
+a pocket edition of Byron."
+
+He went on through the orchard at a run, instinctively healing a troubled
+mind by wearying the body. At the outer edge of it, he paused.
+
+Suspended by a singularly strong bit of twine, a small, grinning skull
+hung from the lower branch of an apple tree, far out on the limb. "Cat's
+skull," thought Dick. "Wonder who hung it up there?"
+
+He lingered, idly, for a moment or two, then observed that a small patch
+of grass directly underneath it was of that season's growth. His curiosity
+fully awake, he determined to dig a bit, though he had dug fruitlessly in
+many places since he came to the Jack-o'-Lantern.
+
+"Uncle couldn't do anything conventional," he said to himself, "and I'm
+pretty sure he wouldn't want any of his relations to have his money. Here
+goes, just for luck!"
+
+He went back to the barn for the spade, which already had fresh earth on
+it--the evidence of an early morning excavation privately made by Mrs.
+Smithers in a spot where she had dreamed gold was hidden. He went off to
+the orchard with it, whistling, his progress being furtively watched with
+great interest by the sour-faced handmaiden in the kitchen.
+
+Back in the orchard again, he worked feverishly, possessed by a pleasant
+thrill of excitement, somewhat similar to that conceivably enlivening the
+humdrum existence of Captain Kidd. Dick was far from surprised when his
+spade struck something hard, and, his hands trembling with eagerness, he
+lifted out a tin box of the kind commonly used for private papers.
+
+It was locked, but a twist of his muscular hands sufficed to break it
+open. Then he saw that it was a spring lock, and that, with grim,
+characteristic humour, Uncle Ebeneezer had placed the key inside the box.
+There were papers there--and money, the coins and bills being loosely
+scattered about, and the papers firmly sealed in an envelope addressed "To
+Whom it May Concern."
+
+Dick counted the coins and smoothed out the bills, more puzzled than he
+had ever been in his life. He was tempted to open the envelope, but
+refrained, not at all sure that he was among those whom it concerned. For
+the space of half an hour he stood there, frowning, then he laughed.
+
+"I'll just put it back," he said to himself. "It's not for me to monkey
+with Uncle Ebeneezer's purposes."
+
+He buried the box in its old place, and even cut a bit of sod from a
+distant part of the orchard to hide the traces of his work. When all was
+smooth again, he went back to the barn, swinging the spade carelessly but
+no longer whistling.
+
+"The old devil," he muttered, with keen appreciation. "The wise old
+devil!"
+
+
+
+
+XIV
+
+Mrs. Dodd's Fifth Fate
+
+
+_Morning lay fair upon the land, and yet the Lady Elaine was weary. Like a
+drooping lily she swayed in her saddle, sick at heart and cast down.
+Earnestly her company of gallant knights strove to cheer her, but in vain.
+Even the merry quips of the fool in motley, who still rode at her side,
+brought no smile to her beautiful face._
+
+_Presently, he became silent, his heart deeply troubled because of her. An
+hour passed so, and no word was spoken, then, timidly enough, he ventured
+another jest._
+
+_The Lady Elaine turned. "Say no more, fool," she commanded, "but get out
+thy writing tablet and compose me a poem. I would fain hear something sad
+and tender in place of this endless folly."_
+
+_Le Jongleur bowed. "And the subject, Princess?"_
+
+_Elaine laughed bitterly. "Myself," she cried. "Why not? Myself, Elaine,
+and this foolish quest of mine!"_
+
+_Then, for a space, there was silence upon the road, since the fool, with
+his writing tablet, had dropped back to the rear of the company, and the
+gallant knights, perceiving the mood of their mistress, spoke not._
+
+_At noon, when the white sun trembled at the zenith, Le Jongleur urged his
+donkey forward, and presented to Elaine a glorious rose which he had found
+blooming at the wayside._
+
+_"The poem is finished, your highness," he breathed, doffing his cap, "but
+'tis all unworthy, so I bring thee this rose also, that something in my
+offering may of a certainty be sweet."_
+
+_He would have put the scroll into her hand, but she swerved her palfrey
+aside. "Read it," she said, impatiently; "I have no mind to try my wits
+with thy poor scrawls."_
+
+_So, with his voice trembling, and overwhelmed with self-consciousness,
+the fool read as follows:_
+
+               The vineyards, purple with their bloom,
+                 Elaine, hast thou forgotten?
+               The maidens in thy lonely room,
+               Thy tapestry on silent loom--
+                   But hush! Where is Elaine?
+                 Elaine, hast thou forgotten?
+
+               Thy castle in the valley lies,
+                 Elaine, hast thou forgotten?
+               Where swift the homing swallow flies
+               And in the sunset daylight dies--
+                   But hush! Where is Elaine?
+                 Elaine, hast thou forgotten?
+
+               Night comes at last on dreamy wings,
+                 Elaine, hast thou forgotten?
+               'Mid gleaming clouds the pale moon swings,
+               Thy taper light a faint star brings,
+                   But hush! Where is Elaine?
+                 Elaine, hast thou forgotten?
+
+Harlan had never written any poetry before, but it had always seemed easy.
+Now, as he read the verses over again, he was tremendously satisfied with
+his achievement. Unconsciously, he had modelled it upon an exquisite
+little bit by some one else, which had once been reprinted beneath a
+"story" of his own when he was on the paper. He read it aloud, to see how
+it sounded, and was more pleased than ever with the swing of the verse and
+the music of the words. "It's pretty close to art," he said to himself,
+"if it isn't the real thing."
+
+Just then the luncheon bell rang, and he went out to the midday
+"gab-fest," as he inwardly characterised it. The meal proceeded to dessert
+without any unusual disturbance, then the diminutive Ebeneezer threw the
+remnants of his cup of milk into his mother's face, and was carried off,
+howling, to be spanked. Like many other mothers, Mrs. Holmes resented her
+children's conduct when it incommoded her, but not otherwise, and though
+milk baths are said to be fine for the complexion, she was not altogether
+pleased with the manner of application.
+
+Amid the vocal pyrotechnics from the Holmes apartments, Harlan escaped
+into the library, but his poem was gone. He searched for it vainly, then
+sat down to write it over before he should forget it. This done, he went
+on with Elaine and her adventures, and presently forgot all about the lost
+page.
+
+"Don't that do your heart good?" inquired Mrs. Dodd, of Dorothy, inclining
+her head toward Mrs. Holmes's door.
+
+"Be it ever so humble," sang Dick, strolling out of the room, "there's no
+place like Holmes's."
+
+Mrs. Carr admitted that her ears were not yet so calloused but that the
+sound gave her distinct pleasure.
+
+"If that there little limb of Satan had have throwed his milk in anybody
+else's face," went on Mrs. Dodd, "all she'd have said would have been:
+'Ebbie, don't spill your nice milk. That's naughty.'"
+
+Her imitation of the fond mother's tone and manner was so wickedly exact
+that Dorothy laughed heartily. The others had fled to a more quiet spot,
+except Willie and Rebecca, who were fighting for a place at the keyhole of
+their mother's door. Finally, Willie gained possession of the keyhole, and
+the ingenious Rebecca, lying flat on her small stomach, peered under the
+door, and obtained a pleasing view of what was going on inside.
+
+"Listen at that!" cried Mrs. Dodd, her countenance fairly beaming with
+innocent pleasure. "I'm gettin' most as much good out of it as I would
+from goin' to the circus. Reckon it's a slipper, for it sounds just like
+little Jimmie Young's weepin' did the night I come home from my fifth
+honeymoon.
+
+"That's the only time," she went on, reminiscently, "as I was ever a
+step-ma to children what wasn't growed up. You'd think a woman as had been
+married four times afore would have knowed better 'n to get her fool head
+into a noose like that, but there seems to be only one way for folks to
+learn things, an' that's by their own experience. If we could only use
+other folks' experience, this here world would be heaven in about three
+generations, but we're so constituted that we never believe fire 'll burn
+till we poke our own fingers into it to see. Other folks' scars don't go
+no ways at all toward convincin' us.
+
+"You read lots of novels about the sorrers of step-children, but I ain't
+never come up with no epic as yet portrayin' the sufferin's of a step-ma.
+If I had a talent like your husband's got, I'll be blest if I wouldn't do
+it. What I went through with them children aged me ten years in less 'n
+three.
+
+"It was like this," she prattled on. "I'd never seen a one of 'em, they
+livin' far away from their pa, as was necessary if their pa was to get any
+peace an' happiness out 'n life, an' that lyin' creeter I married told me
+there was only three. My dear, there was eight, an' sixteen ordinary young
+ones couldn't have been no worse.
+
+"Our courtin' was done mainly in the cemetery. I'd just laid my fourth
+away in his proper place an' had the letterin' all cut nice on his side of
+the monumint, an' I was doin' the plantin' on the grave when I met my
+fate--my fifth fate, I'm speakin' of now. I allers aimed to do right by my
+husbands when they was dead no less 'n when they was livin', an' I allers
+planted each one's favourite flower on his last restin'-place, an' planted
+it thick, so 's when the last trump sounded an' they all riz up, there
+wouldn't be no one of 'em that could accuse me of bein' partial.
+
+"Some of the flowers was funny for a graveyard. One of 'em loved
+sunflowers, an' when blossomin'-time come, you could see a spot of light
+in my lot clear from the gate when you went in, an' on sunny days even
+from quite a piece outside.
+
+"Geraniums was on the next grave, red an' pink together, as William loved
+to see 'em, an' most fittin' an' appropriate. He was a queer-lookin' man,
+William was, all bald except for a little fringe of red hair around his
+head, an' his bald spot gettin' as pink as anythin' when he got mad. I
+never could abide red an' pink together, so I did my best not to rile him;
+but la sakes, my dear, red-haired folks is that touchy that you never can
+tell what's goin' to rile 'em an' what ain't. Some innercent little remark
+is as likely to set 'em off as anythin' else. All the time it's like
+carryin' a light into a fireworks place. Drop it once an' the air 'll be
+full of sky-rockets, roman candles, pinwheels, an' set pieces till you're
+that dazed you don't know where you're livin'. Don't never take no
+red-haired one, my dear, if you're anyways set on peace. I never took but
+one, but that was enough to set me dead against the breed.
+
+"Well, as I was a-sayin', James begun to woo me in the cemetery. Whenever
+you see a man in a cemetery, my dear, you can take it for granted that
+he's a new-made widower. After the first week or two, he ain't got no time
+to go to no grave, he's so busy lookin' out for the next one. When I see
+James a-waterin' an' a-weedin' on the next lot to mine, therefore, I
+knowed his sorrer was new, even though the band of crape on his hat was
+rusty an' old.
+
+"Bein' fellow-mourners, in a way, we struck up kind of a melancholy
+friendship, an' finally got to borrerin' water from each other's
+sprinklin' cans an' exchangin' flower seeds an' slips, an' even hull
+plants. That old deceiver told me it was his first wife that was a-lyin'
+there, an' showed me her name on the monumint. She was buried in her own
+folks' lot, an' I never knowed till it was too late that his own lot was
+plum full of wives, an' this here was a annex, so to speak. I dunno how I
+come to be so took in, but anyways, when James's grief had subsided
+somewhat, we decided to travel on the remainin' stretch through this vale
+of tears together.
+
+"He told me he had a beautiful home in Taylorville, but was a-livin' where
+he was so 's to be near the cemetery an' where he could look after dear
+Annie's grave. The sentiment made me think all the more of him, so 's I
+didn't hesitate, an' was even willin' to be married with one of my old
+rings, to save the expense of a new one. James allers was thrifty, an' the
+way he put it, it sounded quite reasonable, so 's that's how it comes, my
+dear, that in spite of havin' had seven husbands, I've only got six
+weddin'-rings.
+
+"I put each one on when its own proper anniversary comes around an' wear
+it till the next one, when I change again, though for one of the rings it
+makes only one day, because the fourth and seventh times I was married so
+near together. That sounds queer, my dear, but if you think it over,
+you'll see what I mean. It's fortunate, too, in a way, 'cause I found out
+by accident years afterward that my fourth weddin'-ring come out of a
+pawn-shop, an' I never took much joy out of wearin' it. Bein' just alike,
+I wore another one mostly, even when Samuel was alive, but he never
+noticed. Besides, I reckon 't wouldn't make no difference, for a man
+that'll go to a pawn-shop for a weddin'-ring ain't one to make a row about
+his wife's changin' it. When I spoke sharp to him about it, he snickered,
+an' said it was appropriate enough, though to this day I've never figured
+out precisely just what the old serpent meant by it.
+
+"Well, as I was sayin', my dear, the minister married us in good an'
+proper form, an' I must say that, though I've had all kinds of ceremonies,
+I take to the 'Piscopal one the most, in spite of havin' been brought up
+Methodis', an' hereafter I'll be married by it if the occasion should
+arise--an' we drove over to Taylorville.
+
+"The roads was dretful, but bein' experienced in marriage, I could see
+that it wasn't that that was makin' James drop the whip, an' pull back on
+the lines when he wanted the horses to go faster, an' not hear things I
+was a-sayin' to him. Finally, I says, very distinct: 'James, dear, how
+many children did you say you had?'
+
+"'Eight,' says he, clearin' his throat proud and haughty like.
+
+"'You're lyin',' says I, 'an' you know you're lyin'. You allers told me
+you had three.'
+
+"'I was speakin' of those by my first wife,' says he. 'My other wives all
+left one apiece. Ain't I never told you about 'em? I thought I had,' he
+went on, speakin' quick, 'but if I haven't, it 's because your beauty has
+made me forget all the pain an' sorrer of the past.'
+
+"With that he clicked to the horses so sudden that I was near threw out of
+the rig, but it wasn't half so bad as the other jolt he'd just give me.
+For a long time I didn't say nothin', an' there's nothin' that makes a man
+so uneasy as a woman that don't say nothin', my dear, so you just write
+that down in your little book, an' remember it. It'll come in handy long
+before you're through with your first marriage an' have begun on your
+second. Havin' been through four, I was well skilled in keepin' my mouth
+shut, an' I never said a word till we drove into the yard of the most
+disconsolate-lookin' premises I ever seen since I was took to the
+poorhouse on a visit.
+
+"'James,' says I, cool but firm, 'is this your magnificent residence?'
+
+"'It is,' says he, very soft, 'an' it is here that I welcome my bride.
+Have you ever seen anythin' like this view?'
+
+"'No,' says I, 'I never have'; an' it was gospel truth I was speakin',
+too, for never before had I been to a place where the pigsty was in
+front.
+
+"'It is a wonderful view,' says I, sarcastic like, 'but before I linger to
+admire it more, I would love to look upon the scenery inside the house.'
+
+"When we went in, I thought I was either dreamin' or had got to Bedlam.
+The seven youngest children was raisin' particular Cain, an' the oldest, a
+pretty little girl of thirteen, was doin' her best to quiet 'em. There was
+six others besides what had been accounted for, but I soon found that they
+belonged to a neighbour, an' was just visitin' to relieve the monotony.
+
+"The woman James had left takin' care of 'em had been gone two weeks an'
+more, with a month's wages still comin' to her, which James never felt
+called on to pay, on account of her havin' left without notice. James was
+dretful thrifty. The youngest one was puttin' the cat into the
+water-pitcher, an' as soon as I found out what his name was, I called him
+sharp by it an' told him to quit. He put his tongue out at me as sassy as
+you please, an' says: 'I won't.'
+
+"Well, my dear, I didn't wait to hear no more, but I opened my satchel an'
+took out one of my slippers an' give that child a lickin' that he'll
+remember when he's a grandparent. 'Hereafter,' says I, 'when I tell you to
+do anythin', you'll do it. I'll speak kind the first time an' firm the
+second, and the third time the whole thing will be illustrated so plain
+that nobody can't misunderstand it. Your pa has took me into a confidence
+game,' says I, speakin' to all the children, 'but I was never one to draw
+back from what I'd put my hand to, an' I aim to do right by you if you do
+right by me. You mind,' says I, 'an' you won't have no trouble; an' the
+same thing,' says I to James, 'applies to you.'
+
+"I felt sorry for all those poor little motherless things, with a liar for
+a pa, an' all the time I lived there, I tried to make up to 'em what I
+could, but step-mas have their sorrers, my dear, that's what they do, an'
+I ain't never seen no piece about it in the paper yet, either.
+
+"If you'll excuse me now, my dear, I'll go to my room. It's just come to
+my mind now that this here is one of my anniversaries, an' I'll have to
+look up the facts in my family Bible, an' change my ring."
+
+At dinner-time the chastised and chastened twin appeared in freshly
+starched raiment. His eyes were swollen and his face flushed, but
+otherwise his recent painful experience had remarkably improved him. He
+said "please" and "thank you," and did not even resent it when Willie
+slyly dropped a small piece of watermelon down his neck.
+
+"This afternoon," said Elaine, "Mr. Perkins composed a beautiful poem. I
+know it is beautiful, though I have not yet heard it. I do not wish to be
+selfish in my pleasure, so I will ask him to read it to us all."
+
+The poet's face suddenly became the colour of his hair. He dropped his
+napkin, and swiftly whispered to Elaine, while he was picking it up, that
+she herself was the subject of the poem.
+
+"How perfectly charming," said Elaine, clearly. "Did you hear, Mrs. Carr?
+Poor little, insignificant me has actually inspired a great poem. Oh, do
+read it, Mr. Perkins? We are all dying to hear it!"
+
+Fairly cornered, the poet muttered that he had lost it--some other
+time--wait until to-morrow--and so on.
+
+"No need to wait," said Dick, with an ironical smile. "It was lost, but
+now is found. I came upon it myself, blowing around unheeded under the
+library window, quite like a common bit of paper."
+
+Mr. Perkins was transfixed with amazement, for his cherished poem was at
+that minute in his breast pocket. He clutched at it spasmodically, to be
+sure it was still safe.
+
+Very different emotions possessed Harlan, who choked on his food. He
+instinctively guessed the worst, and saw his home in lurid ruin about him,
+but was powerless to avert the catastrophe.
+
+"Read it, Dick," said Mrs. Dodd, kindly. "We are all a-perishin' to hear
+it. I can't eat another bite until I do. I reckon it'll sound like a
+valentine," she concluded, with a malicious glance at Mr. Perkins.
+
+"I have taken the liberty," chuckled Dick, "of changing a word or two
+occasionally, to make better sense of it, and of leaving out some lines
+altogether. Every one is privileged to vary an established form." Without
+further preliminary, he read the improved version.
+
+                 "The little doggie sheds his coat,
+                   Elaine, have you forgotten?
+                 What is it goes around a button?
+                 I thought you knew that simple thing,
+                 But ideas in your head take wing.
+                   Elaine, have you forgotten?
+                 The answer is a goat.
+
+                 "How much is three times humpty-steen?
+                   Elaine, have you forgotten?
+                 Why does a chicken cross the road?
+                 Who carries home a toper's load?
+                   You are so very stupid, dear!
+                     Elaine, have you forgotten?
+
+                 "You think a mop of scarlet hair
+                 And pale green eyes----"
+
+"That will do," said Miss St. Clair, crisply. "Mr. Perkins, may I ask as a
+favour that you will not speak to me again?" She marched out with her head
+high, and Mr. Perkins, wholly unstrung, buried his face in his napkin.
+
+Harlan laughed--a loud, ringing laugh, such as Dorothy had not heard from
+him for months, and striding around the table, he grasped Dick's hand in
+tremendous relief.
+
+"Let me have it," he cried, eagerly. "Give me all of it!"
+
+"Sure," said Dick, readily, passing over both sheets of paper.
+
+Harlan went into the library with the composition, and presently, when
+Dick was walking around the house and saw bits of torn paper fluttering
+out of the open window, a light broke through his usual density.
+
+"Whew!" he said to himself. "I'll be darned! I'll be everlastingly darned!
+Idiot!" he continued, savagely. "Oh, if I could only kick myself! Poor
+Dorothy! I wonder if she knows!"
+
+
+
+
+XV
+
+Treasure-Trove
+
+
+The August moon swung high in the heavens, and the crickets chirped
+unbearably. The luminous dew lay heavily upon the surrounding fields, and
+now and then a stray breeze, amid the overhanging branches of the trees
+that lined the roadway, aroused in the consciousness of the single
+wayfarer a feeling closely akin to panic. When he reached the summit of
+the hill, he was trembling violently.
+
+In the dooryard of the Jack-o'-Lantern, he paused. It was dark, save for a
+single round window. In an upper front room a night-lamp, turned low, gave
+one leering eye to the grotesque exterior of the house.
+
+With his heart thumping loudly, Mr. Bradford leaned against a tree and
+divested himself of his shoes. From a package under his arm, he took out a
+pair of soft felt slippers, the paper rattling loudly as he did so. He put
+them on, hesitated, then went cautiously up the walk.
+
+"In all my seventy-eight years," he thought, "I have never done anything
+like this. If I had not promised the Colonel--but a promise to a dying man
+is sacred, especially when he is one's best friend."
+
+The sound of the key in the lock seemed almost like an explosion of
+dynamite. Mr. Bradford wiped the cold perspiration from his forehead,
+turned the door slowly upon its squeaky hinges, and went in, feeling like
+a burglar.
+
+"I am not a burglar," he thought, his hands shaking. "I have come to give,
+not to take away."
+
+Fearfully, he tiptoed into the parlour, expecting at any moment to arouse
+the house. Feeling his way carefully along the wall, and guided by the
+moonlight which streamed in at the side windows, he came to the wing
+occupied by Mrs. Holmes and her exuberant offspring. Here he stooped,
+awkwardly, and slipped a sealed and addressed letter under the door,
+heaving a sigh of relief as he got away without having wakened any one.
+
+The sounds which came from Mrs. Dodd's room were reassuringly suggestive
+of sleep. Hastily, he slipped another letter under her door, then made his
+way cautiously to the kitchen. The missive intended for Mrs. Smithers was
+left on the door-mat outside, for, as Mr. Bradford well knew, the ears of
+the handmaiden were uncomfortably keen.
+
+At the foot of the stairs he hesitated again, but by the time he reached
+the top, his heart had ceased to beat audibly. He tiptoed down the
+corridor to Uncle Israel's room, then, further on, to Dick's. The letter
+intended for Mr. Perkins was slipped under Elaine's door, Mr. Bradford not
+being aware that the poet had changed his room. Having safely accomplished
+his last errand, the tension relaxed, and he went downstairs with more
+assurance, his pace being unduly hastened by a subdued howl from one of
+the twins.
+
+Bidding himself be calm, he got to the front door, and drew a long breath
+of relief as he closed it noiselessly. There was a light in Mrs. Holmes's
+room now, and Mr. Bradford did not wish to linger. He gathered up his
+shoes and fairly ran downhill, arriving at his office much shaken in mind
+and body, nearly two hours after he had started.
+
+"I do not know," he said to himself, "why the Colonel should have been so
+particular as to dates and hours, but he knew his own business best."
+Then, further in accordance with his instructions, he burned a number of
+letters which could not be delivered personally.
+
+If Mr. Bradford could have seen the company which met at the breakfast
+table the following morning, he would have been amply repaid for his
+supreme effort of the night before, had he been blessed with any sense of
+humour at all. The Carrs were untroubled, and Elaine appeared as usual,
+except for her haughty indifference to Mr. Perkins. She thought he had
+written a letter to himself and slipped it under her door, in order to
+compel her to speak to him, but she had tactfully avoided that difficulty
+by leaving it on his own threshold. Dick's eyes were dancing and at
+intervals his mirth bubbled over, needlessly, as every one else appeared
+to think.
+
+"I doesn't know wot folks finds to laugh at," remarked Mrs. Smithers, as
+she brought in the coffee; "that's wot I doesn't. It's a solemn time, I
+take it, when the sheeted spectres of the dead walks abroad by night,
+that's wot it is. It's time for folks to be thinkin' about their immortal
+souls."
+
+This enigmatical utterance produced a startling effect. Mr. Perkins turned
+a pale green and hastily excused himself, his breakfast wholly untouched.
+Mrs. Holmes dropped her fork and recovered it in evident confusion. Mrs.
+Dodd's face was a bright scarlet and appeared about to burst, but she kept
+her lips compressed into a thin, tight line. Uncle Israel nodded over his
+predigested food. "Just so," he mumbled; "a solemn time."
+
+Eagerly watching for an opportunity, Mrs. Holmes dived into the barn, and
+emerged, cautiously, with the spade concealed under her skirts. She
+carried it into her own apartment and hid it under Willie's bed. Mrs.
+Smithers went to look for it a little later, and, discovering that it was
+unaccountably missing, excavated her own private spade from beneath the
+hay. During the afternoon, the poet was observed lashing the fire-shovel
+to the other end of a decrepit rake. Uncle Israel, after a fruitless
+search of the premises, actually went to town and came back with a bulky
+and awkward parcel, which he hid in the shrubbery.
+
+Meanwhile, Willie had gone whimpering to Mrs. Dodd, who was in serious
+trouble of her own. "I'm afraid," he admitted, when closely questioned.
+
+"Afraid of what?" demanded his counsellor, sharply.
+
+"I'm afraid of ma," sobbed Willie. "She's a-goin' to bury me. She's got
+the spade hid under my bed now."
+
+Sudden emotion completely changed Mrs. Dodd's countenance. "There, there,
+Willie," she said, stroking him kindly. "Where is your ma?"
+
+"She's out in the orchard with Ebbie and Rebbie."
+
+"Well now, deary, don't you say nothin' at all to your ma, an' we'll fool
+her. The idea of buryin' a nice little boy like you! You just go an' get
+me that spade an' I'll hide it in my room. Then, when your ma asks for it,
+you don't know nothin' about it. See?"
+
+Willie's troubled face brightened, and presently the implement was under
+Mrs. Dodd's own bed, and her door locked. Much relieved in his mind and
+cherishing kindly sentiments toward his benefactor, Willie slid down the
+banisters, unrebuked, the rest of the afternoon.
+
+Meanwhile Mrs. Dodd sat on the porch and meditated. "I'd never have
+thought," she said to herself, "that Ebeneezer would intend that Holmes
+woman to have any of it, but you never can tell what folks'll do when
+their minds gets to failin' at the end. Ebeneezer's mind must have failed
+dretful, for I know he didn't make no promise to her, same as he did to
+me, an' if she don't suspect nothin', what did she go an' get the spade
+for? Dretful likely hand it is, for spirit writin'."
+
+Looking about furtively to make sure that she was not observed, Mrs. Dodd
+drew out of the mysterious recesses of her garments, the crumpled
+communication of the night before. It was dated, "Heaven, August 12th,"
+and the penmanship was Uncle Ebeneezer's to the life.
+
+"Dear Belinda," it read. "I find myself at the last moment obliged to
+change my plans. If you will go to the orchard at exactly twelve o'clock
+on the night of August 13th, you will find there what you seek. Go
+straight ahead to the ninth row of apple trees, then seven trees to the
+left. A cat's skull hangs from the lower branch, if it hasn't blown down
+or been taken away. Dig here and you will find a tin box containing what I
+have always meant you to have.
+
+"I charge you by all you hold sacred to obey these directions in every
+particular, and unless you want to lose it all, to say nothing about it to
+any one who may be in the house.
+
+"I am sorry to put you to this inconvenience, but the limitations of the
+spirit world cannot well be explained to mortals. I hope you will make a
+wise use of the money and not spend it all on clothes, as women are apt to
+do.
+
+"In conclusion, let me say that I am very happy in heaven, though it is
+considerably more quiet than any place I ever lived in before. I have met
+a great many friends here, but no relatives except my wife. Farewell, as I
+shall probably never see you again.
+
+"Yours,
+
+                                                      "Ebeneezer Judson.
+
+"P.S. All of your previous husbands are here, in the sunny section set
+aside for martyrs. None of them give you a good reputation.
+
+                                                                 "E. J."
+
+"Don't it beat all," muttered Mrs. Dodd to herself, excitedly. "Here was
+Ebeneezer at my door last night, an' I never knowed it. Sakes alive, if I
+had knowed it, I wouldn't have slep' like I did. Here comes that Holmes
+hussy. Wonder what she knows!"
+
+"Do you believe in spirits, Mrs. Dodd?" inquired Mrs. Holmes, in a
+careless tone that did not deceive her listener.
+
+"Depends," returned the other, with an evident distaste for the subject.
+
+"Do you believe spirits can walk?"
+
+"I ain't never seen no spirits walk, but I've seen folks try to walk that
+was full of spirits, and there wa'n't no visible improvement in their
+steppin'." This was a pleasant allusion to the departed Mr. Holmes, who
+was currently said to have "drunk hisself to death."
+
+A scarlet flush, which mounted to the roots of Mrs. Holmes's hair,
+indicated that the shot had told, and Mrs. Dodd went to her own room,
+where she carefully locked herself in. She was determined to sit upon her
+precious spade until midnight, if it were necessary, to keep it.
+
+Mrs. Smithers was sitting up in bed with the cold perspiration oozing from
+every pore, when the kitchen clock struck twelve sharp, quick strokes. The
+other clocks in the house took up the echo and made merry with it. The
+grandfather's clock in the hall was the last to strike, and the twelve
+deep-toned notes boomed a solemn warning which, to more than one quaking
+listener, bore a strong suggestion of another world--an uncanny world at
+that.
+
+"Guess I'll go along," said Dick to himself, yawning and stretching. "I
+might just as well see the fun."
+
+Mrs. Smithers, with her private spade and her odorous lantern, was at the
+spot first, closely seconded by Mrs. Dodd, in a voluminous garment of red
+flannel which had seen all of its best days and not a few of its worst.
+Trembling from head to foot, came Mrs. Holmes, carrying a pair of shears,
+which she had snatched up at the last moment when she discovered the spade
+was missing. Mr. Perkins, fully garbed, appeared with his improvised
+shovel. Uncle Israel, in his piebald dressing-gown, tottered along in the
+rear, bearing his spade, still unwrapped, his bedroom candle, and a box of
+matches. Dick surveyed the scene from a safe, shadowy distance, and on a
+branch near the skull, Claudius Tiberius was stretched at full length,
+purring with a loud, resonant purr which could be heard from afar.
+
+After the first shock of surprise, which was especially keen on the part
+of Mrs. Dodd, when she saw Uncle Israel in the company, Mrs. Smithers
+broke the silence.
+
+"It's nothink more nor a wild-goose chase," she said, resentfully.
+"A-gettin' us all out'n our beds at this time o' night! It's a sufferin'
+and dyin' shame, that's wot it is, and if sperrits was like other folks,
+'t wouldn't 'ave happened."
+
+"Sarah," said Mrs. Dodd, firmly, "keep your mouth shut. Israel, will you
+dig?"
+
+"We'll all dig," said Mrs. Holmes, in the voice of authority, and
+thereafter the dirt flew briskly enough, accompanied by the laboured
+breathing of perspiring humanity.
+
+It was Uncle Israel's spade that first touched the box, and, with a cry of
+delight, he stooped for it, as did everybody else. By sheer force of
+muscle, Mrs. Dodd got it away from him.
+
+"This wrangle," sighed Mr. Perkins, "is both unseemly and sordid. Let us
+all agree to abide by dear Uncle Ebeneezer's last bequests."
+
+"There won't be no desire not to abide by 'em," snorted Mrs. Smithers,
+"wot with cats as can't stay buried and sheeted spectres of the dead
+a-walkin' through the house by night!"
+
+By this time, Mrs. Dodd had the box open, and a cry of astonishment broke
+from her lips. Several heads were badly bumped in the effort to peep into
+the box, and an unprotected sneeze from Uncle Israel added to the general
+unpleasantness.
+
+"You can all go away," cried Mrs. Dodd, shrilly. "There's two one-dollar
+bills here, two quarters, an' two nickels an' eight pennies. 'T aint
+nothin' to be fit over."
+
+"But the letter," suggested Mr. Perkins, hopefully. "Is there not a letter
+from dear Uncle Ebeneezer? Let us gather around the box in a reverent
+spirit and listen to dear Uncle Ebeneezer's last words."
+
+"You can read 'em," snapped Mrs. Holmes, "if you're set on hearing."
+
+Uncle Israel wheezed so loudly that for the moment he drowned the deep
+purr of Claudius Tiberius. When quiet was restored, Mr. Perkins broke the
+seal of the envelope and unfolded the communication within. Uncle Israel
+held the dripping candle on one side and Mrs. Smithers the smoking lantern
+on the other, while near by, Dick watched the midnight assembly with an
+unholy glee which, in spite of his efforts, nearly became audible.
+
+"How beautiful," said Mr. Perkins, "to think that dear Uncle Ebeneezer's
+last words should be given to us in this unexpected but original way."
+
+"Shut up," said Mrs. Smithers, emphatically, "and read them last words.
+I'm gettin' the pneumony now, that's wot I am."
+
+"You're the only one," chirped Mrs. Dodd, hysterically. "The money in this
+here box is all old." It was, indeed. Mr. Judson seemed to have purposely
+chosen ragged bills and coins worn smooth.
+
+"'Dear Relations,'" began Mr. Perkins. "'As every one of you have at one
+time or another routed me out of bed to let you in when you have come to
+my house on the night train, and always uninvited----'"
+
+"I never did," interrupted Mrs. Holmes. "I always came in the daytime."
+
+"Nobody ain't come at night," explained Mrs. Smithers, "since 'e fixed the
+'ouse over into a face. One female fainted dead away when 'er started up
+the hill and see it a-winkin' at 'er, yes sir, that's wot 'er did!"
+
+"'It seems only fitting and appropriate,'" continued Mr. Perkins, "'that
+you should all see how it seems.'" The poet wiped his massive brow with
+his soiled handkerchief. "Dear uncle!" he commented.
+
+"Yes," wheezed Uncle Israel, "'dear uncle!' Damn his stingy old soul," he
+added, with uncalled-for emphasis.
+
+"It gives me pleasure to explain in this fashion my disposal of my
+estate," the reader went on, huskily.
+
+"Of all the connection on both sides, there is only one that has never
+been to see me, unless I've forgotten some, and that is my beloved nephew,
+James Harlan Carr."
+
+"Him," creaked Uncle Israel. "Him, as never see Ebeneezer."
+
+"He has never," continued the poet, with difficulty, "rung my door bell at
+night, nor eaten me out of house and home, nor written begging letters--"
+this phrase was well-nigh inaudible--"nor had fits on me----"
+
+Here there was a pause and all eyes were fastened upon Uncle Israel.
+
+"'T wa'n't a fit!" he screamed. "It was a involuntary spasm brought on by
+takin' two searchin' medicines too near together. 'T wa'n't a fit!"
+
+"Nor children----"
+
+"The idea!" snapped Mrs. Holmes. "Poor little Ebbie and Rebbie had to be
+born somewhere."
+
+"Nor paralysis----"
+
+"That was Cousin Si Martin," said Mrs. Dodd, half to herself. "He was took
+bad with it in the night."
+
+"He has never come to spend Christmas with me and remained until the
+ensuing dog days, nor sent me a crayon portrait of himself"--Mr. Perkins
+faltered here, but nobly went on--"nor had typhoid fever, nor finished up
+his tuberculosis, nor cut teeth, nor set the house on fire with a bath
+cabinet----"
+
+At this juncture Uncle Israel was so overcome with violent emotion that it
+was some time before the reading could proceed.
+
+"Never having come into any kind of relations with my dear nephew, James
+Harlan Carr," continued Mr. Perkins, in troubled tones, "I have shown my
+gratitude in this humble way. To him I give the house and all my
+furniture, my books and personal effects of every kind, my farm in Hill
+County, two thousand acres, all improved and clear of incumbrance, except
+blooded stock,----"
+
+"I never knowed 'e 'ad no farm," interrupted Mrs. Smithers.
+
+"And the ten thousand and eighty-four dollars in the City Bank which at
+this writing is there to my credit, but will be duly transferred, and my
+dear Rebecca's diamond pin to be given to my beloved nephew's wife when he
+marries. It is all in my will, which my dear friend Jeremiah Bradford has,
+and which he will read at the proper time to those concerned."
+
+"The old snake!" shrieked Mrs. Holmes.
+
+"Further," went on the poet, almost past speech by this time, "I direct
+that the remainder of my estate, which is here in this box, shall be
+divided as follows:
+
+"Eight cents each to that loafer, Si Martin, his lazy wife, and their
+eight badly brought-up children, with instructions to be generous to any
+additions to said children through matrimony or natural causes; Fanny Wood
+and that poor, white-livered creature she married, thereby proving her own
+idiocy if it needed proof; Uncle James's cross-eyed third wife and her two
+silly daughters; Rebecca's sister's scoundrelly second husband, with his
+foolish wife and their little boy with a face like a pug dog; Uncle Jason,
+who has needed a bath ever since I knew him--I want he should spend his
+legacy for soap--and his epileptic stepson, whose name I forget, though he
+lived with me five years hand-running; lying Sally Simmons and her
+half-witted daughter; that old hen, Belinda Dodd; that skunk, Harold
+Vernon Perkins, who never did a stroke of honest work in his life till he
+began to dig for this box; monkey-faced Lucretia and the four thieving
+little Riley children, who are likely to get into prison when they grow
+up; that human undertaker's waggon, Betsey Skiles, and her two impudent
+nieces; that grand old perambulating drug store, Israel Skiles; that
+Holmes fool with the three reprints of her ugliness--eight cents apiece,
+and may you get all possible good out of it.
+
+"Dick Chester, however, having always paid his board, and tried to be a
+help to me in several small ways, and in spite of having lived with me
+eight Summers or more without having been asked to do so, gets two
+thousand two hundred and fifty dollars which is deposited for him in the
+savings department of the Metropolitan Bank, plus the three hundred and
+seventy dollars he paid me for board without my asking him for it. Sarah
+Smithers, being in the main a good woman, though sharp-tongued at times,
+and having been faithful all the time my house has been full of lowdown
+cusses too lazy to work for their living, gets twelve hundred and fifty
+dollars which is in the same bank as Dick's. The rest of you take your
+eight cents apiece and be damned. You can get the money changed at the
+store. If any have been left out, it is my desire that those remembered
+should divide with the unfortunate.
+
+"If you had not all claimed to be Rebecca's relatives, you would have been
+kicked out of my house years ago, but since writing this, I have seen
+Rebecca and made it right with her. It was not her desire that I should be
+imposed upon.
+
+"Get out of my house, every one of you, before noon to-morrow, and the
+devil has my sincere sympathy when you go to live with him and make hell
+what you have made my house ever since Rebecca's death. GET OUT!!!
+
+                                                     "Ebeneezer Judson."
+
+The letter was badly written and incoherent, yet there could be no doubt
+of its meaning, nor of the state of mind in which it had been penned. For
+a moment, there was a tense silence, then Mrs. Dodd tittered
+hysterically.
+
+"We thought diamonds was goin' to be trumps," she observed, "an' it turned
+out to be spades."
+
+Uncle Israel wheezed again and Mrs. Smithers smacked her lips with intense
+satisfaction. Mrs. Holmes was pale with anger, and, under cover of the
+night, Dick sneaked back to his room, shame-faced, yet happy. Claudius
+Tiberius still purred, sticking his claws into the bark with every
+evidence of pleasure.
+
+"I do not know," said Mr. Perkins, sadly, running his fingers through his
+mane, "whether we are obliged to take as final these vagaries of a dying
+man. Dear Uncle Ebeneezer could not have been sane when he penned this
+cruel letter. I do not believe it was his desire to have any of us go away
+before the usual time." Under cover of these forgiving sentiments, he
+pocketed all the money in the box.
+
+"Me neither," said Mrs. Dodd. "Anyhow, I'm goin' to stay. No sheeted
+spectre can't scare me away from a place I've always stayed in Summers,
+'specially," she added, sarcastically, "when I'm remembered in the will."
+
+Mrs. Smithers clucked disagreeably and went back to the house. Uncle
+Israel looked after her with dismay. "Do you suppose," he queried, in
+falsetto, "that she'll tell the Carrs?"
+
+"Hush, Israel," replied Mrs. Dodd. "She can't tell them Carrs about our
+diggin' all night in the orchard, 'cause she was here herself. They didn't
+get no spirit communication an' they won't suspect nothin'. We'll just
+stay where we be an' go on 's if nothin' had happened."
+
+Indeed, this seemed the wisest plan, and, shivering with the cold, the
+baffled ones filed back to the Jack-o'-Lantern. "How did you get out,
+Israel?" whispered Mrs. Dodd, as they approached the house.
+
+The old man snickered. It was the only moment of the evening he had
+thoroughly enjoyed. "The same spirit that give me the letter, Belinda," he
+returned, pleasantly, "also give me a key. You didn't think I had no
+flyin' machine, did you?"
+
+"Humph" grunted Mrs. Dodd. "Spirits don't carry no keys!"
+
+At the threshold they paused, the sensitive poet quite unstrung by the
+night's adventure. From the depths of the Jack-o'-Lantern came a shrill,
+infantile cry.
+
+"Is that Ebbie," asked Mrs. Dodd, "or Rebbie?"
+
+Mrs. Holmes turned upon her with suppressed fury. "Don't you ever dare to
+allude to my children in that manner again," she commanded, hoarsely.
+
+"What is their names?" quavered Uncle Israel, lighting his candle.
+
+"Their names," returned Mrs. Holmes, with a vast accession of dignity,
+"are Gladys Gwendolen and Algernon Paul! Good night!"
+
+Just before dawn, a sheeted spectre appeared at the side of Sarah
+Smither's bed, and swore the trembling woman to secrecy. It was long past
+sunrise before the frightened handmaiden came to her senses enough to
+recall that the voice of the apparition had been strangely like Mrs.
+Dodd's.
+
+
+
+
+XVI
+
+Good Fortune
+
+
+The next morning, Harlan and Dorothy ate breakfast by themselves. There
+was suppressed excitement in the manner of Mrs. Smithers, who by this time
+had quite recovered from her fright, and, as they readily saw, not wholly
+of an unpleasant kind. From time to time she tittered audibly--a thing
+which had never happened before.
+
+"It's just as if a tombstone should giggle," remarked Harlan. His tone was
+low, but unfortunately, it carried well.
+
+"Tombstone or not, just as you like," responded Mrs. Smithers, as she came
+in with the bacon. "I'd be careful 'ow I spoke disrespectfully of
+tombstones if I was in your places, that's wot I would. Tombstones is kind
+to some and cussed to others, that's wot they are, and if you don't like
+the monument wot's at present in your kitchen, you know wot you can do."
+
+After breakfast, she beckoned Dorothy into the kitchen, and "gave
+notice."
+
+"Oh, Mrs. Smithers," cried Dorothy, almost moved to tears, "please don't
+leave me in the lurch! What should I do without you, with all these people
+on my hands? Don't think of such a thing as leaving me!"
+
+"Miss Carr," said Mrs. Smithers, solemnly, with one long bony finger laid
+alongside of her hooked nose, "'t ain't necessary for you to run no Summer
+hotel, that's what it ain't. These 'ere all be relations of your uncle's
+wife and none of his'n except by marriage. Wot's more, your uncle don't
+want 'em 'ere, that's wot 'e don't."
+
+Mrs. Smithers's tone was so confident that for the moment Dorothy was
+startled, remembering yesterday's vague allusion to "sheeted spectres of
+the dead."
+
+"What do you mean?" she demanded.
+
+"Miss Carr," returned Mrs. Smithers, with due dignity, "ever since I come
+'ere, I've been invited to shut my 'ead whenever I opened it about that
+there cat or your uncle or anythink, as you well knows. I was never one
+wot was fond of 'avin' my 'ead shut up."
+
+"Go on," said Dorothy, her curiosity fully alive, "and tell me what you
+mean."
+
+"You gives me your solemn oath, Miss, that you won't tell me to shut my
+'ead?" queried Mrs. Smithers.
+
+"Of course," returned Dorothy, trying to be practical, though the
+atmosphere was sepulchral enough.
+
+"Well, then, you knows wot I told you about that there cat. 'E was kilt by
+your uncle, that's wot 'e was, and your uncle couldn't never abide cats.
+'E was that feared of 'em 'e couldn't even bury 'em when they was kilt,
+and one of my duties, Miss, as long as I lived with 'im, was buryin' of
+cats, and until this one, I never come up with one wot couldn't stay
+buried, that's wot I 'aven't.
+
+"'E 'ated 'em like poison, that's wot 'e did. The week afore your uncle
+died, he kilt this 'ere cat wot's chasin' the chickens now, and I buried
+'im with my own hands, but could 'e stay buried? 'E could not. No sooner
+is your uncle dead and gone than this 'ere cat comes back, and it's the
+truth, Miss Carr, for where 'e was buried, there ain't no sign of a cat
+now. Wot's worse, this 'ere cat looks per-cisely like your uncle, green
+eyes, white shirt front, black tie and all. It's enough to give a body the
+shivers to see 'im a-settin' on the kitchen floor lappin' up 'is mush and
+milk, the which your uncle was so powerful fond of.
+
+"Wot's more," continued Mrs. Smithers, in tones of awe, "I'll a'most bet
+my immortal soul that if you'll dig in the cemetery where your uncle was
+buried good and proper, you won't find nothin' but the empty coffin and
+maybe 'is grave clothes. Your uncle's been livin' with us all along in
+that there cat," she added, triumphantly. "It's 'is punishment, for 'e
+couldn't never abide 'em, that's wot 'e couldn't."
+
+Mrs. Carr opened her mouth to speak, then, remembering her promise, took
+refuge in flight.
+
+"'Er's scared," muttered Mrs. Smithers, "and no wonder. Wot with cats as
+can't stay buried, writin' letters and deliverin' 'em in the dead of
+night, and a purrin' like mad while blamed fools digs for eight cents,
+most folks would be scared, I take it, that's wot they would."
+
+Dorothy was pale when she went into the library where Harlan was at work.
+He frowned at the interruption and Dorothy smiled back at him--it seemed
+so normal and sane.
+
+"What is it, Dorothy?" he asked, not unkindly.
+
+"Oh--just Mrs. Smithers's nonsense. She's upset me."
+
+"What about, dear?" Harlan put his work aside readily enough now.
+
+"Oh, the same old story about the cat and Uncle Ebeneezer. And I'm
+afraid----"
+
+"Afraid of what?"
+
+"I know it's foolish, but I'm afraid she's going to dig in the cemetery to
+see if Uncle Ebeneezer is still there. She thinks he's in the cat."
+
+For the moment, Harlan thought Dorothy had suddenly lost her reason, then
+he laughed heartily.
+
+"Don't worry," he said, "she won't do anything of the kind, and, besides,
+what if she did? It's a free country, isn't it?"
+
+"And--there's another thing, Harlan." For days she had dreaded to speak of
+it, but now it could be put off no longer.
+
+"It's--it's money," she went on, unwillingly. "I'm afraid I haven't
+managed very well, or else it's cost so much for everything, but
+we're--we're almost broke, Harlan," she concluded, bravely, trying to
+smile.
+
+Harlan put his hands in his pockets and began to walk back and forth. "If
+I can only finish the book," he said, at length, "I think we'll be all
+right, but I can't leave it now. There's only two more chapters to write,
+and then----"
+
+"And then," cried Dorothy, her beautiful belief in him transfiguring her
+face, "then we'll be rich, won't we?"
+
+"I am already rich," returned Harlan, "when you have such faith in me as
+that."
+
+For a moment the shimmering veil of estrangement which so long had hung
+between them, seemed to part, and reveal soul to soul. As swiftly the mood
+changed and Dorothy felt it first, like a chill mist in the air. Neither
+dreamed that with the writing of the first paragraph in the book, the
+spell had claimed one of them for ever--that cobweb after cobweb, of
+gossamer fineness, should make a fabric never to be broken; that on one
+side of it should stand a man who had exchanged his dreams for realities
+and his realities for dreams, and on the other, a woman, blindly hurt,
+eternally straining to see beyond the veil.
+
+"What can we do?" asked Harlan, unwontedly practical for the nonce.
+
+"I don't know," said Dorothy. "There are the diamonds, you know, that we
+found. I don't care for any diamonds, except the one you gave me. If we
+could sell those----"
+
+"Dorothy, don't. I don't believe they're ours, and if they were, they
+shouldn't be sold. You should keep them."
+
+"My engagement ring, then," suggested Dorothy, her lips trembling. "That's
+ours."
+
+"Don't be foolish," said Harlan, a little roughly. "I'll finish this and
+then we'll see what's to be done."
+
+Feeling her dismissal, Dorothy went out, and, all unknowingly, straight
+into the sunshine.
+
+Elaine was coming downstairs, fresh and sweet as the morning itself. "Am I
+too late to have any breakfast, Mrs. Carr?" she asked, gaily. "I know I
+don't deserve any."
+
+"Of course you shall have breakfast. I'll see to it."
+
+Elaine took her place at the table and Dorothy, reluctant to put further
+strain on the frail bond that anchored Mrs. Smithers to her service,
+brought in the breakfast herself.
+
+"You're so good to me," said the girl, gratefully, as Dorothy poured out a
+cup of steaming coffee. "To think how beautiful you've been to me, when I
+never saw either one of you in my whole life, till I came here ill and
+broken-hearted! See what you've made of me--see how well and strong I
+am!"
+
+Swiftly, Dorothy bent and kissed Elaine, a strange, shadowy cloud for ever
+lifted from her heart. She had not known how heavy it was nor how charged
+with foreboding, until it was gone.
+
+"I want to do something for you," Elaine went on, laughing to hide the
+mist in her eyes, "and I've just thought what I can do. My mother had some
+beautiful old mahogany furniture, just loads of it, and some wonderful
+laces, and I'm going to divide with you."
+
+"No, you're not," returned Dorothy, warmly. She felt that Elaine had
+already given her enough.
+
+"It isn't meant for payment, Mrs. Carr," the girl went on, her big blue
+eyes fixed upon Dorothy, "but you're to take it from me just as I've taken
+this lovely Summer from you. You took in a stranger, weak and helpless and
+half-crazed with grief, and you've made her into a happy woman again."
+
+Before Dorothy could answer, Dick lounged in, frankly sleepy. "Second call
+in the dining car?" he asked, taking Mrs. Dodd's place, across the table
+from Elaine.
+
+"Third call," returned Dorothy, brightly, "and, if you don't mind, I'll
+leave you two to wait on yourselves." She went upstairs, her heart light,
+not so much from reality as from prescience. "How true it is," she
+thought, "that if you only wait and do the best you can, things all work
+out straight again. I've had to learn it, but I know it now."
+
+"Bully bunch, the Carrs," remarked Dick, pushing his cup to Elaine.
+
+"They're lovely," she answered, with conviction.
+
+The sun streamed brightly into the dining-room of the Jack-o'-Lantern and
+changed its hideousness into cheer. Seeing Elaine across from him,
+gracefully pouring his coffee, affected Dick strangely. Since the day
+before, he had seen clearly something which he must do.
+
+"I say, Elaine," he began, awkwardly. "That beast of a poem I read the
+other day----"
+
+Her face paled, ever so slightly. "Yes?"
+
+"Well, Perkins didn't write it, you know," Dick went on, hastily. "I did
+it myself. Or, rather I found it, blowing around, outside, just as I said,
+and I fixed it."
+
+At length he became restless under the calm scrutiny of Elaine's clear
+eyes. "I beg your pardon," he continued.
+
+"Did you think," she asked, "that it was nice to make fun of a lady in
+that way?"
+
+"I didn't think," returned Dick, truthfully. "I never thought for a minute
+that it was making fun of you, but only of that--that pup, Perkins," he
+concluded, viciously.
+
+"Under the circumstances," said Elaine, ignoring the epithet, "the silence
+of Mr. Perkins has been very noble. I shall tell him so."
+
+"Do," answered Dick, with difficulty. "He's ambling up to the
+lunch-counter now." Mr. Chester went out by way of the window, swallowing
+hard.
+
+"I have just been told," said Miss St. Clair to the poet, "that
+the--er--poem was not written by you, and I apologise for what I said."
+
+Mr. Perkins bowed in acknowledgment. "It is a small matter," he said,
+wearily, running his fingers through his hair. It was, indeed, compared
+with deep sorrow of a penetrating kind, and a sleepless night, but Elaine
+did not relish the comment.
+
+"Were--were you restless in the night?" she asked, conventionally.
+
+"I was. I did not sleep at all until after four o'clock, and then only for
+a few moments."
+
+"I'm sorry. Did--did you write anything?"
+
+"I began an epic," answered the poet, touched, for the moment, by this
+unexpected sympathy. "An epic in blank verse, on 'Disappointment.'"
+
+"I'm sure it's beautiful," continued Elaine, coldly. "And that reminds me.
+I have hunted through my room, in every possible place, and found
+nothing."
+
+A flood of painful emotion overwhelmed the poet, and he buried his face in
+his hands. In a flash, Elaine was violently angry, though she could not
+have told why. She marched out of the dining-room and slammed the door.
+"Delicate, sensitive soul," she said to herself, scornfully. "Wants people
+to hunt for money he thinks may be hidden in his room, and yet is so far
+above sordidness that he can't hear it spoken of!"
+
+Seeing Mr. Chester pacing back and forth moodily at some distance from the
+house, Elaine rushed out to him. "Dick," she cried, "he _is_ a lobster!"
+
+Dick's clouded face brightened. "Is he?" he asked, eagerly, knowing
+instinctively whom she meant. "Elaine, you're a brick!" They shook hands
+in token of absolute agreement upon one subject at least, and the girl's
+right hand hurt her for some little time afterward.
+
+Left to himself, Mr. Perkins mused upon the dread prospect before him. For
+years he had calculated upon a generous proportion of his Uncle
+Ebeneezer's estate, and had even borrowed money upon the strength of his
+expectations. These debts now loomed up inconveniently.
+
+The vulgar, commercial people from whom Mr. Perkins had borrowed filthy
+coin were quite capable of speaking of the matter, and in an unpleasant
+manner at that. The fine soul of Mr. Perkins shrank from the ordeal. He
+had that particular disdain of commercialism which is inseparable from the
+incapable and unsuccessful, and yet, if the light of his genius were to
+illuminate a desolate world, Mr. Perkins must have money.
+
+He might even have to degrade himself by coarse toil--and hitherto, he had
+been too proud to work. The thought was terrible. Pegasus hitched to the
+plough was nothing compared with the prospect of Mr. Perkins being obliged
+to earn three or four dollars a week in some humble, common capacity.
+
+Then a bright idea came to his rescue. "Mr. Carr," he thought, "the
+gentleman who is now entertaining me--he is doing my own kind of work,
+though of course it is less fine in quality. Perhaps he would like the
+opportunity of going down to posterity as the humble Mæcenas of a new
+Horace."
+
+Borne to the library in the rush of this attractive idea, Mr. Perkins
+opened the door, which Harlan had forgotten to lock, and without in any
+way announcing himself, broke in on Harlan's chapter.
+
+"What do you mean?" demanded the irate author. "What business have you
+butting in here like this? Get out!"
+
+"I--" stammered Mr. Perkins.
+
+"Get out!" thundered Harlan. It sounded strangely like the last phrase of
+"dear Uncle Ebeneezer's last communication," and, trembling, the
+disconsolate poet obeyed. He fled to his own room as a storm-tossed ship
+to its last harbour, and renewed the composition of his epic on
+"Disappointment," for which, by this time, he had additional material.
+
+Harlan went back to his work, but the mood was gone. The living, radiant
+picture had wholly vanished, and in its place was a heap of dead, dry,
+meaningless words. "Did I write it?" asked Harlan, of himself, "and if so,
+why?"
+
+Like the mocking fantasy of a dream as seen in the instant of waking,
+Elaine and her company had gone, as if to return no more. Only two
+chapters were yet to be written, and he knew, vaguely, what Elaine was
+about to do when he left her, but his pen had lost the trick of writing.
+
+Deeply troubled, Harlan went to the window, where the outer world still
+had the curious appearance of unreality. It was as though a sheet of glass
+were between him and the life of the rest of the world. He could see
+through it clearly, but the barrier was there, and must always be there.
+Upon the edge of this glass, the light of life should break and resolve
+itself into prismatic colours, of which he should see one at a time, now
+and then more, and often a clear, pitiless view of the world should give
+him no colour at all.
+
+Presently Lawyer Bradford came up the hill, dressed for a formal call. In
+a flash it brought back to Harlan the day the old man had first come to
+the Jack-o'-Lantern, when Dorothy was a happy girl with a care-free boy
+for a husband. How much had happened since, and how old and grey the world
+had grown!
+
+"I desire to see the distinguished author, Mr. Carr," the thin, piping
+voice was saying at the door, "upon a matter of immediate and personal
+importance. And Mrs. Carr also, if she is at leisure. Privacy is
+absolutely essential."
+
+"Come into the library," said Harlan, from the doorway. Another
+interruption made no difference now. Dorothy soon followed, much mystified
+by the way in which Mrs. Smithers had summoned her.
+
+Remembering the inopportune intrusion of Mr. Perkins, Harlan locked the
+door. "Now, Mr. Bradford," he said, easily, "what is it?"
+
+"I should have told you before," began the old lawyer, "had not the bonds
+of silence been laid upon me by one whom we all revere and who is now past
+carrying out his own desires. The house is yours, as my letters of an
+earlier date apprised you, and the will is to be probated at the Fall term
+of court.
+
+"Your uncle," went on Mr. Bradford, unwillingly, "was a great sufferer
+from--from relations," he added, lowering his voice to a shrill whisper,
+"and he has chosen to revenge himself for his sufferings in his own way.
+Of this I am not at liberty to speak, though no definite silence was
+required of me later than yesterday.
+
+"There is, however, a farm of two thousand acres, all improved, which is
+still to come to you, and a sum of money amounting to something over ten
+thousand dollars, in the bank to your credit. The multitudinous duties in
+connection with the practice of my profession have prevented me from
+making myself familiar with the exact amount.
+
+"And," he went on, looking at Dorothy, "there is a very beautiful diamond
+pin, the gift of my lamented friend to his lovely young wife upon the day
+of the solemnisation of their nuptials, which was to be given to the wife
+of Mr. Judson's nephew when he should marry. It is sewn in a mattress in
+the room at the end of the north wing."
+
+The earth whirled beneath Dorothy's feet. At first, she had not fully
+comprehended what Mr. Bradford was saying, but now she realised that they
+had passed from pinching poverty to affluence--at least it seemed so to
+her. Harlan was not so readily confused, but none the less, he, too, was
+dazed. Neither of them could speak.
+
+"I should be grateful," the old man was saying, "if you would ask Mr.
+Richard Chester and Mrs. Sarah Smithers to come to my office at their
+earliest convenience. I will not trespass upon their valuable time at
+present."
+
+There was a long silence, during which Mr. Bradford cleared his throat,
+and wiped his glasses several times. "The farm has always been held in my
+name," he continued, "to protect our lamented friend and benefactor from
+additional disturbance. If--if the relations had known, his life would
+have been even less peaceful than it was. A further farm, valued at twelve
+thousand dollars, and also held in my name, is my friend's last gift to
+me, as I discovered by opening a personal letter which was to be kept
+sealed until this morning. I did not open it until late in the morning,
+not wishing to show unseemly eagerness to pry into my friend's affairs. I
+am too much affected to speak of it--I feel his loss too keenly. He was my
+Colonel--I served under him in the war."
+
+A mist filled the old man's eyes and he fumbled for the door-knob. Harlan
+found it for him, turned the key, and opened the door. Mrs. Dodd, Mrs.
+Holmes, Mrs. Smithers, and the suffering poet were all in the hall, their
+attitudes plainly indicating that they had been listening at the door, but
+something in Mr. Bradford's face made them huddle back into the corner,
+ashamed.
+
+Feeling his way with his cane, he went to the parlour door, where he stood
+for a moment at the threshold, his streaming eyes fixed upon the portrait
+over the mantel. The simple dignity of his grief forbade a word from any
+one. At length he straightened himself, brought his trembling hand to his
+forehead in a feeble military salute, and, wiping his eyes, tottered off
+downhill.
+
+
+
+
+XVII
+
+The Lady Elaine knows her Heart
+
+
+_It was on a dark and stormy midnight, when the thunders boomed and the
+dread fury of the lightnings scarred the overhanging cliffs, that the Lady
+Elaine at last came to know her heart._
+
+_She was in a cave, safe from all but the noise of the storm. A cheery
+fire blazed at her door, and her bed within was made soft with pine boughs
+and skins. For weeks they had journeyed here and there, yet there had been
+no knight in whose face Elaine could find what she sought._
+
+_As she lay on her couch, she reflected upon the faithful wayfarers who
+had travelled with her, who had ever been gentle and courtly, saving her
+from all annoyance and all harm. Yet above them all, there was one who,
+from the time of their starting, had kept vigilant guard. He was the
+humblest of them all, but it was he who made her rest in shady places by
+the wayside when she herself scarce knew that she was weary; had given her
+cool spring water in a cup cunningly woven of leaves before she had
+realised her thirst; had brought her berries and strange, luscious fruits
+before she had thought of hunger; and who had cheered her, many a time,
+when no one else had guessed that she was sad._
+
+_Outside, he was guarding her now, all heedless of the rain. She could see
+him dimly in the shadow, then, all at once, more clearly in the firelight.
+His head was bowed and his arms folded, yet in the strong lines of his
+body there was no hint of weariness. Well did the Lady Elaine know that
+until Dawn spun her web of enchantment upon the mysterious loom of the
+East, he would march sleeplessly before her door, replenishing the fire,
+listening now and then for her deep breathing, and, upon the morrow, gaily
+tell her of his dreams._
+
+_Dreams they were, indeed, but not the dreams of sleep. Upon these
+midnight marchings, her sentinel gave his wandering fancy free rein. And
+because of the dumb pain in his heart, these fancies were all the merrier;
+more golden with the sun of laughter, more gemmed with the pearl of
+tears._
+
+_Proud-hearted, yet strangely homesick, the Lady Elaine was restless this
+night. "I must go back," she thought, "to the Castle of Content, where my
+dear father would fain have his child again. And yet I dread to go back
+with my errand undone, my quest unrewarded._
+
+_"What is it," thought Elaine, in sudden self-searching, "that I seek?
+What must this man be, to whom I would surrender the keeping of my heart?
+What do I ask that is so hard to find?_
+
+_"Am I seeking for a god? Nay, surely not, but only for a man. Valorous he
+must be, indeed, but not in the lists--'tis not a soldier, for I have seen
+them by the hundred since I left my home in the valley. 'Tis not a model
+for the tapestry weaver that my heart would have, for I have seen the most
+beautiful youths of my country since I came forth upon my quest._
+
+_"Some one, perchance," mused the Lady Elaine, "whose beauty my eyes alone
+should perceive, whose valour only I should guess before there was need to
+test it. Some one great of heart and clean of mind, in whose eyes there
+should never be that which makes a woman ashamed. Some one fine-fibred and
+strong-souled, not above tenderness when a maid was tired. One who should
+make a shield of his love, to keep her not only from the great hurts but
+from the little ones as well, and yet with whom she might fare onward,
+shoulder to shoulder, as God meant mates should fare._
+
+_"Surely 'tis not so unusual, this thing that I ask--only an honest man
+with human faults and human virtues, transfigured by a great love. And why
+is it that in this quest of mine, I have found him not?"_
+
+_"Princess," said a voice at her doorway, "thou art surely still awake.
+The storm is lessening and there is naught to fear. I pray thee, try to
+sleep. And if there is aught I can do for thee, thou knowest thou hast
+only to speak."_
+
+_From the warm darkness where she lay, Elaine saw his face with the
+firelight upon it, and all at once she knew._
+
+_"There is naught," she answered, with what he thought was coldness. "I
+bid thee leave me and take thine own rest."_
+
+_"As thou wilt," he responded, submissively, but though the sound was now
+faint and far away, she still could hear him walking back and forth,
+keeping his unremitting guard._
+
+_So it was that at last Love came to the Lady Elaine. She had dreamed of
+some fair stranger, into whose eyes she should look and instantly know him
+for her lord, never guessing that her lord had gone with her when she left
+the Castle of Content. There was none of those leaps of the heart of which
+one of the maids at the Castle had read from the books while the others
+worked at the tapestry frames. It was nothing new, but only a light upon
+something which had always been, and which, because of her own blindness,
+she had not seen._
+
+_All through this foolish journey, Love had ridden beside the Lady Elaine,
+asking nothing but the privilege of serving her; demanding only the right
+to give, to sacrifice, to shield. And at last she knew._
+
+_The doubting in her heart was for ever stilled and in its place was a
+great peace. There was an unspeakable tenderness and a measureless
+compassion, so wide and so deep that it sheltered all the world. For,
+strangely enough, the love of the many comes first through the love of the
+one._
+
+_The Lady Elaine did not need to ask whether he loved her, for,
+unerringly, she knew. Mated past all power of change, they two were one
+henceforward, though seas should roll between. Mated through suffering as
+well, for, in this new bond, as the Lady Elaine dimly perceived, there was
+great possibility of hurt. Yet there was no end or no beginning; it simply
+was, and at last she knew._
+
+_At length, she slept. When she awoke the morning was fair upon the
+mountains, but still he paced back and forth before her door. Rising, she
+bathed her face in the cool water he had brought her, braided her glorious
+golden hair, changed her soiled habit for a fresh robe of white satin
+traced with gold, donned her red embroidered slippers, and stepped out
+into the sunrise, shading her eyes with her hand until they grew
+accustomed to the dawn._
+
+_"Good morrow, Princess," he said. "We----"_
+
+_Of a sudden, he stopped and fled like a wild thing into the forest, for
+by her eyes, he saw what was in her heart, and his hot words, struggling
+for utterance, choked him. "At last," he breathed, with his clenched hands
+on his breast; "at last--but no, 'tis another dream of mine that I dare
+not believe."_
+
+_His senses reeled, for love comes not to a man as to a woman, but rather
+with the sound of trumpets and the glare of white light. The cloistered
+peace that fills her soul rests seldom upon him, and instead he is stirred
+with high ambition and spurred on to glorious achievement. For to her,
+love is the end of life; to him it is the means._
+
+_The knights thought it but another caprice when the Lady Elaine gave
+orders to return to the Castle of Content, at once, and by the shortest
+way--all save one of them. With his heart rioting madly through his
+breast, he knew, but he did not dare to look at Elaine. He was as one long
+blinded, who suddenly sees the sun._
+
+_So it was that though he still served her, he rode no longer by her side,
+and Elaine, hurt at first, at length understood, and smiled because of her
+understanding. All the way back, the Lady Elaine sang little songs to
+herself, and, the while she rode upon her palfrey, touched her zither into
+gentle harmonies. After many days, they came within sight of the Castle of
+Content._
+
+_As before, it was sunset, and the long light lay upon the hills, while
+the valley was in shadow. Purple were the  vineyards, heavy with their
+clustered treasure, over which the tiny weavers had made their lace, and
+purple, too, were the many-spired cliffs, behind which the sunset shone._
+
+_A courier, riding swiftly in advance, had apprised the Lord of the Castle
+of Content of the return of the Lady Elaine, and the maids from the
+tapestry room, and the keeper of the wine-cellar, and the stable-boys, and
+the candle-makers, and the light-bearers all rushed out, heedless of their
+manners, for, one and all, they loved the Lady Elaine, and were eager to
+behold their beautiful mistress again._
+
+_But the Lord of the Castle of Content, speaking somewhat sternly, ordered
+them one and all back to their places, and, shamefacedly, they obeyed. "I
+would not be selfish," he muttered to himself, "but surely, Elaine is
+mine, and the first gleam of her beauty belongs of right to these misty
+old eyes of mine, that have long strained across the dark for the first
+hint of her coming. Of a truth her quest has been long."_
+
+_So it came to pass that when the company reached the road that led down
+into the valley, the Lord of the Castle of Content was on the portico
+alone, though he could not have known that behind every shuttered window
+of the Castle, a humble servitor of Elaine's was waiting anxiously for her
+coming._
+
+_As before, Elaine rode at the head, waving her hand to her father, while
+the cymbals and the bugles crashed out a welcome. She could not see, but
+she guessed that he was there, and in return he waved a tremulous hand at
+her, though well he knew that in the fast gathering twilight, the child of
+his heart could not see the one who awaited her._
+
+_One by one, as they came in single file down the precipice, the old man
+counted them, much astonished to see that there was no new member of the
+company--that as many were coming back as had gone away. For the moment
+his heart was glad, then he reproached himself bitterly for his
+selfishness, and was truthfully most tender toward Elaine, because she had
+failed upon her quest._
+
+_The light gleamed capriciously upon the bauble of the fool, which he
+still carried, though now it hung downward from his saddle, foolishly
+enough. "A most merry fool," said the Lord of Content to himself. "I was
+wise to insist upon his accompanying this wayward child of mine."_
+
+_Wayward she might be, yet her father's eyes were dim when she came down
+into the valley, where there was no light save the evening star, a taper
+light at an upper window of the Castle, and her illumined face._
+
+_"How hast thou fared upon thy quest, Elaine?" he asked in trembling
+tones, when at last she released herself from his eager embrace. He
+dreaded to hear her make known her disappointment, yet his sorrow was all
+for her, and not in the least for himself._
+
+_"I have found him, father," she said, the gladness in her voice betraying
+itself as surely as the music in a stream when Spring sets it free again,
+"and, forsooth, he rode with me all the time."_
+
+_"Which knight hast thou chosen, Elaine?" he asked, a little sadly._
+
+_"No knight at all, dear father. I have found my knight in stranger guise
+than in armour and shield. He bears no lance, save for those who would
+injure me." And then, she beckoned to the fool._
+
+_"He is here, my father," she went on, her great love making her all
+unconscious of the shame she should feel._
+
+_"Elaine!" thundered her father, while the fool hung his head, "hast thou
+taken leave of thy senses? Of a truth, this is a sorry jest thou hast
+chosen to greet me with on thy return."_
+
+_"Father," said Elaine, made bold by the silent pressure of the hand that
+secretly clasped hers, "'tis no jest. If thou art pained, indeed I am
+sorry, but if thou choosest to banish me, then this night will I go gladly
+with him I have chosen to be my lord. The true heart which Heaven has sent
+for me beats beneath his motley, and with him I must go. Dear father,"
+cried Elaine, piteously, "do not send us away!"_
+
+_The stern eyes of the Lord of the Castle of Content were fixed upon the
+fool, and in the gathering darkness they gleamed like live coals. "And
+thou," he said, scornfully; "what hast thou to say?"_
+
+_"Only this," answered the fool; "that the Princess has spoken truly. We
+are mated by a higher law than that of thy land or mine, and 'tis this law
+that we must obey. If thou sayest the word, we will set forth to my
+country this very night, though we are both weary with much journeying."_
+
+_"Thy land," said the Lord of the Castle, with measureless contempt, "and
+what land hast thou? Even the six feet of ground thou needest for a grave
+must be given thee at the last, unless, perchance, thou hast a handful of
+stolen earth hidden somewhere among thy other jewels!"_
+
+_"Your lordship," cried the fool, with a clear ring in his voice, "thou
+shall not speak so to the man who is to wed thy daughter. I had not
+thought to tell even her till after the priests had made us one, but for
+our own protection, I am stung into speech._
+
+_"Know then, that I am no fool, but a Prince of the House of Bernard. My
+acres and my vineyards cover five times the space of this little realm of
+thine. Chests of gold and jewels I have, storehouses overflowing with
+grain and fine fabrics, three castles and a royal retinue. Of a truth,
+thou art blind since thou canst see naught but the raiment. May not a
+Prince wear motley if he chooses, thus to find a maid who will love him
+for himself alone?"_
+
+_"Prince Bernard," muttered the Lord of Content, "the son of my old
+friend, whom I have long dreamed in secret shouldst wed my dear daughter
+Elaine! Your Highness, I beg you to forgive me, and to take my hand."_
+
+_But Prince Bernard did not hear, nor see the outstretched hand, for
+Elaine was in his arms for the first time, her sweet lips close on his.
+"My Prince, oh my Prince," she murmured, when at length he set her free;
+"my eyes could not see, but my heart knew!"_
+
+_So ended the Quest of the Lady Elaine._
+
+With a sigh, Harlan wrote the last words and pushed the paper from him,
+staring blankly at the wall and seeing nothing. His labour was at an end,
+all save the final copying, and the painstaking daily revision which would
+take weeks longer. The exaltation he had expected to be conscious of was
+utterly absent; instead of it, he had a sense of loss, of change.
+
+His surroundings seemed hopelessly sordid and ugly, now that the glow was
+gone. All unknowingly, when Harlan pencilled: "The End," in fanciful
+letters at the bottom of the last page, he had had practically his last
+joy of his book. The torturing process of revision was to take all the
+life out of it. Sentences born of surging emotion would seem vapid and
+foolish when subjected to the cold, critical eye of his reason, yet he
+knew, dimly, that he must not change it too much.
+
+"I'll let it get cool," he thought, "before I do anything more to it."
+
+Yet, now, it was difficult to stop working. The rented typewriter, with
+its enticing bank of keys, was close at hand. A thousand sheets of paper
+and a box of carbon waited in the drawer of Uncle Ebeneezer's desk. His
+worn _Thesaurus of English Words and Phrases_ was at his elbow. And they
+were poor. Then Harlan laughed, for they were no longer poor, and he had
+wholly forgotten it.
+
+There was a step upon the porch outside, then Dorothy came into the hall.
+She paused outside the library door for a moment, ostensibly to tie her
+shoe, but in reality to listen. A wave of remorseful tenderness
+overwhelmed Harlan and he unlocked the door. "Come in," he said, smiling.
+"You needn't be afraid to come in any more. The book is all done."
+
+"O Harlan, is it truly done?" There was no gladness in her voice, only
+relief. Doubt was in every intonation of her sentence; incredulity in
+every line of her body.
+
+With this pitiless new insight of his, Harlan saw how she had felt for
+these last weeks and became very tenderly anxious not to hurt her; to
+shield his transformed self from her quick understanding.
+
+"Really," he answered. "Have I been a beast, Dorothy?"
+
+The question was so like the boy she used to know that her heart leaped
+wildly, then became portentously still.
+
+"Rather," she admitted, grudgingly, from the shelter of his arms.
+
+"I'm sorry. If you say so, I'll burn it. Nothing is coming between you and
+me." The words sounded hollow and meaningless, as he knew they were.
+
+She put her hand over his mouth. "You won't do any such thing," she said.
+Dorothy had learned the bitterness of the woman's part, to stand by,
+utterly lonely, and dream, and wait, while men achieve.
+
+"Can I read it now?" she asked, timidly.
+
+"You couldn't make it out, Dorothy. When it's all done, and every word is
+just as I want it, I'll read it to you. That will be better, won't it?"
+
+"Can Dick come, too?" She asked the question thoughtlessly, then flushed
+as Harlan took her face between his hands.
+
+"Dorothy, did you know Dick before we were married?"
+
+"Why, Harlan! I never saw him in all my life till the day he came here.
+Did you think I had?"
+
+Harlan only grunted, but she understood, and, in return, asked her
+question. "Did you write the book about Elaine?" she began, half ashamed.
+
+"Dear little idiot," said Harlan, softly. "I'd begun the book before she
+came or before I knew she was coming. I never saw her till she came to
+live with us. You're foolish, dearest, don't you think you are?"
+
+He was swiftly perceiving the necessity of creating a new harmony to take
+the place of that old one, now so strangely lost.
+
+"There are two of us," returned Dorothy, with conviction, wiping her
+eyes.
+
+"I wish you'd ask me things," said Harlan, a little later. "I'm no mind
+reader. And, besides, the seventh son of a seventh son, born with a caul,
+and having three trances regularly every day after meals, never could hope
+to understand a woman unless she was willing to help him out a little,
+occasionally."
+
+Which, after all, was more or less true.
+
+
+
+
+XVIII
+
+Uncle Ebeneezer's Diary
+
+
+Harlan had taken his work upstairs, that the ceaseless clatter of the
+typewriter might not add to the confusion which normally prevailed in the
+Jack-o'-Lantern. Thus it happened that Dorothy was able to begin her
+long-cherished project of dusting, rearranging, and cataloguing the
+books.
+
+There is a fine spiritual essence which exhales from the covers of a book.
+Shall one touch a copy of Shakespeare with other than reverent hands, or
+take up his Boswell without a smile? Through the worn covers and broken
+binding the master-spirit still speaks, no less than through the centuries
+which lie between. The man who had the wishing carpet, upon which he sat
+and wished and was thence immediately transported to the ends of the
+earth, was not possessed of a finer magic than one who takes his Boswell
+in his hands and then, for a golden quarter of an hour, lives in a bygone
+London with Doctor Johnson.
+
+When the book-lover enters his library, no matter what storm and tumult
+may be in his heart, he has come to the inmost chamber of Peace. The
+indescribable, musty odour which breathes from the printed page is
+fragrant incense to him who loves his books. In unseemly caskets his
+treasures may be hidden, yet, when the cover is reverently lifted, the
+jewels shine with no fading light. The old, immortal beauty is still
+there, for any one who seeks it in the right way.
+
+Dorothy had two willing assistants in Dick and Elaine. One morning,
+immediately after breakfast, the three went to the library and locked the
+door. Outside, the twins rioted unheeded and the perennially joyous Willie
+capered unceasingly. Mr. Perkins, gloomy and morose, wrote reams of poetry
+in his own room, distressed beyond measure by the rumble of the
+typewriter, but too much cast down to demand that it be stopped.
+
+Mrs. Dodd and Mrs. Holmes, closely united through misfortune, were
+well-nigh inseparable now, while Mrs. Smithers, still sepulchral, sang
+continually in a loud, cracked voice, never by any chance happening upon
+the right note. As Dorothy said, when there are only eight tones in the
+octave, it would seem that sometime, somewhere, a warbler must coincide
+for a brief interval with the tune, but as Dick further commented,
+industry and patience can do wonders when rightly exercised.
+
+Uncle Israel's midnight excursion to the orchard had given him a fresh
+attack of a familiar and distressing ailment to which he always alluded as
+"the brown kittys." Fortunately, however, the cure for asthma and
+bronchitis was contained in the same quart bottle, and needed only to be
+heated in order to work upon both diseases simultaneously.
+
+Elaine rolled up the sleeves of her white shirt-waist, and turned in her
+collar, thereby producing an effect which Dick privately considered
+distractingly pretty. Dorothy was enveloped from head to foot in a
+voluminous blue gingham apron, and a dust cap, airily poised upon her
+smooth brown hair, completed a most becoming costume. Dick, having duly
+obtained permission, took off his coat and put on his hat, after which the
+library force was ready for action.
+
+"First," said Dorothy, "we'll take down all the books." It sounded simple,
+but it took a good share of the day to do it, and the clouds of dust
+disturbed by the process produced sneezes which put Uncle Israel's feeble
+efforts to shame. When dusting the shelves, after they were empty, Elaine
+came upon a panel in the wall which slid back.
+
+"Here's a secret drawer!" she cried, in wild delight. "How perfectly
+lovely! Do you suppose there's anything in it?"
+
+Dorothy instantly thought of money and diamonds, but the concealed
+treasure proved to be merely a book. It was a respectable volume, however,
+at least as far as size was concerned, for Elaine and Dorothy together
+could scarcely lift it.
+
+It was a leather-bound ledger, of the most ponderous kind, and was
+fastened with a lock and key. The key, of course, was missing, but Dick
+soon pried open the fastening.
+
+All but the last few pages in the book were covered with fine writing, in
+ink which was brown and faded, but still legible. It was Uncle Ebeneezer's
+penmanship throughout, except for a few entries at the beginning, in a
+fine, flowing feminine hand, which Dorothy instantly knew was Aunt
+Rebecca's.
+
+"On the night of our wedding," the book began, "we begin this record of
+our lives, for until to-day we have not truly lived." This was signed by
+both. Then, in the woman's hand, was written a description of her
+wedding-gown, which was a simple white muslin, made by herself. Her
+ornaments were set down briefly--only a wreath of roses in her hair, a
+string of coral beads, and the diamond brooch which was at that moment in
+Dorothy's jewel-box.
+
+For three weeks there were alternate entries, then suddenly, without date,
+were two words so badly written as to be scarcely readable: "She died."
+For days thereafter was only this: "I cannot write." These simple words
+were the key to a world of pain, for the pages were blistered with a man's
+hot tears.
+
+Then came this: "She would want me to go on writing it, so I will, though
+I have no heart for it."
+
+From thence onward the book proceeded without interruption, a minute and
+faithful record of the man's inner life. Long extracts copied from books
+filled page after page of this strange diary, interspersed with records of
+business transactions, of letters received and answered, of wages paid,
+and of the visits of Jeremiah Bradford.
+
+"We talked long to-night upon the immortality of the soul," one entry ran.
+"Jeremiah does not believe it, but I must--or die."
+
+Dick soon lost interest in the book, and finding solitary toil at the
+shelves uncongenial, went out, whistling. Elaine and Dorothy read on
+together, scarcely noting his absence.
+
+The book had begun in the Spring. Early in June was chronicled the arrival
+of "a woman calling herself Cousin Elmira, blood relation of my Rebecca.
+Was not aware my Rebecca had a blood relation named Elmira, but there is
+much in the world that I do not know."
+
+According to the diary, Cousin Elmira had remained six weeks and had
+greatly distressed her unwilling host. "Women are peculiar," Uncle
+Ebeneezer had written, "all being possessed of the devil, except my
+sainted Rebecca, who was an angel if there ever was one.
+
+"Cousin Elmira is a curious woman. To-day she desired to know what had
+become of my Rebecca's wedding garments, her linen sheets and
+table-cloths. Answered that I did not know, and immediately put a lock
+upon the chest containing them. Have always been truthful up to now, but
+Rebecca would not desire to have any blood relation handling her sheets.
+Of this I am sure.
+
+"Aug. 9. To-day came Cousin Silas Martin and his wife to spend their
+honeymoon. Much grieved to hear of Rebecca's death. Said she had invited
+them to spend their honeymoon with her when they married. Did not know of
+this, but our happiness was of such short duration that my Rebecca did not
+have time to tell me of all her wishes. Company is very hard to bear, but
+I would do much for my Rebecca.
+
+"Aug. 10. This world can never be perfect under any circumstances, and
+trials are the common lot of humanity. We must all endeavour to bear up
+under affliction. Sarah Smithers is a good woman, most faithful, and does
+not talk a great deal, considering her sex. Not intending any reflection
+upon my Rebecca, whose sweet voice I could never hear too often.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Aug. 20. Came Uncle Israel Skiles with a bad cough. Thinks the air of
+Judson Centre must be considered healthy as they are to build a sanitarium
+here. Did not know of the sanitarium.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Aug. 22. Came Cousin Betsey Skiles to look after Uncle Israel. Uncle
+Israel not desiring to be looked after has produced some disturbance in my
+house.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Aug. 23. Cousin Betsey Skiles and Cousin Jane Wood, the latter arriving
+unexpectedly this morning, have fought, and Cousin Jane has gone away
+again. Had never met Cousin Jane Wood.
+
+"Aug. 24. Was set upon by Cousin Silas Martin, demanding to know whether
+his wife was to be insulted by Cousin Betsey Skiles. Answered that I did
+not know.
+
+"Aug. 25. Was obliged to settle a dispute between Sarah Smithers and
+Cousin Betsey Skiles. Decided in favour of S. S., thereby angering B. S.
+Uncle Israel accidentally spilled his tonic on Cousin Betsey's clean
+apron. Much disturbance in my house.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Aug. 28. Cousin Silas Martin and wife went away, telling me they could no
+longer live with Cousin Betsey Skiles. B. S. is unpleasant, but has her
+virtues.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Sept. 5. Uncle Israel thinks air of Judson Centre is now too chilly for
+his cough. Does not like his bed, considering it drafty. Says Sarah
+Smithers does not give him nourishing food.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Sept. 8. Uncle Israel has gone.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Sept. 10. Cousin Betsey Skiles has gone to continue looking after Uncle
+Israel. Sarah Smithers and myself now alone in peace.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+All that Winter, the writing was of books, interspersed with occasional
+business details. In the Spring, the influx of blood relations began again
+and continued until Fall. The diary revealed the gradual transformation of
+a sunny disposition into a dark one, of a man with gregarious instincts
+into a wild beast asking only for solitude. Additions to the house were
+chronicled from time to time, with now and then a pathetic comment upon
+the futility of the additions.
+
+Once there was this item: "Would go away for ever were it not that this
+was my Rebecca's home. Where we had hoped to be so happy, there is now a
+great emptiness and unnumbered Relations. How shall I endure Relations?
+Still they are all of her blood, though the most gentle blood does seem to
+take strange turns."
+
+Again: "Do not think my Rebecca would desire to have all her kin visit her
+at once. Still, would do anything for my Rebecca. Have ordered five more
+beds."
+
+As the years went by, the bitterness became more and more apparent. Long
+before the end, the record was frankly profane, and saddest of all was the
+evidence that under the stress of annoyance the great love for "my
+Rebecca" was slowly, but surely, becoming tainted. From simple profanity,
+Uncle Ebeneezer descended into blasphemous comment, modified at times by
+remorseful tenderness toward the dead.
+
+"To-day," he wrote, "under pressure of my questioning, Sister-in-law Fanny
+Wood admitted that Rebecca had never invited her to come and see her.
+Asked Sister-in-law why she was here. Responded that Rebecca would have
+asked her if she had lived. Perhaps others have surmised the same. Fear of
+late I may have been unjust to my Rebecca."
+
+Later on, "my Rebecca" was mentioned but rarely. She became "my dear
+companion," "my wife," or "my partner." The building of wings and the
+purchase of additional beds by this time had become a permanent feature,
+though, as the writer admitted, it was "a roundabout way."
+
+"The easiest way would be to turn all out. Forgetting my duty to the
+memory of my dear companion, and sore pressed by many annoyances, did turn
+out Cousin Betsey Skiles, who forgave me for it without being so
+requested, and remained.
+
+"Trains to Judson Centre," he wrote, at one time, "have been most
+grievously changed. One arrives just after breakfast, the other at three
+in the morning. Do not understand why this is, and anticipate new trouble
+from it."
+
+The entries farther on were full of "trouble," being minute and intimate
+portrayals of the emotions of one roused from sleep at three in the
+morning to admit undesired guests, interlarded with pardonable profanity.
+"Seems that house might be altered in some way, but do not know. Will
+consult with Jeremiah."
+
+After this came the record of an interview with the village carpenter, and
+rough sketches of proposed alterations. "Putting in new window in middle
+and making two upper windows round instead of square, with new
+porch-railing and two new narrow windows downstairs will do it. House
+fortunately planned by original architect for such alteration. Taking down
+curtains and keeping lights in windows nights should have some effect,
+though much doubt whether anything would affect Relations."
+
+Soon afterward the oppressed one chronicled with great glee how a lone
+female, arriving on the night train, was found half-dead from fright by
+the roadside in the morning. "House _is_ fearsome," wrote Uncle Ebeneezer,
+with evident relish. "Have been to Jeremiah's of an evening and,
+returning, found it wonderful to behold."
+
+Presently, Dorothy came to an intimate analysis of some of the uninvited
+ones at present under her roof. The poet was given a full page of scathing
+comment, illustrated by rude caricatures, which were so suggestive that
+even Elaine thoroughly enjoyed them.
+
+Pleased with his contribution to literature, Uncle Ebeneezer had written a
+long and keenly comprehensive essay upon each relation. These bits of
+vivid portraiture were numbered in this way: "Relation Number 8, Miss
+Betsey Skiles, Claiming to be Cousin." At the end of this series was a
+very beautiful tribute to "My Dearly Beloved Nephew, James Harlan Carr,
+Who Has Never Come to See Me."
+
+Frequently, thereafter, came pathetic references to "Dear Nephew James,"
+"Unknown Recipient of an Old Man's Gratitude," "Discerning and Admirable
+James," and so on.
+
+One entry ran as follows: "Have been approached this season by each
+Relation present in regard to disposal of my estate. Will fix surprise for
+all Relations before leaving to join my wife. Shall leave money to every
+one, though perhaps not as much as each expects. Jeremiah advises me to
+leave something to each. Laws are such, I believe, that no one remembered
+can claim more. Desire to be just, but strongly incline to dear Nephew
+James."
+
+On the last page of all was a significant paragraph. "Dreamed of seeing my
+Rebecca once more, who told me we should be together again April 7th.
+Shall make all arrangements for leaving on that day, and prepare Surprises
+spoken of. Shall be very quiet in my grave with no Relations at hand, but
+should like to hear and see effect of Surprise. Jeremiah will attend."
+
+The last lines were written on April sixth. "To-morrow I shall join my
+loved Rebecca and leave all Relations here to fight by themselves. Do not
+fear Death, but shudder at Relations. Relations keep life from being
+pleasant. Did not know my Rebecca was possessed of such numbers nor of
+such kinds, but forgive her all. Shall see her to-morrow."
+
+Then, on the line below, in a hand that did not falter, was written: "The
+End."
+
+Dorothy wiped her eyes on a corner of Elaine's apron, for Uncle Ebeneezer
+had been found dead in his bed on the morning of April seventh. "Elaine,"
+she said, "what would you do?"
+
+"Do?" repeated Elaine. "I'd strike one blow for poor old Uncle Ebeneezer!
+I'd order every single one of them out of the house to-morrow!"
+
+"To-night!" cried Dorothy, fired with high resolve. "I'll do it this very
+night! Poor old Uncle Ebeneezer! Our sufferings have been nothing,
+compared to his."
+
+"Are you going to tell Mr. Carr?" asked Elaine, wonderingly.
+
+"Tell him nothing," rejoined Dorothy, with spirit. "He's got some old fogy
+notions about your house being a sacred spot where everybody in creation
+can impose on you if they want to, just because it is your house. I
+suppose he got it by being related to poor old uncle."
+
+"Do I have to go, too?" queried Elaine, rubbing her soft cheek against
+Dorothy's.
+
+"Not much," answered Mrs. Carr, with a sisterly embrace. "You'll stay, and
+Dick 'll stay, and that old tombstone in the kitchen will stay, and so
+will Claudius Tiberius, but the rest--MOVE!"
+
+Consequently, Elaine looked forward to the dinner-hour with mixed
+anticipations. Mr. Perkins, Uncle Israel, Mrs. Dodd, and Mrs. Holmes each
+found a note under their plates when they sat down. Uncle Israel's face
+relaxed into an expression of childlike joy when he found the envelope
+addressed to him. "Valentine, I reckon," he said, "or mebbe it's sunthin'
+from Santa Claus."
+
+"Queer acting for Santa Claus," snorted Mrs. Holmes, who had swiftly torn
+open her note. "Here we are, all ordered away from what's been our home
+for years, by some upstart relations who never saw poor, dear uncle. Are
+you going to keep boarders?" she asked, insolently, turning to Dorothy.
+
+"No longer," returned that young woman, imperturbably. "I have done it
+just as long as I intend to."
+
+Harlan was gazing curiously at Dorothy, but she avoided his eyes, and
+continued to eat as though nothing had happened. Dick, guessing rightly,
+choked, and had to be excused. Elaine's cheeks were flushed and her eyes
+sparkled, the flush deepening when Mrs. Dodd inquired where _her_
+valentine was. Mr. Perkins was openly dejected, and Mrs. Dodd, receiving
+no answer to her question, compressed her thin lips into a forced
+silence.
+
+But Uncle Israel was moved to protesting speech. "'T is queer doin's for
+Santa Claus," he mumbled, pouring out a double dose of his nerve tonic.
+"'T ain't such a thing as he'd do, even if he was drunk. Turnin' a poor
+old man outdoor, what ain't got no place to go exceptin' to Betsey's, an'
+nobody can't live with Betsey. She's all the time mad at herself on
+account of bein' obliged to live with such a woman as she be. Summers I've
+allers stayed here an' never made no trouble. I've cooked my own food an'
+brought most of it, an' provided all my own medicines, an' even took my
+bed with me, goin' an' comin'. Ebeneezer's beds is all terrible drafty--I
+took two colds to once sleepin' in one of 'em--an' at my time of life 't
+ain't proper to change beds. Sleepin' in a drafty bed would undo all the
+good of bein' near the sanitarium. Most likely I'll have a fever or
+sunthin' now an' die."
+
+"Shut up, Israel," said Mrs. Dodd, abruptly. "You ain't goin' to die. It
+wouldn't surprise me none if you had to be shot on the Day of Judgment
+before you could be resurrected. Folks past ninety-five that's pickled in
+patent medicine from the inside out, ain't goin' to die of no fever."
+
+"Ninety-six, Belinda," said the old man, proudly. "I'll be ninety-six next
+week, an' I'm as young as I ever was."
+
+"Then," rejoined Mrs. Dodd, tartly, "what you want to look out for is
+measles an' chicken-pox, to say nothin' of croup."
+
+"Come, Gladys Gwendolen and Algernon Paul," interrupted Mrs. Holmes, in a
+high key; "we must go and pack now, to go away from dear uncle's. Dear
+uncle is dead, you know, and can't help his dear ones being ordered out of
+his house by upstarts."
+
+"What's a upstart, ma?" inquired Willie.
+
+"People who turn their dead uncle's relations out of his house in order to
+take boarders," returned Mrs. Holmes, clearly.
+
+"Mis' Carr," said Mrs. Dodd, sliding up into Dick's vacant place, "have I
+understood that you want me to go away to-morrow?"
+
+"Everybody is going away to-morrow," returned Dorothy, coldly.
+
+"After all I've done for you?" persisted Mrs. Dodd.
+
+"What have you done for me?" parried Dorothy, with a pleading look at
+Elaine.
+
+"Kep' the others away," returned Mrs. Dodd, significantly.
+
+"Uncle Ebeneezer does not want any of you here," said Dorothy, after a
+painful silence. The impression made by the diary was so vividly present
+with her that she felt as though she were delivering an actual message.
+
+Much to her surprise, Mrs. Dodd paled and left the room hastily. Uncle
+Israel tottered after her, leaving his predigested food untouched on his
+plate and his imitation coffee steaming malodorously in his cup. Mr.
+Perkins bowed his head upon his hands for a moment; then, with a sigh,
+lightly dropped out of the open window. The name of Uncle Ebeneezer seemed
+to be one to conjure with.
+
+"Dorothy," said Harlan, "might an obedient husband modestly inquire what
+you have done?"
+
+"Elaine and I found Uncle Ebeneezer's diary to-day," explained Dorothy,
+"and the poor old soul was nagged all his life by relatives. So, in
+gratitude for what he's done for us, I've turned 'em out. I know he'd like
+to have me do it."
+
+Harlan left his place and came to Dorothy, where, bending over her chair,
+he kissed her tenderly. "Good girl," he said, patting her shoulder. "Why
+in thunder didn't you do it months ago?"
+
+"Isn't that just like a man?" asked Dorothy, gazing after his retreating
+figure.
+
+"I don't know," answered Elaine, with a pretty blush, "but I guess it
+is."
+
+
+
+
+XIX
+
+Various Departures
+
+
+"Algernon Paul," called Mrs. Holmes, shrilly, "let the kitty alone!"
+
+Every one else on the premises heard the command, but "Algernon Paul,"
+perhaps because he was not yet fully accustomed to his new name, continued
+forcing Claudius Tiberius to walk about on his fore feet, the rest of him
+being held uncomfortably in the air by the guiding influence.
+
+"Algernon!" The voice was so close this time that the cat was freed by his
+persecutor's violent start. Seeing that it was only his mother, Algernon
+Paul attempted to recover his treasure again, and was badly scratched by
+that selfsame treasure. Whereupon Mrs. Holmes soundly cuffed Claudius
+Tiberius "for scratching dear little Ebbie, I mean Algernon Paul," and
+received a bite or two on her own account.
+
+"Come, Ebbie, dear," she continued, "we are going now. We have been driven
+away from dear uncle's. Where is sister?"
+
+"Sister" was discovered in the forbidden Paradise of the chicken-coop, and
+dragged out, howling. Willie, not desiring to leave "dear uncle's," was
+forcibly retrieved by Dick from the roof of the barn.
+
+Mr. Harold Vernon Perkins had silently disappeared in the night, but no
+one feared foul play. "He'll be waitin' at the train, I reckon," said Mrs.
+Dodd, "an' most likely composin' a poem on 'Departure' or else breathin'
+into a tube to see if he's mad."
+
+She had taken her dismissal very calmly after the first shock. "A woman
+what's been married seven times, same as I be," she explained to Dorothy,
+"gets used to bein' moved around from place to place. My sixth husband had
+the movin' habit terrible. No sooner would we get settled nice an'
+comfortable in a place, an' I got enough acquainted to borrow sugar an'
+tea an' molasses from my new neighbours, than Thomas would decide to move,
+an' more 'n likely, it'd be to some new town where there was a great
+openin' in some new business that he'd never tried his hand at yet.
+
+"My dear, I've been the wife of a undertaker, a livery-stable keeper, a
+patent medicine man, a grocer, a butcher, a farmer, an' a justice of the
+peace, all in one an' the same marriage. Seems 's if there wa'n't no
+business Thomas couldn't feel to turn his hand to, an' he knowed how they
+all ought to be run. If anybody was makin' a failure of anythin', Thomas
+knowed just why it was failin' an' I must say he ought to know, too, for I
+never see no more steady failer than Thomas.
+
+"They say a rollin' stone never gets no moss on it, but it gets worn
+terrible smooth, an' by the time I 'd moved to eight or ten different
+towns an' got as many as 'leven houses all fixed up, the corners was all
+broke off 'n me as well as off 'n the furniture. My third husband left me
+well provided with furniture, but when I went to my seventh altar, I
+didn't have nothin' left but a soap box an' half a red blanket, on account
+of havin' moved around so much.
+
+"I got so's I'd never unpack all the things in any one place, but keep 'em
+in their dry-goods boxes an' barrels nice an' handy to go on again. When
+the movin' fit come on Thomas, I was always in such light marchin' order
+that I could go on a day's notice, an' that's the way we usually went. I
+told him once it'd be easier an' cheaper to fit up a prairie schooner such
+as they used to cross the plains in, an' then when we wanted to move, all
+we'd have to do would be to put a dipper of water on the fire an' tell the
+mules to get ap, but it riled him so terrible that I never said nothin'
+about it again, though all through my sixth marriage, it seemed a dretful
+likely notion.
+
+"A woman with much marryin' experience soon learns not to rile a husband
+when 't ain't necessary. Sometimes I think the poor creeters has enough to
+contend with outside without bein' obliged to fight at home, though it
+does beat all, my dear, what a terrible exertion 't is for most men to
+earn a livin'. None of my husbands was ever obliged to fight at home an' I
+take great comfort thinkin' how peaceful they all was when they was livin'
+with me, an' how peaceful they all be now, though I think it's more 'n
+likely that Thomas is a-sufferin' because he can't move no more at
+present."
+
+Her monologue was interrupted by the arrival of the stage, which Harlan
+had gladly ordered. Mrs. Holmes and the children climbed into it without
+vouchsafing a word to anybody, but Mrs. Dodd shook hands all around and
+would have kissed both Dorothy and Elaine had they not dodged the caress.
+
+"Remember, my dear," said Mrs. Dodd to Dorothy; "I don't bear you no
+grudge, though I never was turned out of no place before. It's all in a
+lifetime, the same as marryin', and if I should ever marry again an' have
+a home of my own to invite you to, you an' your husband'll be welcome to
+come and stay with me as long as I've stayed with you, or longer, if you
+felt 'twas pleasant, an' I'd try to make it so."
+
+The kindly speech made Dorothy very much ashamed of herself, though she
+did not know exactly why, and Gladys Gwendolen, with a cherubic smile,
+leaned out of the stage window and waved a chubby hand, saying: "Bye bye!"
+Mrs. Holmes alone seemed hard and unforgiving, as she sat sternly upright,
+looking neither to the right nor the left.
+
+"Rather unusual, isn't it?" whispered Elaine, as the ponderous vehicle
+turned into the yard, "to see so many of one's friends going on the stage
+at once?"
+
+"Not at all," chuckled Dick. "Everybody goes on the stage when they leave
+the Carrs."
+
+"Good bye, Belinda," yelled Uncle Israel, putting his flannel bandaged
+head out of one of the round upper windows. He had climbed up on a chair
+to do it. "I don't reckon I'll ever hear from you again exceptin' where
+Lazarus heard from the rich man!"
+
+"Don't let that trouble you, Israel," shrieked Mrs. Dodd, piercingly. "I
+take it the rich man was diggin' for eight cents in Satan's orchard, an'
+didn't have no time to look up his friends."
+
+The rejoinder seemed not to affect Uncle Israel, but it sent Dick into a
+spasm of merriment from which he recovered only when Harlan pounded him on
+the back.
+
+"Come on," said Harlan, "it's not time to laugh yet. We've got to pack
+Uncle Israel's bed."
+
+Uncle Israel was going on the afternoon train, and in another direction.
+He sat on his trunk and issued minute instructions, occasionally having
+the whole thing taken apart to be put together in a different kind of a
+parcel. As an especial favour, Dick was allowed to crate the bath cabinet,
+though as a rule, no profane hands were permitted to touch this instrument
+of health. Uncle Israel himself arranged his bottles, and boxes, and
+powders; a hand-satchel containing his medicines for the journey and the
+night.
+
+"I reckon," he said, "if I take a double dose of my pain-killer, this
+noon, an' a double dose of my nerve tonic just before I get on the cars, I
+c'n get along with these few remedies till I get to Betsey's, where I'll
+have to take a full course of treatment to pay for all this travellin'.
+The pain-killer bottle an' the nerve tonic bottle is both dretful heavy,
+in spite of bein' only half full."
+
+"How would it do," suggested Harlan, kindly, "to pour the nerve tonic into
+the pain-killer, and then you'd have only one bottle to carry. You mix
+them inside, anyway."
+
+"You seem real intelligent, nephew," quavered Uncle Israel. "I never
+knowed I had no such smart relations. As you say, I mix 'em in my system
+anyway, an' it can't do no harm to do it in the bottle first."
+
+No sooner said than done, but, strangely enough, the mixture turned a
+vivid emerald green, and had such a peculiarly vile odour that even Uncle
+Israel refused to have anything further to do with it.
+
+"I shouldn't wonder but what you'd done me a real service, nephew,"
+continued Uncle Israel. "Here I've been takin' this, month after month,
+an' never suspectin' what it was doin' in my insides. I've suspicioned for
+some time that the pain-killer wan't doin' me no good, an' I've been goin'
+to try Doctor Jones's Squaw Remedy, anyhow. I shouldn't wonder if my whole
+insides was green instead of red as they orter be. The next time I go to
+the City, I'm goin' to take this here compound to the healin' emporium
+where I bought it, an' ask 'em what there is in it that paints folk's
+insides. 'Tain't nothin' more 'n green paint."
+
+The patient was so interested in this new development that he demanded a
+paint-brush and experimented on the porch railing, where it seemed,
+indeed, to be "green paint." In getting a nearer view, he touched his nose
+to it and acquired a bright green spot on the tip of that highly useful
+organ. Desiring to test it by every sense, he next put his ear down to the
+railing, as though he expected to hear the elements of the compound
+rushing together explosively.
+
+"My hearin' is bad," he explained. "I wish you'd listen to this here a
+minute or two, nephew, an' see if you don't hear sunthin'." But Harlan,
+with his handkerchief pressed tightly to his nose, politely declined.
+
+"I don't feel," continued Uncle Israel, tottering into the house, "as
+though a poor, sick man with green insides instead of red orter be turned
+out. Judson Centre is a terrible healthy place, or the sanitarium wouldn't
+have been built here, an' travellin' on the cars would shake me up
+considerable. I feel as though I was goin' to be took bad, an' as if I
+ought not to go. If somebody'll set up my bed, I'll just lay down on it
+an' die now. Ebeneezer would be willin' for me to die in his house, I
+know, for he's often said it'd be a reel pleasure to him to pay my funeral
+expenses if I c'd only make up my mind to claim 'em, an'," went on the old
+man pitifully, "I feel to claim 'em now. Set up my bed," he wheezed, "an'
+let me die. I'm bein' took bad."
+
+He was swiftly reasoning himself into abject helplessness when Dick came
+valiantly to the rescue. "I'll tell you what, Uncle Israel," he said, "if
+you're going to be sick, and of course you know whether you are or not,
+we'll just get a carriage and take you over to the sanitarium. I'll pay
+your board there for a week, myself, and by that time we'll know just
+what's the matter with you."
+
+The patient brightened amazingly at the mention of the sanitarium, and was
+more than willing to go. "I've took all kinds of treatment," he creaked,
+"but I ain't never been to no sanitarium, an' I misdoubt whether they've
+ever had anybody with green insides.
+
+"I reckon," he added, proudly, "that that wanderin' pain in my spine'll
+stump 'em some to know what it is. Even in the big store where they keep
+all kinds of medicines, there couldn't nobody tell me. I know what disease
+'tis, but I won't tell nobody. A man knows his own system best an' I
+reckon them smart doctors up at the sanitarium 'll be scratchin' their
+heads over such a complicated case as I be. Send my bed on to Betsey's but
+write on it that it ain't to be set up till I come. 'Twouldn't be worth
+while settin' it up at the sanitarium for a week, an' I'm minded to try a
+medical bed, anyways. I ain't never had none. Get the carriage, quick, for
+I feel an ailment comin' on me powerful hard every minute."
+
+"Suppose," said Harlan, in a swift aside, "that they refuse to take the
+patient? What shall we do then?"
+
+"We won't discuss that," answered Dick, in a low tone. "My plan is to
+leave the patient, drive away swiftly, and, an hour or so later, walk back
+and settle with the head of the repair shop for a week's mending in
+advance."
+
+Harlan laughed gleefully, at which Uncle Israel pricked up his ears. "I'm
+in on the bill," he continued; "we'll go halves on the mending."
+
+"Laughin'" said Uncle Israel, scornfully, "at your poor old uncle what
+ain't goin' to live much longer. If your insides was all turned green, you
+wouldn't be laughin'--you'd be thinkin' about your immortal souls."
+
+It was late afternoon when the bed was finally dumped on the side track to
+await the arrival of the freight train, being securely covered with a
+canvas tarpaulin to keep it from the night dew and stray, malicious germs,
+seeking that which they might devour. Uncle Israel insisted upon
+overseeing this job himself, so that he did not reach the sanitarium until
+almost nightfall. Dick and Harlan were driving, and they shamelessly left
+the patient at the door of the Temple of Healing, with his crated bath
+cabinet, his few personal belongings, and his medicines.
+
+Turning back at the foot of the hill, they saw that the wanderer had been
+taken in, though the bath cabinet still remained outside.
+
+"Mean trick to play on a respectable institution," observed Dick, lashing
+the horses into a gallop, "but I'll go over in the morning and square it
+with 'em."
+
+"I'll go with you," volunteered Harlan. "It's just as well to have two of
+us, for we won't be popular. The survivor can take back the farewell
+message to the wife and family of the other."
+
+He meant it for a jest, but even in the gathering darkness, he could see
+the dull red mounting to Dick's temples. "I'll be darned," thought Harlan,
+seeing the whole situation instantly. Then, moved by a brotherly impulse,
+he said, cheerfully: "Go in and win, old man. Good luck to you!"
+
+"Thanks," muttered Dick, huskily, "but it's no use. She won't look at me.
+She wants a nice lady-like poet, that's what she wants."
+
+"No, she doesn't," returned Harlan, with deep conviction. "I don't claim
+to be a specialist, but when a man and a poet are entered for the
+matrimonial handicap, I'll put my money on the man, every time."
+
+Dick swiftly changed the subject, and began to speculate on probable
+happenings at the sanitarium. They left the conveyance in the village,
+from whence it had been taken, and walked uphill.
+
+Lights gleamed from every window of the Jack-o'-Lantern, but the eccentric
+face of the house had, for the first time, a friendly aspect. Warmth and
+cheer were in the blinking eyes and the grinning mouth, though, as Dick
+said, it seemed impossible that "no pumpkin seeds were left inside."
+
+Those who do not believe in personal influence should go into a house
+which uninvited and undesired guests have regretfully left. Every alien
+element had gone from the house on the hill, yet the very walls were still
+vocal with discord. One expected, every moment, to hear Uncle Israel's
+wheeze, the shrill, spiteful comment of Mrs. Holmes, or a howl from one of
+the twins.
+
+"What shall we do," asked Harlan, "to celebrate the day of emancipation?"
+
+"I know," answered Dorothy, with a little laugh. "We'll burn a bed."
+
+"Whose bed?" queried Dick.
+
+"Mr. Perkins's bed," responded Elaine, readily. The tone of her voice sent
+a warm glow to Dick's heart, and he went to work at the heavy walnut
+structure with more gladness than exercise of that particular kind had
+ever given him before.
+
+Harlan rummaged through the cellar and found a bottle of Uncle Ebeneezer's
+old port, which, for some occult reason, had hitherto escaped. Mrs.
+Smithers, moved to joyful song, did herself proud in the matter of fried
+chicken and flaky biscuit. Dorothy had taken all the leaves out of the
+table, so that now it was cosily set for four, and placed a battered old
+brass candlestick, with a tallow candle in it, in the centre.
+
+"Seems like living, doesn't it?" asked Harlan. Until now, he had not known
+how surely though secretly distressed he had been by Aunt Rebecca's
+persistent kin. Claudius Tiberius apparently felt the prevailing
+cheerfulness, and purred vigorously, in Elaine's lap.
+
+Afterward, they made a fire in the parlour, even though the night was so
+warm that they were obliged to have all the windows open, and, inspired by
+the portrait of Uncle Ebeneezer, discussed the peculiarities of his
+self-invited guests.
+
+The sacrificial flame arising from the poet's bed directed the
+conversation to Mr. Perkins and his gift of song. Dick, though feeling
+more deeply upon the subject than any of the rest, was wise enough not to
+say too much.
+
+"I found something under his mattress," remarked Dick, when the
+conversation flagged, "while I was taking his blooming crib apart to chop
+it up. I guess it must be a poem."
+
+He drew a sorely flattened roll from his pocket, and slipped off the
+crumpled blue ribbon. It was, indeed, a poem, entitled "Farewell."
+
+"I thought he might have been polite enough to say good bye," said
+Dorothy. "Perhaps it was easier to write it."
+
+"Read it," cried Elaine, her eyes dancing. "Please do!"
+
+So Dick read as follows:
+
+                All happy times must reach an end
+                  Sometime, someday, somewhere,
+                A great soul seldom has a friend
+                  Anyway or anywhere.
+                But one devoted to the Ideal
+                  Must pass these things all by,
+                His eyes fixed ever on his Art,
+                  Which lives, though he must die.
+
+                Amid the tide of cruel greed
+                  Which laps upon our shore,
+                No one takes thought of the poet's need
+                  Nor how his griefs may pour
+                Upon his poor, devoted head
+                  And his sad, troubled heart;
+                But all these things each one must take,
+                  Who gives his life to Art.
+
+                His crust of bread, his tick of straw
+                  His enemies deny,
+                And at the last his patron saint
+                  Will even pass him by;
+                The wide world is his resting place,
+                  All o'er it he may roam,
+                And none will take the poet in,
+                  Or offer him a home.
+
+                The tears of sorrow blind him now,
+                  Misunderstood is he,
+                But thus great souls have always been,
+                  And always they will be;
+                His eyes fixed ever on the Ideal
+                  Will be there till he die,
+                To-night he goes, but leaves a poem
+                  To say good bye, good bye!
+
+"Poor Mr. Perkins," commented Dorothy, softly.
+
+"Yes," mimicked Harlan, "poor Mr. Perkins. I don't see but what he'll have
+to work now, like any plain, ordinary mortal, with no 'gift'."
+
+"What is the Ideal, anyway?" queried Elaine, looking thoughtfully into the
+embers of the poet's bedstead.
+
+"That's easy," answered Dick, not without evident feeling. "It's whatever
+Mr. Perkins happens to be doing, or trying to do. He fixes it for the rest
+of us."
+
+"I think," suggested Dorothy, after a momentary silence, "that the Ideal
+consists in minding your own business and gently, but firmly, assisting
+others to mind theirs."
+
+All unknowingly, Dorothy had expressed the dominant idea of the dead
+master of the house. She fancied that the pictured face over the mantel
+was about to smile at her. Dorothy and Uncle Ebeneezer understood each
+other now, and she no longer wished to have the portrait moved.
+
+Before they separated for the night, Dick told them all about the midnight
+gathering in the orchard, which he had witnessed from afar, and which the
+others enjoyed beyond his expectations.
+
+"That's what uncle meant," said Elaine, "by 'fixing a surprise for
+relations.'" "I don't blame him," observed Harlan, "not a blooming bit. I
+wish the poor old duck could have been here to see it. Why wasn't I in on
+it?" he demanded of Dick, somewhat resentfully. "When anything like that
+was going on, why didn't you take me in?"
+
+"It wasn't for me to interfere with his doings," protested Dick, "but I do
+wish you could have seen Uncle Israel."
+
+At the recollection he went off into a spasm of merriment which bid fair
+to prove fatal. The rest laughed with him, not knowing just what it was
+about, such was the infectious quality of Dick's mirth.
+
+"They've all gone," laughed Elaine, happily, taking her bedroom candle
+from Dorothy's hand, "they've all gone, every single one, and now we're
+going to have some good times."
+
+Dick watched her as she went upstairs, the candlelight shining tenderly
+upon her sweet face, and thus betrayed himself to Dorothy, who had
+suspected for some time that he loved Elaine.
+
+"Oh Lord!" grumbled Dick to himself, when he was safely in his own room.
+"Everybody knows it now, except her. I'll bet even Sis Smithers and the
+cat are dead next to me. I might as well tell her to-morrow as any time,
+the result will be just the same. Better do it and have it over with. The
+cat'll tell her if nobody else does."
+
+But that night, strangely enough, Claudius Tiberius disappeared, to be
+seen or heard of no more.
+
+
+
+
+XX
+
+The Love of Another Elaine
+
+
+When Dick and Harlan ventured up to the sanitarium, they were confronted
+by the astonishing fact that Uncle Israel was, indeed, ill. Later
+developements proved that he was in a measure personally responsible for
+his condition, since he had, surreptitiously, in the night, mixed two or
+three medicines of his own brewing with the liberal dose of a different
+drug which the night nurse gave him, in accordance with her instructions.
+
+Far from being unconscious, however, Uncle Israel was even now raging
+violently against further restraint, and demanding to be sent home before
+he was "murdered."
+
+"He's being killed with kindness," whispered Dick, "like the man who was
+run over by an ambulance."
+
+Harlan arranged for Uncle Israel to stay until he was quite healed of this
+last complication, and then wrote out the address of Cousin Betsey Skiles,
+with which Dick was fortunately familiar. "And," added Dick, "if he's
+troublesome, crate him and send him by freight. We don't want to see him
+again."
+
+Less than a week later, Uncle Israel and his bed were safely installed at
+Cousin Betsey's, and he was able to write twelve pages of foolscap, fully
+expressing his opinion of Harlan and Dick and the sanitarium staff, and
+Uncle Ebeneezer, and the rest of the world in general, conveying it by
+registered mail to "J. H. Car & Familey." The composition revealed an
+astonishing command of English, particularly in the way of vituperation.
+Had Uncle Israel known more profanity, he undoubtedly would have
+incorporated it in the text.
+
+"It reminds me," said Elaine, who was permitted to read it, "of a little
+coloured boy we used to know. A playmate quarrelled with him and began to
+call him names, using all the big words he had ever heard, regardless of
+their meaning. When his vocabulary was exhausted, our little friend asked,
+quietly: 'Is you froo?' 'Yes,' returned the other, 'I's froo.' 'Well
+then,' said the master of the situation, calmly, turning on his heel, 'all
+those things what you called me, you is.'"
+
+"That's right," laughed Dick. "All those things Uncle Israel has called
+us, he is, but it makes him a pretty tough old customer."
+
+A blessed peace had descended upon the house and its occupants. Harlan's
+work was swiftly nearing completion, and in another day or two, he would
+be ready to read the neatly typed pages to the members of his household.
+Dorothy could scarcely wait to hear it, and stole many a secret glance at
+the manuscript when Harlan was out of the house. Lover-like, she expected
+great things from it, and she saw the world of readers, literally, at her
+husband's feet. So great was her faith in him that she never for an
+instant suspected that there might possibly be difficulty at the
+start--that any publisher could be wary of this masterpiece by an
+unknown.
+
+The Carrs had planned to remain where they were until the book was
+finished, then to take the precious manuscript, and go forth to conquer
+the City. Afterward, perhaps, a second honeymoon journey, for both were
+sorely in need of rest and recreation.
+
+Elaine was going with them, and Dorothy was to interview the Personage
+whose private secretary she had once been, and see if that position or one
+fully as desirable could not be found for her friend. Also, Elaine was to
+make her home with the Carrs. "I won't let you live in a New York boarding
+house," said Dorothy warmly, "as long as we've any kind of a roof over our
+heads."
+
+Dick had discovered that, as he expressed it, he must "quit fooling and
+get a job." Hitherto, Mr. Chester had preferred care-free idleness to any
+kind of toil, and a modest sum, carefully hoarded, represented to Dick
+only freedom to do as he pleased until it gave out. Then he began to
+consider work again, but as he seldom did the same kind of work twice, he
+was not particularly proficient in any one line.
+
+Still, Dick had no false ideas about labour. At college he had canvassed
+for subscription books, solicited life and fire insurance, swept walks,
+shovelled snow, carried out ashes, and even handled trunks for the express
+company, all with the same cheerful equanimity. His small but certain
+income sufficed for his tuition and other necessary expenses, but for
+board at Uncle Ebeneezer's and a few small luxuries, he was obliged to
+work.
+
+Just now, unwonted ambition fired his soul. "It's funny," he mused,
+"what's come over me. I never hankered to work, even in my wildest
+moments, and yet I pine for it this minute--even street-sweeping would be
+welcome, though that sort of thing isn't going to be much in my line from
+now on. With the start uncle's given me, I can surely get along all right,
+and, anyhow, I've got two hands, two feet, and one head, all good of their
+kind, so there's no call to worry."
+
+Worrying had never been among Dick's accomplishments, but he was restless,
+and eager for something to do. He plunged into furniture-making with
+renewed energy, inspired by the presence of Elaine, who with her book or
+embroidery sat in her low rocker under the apple tree and watched him at
+his work.
+
+Quite often she read aloud, sometimes a paragraph, now and then an entire
+chapter, to which Dick submitted pleasantly. He loved the smooth, soft
+cadence of Elaine's low voice, whether she read or spoke, so, in a way, it
+did not matter. But, one day, when she had read uninterruptedly for over
+an hour, Dick was seized with a violent fit of coughing.
+
+"I say," he began, when the paroxysm had ceased; "you like books, don't
+you?"
+
+"Indeed I do--don't you?"
+
+"Er--yes, of course, but say--aren't you tired of reading?"
+
+"Not at all. You needn't worry about me. When I'm tired, I'll stop."
+
+She was pleased with his kindly thought for her comfort, and thereafter
+read a great deal by way of reward. As for Dick, he burned the midnight
+candle over many a book which he found inexpressibly dull, and skilfully
+led the conversation to it the next day. Soon, even Harlan was impressed
+by his wide knowledge of literature, though no one noted that about books
+not in Uncle Ebeneezer's library, Dick knew nothing at all.
+
+Dorothy spent much of her time in her own room, thus forcing Dick and
+Elaine to depend upon each other for society. Quite often she was lonely,
+and longed for their cheery chatter, but sternly reminded herself that she
+was being sacrificed in a good cause. She built many an air castle for
+them as well as for herself, furnishing both, impartially, with Elaine's
+old mahogany and the simple furniture Dick was making out of Uncle
+Ebeneezer's relics.
+
+By this time the Jack-o'-Lantern was nearly stripped of everything which
+might prove useful, and they were burning the rest of it in the fireplace
+at night. "Varnished hardwood," as Dick said, "makes a peach of a blaze."
+
+Meanwhile Harlan was labouring steadfastly at his manuscript. The glowing
+fancy from which the book had sprung was quite gone. Still, as he cut,
+rearranged, changed, interlined, reconstructed and polished, he was not
+wholly unsatisfied with his work. "It may not be very good," he said to
+himself, "but it's the best I can do--now. The next will be better, I'm
+sure." He knew, even then, that there would be a "next one," for the
+eternal thirst which knows no quenching had seized upon his inmost soul.
+
+Hereafter, by an inexplicably swift reversion, he should see all life as
+literature, and literature as life. Friends and acquaintances should all
+be, in his inmost consciousness, ephemeral. And Dorothy--dearly as he
+loved her, was separated from him as by a veil.
+
+Still, as he worked, he came gradually to a better adjustment, and was
+very tenderly anxious that Dorothy should see no change in him. He had not
+yet reached the point, however, where he would give it all up for the sake
+of finding things real again, if only for an hour.
+
+Day after day, his work went on. Sometimes he would spend an hour
+searching for a single word, rightly to express his meaning. Page after
+page was re-copied upon the typewriter, for, with the nice conscience of a
+good workman, Harlan desired a perfect manuscript, at least in mechanical
+details.
+
+Finally, he came to the last page and printed "The End" in capitals with
+deep satisfaction. "When it's sandpapered," he said to himself, "and the
+dust blown off, I suppose it will be done."
+
+The "sandpapering" took a week longer. At the end of that time, Harlan
+concluded that any manuscript was done when the writer had read it
+carefully a dozen times without making a single change in it. On a
+Saturday night, just as the hall clock was booming eleven, he pushed it
+aside, and sat staring blankly at the wall for a long time.
+
+"I don't know what I've got," he thought, "but I've certainly got two
+hundred and fifty pages of typed manuscript. It should be good for
+something--even at space rates."
+
+After dinner, Sunday, he told them that the book was ready, and they all
+went out into the orchard. Dick was resigned, Elaine pleasantly excited,
+Dorothy eager and aflame with triumphant pride, Harlan self-conscious,
+and, in a way, ashamed.
+
+As he read, however, he forgot everything else. The mere sound of the
+words came with caressing music to his ears. At times his voice wavered
+and his hands trembled, but he kept on, until it grew so dark that he
+could no longer see.
+
+They went into the house silently, and Dick touched a match to the fire
+already laid in the fireplace, while Dorothy lighted the candles and the
+reading lamp. The afterglow faded and the moon rose, yet still they rode
+with Elaine and her company, through mountain passes and over blossoming
+fields, past many dangers and strange happenings, and ever away from the
+Castle of Content.
+
+Harlan's deep, vibrant voice, now stern, now tender, gave new meaning to
+his work. His secret belief in it gave it a beauty which no one else would
+ever see. Dorothy, listening so intently that it was almost pain, never
+took her eyes from his face. In that hour, if Harlan could have known it,
+her woman's soul was kneeling before his, naked and unashamed.
+
+Dick privately considered the whole thing more or less of a nuisance, but
+the candlelight touched Elaine's golden hair lovingly, and the glow from
+the fire seemed to rest caressingly upon her face. All along, he saw a
+clear resemblance between his Elaine and the lady of the book, also, more
+keenly, a closer likeness between himself and the fool who rode at her
+side.
+
+When Harlan came to the song which the fool had written, and which he had
+so shamelessly revised and read aloud at the table, Dick seriously
+considered a private and permanent departure, like the nocturnal vanishing
+of Mr. Perkins, without even a poem for farewell.
+
+Elaine, lost in the story, was heedless of her surroundings. It was only
+at the last chapter that she became conscious of self at all. Then,
+suddenly, in her turn, she perceived a parallel, and quivered painfully
+with a new emotion.
+
+_"Some one, perchance," mused the Lady Elaine, "whose beauty my eyes alone
+should perceive, whose valour only I should guess before there was need to
+test it. Some one great of heart and clean of mind, in whose eyes there
+should never be that which makes a woman ashamed. Some one fine-fibred and
+strong-souled, not above tenderness when a maid was tired. One who should
+make a shield of his love, to keep her not only from the great hurts but
+from the little ones as well, and yet with whom she might fare onward,
+shoulder to shoulder, as God meant mates should fare."_
+
+Like the other Elaine, she saw who had served her secretly, asking for no
+recognition; who had always kept watch over her so unobtrusively and
+quietly that she never guessed it till now. Like many another woman,
+Elaine had dreamed of her Prince as a paragon of beauty and perfection,
+with unconscious vanity deeming such an one her true mate. Now her
+story-book lover had gone for ever, and in his place was Dick;
+sunny-hearted, mischievous, whistling, clear-eyed Dick, who had laughed
+and joked with her all Summer, and now--must never know.
+
+In a fierce agony of shame, she wondered if he had already guessed her
+secret--if she had betrayed it to him before she was conscious of it
+herself; if that was why he had been so kind. Harlan was reading the last
+page, and Elaine shaded her face with her hand, determined, at all costs,
+to avoid Dick, and to go away to-morrow, somewhere, anywhere.
+
+_But Prince Bernard did not hear_, read Harlan, _nor see the outstretched
+hand, for Elaine was in his arms for the first time, her sweet lips close
+on his. "My Prince, Oh, my Prince," she murmured, when at length he set
+her free; "my eyes did not see but my heart knew!"_
+
+_So ended the Quest of the Lady Elaine._
+
+The last page of the manuscript fluttered, face downward, upon the table,
+and Dorothy wiped her eyes. Elaine's mouth was parched, but she staggered
+to her feet, knowing that she must say some conventional words of
+congratulation to Harlan, then go to her own room.
+
+Blindly, she put out her hand, trying to speak; then, for a single
+illuminating instant, her eyes looked into Dick's.
+
+With a little cry, Elaine fled from the room, overwhelmed with shame. In a
+twinkling, she was out of the house, and flying toward the orchard as fast
+as her light feet would carry her, her heart beating wildly in her
+breast.
+
+By the sure instinct of a lover, Dick knew that his hour had come. He
+dropped out of the window and overtook her just as she reached her little
+rocking-chair, which, damp with the Autumn dew, was still under the apple
+tree.
+
+"Elaine!" cried Dick, crushing her into his arms, all the joy of youth and
+love in his voice. "Elaine! My Elaine!"
+
+"The audience," remarked Harlan, in an unnatural tone, "appears to have
+gone. Only my faithful wife stands by me."
+
+"Oh, Harlan," answered Dorothy, with a swift rush of feeling, "you'll
+never know till your dying day how proud and happy I am. It's the very
+beautifullest book that anybody ever wrote, and I'm so glad! Mrs.
+Shakespeare could never have been half as pleased as I am! I----," but the
+rest was lost, for Dorothy was in his arms, crying her heart out for sheer
+joy.
+
+"There, there," said Harlan, patting her shoulders awkwardly, and rubbing
+his rough cheek against her tear-wet face; "it wasn't meant to make
+anybody cry."
+
+"Why can't I cry if I want to?" demanded Dorothy, resentfully, between
+sobs. Harlan's voice was far from even and his own eyes were misty as he
+answered: "Because you are my own darling girl and I love you, that's
+why."
+
+They sat hand in hand for a long time, looking into the embers of the
+dying fire, in the depths of that wedded silence which has no need of
+words. The portraits of Uncle Ebeneezer and Aunt Rebecca seemed fully in
+accord, and, though mute, eloquent with understanding.
+
+"He'd be so proud," whispered Dorothy, looking up at the stern face over
+the mantel, "if he knew what you had done here in his house. He loved
+books, and now, because of his kindness, you can always write them. You'll
+never have to go back on the paper again."
+
+Harlan smiled reminiscently, for the hurrying, ceaseless grind of the
+newspaper office was, indeed, a thing of the past. The dim, quiet room was
+his, not the battle-ground of the street. Still, as he knew, the smell of
+printer's ink in his nostrils would be like the sound of a bugle to an old
+cavalry horse, and even now, he would not quite trust himself to walk down
+Newspaper Row.
+
+"I love Uncle Ebeneezer and Aunt Rebecca," went on Dorothy, happily. "I
+love everybody. I've love enough to-night to spare some for the whole
+world."
+
+"Dear little saint," said Harlan, softly, "I believe you have."
+
+The clock struck ten and the fire died down. A candle flickered in its
+socket, then went out. The chill Autumn mist was rising, and through it
+the new moon gleamed faintly, like veiled pearl.
+
+"I wonder," said Harlan, "where the rest of the audience is? If everybody
+who reads the book is going to disappear suddenly and mysteriously, I
+won't be the popular author that I pine to be."
+
+"Hush," responded Dorothy; "I think they are coming now. I'll go and let
+them in."
+
+Only a single candle was burning in the hall, and when Dorothy opened the
+door, it went out suddenly, but in that brief instant, she had seen their
+glorified faces and understood it all. The library door was open, and the
+dimly lighted room seemed like a haven of refuge to Elaine, radiantly
+self-conscious, and blushing with sweet shame.
+
+"Hello," said Dick, awkwardly, with a tremendous effort to appear natural,
+"we've just been out to get a breath of fresh air."
+
+It had taken them two hours, but Dorothy was too wise to say anything. She
+only laughed--a happy, tender, musical little laugh. Then she impulsively
+kissed them both, pushed Elaine gently into the library, and went back
+into the parlour to tell Harlan.
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's At the Sign of the Jack O'Lantern, by Myrtle Reed
+
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+<head>
+<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" />
+<title>
+The Project Gutenberg eBook of At the Sign of the Jack O&#8217;Lantern, by Myrtle Reed.
+</title>
+
+<style type="text/css">
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+
+
+<pre>
+
+Project Gutenberg's At the Sign of the Jack O'Lantern, by Myrtle Reed
+
+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: At the Sign of the Jack O'Lantern
+
+Author: Myrtle Reed
+
+Release Date: September 20, 2008 [EBook #26673]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AT THE SIGN OF THE JACK O'LANTERN ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<hr class='silver' />
+
+<div class='ce'>
+<p style='font-size:2.2em; margin-top:1em;'>At the Sign of the</p>
+<p style='font-size:2.2em; margin-bottom:1em;'>Jack O&#8217;Lantern</p>
+<div style='margin-top:1em'></div>
+<p>BY</p>
+<p style='font-size:1.4em;'>MYRTLE REED</p>
+<div style='margin-top:1em'></div>
+<p>Author of</p>
+<p>Lavender and Old Lace</p>
+<p>The Master&#8217;s Violin</p>
+<p>A Spinner in the Sun</p>
+<p>Old Rose and Silver</p>
+<p>A Weaver of Dreams</p>
+<p>Flower of the Dusk</p>
+<p style='margin-bottom:3em;'>Etc.</p>
+<div style='margin-top:1em'></div>
+<p>New York</p>
+<p style='font-size:1.2em;'>GROSSET &amp; DUNLAP</p>
+<p>Publishers</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr class='silver' />
+
+<div class='ce'>
+<p><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Copyright</span>, 1902</p>
+<p style='font-size:0.8em;'>BY</p>
+<p style='font-size:0.8em; margin-bottom:2em;'>MYRTLE REED</p>
+</div>
+
+<table summary='booklist'>
+<tr><td colspan='2' align='center'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>By Myrtle Reed:</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td>A Weaver of Dreams</td><td>Sonnets to a Lover</td></tr>
+<tr><td>Old Rose and Silver</td><td>Master of the Vineyard</td></tr>
+<tr><td>Lavender and Old Lace</td><td>Flower of the Dusk</td></tr>
+<tr><td>The Master's Violin</td><td>At the Sign of the Jack-o'-Lantern</td></tr>
+<tr><td>Love Letters of a Musician</td><td>A Spinner in the Sun</td></tr>
+<tr><td>The Spinster Book</td><td>Later Love Letters of a Musician</td></tr>
+<tr><td>The Shadow of Victory</td><td>Love Affairs of Literary Men</td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan='2' align='center'>Myrtle Reed Year Book</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<div class='ce'>
+<p style='margin-top:2em;'>This edition is issued under arrangement with the publishers</p>
+<p><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>G. P. Putnam&#8217;s Sons, New York and London</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<hr class='silver' />
+
+<div class='ce'>
+<p style='font-size:1.4em; margin-bottom:1em;'>Contents</p>
+</div>
+
+<table border='0' width='500' cellpadding='2' cellspacing='0' summary='Contents' style='margin:1em auto;'>
+<tr>
+  <td align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'><span style='font-size:small;'>CHAPTER</span></td>
+  <td></td>
+  <td align='right'><span style='font-size:small;'>PAGE</span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>I.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The End of the Honeymoon</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#I_THE_END_OF_THE_HONEYMOON'>1</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>II.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Day Afterward</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#II_THE_DAY_AFTERWARD'>18</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>III.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The First Caller</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#III_THE_FIRST_CALLER'>35</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>IV.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Finances</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#IV_FINANCES'>53</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>V.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Mrs. Smithers</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#V_MRS_SMITHERS'>68</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VI.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Coming of Elaine</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VI_THE_COMING_OF_ELAINE'>84</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VII.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>An Uninvited Guest</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VII_AN_UNINVITED_GUEST'>100</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VIII.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>More</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VIII_MORE'>119</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>IX.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Another</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#IX_ANOTHER'>136</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>X.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Still More</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#X_STILL_MORE'>154</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XI.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Mrs. Dodd&#8217;s Third Husband</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XI_MRS_DODD_S_THIRD_HUSBAND'>173</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XII.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Her Gift to the World</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XII_HER_GIFT_TO_THE_WORLD'>191</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XIII.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>A Sensitive Soul</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XIII_A_SENSITIVE_SOUL'>210</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XIV.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Mrs. Dodd&#8217;s Fifth Fate</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XIV_MRS_DODD_S_FIFTH_FATE'>226</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XV.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Treasure-Trove</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XV_TREASURETROVE'>243</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XVI.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Good Fortune</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XVI_GOOD_FORTUNE'>264</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XVII.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Lady Elaine Knows Her Heart</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XVII_THE_LADY_ELAINE_KNOWS_HER_HEART'>282</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XVIII.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Uncle Ebeneezer&#8217;s Diary</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XVIII_UNCLE_EBENEEZER_S_DIARY'>299</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XIX.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Various Departures</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XIX_VARIOUS_DEPARTURES'>319</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XX.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Love of Another Elaine</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XX_THE_LOVE_OF_ANOTHER_ELAINE'>338</a></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<hr class='silver' />
+
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='I_THE_END_OF_THE_HONEYMOON' id='I_THE_END_OF_THE_HONEYMOON'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_1' name='page_1'></a>1</span>
+<h2>I</h2>
+<h3>The End of the Honeymoon</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>It was certainly a queer house. Even
+through the blinding storm they could
+distinguish its eccentric outlines as they alighted
+from the stage. Dorothy laughed happily,
+heedless of the fact that her husband&#8217;s umbrella
+was dripping down her neck. &#8220;It&#8217;s a
+dear old place,&#8221; she cried; &#8220;I love it already!&#8221;</p>
+<p>For an instant a flash of lightning turned the
+peculiar windows into sheets of flame, then
+all was dark again. Harlan&#8217;s answer was
+drowned by a crash of thunder and the turning
+of the heavy wheels on the gravelled road.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t stop,&#8221; shouted the driver; &#8220;I&#8217;ll
+come up to-morrer for the money. Good luck
+to you&mdash;an&#8217; the Jack-o&#8217;-Lantern!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What did he mean?&#8221; asked Dorothy,
+shaking out her wet skirts, when they were
+safely inside the door. &#8220;Who&#8217;s got a Jack-o&#8217;-Lantern?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_2' name='page_2'></a>2</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;You can search me,&#8221; answered Harlan,
+concisely, fumbling for a match. &#8220;I suppose
+we&#8217;ve got it. Anyhow, we&#8217;ll have a look at
+this sepulchral mansion presently.&#8221;</p>
+<p>His deep voice echoed and re-echoed
+through the empty rooms, and Dorothy
+laughed; a little hysterically this time. Match
+after match sputtered and failed. &#8220;Couldn&#8217;t
+have got much wetter if I&#8217;d been in swimming,&#8221;
+he grumbled. &#8220;Here goes the last
+one.&#8221;</p>
+<p>By the uncertain light they found a candle
+and Harlan drew a long breath of relief. &#8220;It
+would have been pleasant, wouldn&#8217;t it?&#8221; he
+went on. &#8220;We could have sat on the stairs
+until morning, or broken our admirable necks
+in falling over strange furniture. The next
+thing is a fire. Wonder where my distinguished
+relative kept his wood?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Lighting another candle, he went off on a
+tour of investigation, leaving Dorothy alone.</p>
+<p>She could not repress a shiver as she glanced
+around the gloomy room. The bare loneliness
+of the place was accentuated by the depressing
+furniture, which belonged to the black
+walnut and haircloth period. On the marble-topped
+table, in the exact centre of the room,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_3' name='page_3'></a>3</span>
+was a red plush album, flanked on one side
+by a hideous china vase, and on the other by
+a basket of wax flowers under a glass shade.</p>
+<p>Her home-coming! How often she had
+dreamed of it, never for a moment guessing
+that it might be like this! She had fancied a
+little house in a suburb, or a cosy apartment
+in the city, and a lump came into her throat
+as her air castle dissolved into utter ruin. She
+was one of those rare, unhappy women
+whose natures are so finely attuned to beauty
+that ugliness hurts like physical pain.</p>
+<p>She sat down on one of the slippery haircloth
+chairs, facing the mantel where the
+single candle threw its tiny light afar. Little
+by little the room crept into shadowy relief&mdash;the
+melodeon in the corner, the what-not,
+with its burden of incongruous ornaments, and
+even the easel bearing the crayon portrait of
+the former mistress of the house, becoming
+faintly visible.</p>
+<p>Presently, from above the mantel, appeared
+eyes. Dorothy felt them first, then looked
+up affrighted. From the darkness they
+gleamed upon her in a way that made her
+heart stand still. Human undoubtedly, but
+not in the least friendly, they were the eyes
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_4' name='page_4'></a>4</span>
+of one who bitterly resented the presence of
+an intruder. The light flickered, then flamed
+up once more and brought into view the features
+that belonged with the eyes.</p>
+<p>Dorothy would have screamed, had it not
+been for the lump in her throat. A step came
+nearer and nearer, from some distant part of
+the house, accompanied by a cheery, familiar
+whistle. Still the stern, malicious face held
+her spellbound, and even when Harlan came
+in with his load of wood, she could not turn
+away.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now,&#8221; he said, &#8220;we&#8217;ll start a fire and
+hang ourselves up to dry.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What is it?&#8221; asked Dorothy, her lips
+scarcely moving.</p>
+<p>His eyes followed hers. &#8220;Uncle Ebeneezer&#8217;s
+portrait,&#8221; he answered. &#8220;Why, Dorothy
+Carr! I believe you&#8217;re scared!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I was scared,&#8221; she admitted, reluctantly,
+after a brief silence, smiling a little at her own
+foolishness. &#8220;It&#8217;s so dark and gloomy in here,
+and you were gone so long&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>Her voice trailed off into an indistinct
+murmur, but she still shuddered in spite of
+herself.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Funny old place,&#8221; commented Harlan,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_5' name='page_5'></a>5</span>
+kneeling on the hearth and laying kindlings,
+log-cabin fashion, in the fireplace. &#8220;If an
+architect planned it, he must have gone crazy
+the week before he did it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Or at the time. Don&#8217;t, dear&mdash;wait a
+minute. Let&#8217;s light our first fire together.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He smiled as she slipped to her knees beside
+him, and his hand held hers while the
+blazing splinter set the pine kindling aflame.
+Quickly the whole room was aglow with
+light and warmth, in cheerful contrast to the
+stormy tumult outside.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Somebody said once,&#8221; observed Harlan,
+as they drew their chairs close to the hearth,
+&#8220;that four feet on a fender are sufficient for
+happiness.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Depends altogether on the feet,&#8221; rejoined
+Dorothy, quickly. &#8220;I wouldn&#8217;t want Uncle
+Ebeneezer sitting here beside me&mdash;no disrespect
+intended to your relation, as such.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Poor old duck,&#8221; said Harlan, kindly.
+&#8220;Life was never very good to him, and Death
+took away the only thing he ever loved.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Aunt Rebecca,&#8221; he continued, feeling her
+unspoken question. &#8220;She died suddenly,
+when they had been married only three or
+four weeks.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_6' name='page_6'></a>6</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Like us,&#8221; whispered Dorothy, for the first
+time conscious of a tenderness toward the departed
+Mr. Judson, of Judson Centre.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It was four weeks ago to-day, wasn&#8217;t
+it?&#8221; he mused, instinctively seeking her
+hand.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I thought you&#8217;d forgotten,&#8221; she smiled
+back at him. &#8220;I feel like an old married
+woman, already.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You don&#8217;t look it,&#8221; he returned, gently.
+Few would have called her beautiful, but love
+brings beauty with it, and Harlan saw an exquisite
+loveliness in the deep, dark eyes, the
+brown hair that rippled and shone in the firelight,
+the smooth, creamy skin, and the sensitive
+mouth that betrayed every passing mood.</p>
+<p>&#8220;None the less, I am,&#8221; she went on. &#8220;I&#8217;ve
+grown so used to seeing &#8216;Mrs. James Harlan
+Carr&#8217; on my visiting cards that I&#8217;ve forgotten
+there ever was such a person as &#8216;Miss Dorothy
+Locke,&#8217; who used to get letters, and go calling
+when she wasn&#8217;t too busy, and have things
+sent to her when she had the money to buy
+them.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I hope&mdash;&#8221; Harlan stumbled awkwardly
+over the words&mdash;&#8220;I hope you&#8217;ll never be
+sorry.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_7' name='page_7'></a>7</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;I haven&#8217;t been yet,&#8221; she laughed, &#8220;and
+it&#8217;s four whole weeks. Come, let&#8217;s go on an
+exploring expedition. I&#8217;m dry both inside
+and out, and most terribly hungry.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Each took a candle and Harlan led the way,
+in and out of unexpected doors, queer, winding
+passages, and lonely, untenanted rooms.
+Originally, the house had been simple enough
+in structure, but wing after wing had been
+added until the first design, if it could be dignified
+by that name, had been wholly obscured.
+From each room branched a series
+of apartments&mdash;a sitting-room, surrounded by
+bedrooms, each of which contained two or
+sometimes three beds. A combined kitchen
+and dining-room was in every separate wing,
+with an outside door.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I wonder,&#8221; cried Dorothy, &#8220;if we&#8217;ve
+come to an orphan asylum!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Heaven knows what we&#8217;ve come to,&#8221;
+muttered Harlan. &#8220;You know I never was
+here before.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Did Uncle Ebeneezer have a large family?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Only Aunt Rebecca, who died very soon,
+as I told you. Mother was his only sister,
+and I her only child, so it wasn&#8217;t on our
+side.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_8' name='page_8'></a>8</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Perhaps,&#8221; observed Dorothy, &#8220;Aunt Rebecca
+had relations.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;One, two, three, four, five,&#8221; counted Harlan.
+&#8220;There are five sets of apartments on this side,
+and three on the other. Let&#8217;s go upstairs.&#8221;</p>
+<p>From the low front door a series of low
+windows extended across the house on each
+side, abundantly lighting the two front rooms,
+which were separated by the wide hall. A
+high, narrow window in the lower hall, seemingly
+with no purpose whatever, began far
+above the low door and ended abruptly at the
+ceiling. In the upper hall, a similar window
+began at the floor and extended upward no
+higher than Harlan&#8217;s knees. As Dorothy said,
+&#8220;one would have to lie down to look out of
+it,&#8221; but it lighted the hall, which, after all,
+was the main thing.</p>
+<p>In each of the two front rooms, upstairs,
+was a single round window, too high for one
+to look out of without standing on a chair,
+though in both rooms there was plenty of side
+light. One wing on each side of the house
+had been carried up to the second story, and
+the arrangement of rooms was the same as
+below, outside stairways leading from the
+kitchens to the ground.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_9' name='page_9'></a>9</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;I never saw so many beds in my life,&#8221;
+cried Dorothy.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Seems to be a perfect Bedlam,&#8221; rejoined
+Harlan, making a poor attempt at a joke and
+laughing mirthlessly. In his heart he began
+to doubt the wisdom of marrying on six hundred
+dollars, an unexplored heirloom in Judson
+Centre, and an overweening desire to write
+books.</p>
+<p>For the first time, his temerity appeared to
+him in its proper colours. He had been a
+space writer and Dorothy the private secretary
+of a Personage, when they met, in the
+dreary basement dining-room of a New York
+boarding-house, and speedily fell in love.
+Shortly afterward, when Harlan received a letter
+which contained a key, and announced
+that Mr. Judson&#8217;s house, fully furnished, had
+been bequeathed to his nephew, they had
+light-heartedly embarked upon matrimony
+with no fears for the future.</p>
+<p>Two hundred dollars had been spent upon
+a very modest honeymoon, and the three
+hundred and ninety-seven dollars and twenty-three
+cents remaining, as Harlan had accurately
+calculated, seemed pitifully small.
+Perplexity, doubt, and foreboding were plainly
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_10' name='page_10'></a>10</span>
+written on his face, when Dorothy turned to
+him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Isn&#8217;t it perfectly lovely,&#8221; she asked, &#8220;for
+us to have this nice, quiet place all to ourselves,
+where you can write your book?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Woman-like, she had instantly touched the
+right chord, and the clouds vanished.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; he cried, eagerly. &#8220;Oh, Dorothy,
+do you think I can really write it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Write it,&#8221; she repeated; &#8220;why, you dear,
+funny goose, you can write a better book than
+anybody has ever written yet, and I know you
+can! By next week we&#8217;ll be settled here and
+you can get down to work. I&#8217;ll help you,
+too,&#8221; she added, generously. &#8220;If you&#8217;ll buy
+me a typewriter, I can copy the whole book
+for you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Of course I&#8217;ll buy you a typewriter.
+We&#8217;ll send for it to-morrow. How much
+does a nice one cost?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The kind I like,&#8221; she explained, &#8220;costs a
+hundred dollars without the stand. I don&#8217;t
+need the stand&mdash;we can find a table somewhere
+that will do.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Two hundred and ninety-seven dollars
+and twenty-three cents,&#8221; breathed Harlan,
+unconsciously.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_11' name='page_11'></a>11</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;No, only a hundred dollars,&#8221; corrected
+Dorothy. &#8220;I don&#8217;t care to have it silver
+mounted.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;d buy you a gold one if you wanted it,&#8221;
+stammered Harlan, in some confusion.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not now,&#8221; she returned, serenely. &#8220;Wait
+till the book is done.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Visions of fame and fortune appeared before
+his troubled eyes and set his soul alight with
+high ambition. The candle in his hand burned
+unsteadily and dripped tallow, unheeded.
+&#8220;Come,&#8221; said Dorothy, gently, &#8220;let&#8217;s go
+downstairs again.&#8221;</p>
+<p>An open door revealed a tortuous stairway
+at the back of the house, descending mysteriously
+into cavernous gloom. &#8220;Let&#8217;s go down
+here,&#8221; she continued. &#8220;I love curly stairs.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;These are kinky enough to please even
+your refined fancy,&#8221; laughed Harlan. &#8220;It reminds
+me of travelling in the West, where you
+look out of the window and see your engine
+on the track beside you, going the other way.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;This must be the kitchen,&#8221; said Dorothy,
+when the stairs finally ceased. &#8220;Uncle Ebeneezer
+appears to have had a pronounced fancy
+for kitchens.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Here&#8217;s another wing,&#8221; added Harlan,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_12' name='page_12'></a>12</span>
+opening the back door. &#8220;Sitting-room, bedroom,
+and&mdash;my soul and body! It&#8217;s another
+kitchen!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Any more beds?&#8221; queried Dorothy, peering
+into the darkness. &#8220;We can&#8217;t keep house
+unless we can find more beds.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Only one more. I guess we&#8217;ve come
+down to bed rock at last.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;In other words, the cradle,&#8221; she observed,
+pulling a little old-fashioned trundle bed out
+into the light.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, what a joke!&#8221; cried Harlan. &#8220;That&#8217;s
+worth three dollars in the office of any funny
+paper in New York!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sell it,&#8221; commanded Dorothy, inspired by
+the prospect of wealth, &#8220;and I&#8217;ll give you fifty
+cents for your commission.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Outside, the storm still raged and the old
+house shook and creaked in the blast. The
+rain swirled furiously against the windows,
+and a swift rush of hailstones beat a fierce
+tattoo on the roof. Built on the summit of a
+hill and with only a few trees near it, the
+Judson mansion was but poorly protected
+from the elements.</p>
+<p>None the less, there was a sense of warmth
+and comfort inside. &#8220;Let&#8217;s build a fire in the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_13' name='page_13'></a>13</span>
+kitchen,&#8221; suggested Dorothy, &#8220;and then we&#8217;ll
+try to find something to eat.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Which kitchen?&#8221; asked Harlan.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Any old kitchen. The one the back stairs
+end in, I guess. It seems to be the principal
+one of the set.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Harlan brought more wood and Dorothy
+watched him build the fire with a sense that
+a god-like being was here put to base uses.
+Hampered in his log-cabin design by the limitations
+of the fire box, he handled the kindlings
+awkwardly, got a splinter into his thumb, said
+something under his breath which was not
+meant for his wife to hear, and powdered his
+linen with soot from the stove pipe. At
+length, however, a respectable fire was started.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now,&#8221; he asked, &#8220;what shall I do next?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Wind all the clocks. I can&#8217;t endure a
+dead clock. While you&#8217;re doing it, I&#8217;ll get
+out the remnants of our lunch and see what
+there is in the pantry that is still edible.&#8221;</p>
+<p>In the lunch basket which the erratic ramifications
+of the road leading to Judson Centre
+had obliged them to carry, there was still, fortunately,
+a supply of sandwiches and fruit. A
+hasty search through the nearest pantry revealed
+jelly, marmalade, and pickles, a box of musty
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_14' name='page_14'></a>14</span>
+crackers and a canister of tea. When Harlan
+came back, Dorothy had the kitchen table set
+for two, with a lighted candle dispensing
+odorous good cheer from the centre of it, and
+the tea kettle singing merrily over the fire.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Seems like home, doesn&#8217;t it?&#8221; he asked,
+pleasantly imbued with the realisation of the
+home-making quality in Dorothy. Certain
+rare women with this gift take their atmosphere
+with them wherever they go.</p>
+<p>&#8220;To-morrow,&#8221; he went on, &#8220;I&#8217;ll go into
+the village and buy more things to eat.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The ruling passion,&#8221; she smiled. &#8220;It&#8217;s&mdash;what&#8217;s
+that!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Clear and high above the sound of the
+storm came an imperious &#8220;Me-ow!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s a cat,&#8221; said Harlan. &#8220;You don&#8217;t
+suppose the poor thing is shut up anywhere,
+do you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;If it had been, we&#8217;d have found it.
+We&#8217;ve opened every door in the house, I&#8217;m
+sure. It must be outside.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Me-ow! Me-ow! Me-ow!&#8221; The voice
+was not pleading; it was rather a command, a
+challenge.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Kitty, kitty, kitty,&#8221; she called. &#8220;Where
+are you, kitty?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_15' name='page_15'></a>15</span></p>
+<p>Harlan opened the outside door, and in
+rushed a huge black cat, with the air of one
+returning home after a long absence.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Poor kitty,&#8221; said Dorothy, kindly, stooping
+to stroke the sable visitor, who instinctively
+dodged the caress, and then scratched
+her hand.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The ugly brute!&#8221; she exclaimed. &#8220;Don&#8217;t
+touch him, Harlan.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Throughout the meal the cat sat at a respectful
+distance, with his greenish yellow
+eyes fixed unwaveringly upon them. He was
+entirely black, save for a white patch under
+his chin, which, in the half-light, carried with
+it an uncanny suggestion of a shirt front.
+Dorothy at length became restless under the
+calm scrutiny.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t like him,&#8221; she said. &#8220;Put him out.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thought you liked cats,&#8221; remarked Harlan,
+reaching for another sandwich.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I do, but I don&#8217;t like this one. Please put
+him out.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What, in all this storm? He&#8217;ll get wet.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He wasn&#8217;t wet when he came in,&#8221; objected
+Dorothy. &#8220;He must have some warm, dry
+place of his own outside.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Come, kitty,&#8221; said Harlan, pleasantly.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_16' name='page_16'></a>16</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Kitty&#8221; merely blinked, and Harlan rose.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Come, kitty.&#8221;</p>
+<p>With the characteristic independence of
+cats, the visitor yawned. The conversation
+evidently bored him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Come, kitty,&#8221; said Harlan, more firmly,
+with a low swoop of his arm. The cat
+arched his back, erected an enlarged tail, and
+hissed threateningly. In a dignified but effective
+manner, he eluded all attempts to capture
+him, even avoiding Dorothy and her broom.</p>
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s something more or less imperial
+about him,&#8221; she remarked, wiping her flushed
+cheeks, when they had finally decided not to
+put the cat out. &#8220;As long as he&#8217;s adopted
+us, we&#8217;ll have to keep him. What shall we
+name him?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Claudius Tiberius,&#8221; answered Harlan. &#8220;It
+suits him down to the ground.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;His first name is certainly appropriate,&#8221;
+laughed Dorothy, with a rueful glance at her
+scratched hand. Making the best of a bad
+bargain, she spread an old grey shawl, nicely
+folded, on the floor by the stove, and requested
+Claudius Tiberius to recline upon it,
+but he persistently ignored the invitation.</p>
+<p>&#8220;This is jolly enough,&#8221; said Harlan. &#8220;A
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_17' name='page_17'></a>17</span>
+cosy little supper in our own house, with a
+gale blowing outside, the tea kettle singing
+over the fire, and a cat purring on the hearth.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Have you heard Claudius purr?&#8221; asked
+Dorothy, idly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Come to think of it, I haven&#8217;t. Perhaps
+something is wrong with his purrer.
+We&#8217;ll fix him to-morrow.&#8221;</p>
+<p>From a remote part of the house came
+twelve faint, silvery tones. The kitchen clock
+struck next, with short, quick strokes, followed
+immediately by a casual record of
+the hour from the clock on the mantel beneath
+Uncle Ebeneezer&#8217;s portrait. Then the
+grandfather&#8217;s clock in the hall boomed out
+twelve, solemn funereal chimes. Afterward,
+the silence seemed acute.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The end of the honeymoon,&#8221; said Dorothy,
+a little sadly, with a quick, inquiring look
+at her husband.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The end of the honeymoon!&#8221; repeated
+Harlan, gathering her into his arms. &#8220;To-morrow,
+life begins!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Several hours later, Dorothy awoke from a
+dreamless sleep to wonder whether life was
+any different from a honeymoon, and if so,
+how and why.</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='II_THE_DAY_AFTERWARD' id='II_THE_DAY_AFTERWARD'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_18' name='page_18'></a>18</span>
+<h2>II</h2>
+<h3>The Day Afterward</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>By the pitiless light of early morning, the
+house was even uglier than at night.
+With an irreverence essentially modern, Dorothy
+decided, while she was dressing, to have
+all the furniture taken out into the back yard,
+where she could look it over at her leisure.
+She would make a bonfire of most of it, or,
+better yet, have it cut into wood for the fireplace.
+Thus Uncle Ebeneezer&#8217;s cumbrous
+bequest might be quickly transformed into
+comfort.</p>
+<p>&#8220;And,&#8221; thought Dorothy, &#8220;I&#8217;ll take down
+that hideous portrait over the mantel before
+I&#8217;m a day older.&#8221;</p>
+<p>But when she broached the subject to Harlan,
+she found him unresponsive and somewhat
+disinclined to interfere with the existing
+order of things. &#8220;We&#8217;ll be here only for the
+Summer,&#8221; he said, &#8220;so what&#8217;s the use of
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_19' name='page_19'></a>19</span>
+monkeying with the furniture and burning up
+fifty or sixty beds? There&#8217;s plenty of wood
+in the cellar.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t like the furniture,&#8221; she pouted.</p>
+<p>&#8220;My dear,&#8221; said Harlan, with patronising
+kindness, &#8220;as you grow older, you&#8217;ll find lots
+of things on the planet which you don&#8217;t like.
+Moreover, it&#8217;ll be quite out of your power to
+cremate &#8217;em, and it&#8217;s just as well to begin
+adjusting yourself now.&#8221;</p>
+<p>This bit of philosophy irritated Mrs. Carr
+unbearably. &#8220;Do you mean to say,&#8221; she demanded,
+with rising temper, &#8220;that you won&#8217;t
+do as I ask you to?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you mean to say,&#8221; inquired Harlan,
+wickedly, in exact imitation of her manner,
+&#8220;that you won&#8217;t do as I ask you to? Four
+weeks ago yesterday, if I remember rightly,
+you promised to obey me!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t remind me of what I&#8217;m ashamed
+of!&#8221; flashed Dorothy. &#8220;If I&#8217;d known what
+a brute you were, I&#8217;d never have married
+you! You may be sure of that!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Claudius Tiberius insinuated himself between
+Harlan&#8217;s feet and rubbed against his
+trousers, leaving a thin film of black fur in his
+wake. Being fastidious about his personal
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_20' name='page_20'></a>20</span>
+appearance, Harlan kicked Claudius Tiberius
+vigorously, grabbed his hat and went out,
+slamming the door, and whistling with an
+exaggerated cheerfulness.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Brute!&#8221; The word rankled deeply as he
+went downhill with his hands in his pockets,
+whistling determinedly. So Dorothy was
+sorry she had married him! After all he&#8217;d
+done for her, too. Giving up a good position
+in New York, taking her half-way around the
+world on a honeymoon, and bringing her to a
+magnificent country residence in a fashionable
+locality for the Summer!</p>
+<p>Safely screened by the hill, he turned back
+to look at the &#8220;magnificent country residence,&#8221;
+then swore softly under his breath, as,
+for the first time, he took in the full meaning
+of the eccentric architecture.</p>
+<p>Perched high upon the hill, with intervening
+shrubbery carefully cut down, the Judson
+mansion was not one to inspire confidence in
+its possessor. Outwardly, it was grey and
+weather-worn, with the shingles dropping off
+in places. At the sides, the rambling wings
+and outside stairways, branching off into
+space, conveyed the impression that the house
+had been recently subjected to a powerful influence
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_21' name='page_21'></a>21</span>
+of the centrifugal sort. But worst of
+all was the front elevation, with its two round
+windows, its narrow, long window in the
+centre, and the low windows on either side
+of the front door&mdash;the grinning, distorted
+semblance of a human face.</p>
+<p>The bare, uncurtained windows loomed up
+boldly in the searching sunlight, which spared
+nothing. The blue smoke rising from the
+kitchen chimney appeared strangely like a
+plume streaming out from the rear. Harlan
+noted, too, that the railing of the narrow
+porch extended almost entirely across the
+front of the house, and remembered, dimly,
+that they had found the steps at one side of
+the porch the night before. Not a single unpleasant
+detail was in any way hidden, and
+he clutched instinctively at a tree as he
+realised that the supports of the railing
+were cunningly arranged to look like huge
+teeth.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No wonder,&#8221; he said to himself &#8220;that the
+stage driver called it the Jack-o&#8217;-Lantern!
+That&#8217;s exactly what it is! Why didn&#8217;t he
+paint it yellow and be done with it? The
+old devil!&#8221; The last disrespectful allusion,
+of course, being meant for Uncle Ebeneezer.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_22' name='page_22'></a>22</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Poor Dorothy,&#8221; he thought again. &#8220;I&#8217;ll
+burn the whole thing, and she shall put every
+blamed crib into the purifying flames. It&#8217;s
+mine, and I can do what I please with it.
+We&#8217;ll go away to-morrow, we&#8217;ll go&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>Where could they go, with less than four
+hundred dollars? Especially when one hundred
+of it was promised for a typewriter?
+Harlan had parted with his managing editor
+on terms of great dignity, announcing that
+he had forsworn journalism and would hereafter
+devote himself to literature. The editor
+had remarked, somewhat cynically, that it was
+a better day for journalism than for literature,
+the fine, inner meaning of the retort not having
+been fully evident to Harlan until he was
+some three squares away from the office.</p>
+<p>Much chastened in spirit, and fully ready to
+accept his wife&#8217;s estimate of him, he went on
+downhill into Judson Centre.</p>
+<p>It was the usual small town, the post-office,
+grocery, meat market, and general loafing-place
+being combined under one roof. Near by was
+the blacksmith shop, and across from it was the
+inevitable saloon. Far up in the hills was the
+Judson Centre Sanitarium, a worthy institution
+of some years standing, where every
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_23' name='page_23'></a>23</span>
+human ailment from tuberculosis to fits was
+more or less successfully treated.</p>
+<p>Upon the inmates of the sanitarium the inhabitants
+of Judson Centre lived, both materially
+and mentally. Few of them had ever
+been nearer to it than the back door, but tales
+of dark doings were widely prevalent throughout
+the community, and mothers were wont
+to frighten their young offspring into obedience
+with threats of the &#8220;san-tor-i-yum.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now what do you reckon ails <i>him</i>?&#8221;
+asked the blacksmith of the stage-driver, as
+Harlan went into the village store.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Wouldn&#8217;t reckon nothin&#8217; ailed him to
+look at him, would you?&#8221; queried the driver,
+in reply.</p>
+<p>Indeed, no one looking at Mr. Carr would
+have suspected him of an &#8220;ailment.&#8221; He was
+tall and broad-shouldered and well set up,
+with clear grey eyes and a rosy, smooth-shaven,
+boyish face which had given him
+the nickname of &#8220;The Cherub&#8221; all along
+Newspaper Row. In his bearing there was
+a suggestion of boundless energy, which
+needed only proper direction to accomplish
+wonders.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You can&#8217;t never tell,&#8221; continued the driver,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_24' name='page_24'></a>24</span>
+shifting his quid. &#8220;Now, I&#8217;ve took folks up
+there goin&#8217; on ten year now, an&#8217; some I&#8217;ve
+took up looked considerable more healthy than
+I be when I took &#8217;em up. Comin&#8217; back, howsumever,
+it was different. One young feller
+rode up with me in the rain one night, a-singin&#8217;
+an&#8217; a-whistlin&#8217; to beat the band, an&#8217;
+when I took him back, a month or so arterward,
+he had a striped nurse on one side of
+him an&#8217; a doctor on t&#8217; other, an&#8217; was wearin&#8217;
+a shawl. Couldn&#8217;t hardly set up, but he was
+a-tryin&#8217; to joke just the same. &#8216;Hank,&#8217; says
+he, when we got a little way off from the
+place, &#8216;my book of life has been edited by the
+librarians an&#8217; the entire appendix removed.&#8217;
+Them&#8217;s his very words. &#8216;An&#8217;,&#8217; says he, &#8216;the
+time to have the appendix took out is before
+it does much of anythin&#8217; to your table of
+contents.&#8217;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The doctor shut him up then, an&#8217; I didn&#8217;t
+hear no more, but I remembered the language,
+an&#8217; arterwards, when I got a chanst, I looked
+in the school-teacher&#8217;s dictionary. It said as
+how the appendix was sunthin&#8217; appended or
+added to, but I couldn&#8217;t get no more about it.
+I&#8217;ve hearn tell of a &#8216;devil child&#8217; with a tail to
+it what was travellin&#8217; with the circus one year,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_25' name='page_25'></a>25</span>
+an&#8217; I&#8217;ve surmised as how mebbe a tail had
+begun to grow on this young feller an&#8217; it was
+took off.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You don&#8217;t say!&#8221; ejaculated the blacksmith.</p>
+<p>By reason of his professional connection
+with the sanitarium, Mr. Henry Blake was, in
+a sense, the oracle of Judson Centre, and he
+enjoyed his proud distinction to the full. Ordinarily,
+he was taciturn, but the present hour
+found him in a conversational mood.</p>
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s married,&#8221; he went on, returning to
+the original subject. &#8220;I took him an&#8217; his wife
+up to the Jack-o&#8217;-Lantern last night. Come
+in on the nine forty-seven from the Junction.
+Reckon they&#8217;re goin&#8217; to stay a spell, &#8217;cause
+they&#8217;ve got trunks&mdash;one of a reasonable size,
+an&#8217; &#8217;nother that looks like a dog-house. Box,
+too, that&#8217;s got lead in it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Books, maybe,&#8221; suggested the blacksmith,
+with unexpected discernment. &#8220;Schoolteacher
+boarded to our house wunst an&#8217; she
+had most a car-load of &#8217;em. Educated folks
+has to have books to keep from losin&#8217; their
+education.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t take much stock in it myself,&#8221; remarked
+the driver. &#8220;It spiles most folks.
+As soon as they get some, they begin to pine
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_26' name='page_26'></a>26</span>
+an&#8217; hanker for more. I knowed a feller wunst
+that begun with one book dropped on the
+road near the sanitarium, an&#8217; he never stopped
+till he was plum through college. An&#8217; a
+woman up there sent my darter a book wunst,
+an&#8217; I took it right back to her. &#8216;My darter&#8217;s got a book,&#8217;
+says I, &#8216;an&#8217; she ain&#8217;t a-needin&#8217; of
+no duplicates. Keep it,&#8217; says I, &#8216;fer somebody
+that ain&#8217;t got no book.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you reckon,&#8221; asked the blacksmith,
+after a long silence, &#8220;that they&#8217;re goin&#8217; to live
+in the Jack-o&#8217;-Lantern?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I ain&#8217;t a-sayin&#8217;,&#8221; answered Mr. Blake, cautiously.
+&#8220;They&#8217;re educated, an&#8217; there&#8217;s no
+tellin&#8217; what educated folks is goin&#8217; to do.
+This young lady, now, that come up with
+him last night, she said it was &#8216;a dear old
+place an&#8217; she loved it a&#8217;ready.&#8217; Them&#8217;s her
+very words!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do tell!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s c&#8217;rrect, an&#8217; as I said before, when
+you&#8217;re dealin&#8217; with educated folks, you&#8217;re
+swimmin&#8217; in deep water with the shore clean
+out o&#8217; sight. Education was what ailed him.&#8221;
+By a careless nod Mr. Blake indicated the Jack-o&#8217;-Lantern,
+which could be seen from the main
+thoroughfare of Judson Centre.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_27' name='page_27'></a>27</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve hearn,&#8221; he went on, taking a fresh
+bite from his morning purchase of &#8220;plug,&#8221;
+&#8220;that he had one hull room mighty nigh plum
+full o&#8217; nothin&#8217; but books, an&#8217; there was always
+more comin&#8217; by freight an&#8217; express an&#8217; through
+the post-office. It&#8217;s all on account o&#8217; them
+books that he&#8217;s made the front o&#8217; his house into
+what it is. My wife had a paper book wunst,
+a-tellin&#8217; &#8216;How to Transfer a Hopeless Exterior,&#8217;
+with pictures of houses in it like they be here an&#8217;
+more arter they&#8217;d been transferred. You bet I
+burnt it while she was gone to sewin&#8217; circle, an&#8217;
+there ain&#8217;t no book come into my house since.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mr. Blake spoke with the virtuous air of
+one who has protected his home from contamination.
+Indeed, as he had often said
+before, &#8220;you can&#8217;t never tell what folks&#8217;ll do
+when books gets a holt of &#8217;em.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you reckon,&#8221; asked the blacksmith,
+&#8220;that there&#8217;ll be company?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Company,&#8221; snickered Mr. Blake, &#8220;oh, my
+Lord, yes! A little thing like death ain&#8217;t never
+going to keep company away. Ain&#8217;t you
+never hearn as how misery loves company?
+The more miserable you are the more company
+you&#8217;ll have, an&#8217; vice versey, etcetery an&#8217;
+the same.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_28' name='page_28'></a>28</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Hush!&#8221; warned the blacksmith, in a harsh
+whisper. &#8220;He&#8217;s a-comin&#8217;!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;City feller,&#8221; grumbled Mr. Blake, affecting
+not to see.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Good-morning,&#8221; said Harlan, pleasantly,
+though not without an air of condescension.
+&#8220;Can you tell me where I can find the stage-driver?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s me,&#8221; grunted Mr. Blake. &#8220;Be
+you wantin&#8217; anythin&#8217;?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Only to pay you for taking us up to the
+house last night, and to arrange about our
+trunks. Can you deliver them this afternoon?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I ain&#8217;t a-runnin&#8217; of no livery, but I can take
+&#8217;em up, if that&#8217;s what you&#8217;re wantin&#8217;.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Exactly,&#8221; said Harlan, &#8220;and the box, too,
+if you will. And the things I&#8217;ve just ordered
+at the grocery&mdash;can you bring them, too?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mr. Blake nodded helplessly, and the blacksmith
+gazed at Harlan, open-mouthed, as he
+started uphill. &#8220;Must sure have a ailment,&#8221;
+he commented, &#8220;but I hear tell, Hank, that in
+the city they never carry nothin&#8217; round with
+&#8217;em but perhaps an umbrell. Everythin&#8217; else
+they have &#8216;sent.&#8217;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Reckon it&#8217;s true enough. I took a ham
+wunst up to the sanitarium for a young sprig
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_29' name='page_29'></a>29</span>
+of a doctor that was too proud to carry it himself.
+He was goin&#8217; that way, too&mdash;walkin&#8217; up
+to save money&mdash;so I charged him for carryin&#8217;
+up the ham just what I&#8217;d have took both for.
+&#8216;Pigs is high,&#8217; I told him, &#8216;same price for
+one as for &#8217;nother,&#8217; but he didn&#8217;t pay no attention
+to it an&#8217; never raised no kick about the
+price. Thinkin&#8217; &#8217;bout sunthin&#8217; else, most likely&mdash;most
+of &#8217;em are.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Harlan, most assuredly, was &#8220;thinkin&#8217; &#8217;bout
+sunthin&#8217; else.&#8221; In fact, he was possessed by
+portentous uneasiness. There was well-defined
+doubt in his mind regarding his reception
+at the Jack-o&#8217;-Lantern. Dorothy&#8217;s parting
+words had been plain&mdash;almost to the point of
+rudeness, he reflected, unhappily, and he was
+not sure that &#8220;a brute&#8221; would be allowed in
+her presence again.</p>
+<p>The bare, uncurtained windows gave no
+sign of human occupancy. Perhaps she had
+left him! Then his reason came to the rescue&mdash;there
+was no way for her to go but downhill,
+and he would certainly have seen her had
+she taken that path.</p>
+<p>When he entered the yard, he smelled
+smoke, and ran wildly into the house. A
+hasty search through all the rooms revealed
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_30' name='page_30'></a>30</span>
+nothing&mdash;even Dorothy had disappeared.
+From the kitchen window, he saw her in the
+back yard, poking idly through a heap of
+smouldering rubbish with an old broomstick.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What are you doing?&#8221; he demanded,
+breathlessly, before she knew he was near
+her.</p>
+<p>Dorothy turned, disguising her sudden start
+by a toss of her head. &#8220;Oh,&#8221; she said, coolly,
+&#8220;it&#8217;s you, is it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Harlan bit his lips and his eyes laughed. &#8220;I
+say, Dorothy,&#8221; he began, awkwardly; &#8220;I was
+rather a beast, wasn&#8217;t I?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Of course,&#8221; she returned, in a small, unnatural
+voice, still poking through the ruins.
+&#8220;I told you so, didn&#8217;t I?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I didn&#8217;t believe you at the time,&#8221; Harlan
+went on, eager to make amends, &#8220;but I do
+now.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s good.&#8221; Mrs. Carr&#8217;s tone was not
+at all reassuring.</p>
+<p>There was an awkward pause, then Harlan,
+putting aside his obstinate pride, said the
+simple sentence which men of all ages have
+found it hardest to say&mdash;perhaps because it is
+the sign of utter masculine abasement. &#8220;I&#8217;m
+sorry, dear, will you forgive me?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_31' name='page_31'></a>31</span></p>
+<p>In a moment, she was in his arms. &#8220;It
+was partly my fault,&#8221; she admitted, generously,
+from the depths of his coat collar. &#8220;I
+think there must be something in the atmosphere
+of the house. We never quarrelled
+before.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And we never will again,&#8221; answered
+Harlan, confidently. &#8220;What have you been
+burning?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It was a mattress,&#8221; whispered Dorothy,
+much ashamed. &#8220;I tried to get a bed out,
+but it was too heavy.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You funny, funny girl! How did you
+ever get a mattress out, all alone?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dragged it to an upper window and
+dumped it,&#8221; she explained, blushing, &#8220;then
+came down and dragged it some more.
+Claudius Tiberius didn&#8217;t like to have me do
+it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t wonder,&#8221; laughed Harlan. &#8220;That
+is,&#8221; he added hastily, &#8220;he couldn&#8217;t have
+been pleased to see you doing it all by yourself.
+Anybody would love to see a mattress
+burn.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Shall we get some more? There are
+plenty.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Let&#8217;s not take all our pleasure at once,&#8221; he
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_32' name='page_32'></a>32</span>
+suggested, with rare tact. &#8220;One mattress a
+day&mdash;how&#8217;ll that do?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ll have it at night,&#8221; cried Dorothy,
+clapping her hands, &#8220;and when the mattresses
+are all gone, we&#8217;ll do the beds and bureaus
+and the haircloth furniture in the parlour. Oh,
+I do so love a bonfire!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Harlan&#8217;s heart grew strangely tender, for it
+had been this underlying childishness in her
+that he had loved the most. She was stirring
+the ashes now, with as much real pleasure as
+though she were five instead of twenty-five.</p>
+<p>As it happened, Harlan would have been
+saved a great deal of trouble if he had followed
+out her suggestion and burned all of the beds
+in the house except two or three, but the
+balance between foresight and retrospection
+has seldom been exact.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Beast of a smudge you&#8217;re making,&#8221; he
+commented, choking.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Get around to the other side, then. Why,
+Harlan, what&#8217;s that?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s what?&#8221;</p>
+<p>She pointed to a small metal box in the
+midst of the ashes.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Poem on Spring, probably, put into the
+corner-stone by the builder of the mattress.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_33' name='page_33'></a>33</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t be foolish,&#8221; she said, with assumed
+severity. &#8220;Get me a pail of water.&#8221;</p>
+<p>With two sticks they lifted it into the water
+and waited, impatiently enough, until they
+were sure it was cool. Then Dorothy, asserting
+her right of discovery, opened it with
+trembling fingers.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why-ee!&#8221; she gasped.</p>
+<p>Upon a bed of wet cotton lay a large
+brooch, made wholly of clustered diamonds,
+and a coral necklace, somewhat injured by the
+fire.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Whose is it?&#8221; demanded Dorothy, when
+she recovered the faculty of speech.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I should say,&#8221; returned Harlan, after due
+deliberation, &#8220;that it belonged to you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;After this,&#8221; she said, slowly, her eyes
+wide with wonder, &#8220;we&#8217;ll take everything
+apart before we burn it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Harlan was turning the brooch over in his
+hand and roughly estimating its value at two
+thousand dollars. &#8220;Here&#8217;s something on the
+back,&#8221; he said. &#8220;&#8216;R. from E., March 12,
+1865.&#8217;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Rebecca from Ebeneezer,&#8221; cried Dorothy.
+&#8220;Oh, Harlan, it&#8217;s ours! Don&#8217;t you remember
+the letter said: &#8216;my house and all its
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_34' name='page_34'></a>34</span>
+contents to my beloved nephew, James Harlan
+Carr&#8217;?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I remember,&#8221; said Harlan. But his conscience
+was uneasy, none the less.</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='III_THE_FIRST_CALLER' id='III_THE_FIRST_CALLER'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_35' name='page_35'></a>35</span>
+<h2>III</h2>
+<h3>The First Caller</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>As Mr. Blake had heard, there was &#8220;one
+hull room mighty nigh plum full o&#8217;
+nothin&#8217; but books&#8221;; a grievous waste, indeed,
+when one already &#8220;had a book.&#8221; It was the
+front room, opposite the parlour, and every
+door and window in it could be securely
+bolted from the inside. If any one desired
+unbroken privacy, it could be had in the
+library as nowhere else in the house.</p>
+<p>The book-shelves were made of rough
+pine, unplaned, unpainted, and were scarcely
+a seemly setting for the treasure they bore.
+But in looking at the books, one perceived
+that their owner had been one who passed
+by the body in his eager search for the soul.</p>
+<p>Here were no fine editions, no luxurious,
+costly volumes in full levant. Illuminated
+pages, rubricated headings, and fine illustrations
+were conspicuous by their absence.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_36' name='page_36'></a>36</span>
+For the most part, the books were simply
+but serviceably bound in plain cloth covers.
+Many a paper-covered book had been bound
+by its purchaser in pasteboard, flimsy enough
+in quality, yet further strengthened by cloth
+at the back. Cheap, pirated editions were
+so many that Harlan wondered whether his
+uncle had not been wholly without conscience
+in the matter of book-buying.</p>
+<p>Shelf after shelf stretched across the long
+wall, with its company of mute consolers
+whose master was no more. The fine flowering
+of the centuries, like a single precious
+drop of imperishable perfume, was hidden in
+this rude casket. The minds and hearts of
+the great, laid pitilessly bare, were here in
+this one room, shielded merely by pasteboard
+and cloth.</p>
+<p>Far up in the mountains, amid snow-clad
+steeps and rock-bound fastnesses, one finds,
+perchance, a shell. It is so small a thing that
+it can be held in the hollow of the hand; so
+frail that a slight pressure of the finger will
+crush it to atoms, yet, held to the ear, it
+brings the surge and sweep of that vast,
+primeval ocean which, in the inconceivably
+remote past, covered the peak. And so, to
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_37' name='page_37'></a>37</span>
+the eye of the mind, the small brown book,
+with its hundred printed pages, brings back
+the whole story of the world.</p>
+<p>A thin, piping voice, to which its fellows
+have paid no heed, after a time becomes
+silent, and, ceaselessly marching, the years
+pass on by. Yet that trembling old hand,
+quietly laid at last upon the turbulent heart,
+in the solitude of a garret has guided a pen,
+and the manuscript is left. Ragged, worn,
+blotted, spotted with candle drippings and
+endlessly interlined, why should these few
+sheets of paper be saved?</p>
+<p>Because, as it happens, the only record of
+the period is there&mdash;a record so significant
+that fifty years can be reconstructed, as an
+entire language was brought to light by a triple
+inscription upon a single stone. Thrown like
+the shell upon Time&#8217;s ever-receding shore, it
+is, nevertheless, the means by which unborn
+thousands shall commune with him who
+wrote in his garret, see his whole life mirrored
+in his book, know his philosophy, and
+take home his truth. For by way of the
+printed page comes Immortality.</p>
+<p>There was no book in the library which
+had not been read many times. Some were
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_38' name='page_38'></a>38</span>
+falling apart, and others had been carefully
+sewn together and awkwardly rebound. Still
+open, on a rickety table in the corner, was
+that ponderous volume with an extremely
+limited circulation: <i>The Publishers&#8217; Trade
+List Annual</i>. Pencilled crosses here and
+there indicated books to be purchased, or at
+least sent on approval, to &#8220;customers known
+to the House.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Some day,&#8221; said Dorothy, &#8220;when it&#8217;s
+raining and we can&#8217;t go out, we&#8217;ll take down
+all these books, arrange them in something
+like order, and catalogue them.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;How optimistic you are!&#8221; remarked Harlan.
+&#8220;Do you think it could be done in one
+day?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, well,&#8221; returned Dorothy; &#8220;you
+know what I mean.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Harlan paced restlessly back and forth,
+pausing now and then to look out of the window,
+where nothing much was to be seen
+except the orchard, at a little distance from
+the house, and Claudius Tiberius, sunning
+himself pleasantly upon the porch. Four
+weeks had been a pleasant vacation, but two
+weeks of comparative idleness, added to it,
+were too much for an active mind and body
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_39' name='page_39'></a>39</span>
+to endure. Three or four times he had tried
+to begin the book that was to bring fame
+and fortune, and as many times had failed.
+Hitherto Harlan&#8217;s work had not been obliged
+to wait for inspiration, and it was not so easy
+as it had seemed the day he bade his managing
+editor farewell.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Somebody is coming,&#8221; announced Dorothy,
+from the window.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nonsense! Nobody ever comes here.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;A precedent is about to be established,
+then. I feel it in my bones that we&#8217;re going
+to have company.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Let&#8217;s see.&#8221; Harlan went to the window
+and looked over her shoulder. A little man
+in a huge silk hat was toiling up the hill,
+aided by a cane. He was bent and old,
+yet he moved with a certain briskness, and,
+as Dorothy had said, he was inevitably
+coming.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Who in thunder&mdash;&#8221; began Harlan.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Our first company,&#8221; interrupted Dorothy,
+with her hand over his mouth. &#8220;The very
+first person who has called on us since we
+were married!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Except Claudius Tiberius,&#8221; amended Harlan.
+&#8220;Isn&#8217;t a cat anybody?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_40' name='page_40'></a>40</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Claudius is. I beg his imperial pardon for
+forgetting him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The rusty bell-wire creaked, then a timid
+ring came from the rear depths of the house.
+&#8220;You let him in,&#8221; said Dorothy, &#8220;and I&#8217;ll
+go and fix my hair.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Am I right,&#8221; queried the old gentleman,
+when Harlan opened the door, &#8220;in presuming
+that I am so fortunate as to address Mr. James
+Harlan Carr?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;My name is Carr,&#8221; answered Harlan, politely.
+&#8220;Will you come in?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thank you,&#8221; answered the visitor, in high
+staccato, oblivious of the fact that Claudius
+Tiberius had scooted in between his feet; &#8220;it
+will be my pleasure to claim your hospitality
+for a few brief moments.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I had hoped,&#8221; he went on, as Harlan
+ushered him into the parlour, &#8220;to be able to
+make your acquaintance before this, but my
+multitudinous duties&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>He fumbled in his pocket and produced a
+card, cut somewhat irregularly from a sheet of
+white cardboard, and bearing in tremulous
+autographic script: &#8220;Jeremiah Bradford,
+Counsellor at Law.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh,&#8221; said Harlan, &#8220;it was you who
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_41' name='page_41'></a>41</span>
+wrote me the letter. I should have hunted
+you up when I first came, shouldn&#8217;t I?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not at all,&#8221; returned Mr. Bradford. &#8220;It
+is I who have been remiss. It is etiquette that
+the old residents should call first upon the
+newcomers. Many and varied duties in connection
+with the practice of my profession
+have hitherto&mdash;&#8221; His eyes sought the portrait
+over the mantel. &#8220;A most excellent
+likeness of your worthy uncle,&#8221; he continued,
+irrelevantly, &#8220;a gentleman with whom, as I
+understand, you never had the pleasure and
+privilege of becoming acquainted.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I never met Uncle Ebeneezer,&#8221; rejoined
+Harlan, &#8220;but mother told me a great deal
+about him and we had one or two pictures&mdash;daguerreotypes,
+I believe they were.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Undoubtedly, my dear sir. This portrait
+was painted from his very last daguerreotype
+by an artist of renown. It is a wonderful
+likeness. He was my Colonel&mdash;I served
+under him in the war. It was my desire to
+possess a portrait of him in uniform, but he
+would never consent, and would not allow
+anyone save myself to address him as Colonel.
+An eccentric, but very estimable gentleman.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I cannot understand,&#8221; said Harlan, &#8220;why
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_42' name='page_42'></a>42</span>
+he should have left the house to me. I had
+never even seen him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Perhaps,&#8221; smiled Mr. Bradford, enigmatically,
+&#8220;that was his reason, or rather, perhaps
+I should say, if you had known your
+uncle more intimately and had visited him
+here, or, if he had had the privilege of knowing
+you&mdash;quite often, as you know, a personal
+acquaintance proves disappointing, though,
+of course, in this case&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>The old gentleman was floundering helplessly
+when Harlan rescued him. &#8220;I want
+you to meet my wife, Mr. Bradford. If you
+will excuse me, I will call her.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Left to himself, the visitor slipped back and
+forth uneasily upon his haircloth chair, and
+took occasion to observe Claudius Tiberius,
+who sat near by and regarded the guest unblinkingly.
+Hearing approaching footsteps,
+he took out his worn silk handkerchief, unfolded
+it, and wiped the cold perspiration
+from his legal brow. In his heart of hearts,
+he wished he had not come, but Dorothy&#8217;s
+kindly greeting at once relieved him of all
+embarrassment.</p>
+<p>&#8220;We have been wondering,&#8221; she said,
+brightly, &#8220;who would be the first to call
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_43' name='page_43'></a>43</span>
+upon us, and you have come at exactly the
+right time. New residents are always given
+two weeks, are they not, in which to get
+settled?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Quite so, my dear madam, quite so, and
+I trust that you are by this time fully accustomed
+to your changed environment. Judson
+Centre, while possessing few metropolitan
+advantages, has distinct and peculiar recommendations
+of an individual character which
+endear the locality to those residing therein.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I think I shall like it here,&#8221; said Dorothy.
+&#8220;At least I shall try to.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;A very commendable spirit,&#8221; rejoined the
+old gentleman, warmly, &#8220;and rather remarkable
+in one so young.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mrs. Carr graciously acknowledged the compliment,
+and the guest flushed with pleasure.
+To perception less fine, there would have
+been food for unseemly mirth in his attire.
+Never in all her life before had Dorothy seen
+rough cow-hide boots, and grey striped
+trousers worn with a rusty and moth-eaten
+dress-coat in the middle of the afternoon. An
+immaculate expanse of shirt-front and a general
+air of extreme cleanliness went far toward
+redeeming the unfamiliar costume. The silk
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_44' name='page_44'></a>44</span>
+hat, with a bell-shaped crown and wide, rolling
+brim, belonged to a much earlier period,
+and had been brushed to look like new.
+Even Harlan noted that the ravelled edges
+of his linen had been carefully trimmed and
+the worn binding of the hat brim inked
+wherever necessary.</p>
+<p>His wrinkled old face was kindly, though
+somewhat sad. His weak blue eyes were
+sheltered by an enormous pair of spectacles,
+which he took off and wiped continually. He
+was smooth-shaven and his scanty hair was
+as white as the driven snow. Now, as he
+sat in Uncle Ebeneezer&#8217;s parlour, he seemed
+utterly friendless and forlorn&mdash;a complete
+failure of that pitiful type which never for a
+moment guesses that it has failed.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It will be my delight,&#8221; the old man was
+saying, his hollow cheeks faintly flushed, &#8220;to
+see that the elite of Judson Centre pay proper
+respect to you at an early date. If I were
+not most unfortunately a single gentleman, my
+wife would do herself the honour of calling
+upon you immediately and of tendering you
+some sort of hospitality approximately commensurate
+with your worth. As it is&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;As it is,&#8221; said Harlan, taking up the wandering
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_45' name='page_45'></a>45</span>
+thread of the discourse, &#8220;that particular
+pleasure must be on our side. We both
+hope that you will come often, and informally.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It would be a solace to me,&#8221; rejoined the
+old gentleman, tremulously, &#8220;to find the
+niece and nephew of my departed friend both
+congenial and companionable. He was my
+Colonel&mdash;I served under him in the war&mdash;and
+until the last, he allowed me to address him
+as Colonel&mdash;a privilege accorded to no one
+else. He very seldom left his own estate, but
+at his request I often spent an evening or a
+Sunday afternoon in his society, and after his
+untimely death, I feel the loss of his companionship
+very keenly. He was my Colonel&mdash;I&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I should imagine so,&#8221; said Harlan, kindly,
+&#8220;though, as I have told you, I never knew
+him at all.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;A much-misunderstood gentleman,&#8221; continued
+Mr. Bradford, carefully wiping his spectacles.
+&#8220;My grief is too recent, at present,
+to enable me to discourse freely of his many
+virtues, but at some future time I shall hope
+to make you acquainted with your benefactor.
+He was my Colonel, and in serving
+under him in the war, I had an unusual
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_46' name='page_46'></a>46</span>
+opportunity to know him as he really was.
+May I ask, without intruding upon your private
+affairs, whether or not it is your intention to
+reside here permanently?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;We have not made up our minds,&#8221; responded
+Harlan. &#8220;We shall stay here this
+Summer, anyway, as I have some work to do
+which can be done only in a quiet place.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Quiet!&#8221; muttered the old gentleman,
+&#8220;quiet place! If I might venture to suggest,
+I should think you would find any other
+season more agreeable for prolonged mental
+effort. In Summer there are distractions&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; put in Dorothy, &#8220;in Summer, one
+wants to be outdoors, and I am going to keep
+chickens and a cow, but my husband hopes
+to have his book finished by September.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;His book!&#8221; repeated Mr. Bradford, in
+genuine astonishment. &#8220;Am I actually addressing
+an author?&#8221;</p>
+<p>He beamed upon Harlan in a way which
+that modest youth found positively disconcerting.</p>
+<p>&#8220;A would-be author only,&#8221; laughed Harlan,
+the colour mounting to his temples.
+&#8220;I&#8217;ve done newspaper work heretofore, and
+now I&#8217;m going to try something else.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_47' name='page_47'></a>47</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;My dear sir,&#8221; said Mr. Bradford, rising, &#8220;I
+must really beg the privilege of clasping
+your hand. It is a great honour for Judson
+Centre to have an author residing in its
+midst!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Taking pity upon Harlan, Dorothy hastened
+to change the subject. &#8220;We hope it may
+be,&#8221; she observed, lightly, &#8220;and I wonder,
+Mr. Bradford, if you could not give me some
+good advice?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I shall be delighted, my dear madam.
+Any knowledge I may possess is trebly at
+your service, for the sake of the distinguished
+author whose wife you have the honour to be,
+for the sake of your departed relative, who was
+my friend, my Colonel, and last, but not least,
+for your own sake.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It is only about a maid,&#8221; said Dorothy.</p>
+<p>&#8220;A &mdash;&mdash; my dear madam, I beg your pardon?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;A maid,&#8221; repeated Dorothy; &#8220;a servant.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh! A hired girl, or more accurately, in
+the parlance of Judson Centre, the help. Do
+I understand that it is your desire to become
+an employer of help?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It is,&#8221; answered Dorothy, somewhat awed
+by the solemnity of his tone, &#8220;if help is to be
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_48' name='page_48'></a>48</span>
+found. I thought you might know where I
+could get some one.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;If I might be permitted to suggest,&#8221; replied
+Mr. Bradford, after due deliberation, &#8220;I
+should unhesitatingly recommend Mrs. Sarah
+Smithers, who did for your uncle during the
+entire period of his residence here and whose
+privilege it was to close his eyes in his last
+sleep. She is at present without prospect of a
+situation, and I believe would be very ready
+to accept a new position, especially so desirable
+a position as this, in your service.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thank you. Could you&mdash;could you send
+her to me?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I shall do so, most assuredly, providing
+she is willing to come, and should she chance
+not to be agreeably disposed toward so pleasing
+a project, it will be my happiness to endeavour
+to persuade her.&#8221; Drawing out a
+memorandum book and a pencil, the old gentleman
+made an entry upon a fresh page.
+&#8220;The multitudinous duties in connection with
+the practice of my profession,&#8221; he began&mdash;&#8220;there,
+my dear madam, it is already attended
+to, since it is placed quite out of my
+power to forget.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I am greatly obliged,&#8221; said Dorothy.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_49' name='page_49'></a>49</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;And now,&#8221; continued the visitor, &#8220;I must
+go. I fear I have already outstayed the limitation
+of a formal visit, such as the first should
+be, and it is not my desire to intrude upon an
+author&#8217;s time. Moreover, my own duties,
+slight and unimportant as they are in comparison,
+must ultimately press upon my attention.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Come again,&#8221; said Harlan, kindly, following
+him to the door.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It will be my great pleasure,&#8221; rejoined the
+guest, &#8220;not only on your own account, but
+because your personality reminds me of that
+of my departed friend. You favour him considerably,
+more particularly in the eyes, if I
+may be permitted to allude to details. I think
+I told you, did I not, that he was my Colonel
+and I was privileged to serve under him in the
+war? My&mdash;oh, I walked, did I not? I remember
+that it was my intention to come in a
+carriage, as being more suitable to a formal
+visit, but Mr. Blake had other engagements
+for his vehicle. Dear sir and madam, I bid
+you good afternoon.&#8221;</p>
+<p>So saying, he went downhill, briskly
+enough, yet stumbling where the way was
+rough. They watched him until the bobbing,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_50' name='page_50'></a>50</span>
+bell-shaped crown of the ancient head-gear
+was completely out of sight.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What a dear old man!&#8221; said Dorothy.
+&#8220;He&#8217;s lonely and we must have him come
+up often.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you think,&#8221; asked Harlan, &#8220;that I look
+like Uncle Ebeneezer?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Indeed you don&#8217;t!&#8221; cried Dorothy, &#8220;and
+that reminds me. I want to take that picture
+down.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;To burn it?&#8221; inquired Harlan, slyly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, I wouldn&#8217;t burn it,&#8221; answered Dorothy,
+somewhat spitefully, &#8220;but there&#8217;s no
+law against putting it in the attic, is there?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not that I know of. Can we reach it
+from a chair?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Together they mounted one of the haircloth
+monuments, slipping, as Dorothy said, until
+it was like walking on ice.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now then,&#8221; said Harlan, gaily, &#8220;come on
+down, Uncle! You&#8217;re about to be moved
+into the attic!&#8221;</p>
+<p>The picture lunged forward, almost before
+they had touched it, the heavy gilt frame
+bruising Dorothy&#8217;s cheek badly. In catching
+it, Harlan turned it completely around,
+then gave a low whistle of astonishment.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_51' name='page_51'></a>51</span></p>
+<p>Pasted securely to the back was a fearsome
+skull and cross-bones, made on wrapping
+paper with a brush and India ink. Below it,
+in great capitals, was the warning inscription:
+&#8220;LET MY PICTURE ALONE!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What shall we do with it?&#8221; asked Harlan,
+endeavouring to laugh, though, as he
+afterward admitted, he &#8220;felt creepy.&#8221; &#8220;Shall
+I take it up to the attic?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; answered Dorothy, in a small, unnatural
+voice, &#8220;leave it where it is.&#8221;</p>
+<p>While Harlan was putting it back, Dorothy,
+trembling from head to foot, crept around to
+the back of the easel which bore Aunt Rebecca&#8217;s
+portrait. She was not at all surprised
+to find, on the back of it, a notice to this
+effect: &#8220;ANYONE DARING TO MOVE
+MRS. JUDSON&#8217;S PICTURE WILL BE
+HAUNTED FOR LIFE BY US BOTH.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t doubt it,&#8221; said Dorothy, somewhat
+viciously, when Harlan had joined her.
+&#8220;What kind of a woman do you suppose
+she could have been, to marry him? I&#8217;ll bet
+she&#8217;s glad she&#8217;s dead!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dorothy was still wiping blood from her
+face and might not have been wholly unprejudiced.
+Aunt Rebecca was a gentle,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_52' name='page_52'></a>52</span>
+sweet-faced woman, if her portrait told the
+truth, possessed of all the virtues save self-assertion
+and dominated by habitual, unselfish
+kindness to others. She could not have
+been discourteous even to Claudius Tiberius,
+who at this moment was seated in state upon
+the sofa and purring industriously.</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='IV_FINANCES' id='IV_FINANCES'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_53' name='page_53'></a>53</span>
+<h2>IV</h2>
+<h3>Finances</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve ordered the typewriter,&#8221; said
+Dorothy, brightly, &#8220;and some nice
+new note-paper, and a seal. I&#8217;ve just been
+reading about making virtue out of necessity,
+so I&#8217;ve ordered &#8216;At the Sign of the Jack-o&#8217;-Lantern&#8217;
+put on our stationery, in gold, and
+a yellow pumpkin on the envelope flap, just
+above the seal. And I want you to make a
+funny sign-board to flap from a pole, the way
+they did in &#8216;Rudder Grange.&#8217; If you could
+make a wooden Jack-o&#8217;-Lantern, we could
+have a candle inside it at night, and then the
+sign would be just like the house. We can
+get the paint and things down in the village.
+Won&#8217;t it be cute? We&#8217;re farmers, now,
+so we&#8217;ll have to pretend we like it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Harlan repressed an exclamation, which
+could not have been wholly inspired by
+pleasure.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_54' name='page_54'></a>54</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s the matter?&#8221; asked Dorothy,
+easily. &#8220;Don&#8217;t you like the design for the
+note-paper? If you don&#8217;t, you won&#8217;t have to
+use it. Nobody&#8217;s going to make you write
+letters on paper you don&#8217;t like, so cheer up.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It isn&#8217;t the paper,&#8221; answered Harlan,
+miserably; &#8220;it&#8217;s the typewriter.&#8221; Up to the
+present moment, sustained by a false, but
+none the less determined pride, he had refrained
+from taking his wife into his confidence
+regarding his finances. With characteristic
+masculine short-sightedness, he had failed to
+perceive that every moment of delay made
+matters worse.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Might I inquire,&#8221; asked Mrs. Carr, coolly,
+&#8220;what is wrong with the typewriter?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nothing at all,&#8221; sighed Harlan, &#8220;except
+that we can&#8217;t afford it.&#8221; The whole bitter
+truth was out, now, and he turned away
+wretchedly, ashamed to meet her eyes.</p>
+<p>It seemed ages before she spoke. Then she
+said, in smooth, icy tones: &#8220;What was your
+object in offering to get it for me?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I spoke impulsively,&#8221; explained Harlan,
+forgetting that he had never suggested buying
+a typewriter. &#8220;I didn&#8217;t stop to think. I&#8217;m
+sorry,&#8221; he concluded, lamely.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_55' name='page_55'></a>55</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;I suppose you spoke impulsively,&#8221;
+snapped Dorothy, &#8220;when you asked me to
+marry you. You&#8217;re sorry for that, too, aren&#8217;t
+you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dorothy!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re not the only one who&#8217;s sorry,&#8221;
+she rejoined, her cheeks flushed and her eyes
+blazing. &#8220;I had no idea what an expense I
+was going to be!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dorothy!&#8221; cried Harlan, angrily; &#8220;you
+didn&#8217;t think I was a millionaire, did you?
+Were you under the impression that I was an
+active branch of the United States Mint?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; she answered, huskily; &#8220;I merely
+thought I was marrying a gentleman instead
+of a loafer, and I beg your pardon for the mistake!&#8221;
+She slammed the door on the last
+word, and he heard her light feet pattering
+swiftly down the hall, little guessing that she
+was trying to gain the shelter of her own
+room before giving way to a tempest of sobs.</p>
+<p>Happy are they who can drown all pain, sorrow,
+and disappointment in a copious flood
+of tears. In an hour, at the most, Dorothy
+would be her sunny self again, penitent, and
+wholly ashamed of her undignified outburst.
+By to-morrow she would have forgotten it,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_56' name='page_56'></a>56</span>
+but Harlan, made of sterner clay, would remember
+it for days.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Loafer!&#8221; The cruel word seemed written
+accusingly on every wall of the room. In
+a sudden flash of insight he perceived the
+truth of it&mdash;and it hurt.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Two months,&#8221; bethought; &#8220;two months
+of besotted idleness. And I used to chase
+news from the Battery to the Bronx every
+day from eight to six! Murders, smallpox,
+East Side scraps, and Tammany Hall. Why
+in the hereafter can&#8217;t they have a fire at the
+sanitarium, or something that I can wire
+in?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The Temple of Healing,&#8221; as Dorothy had
+christened it in a happier moment, stood on a
+distant hill, all but hidden now by trees and
+shrubbery. A column of smoke curled lazily
+upward against the blue, but there was no
+immediate prospect of a fire of the &#8220;news&#8221;
+variety.</p>
+<p>Harlan stood at the window for a long time,
+deeply troubled. The call of the city dinned
+relentlessly into his ears. Oh, for an hour in
+the midst of it, with the rumble and roar and
+clatter of ceaseless traffic, the hurrying, heedless
+throng rushing in every direction, the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_57' name='page_57'></a>57</span>
+glare of the sun on the many-windowed cliffs,
+the fever of the struggle in his veins!</p>
+<p>And yet&mdash;was two months so long, when a
+fellow was just married, and hadn&#8217;t had more
+than a day at a time off for six years? Since
+the &#8220;cub reporter&#8221; was first &#8220;licked into
+shape&#8221; in the office of <i>The Thunderer</i>, there
+had been plenty of work for him, year in and
+year out.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I wonder,&#8221; he mused, &#8220;if the old man
+would take me back on my job?</p>
+<p>&#8220;I can see &#8217;em in the office now,&#8221; went on
+Harlan, mentally, &#8220;when I go back and tell
+&#8217;em I want my place again. The old man
+will look up and say: &#8216;The hell you do!
+Thought you&#8217;d accepted a position on the
+literary circuit as manager of the nine muses!
+Better run along and look after &#8217;em before
+they join the union.&#8217;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And the exchange man will yell at me not
+to slam the door as I go out, and I&#8217;ll be
+pointed out to the newest kid as a horrible
+example of misdirected ambition. Brinkman
+will say: &#8216;Sonny, there&#8217;s a bloke that got
+too good for his job and now he&#8217;s come
+back, willing to edit The Mother&#8217;s Corner.&#8217;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;d be about the same in the other
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_58' name='page_58'></a>58</span>
+offices, too,&#8221; he thought. &#8220;&#8216;Sorry, nothing
+to-day, but there might be next month. Drop
+in again sometime after six weeks or so and
+meanwhile I&#8217;ll let you know if anything turns
+up. Yes, I can remember your address.
+Don&#8217;t slam the door as you go out. Most
+people seem to have been born in a barn.&#8217;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Besides,&#8221; he continued to himself, fiercely,
+&#8220;what is there in it? They&#8217;ll take your
+youth, all your strength and energy, and give
+you a measly living in exchange. They&#8217;ll fill
+you with excitement till you&#8217;re never good
+for anything else, any more than a cavalry
+horse is fitted to pull a vegetable wagon.
+Then, when you&#8217;re old, they&#8217;ve got no use
+for you!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Before his mental vision, in pitiful array,
+came that unhappy procession of hacks that
+files, day in and day out, along Newspaper
+Row, drawn by every instinct to the arena
+that holds nothing for them but a meagre, uncertain
+pittance, dwindling slowly to charity.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s where I&#8217;d be at the last of it,&#8221;
+muttered Harlan, savagely, &#8220;with even the
+cubs offering me the price of a drink to get
+out. And Dorothy&mdash;good God! Where
+would Dorothy be?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_59' name='page_59'></a>59</span></p>
+<p>He clenched his fists and marched up and
+down the room in utter despair. &#8220;Why,&#8221;
+he breathed, &#8220;why wasn&#8217;t I taught to do
+something honest, instead of being cursed
+with this itch to write? A carpenter, a bricklayer,
+a stone-mason,&mdash;any one of &#8217;em has a
+better chance than I!&#8221;</p>
+<p>And yet, even then, Harlan saw clearly
+that save where some vast cathedral reared its
+unnumbered spires, the mason and the bricklayer
+were without significance; that even
+the builders were remembered only because
+of the great uses to which their buildings
+were put. &#8220;That, too, through print,&#8221; he
+murmured. &#8220;It all comes down to the
+printed page at last.&#8221;</p>
+<p>On a table, near by, was a sheaf of rough
+copy paper, and six or eight carefully sharpened
+pencils&mdash;the dull, meaningless stone
+waiting for the flint that should strike it into
+flame. Day after day the table had stood by
+the window, without result, save in Harlan&#8217;s
+uneasy conscience.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m only a tramp,&#8221; he said, aloud, &#8220;and
+I&#8217;ve known it, all along.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He sat down by the table and took up a
+pencil, but no words came. Remorsefully, he
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_60' name='page_60'></a>60</span>
+wrote to an acquaintance&mdash;a man who had a
+book published every year and filled in the
+intervening time with magazine work and
+newspaper specials. He sealed the letter and
+addressed it idly, then tossed it aside purposelessly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Loafer!&#8221; The memory of it stung him
+like a lash, and, completely overwhelmed
+with shame, he hid his face in his hands.</p>
+<p>Suddenly, a pair of soft arms stole around his
+neck, a childish, tear-wet cheek was pressed
+close to his, and a sweet voice whispered,
+tenderly: &#8220;Dear, I&#8217;m sorry! I&#8217;m so sorry
+I can&#8217;t live another minute unless you tell me
+you forgive me!&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+
+<p>&#8220;Am I really a loafer?&#8221; asked Harlan, half
+an hour later.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Indeed you&#8217;re not,&#8221; answered Dorothy,
+her trustful eyes looking straight into his;
+&#8220;you&#8217;re absolutely the most adorable boy in
+the whole world, and it&#8217;s me that knows it!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;As long as you know it,&#8221; returned Harlan,
+seriously, &#8220;I don&#8217;t care a hang what other
+people think.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now, tell me,&#8221; continued Dorothy, &#8220;how
+near are we to being broke?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_61' name='page_61'></a>61</span></p>
+<p>Obediently, Harlan turned his pockets inside
+out and piled his worldly wealth on the
+table.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Three hundred and seventy-four dollars
+and sixteen cents,&#8221; she said, when she had
+finished counting. &#8220;Why, we&#8217;re almost
+rich, and a little while ago you tried to make
+me think we were poor!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s all I have, Dorothy&mdash;every blooming
+cent, except one dollar in the savings bank.
+Sort of a nest egg I had left,&#8221; he explained.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Wait a minute,&#8221; she said, reaching down
+into her collar and drawing up a loop of worn
+ribbon. &#8220;Straight front corset,&#8221; she observed,
+flushing, &#8220;makes a nice pocket for
+almost everything.&#8221; She drew up a chamois-skin
+bag, of an unprepossessing mouse colour,
+and emptied out a roll of bills. &#8220;Two hundred
+and twelve dollars,&#8221; she said, proudly,
+&#8220;and eighty-three cents and four postage
+stamps in my purse.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I saved it,&#8221; she continued, hastily, &#8220;for
+an emergency, and I wanted some silk stockings
+and a French embroidered corset and
+some handmade lingerie worse than you can
+ever know. Wasn&#8217;t I a brave, heroic, noble
+woman?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_62' name='page_62'></a>62</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Indeed you were,&#8221; he cried, &#8220;but, Dorothy,
+you know I can&#8217;t touch your money!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why not?&#8221; she demanded.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Because&mdash;because&mdash;because it isn&#8217;t right.
+Do you think I&#8217;m cad enough to live on a
+woman&#8217;s earnings?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Harlan,&#8221; said Dorothy, kindly, &#8220;don&#8217;t be
+a fool. You&#8217;ll take my whole heart and soul
+and life&mdash;all that I have been and all that I&#8217;m
+going to be&mdash;and be glad to get it, and now
+you&#8217;re balking at ten cents that I happened to
+have in my stocking when I took the fatal
+step.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dear heart, don&#8217;t. It&#8217;s different&mdash;tremendously
+different. Can&#8217;t you see that it is?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you mean that I&#8217;m not worth as much
+as two hundred and twelve dollars and eighty-three
+cents and four postage stamps?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Darling, you&#8217;re worth more than all the
+rest of the world put together. Don&#8217;t talk to
+me like that. But I can&#8217;t touch your money,
+truly, dear, I can&#8217;t; so don&#8217;t ask me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Idiot,&#8221; cried Dorothy, with tears raining
+down her face, &#8220;don&#8217;t you know I&#8217;d go with
+you if you had to grind an organ in the street,
+and collect the money for you in a tin cup till
+we got enough for a monkey? What kind
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_63' name='page_63'></a>63</span>
+of a dinky little silver-plated wedding present
+do you think I am, anyway? You&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>The rest of it was sobbed out, incoherently
+enough, on his hitherto immaculate shirt-front.
+&#8220;You don&#8217;t mind,&#8221; she whispered, &#8220;if I cry
+down your neck, do you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;If you&#8217;re going to cry,&#8221; he answered,
+his voice trembling, &#8220;this is the one place
+for you to do it, but I don&#8217;t want you to
+cry.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I won&#8217;t, then,&#8221; she said, wiping her eyes
+on a wet and crumpled handkerchief. In a
+time astonishingly brief to one hitherto unfamiliar
+with the lachrymal function, her sobs
+had ceased.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ve made me cry nearly a quart since
+morning,&#8221; she went on, with assumed
+severity, &#8220;and I hope you&#8217;ll behave so well
+from now on that I&#8217;ll never have to do it
+again. Look here.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She led him to the window, where a pair of
+robins were building a nest in the boughs of a
+maple close by. &#8220;Do you see those birds?&#8221;
+she demanded, pointing at them with a dimpled,
+rosy forefinger.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, what of it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, they&#8217;re married, aren&#8217;t they?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_64' name='page_64'></a>64</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;I hope they are,&#8221; laughed Harlan, &#8220;or at
+least engaged.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Who&#8217;s bringing the straw and feathers
+for the nest?&#8221; she asked.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Both, apparently,&#8221; he replied, unwillingly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why isn&#8217;t she rocking herself on a bough,
+and keeping her nails nice, and fixing her
+feathers in the latest style, or perhaps going
+off to some fool bird club while he builds the
+nest by himself?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t know.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nor anybody else,&#8221; she continued, with
+much satisfaction. &#8220;Now, if she happened
+to have two hundred and twelve feathers, of
+the proper size and shape to go into that nest,
+do you suppose he&#8217;d refuse to touch them,
+and make her cry because she brought them
+to him?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Probably he wouldn&#8217;t,&#8221; admitted Harlan.</p>
+<p>There was a long silence, then Dorothy
+edged up closer to him. &#8220;Do you suppose,&#8221;
+she queried, &#8220;that Mr. Robin thinks more of
+his wife than you do of yours?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Indeed he doesn&#8217;t!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And still, he&#8217;s letting her help him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now, listen, Harlan. We&#8217;ve got a house,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_65' name='page_65'></a>65</span>
+with more than enough furniture to make it
+comfortable, though it&#8217;s not the kind of furniture
+either of us particularly like. Instead of
+buying a typewriter, we&#8217;ll rent one for three
+or four dollars a month until we have enough
+money to buy one. And I&#8217;m going to have
+a cow and some chickens and a garden, and
+I&#8217;m going to sell milk and butter and cream
+and fresh eggs and vegetables and chickens
+and fruit to the sanitarium, and&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The sanitarium people must have plenty
+of those things.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But not the kind I&#8217;m going to raise, nor
+put up as I&#8217;m going to put it up, and we&#8217;ll
+be raising most of our own living besides.
+You can write when you feel like it, and be
+helping me when you don&#8217;t feel like it, and
+before we know it, we&#8217;ll be rich. Oh, Harlan,
+I feel like Eve all alone in the Garden with
+Adam!&#8221;</p>
+<p>The prospect fired his imagination, for, in
+common with most men, a chicken-ranch had
+appealed strongly to Harlan ever since he
+could remember.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; he began, slowly, in the tone
+which was always a signal of surrender.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Won&#8217;t it be lovely,&#8221; she cried ecstatically,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_66' name='page_66'></a>66</span>
+&#8220;to have our own bossy cow mooing in the
+barn, and our own chickens for Sunday dinner,
+and our own milk, and butter, and cream?
+And I&#8217;ll drive the vegetable waggon and you
+can take the things in&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I guess not,&#8221; interrupted Harlan, firmly.
+&#8220;If you&#8217;re going to do that sort of thing,
+you&#8217;ll have people to do the work when I
+can&#8217;t help you. The idea of my wife driving
+a vegetable cart!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;All right,&#8221; answered Dorothy, submissively,
+wise enough to let small points settle
+themselves and have her own way in things
+that really mattered. &#8220;I&#8217;ve not forgotten
+that I promised to obey you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>A gratified smile spread over Harlan&#8217;s
+smooth, boyish face, and, half-fearfully, she
+reached into her sleeve for a handkerchief
+which she had hitherto carefully concealed.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s not all,&#8221; she smiled. &#8220;Look!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Twenty-three dollars,&#8221; he said. &#8220;Why,
+where did you get that?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It was in my dresser. There was a false
+bottom in one of the small drawers, and I
+took it out and found this.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What in&mdash;&#8221; began Harlan.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s a present to us from Uncle Ebeneezer,&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_67' name='page_67'></a>67</span>
+she cried, her eyes sparkling and
+her face aglow. &#8220;It&#8217;s for a coop and chickens,&#8221;
+she continued, executing an intricate
+dance step. &#8220;Oh, Harlan, aren&#8217;t you awfully
+glad we came?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Seeing her pleasure he could not help being
+glad, but afterward, when he was alone,
+he began to wonder whether they had not
+inadvertently moved into a bank.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Might be worse places,&#8221; he reflected,
+&#8220;for the poor and deserving to move into.
+Diamonds and money&mdash;what next?&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='V_MRS_SMITHERS' id='V_MRS_SMITHERS'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_68' name='page_68'></a>68</span>
+<h2>V</h2>
+<h3>Mrs. Smithers</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>The chickens were clucking peacefully in
+their corner of Uncle Ebeneezer&#8217;s dooryard,
+and the newly acquired bossy cow
+mooed unhappily in her improvised stable.
+Harlan had christened the cow &#8220;Maud&#8221; because
+she insisted upon going into the garden,
+and though Dorothy had vigorously protested
+against putting Tennyson to such
+base uses, the name still held, out of sheer
+appropriateness.</p>
+<p>Harlan was engaged in that pleasant pastime
+known as &#8220;pottering.&#8221; The instinct to
+drive nails, put up shelves, and to improve
+generally his local habitation is as firmly
+seated in the masculine nature as housewifely
+characteristics are ingrained in the feminine
+soul. Never before having had a home of his
+own, Harlan was enjoying it to the full.</p>
+<p>Early hours had been the rule at the Jack-o&#8217;-Lantern
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_69' name='page_69'></a>69</span>
+ever since the feathered sultan
+with his tribe of voluble wives had taken
+up his abode on the hilltop. Indeed, as
+Harlan said, they were obliged to sleep
+when the chickens did&mdash;if they slept at all.
+So it was not yet seven one morning when
+Dorothy went in from the chicken coop, singing
+softly to herself, and intent upon the particular
+hammer her husband wanted, never
+expecting to find Her in the kitchen.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&mdash;I beg your pardon?&#8221; she stammered,
+inquiringly.</p>
+<p>A gaunt, aged, and preternaturally solemn
+female, swathed in crape, bent slightly forward
+in her chair, without making an effort
+to rise, and reached forth a black-gloved hand
+tightly grasping a letter, which was tremulously
+addressed to &#8220;Mrs. J. H. Carr.&#8221;</p>
+<div class='blockquot'>
+<p>&#8220;My dear Madam,&#8221; Dorothy read.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The multitudinous duties in connection
+with the practice of my profession have unfortunately
+prevented me, until the present
+hour, from interviewing Mrs. Sarah Smithers
+in regard to your requirements. While she is
+naturally unwilling to commit herself entirely
+without a more definite idea of what is
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_70' name='page_70'></a>70</span>
+expected of her, she is none the less kindly
+disposed. May I hope, my dear madam, that
+at the first opportunity you will apprise me of
+ensuing events in this connection, and that in
+any event I may still faithfully serve you?</p>
+<p>&#8220;With kindest personal remembrances and
+my polite salutations to the distinguished
+author whose wife you have the honour to
+be, I am, my dear madam,</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yr. most respectful and obedient servant,</p>
+<div class='ra'>
+<p>&#8220;<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Jeremiah Bradford</span>.</p>
+</div>
+
+</div>
+<p>&#8220;Oh,&#8221; said Dorothy, &#8220;you&#8217;re Sarah. I
+had almost given you up.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Begging your parding, Miss,&#8221; rejoined
+Mrs. Smithers in a chilly tone of reproof, &#8220;but
+I take it it&#8217;s better for us to begin callin&#8217; each
+other by our proper names. If we should get
+friendly, there&#8217;d be ample time to change.
+Your uncle, God rest &#8217;is soul, allers called me
+&#8216;Mis&#8217; Smithers.&#8217;&#8221;</p>
+<p>Somewhat startled at first, Mrs. Carr quickly
+recovered her equanimity. &#8220;Very well, Mrs.
+Smithers,&#8221; she returned, lightly, reflecting
+that when in Rome one must follow Roman
+customs; &#8220;Do you understand all branches
+of general housework?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_71' name='page_71'></a>71</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;If I didn&#8217;t, I wouldn&#8217;t be makin&#8217; no attempts
+in that direction,&#8221; replied Mrs. Smithers,
+harshly. &#8220;I doesn&#8217;t allow nobody to do
+wot I does no better than wot I does it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dorothy smiled, for this was distinctly encouraging,
+from at least one point of view.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You wear a cap, I suppose?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, mum, for dustin&#8217;. When I goes
+out I puts on my bonnet.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Can you do plain cooking?&#8221; inquired
+Dorothy, hastily, perceiving that she was
+treading upon dangerous ground.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, mum. The more plain it is the
+better all around. Your uncle was never
+one to fill hisself with fancy dishes days and
+walk the floor with &#8217;em nights, that&#8217;s wot &#8217;e
+wasn&#8217;t.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What wages do you have, Sa&mdash;Mrs.
+Smithers?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I worked for your uncle for a dollar and
+a half a week, bein&#8217; as we&#8217;d knowed each
+other so long, and on account of &#8217;im bein&#8217;
+easy to get along with and never makin&#8217; no
+trouble, but I wouldn&#8217;t work for no woman
+for less &#8217;n two dollars.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That is satisfactory to me,&#8221; returned
+Dorothy, trying to be dignified. &#8220;I daresay
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_72' name='page_72'></a>72</span>
+we shall get on all right. Can you stay
+now?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;If you&#8217;ve finished,&#8221; said Mrs. Smithers,
+ignoring the question, &#8220;there&#8217;s a few things
+I&#8217;d like to ask. &#8217;Ow did you get that bruise
+on your face?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&mdash;I ran into something,&#8221; answered Dorothy,
+unwillingly, and taken quite by surprise.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Wot was it,&#8221; demanded Mrs. Smithers.
+&#8220;Your &#8217;usband&#8217;s fist?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; replied Mrs. Carr, sternly, &#8220;it was a
+piece of furniture.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve never knowed furniture,&#8221; observed
+Mrs. Smithers, doubtfully, &#8220;to get up and &#8217;it
+people in the face wot wasn&#8217;t doin&#8217; nothink
+to it. If you disturb a rockin&#8217;-chair at night
+w&#8217;en it&#8217;s restin&#8217; quiet, you&#8217;ll get your ankle
+&#8217;it, but I&#8217;ve never knowed no furniture to &#8217;it
+people under the eye unless it &#8217;ad been threw,
+that&#8217;s wot I ain&#8217;t.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I mind me of my youngest sister,&#8221; Mrs.
+Smithers went on, her keen eyes uncomfortably
+fixed upon Dorothy. &#8220;&#8217;Er &#8217;usband was
+one of these &#8217;ere masterful men, &#8217;e was, same
+as wot yours is, and w&#8217;en &#8217;er didn&#8217;t please
+&#8217;im, &#8217;e &#8217;d &#8217;it &#8217;er somethink orful. Many&#8217;s the
+time I&#8217;ve gone there and found &#8217;er with &#8217;er
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_73' name='page_73'></a>73</span>
+poor face all cut up and the crockery broke
+bad. &#8216;I dropped a cup&#8217; &#8217;er&#8217;d say to me,
+&#8216;and the pieces flew up and &#8217;it me in the
+face.&#8217; &#8217;Er face looked like a crazy quilt from
+&#8217;aving dropped so many cups, and wunst,
+without thinkin&#8217; wot I might be doin&#8217; of, I gave
+&#8217;er a chiny tea set for &#8217;er Christmas present.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Wen I went to see &#8217;er again, the tea set
+was all broke and &#8217;er &#8217;ad court plaster all over
+&#8217;er face. The pieces must &#8217;ave flew more &#8217;n
+common from the tea set, cause &#8217;er &#8217;usband&#8217;s
+&#8217;ed was laid open somethink frightful and
+they&#8217;d &#8217;ad in the doctor to take a seam in it.
+From that time on I never &#8217;eard of no more
+cups bein&#8217; dropped and &#8217;er face looked quite
+human and peaceful like w&#8217;en &#8217;e died. God
+rest &#8217;is soul, &#8217;e ain&#8217;t a-breakin&#8217; no tea sets now
+by accident nor a-purpose neither. I was
+never one to interfere between man and wife,
+Miss Carr, but I want you to tell your &#8217;usband
+that should &#8217;e undertake to &#8217;it me, &#8217;e&#8217;ll get a
+bucket of &#8217;ot tea throwed in &#8217;is face.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s not at all likely,&#8221; answered Dorothy,
+biting her lip, &#8220;that such a thing will happen.&#8221;
+She was swayed by two contradictory
+impulses&mdash;one to scream with laughter,
+the other to throw something at Mrs. Smithers.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_74' name='page_74'></a>74</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;&#8217;E&#8217;s been at peace now six months come
+Tuesday,&#8221; continued Mrs. Smithers, &#8220;and on
+account of &#8217;is &#8217;avin&#8217; broke the tea set, I don&#8217;t
+feel no call to wear mourning for &#8217;im more &#8217;n a
+year, though folks thinks as &#8217;ow it brands me
+as &#8217;eartless for takin&#8217; it off inside of two.
+Sakes alive, wot&#8217;s that?&#8221; she cried, drawing
+her sable skirts more closely about her as a
+dark shadow darted across the kitchen.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s only the cat,&#8221; answered Dorothy, reassuringly.
+&#8220;Come here, Claudius.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mrs. Smithers repressed an exclamation
+of horror as Claudius, purring pleasantly,
+came out into the sunlight, brandishing his
+plumed tail, and sat down on the edge of
+Dorothy&#8217;s skirt, blinking his green eyes at the
+intruder.</p>
+<p>&#8220;&#8217;E&#8217;s the very cat,&#8221; said Mrs. Smithers,
+hoarsely, &#8220;wot your uncle killed the week
+afore &#8217;e died!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Before who died?&#8221; asked Dorothy, a chill
+creeping into her blood.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Your uncle,&#8221; whispered Mrs. Smithers,
+her eyes still fixed upon Claudius Tiberius.
+&#8220;&#8217;E killed that very cat, &#8217;e did, &#8217;cause &#8217;e
+couldn&#8217;t never abide &#8217;im, and now &#8217;e&#8217;s come
+back!&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_75' name='page_75'></a>75</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Nonsense!&#8221; cried Dorothy, trying to be
+severe. &#8220;If he killed the cat, it couldn&#8217;t
+come back&mdash;you must know that.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know w&#8217;y not, Miss. Anyhow, &#8217;e
+killed the cat, that&#8217;s wot &#8217;e did, and I saw &#8217;is
+dead body, and even buried &#8217;im, on account
+of your uncle not bein&#8217; able to abide cats,
+and &#8217;ere &#8217;e is. Somebody &#8217;s dug &#8217;im up,
+and &#8217;e &#8217;s come to life again, thinkin&#8217; to &#8217;aunt
+your uncle, and your uncle &#8217;as follered &#8217;im,
+that&#8217;s wot &#8217;e &#8217;as, and there bein&#8217; nobody &#8217;ere
+to &#8217;aunt but us, &#8217;e&#8217;s a &#8217;auntin&#8217; us and a-doin&#8217;
+it &#8217;ard.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mrs. Smithers,&#8221; said Dorothy, rising, &#8220;I
+desire to hear no more of this nonsense. The
+cat happens to be somewhat similar to the
+dead one, that&#8217;s all.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Begging your parding, Miss, for askin&#8217;,
+but did you bring that there cat with you from
+the city?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Affecting not to hear, Dorothy went out,
+followed by Claudius Tiberius, who appeared
+anything but ghostly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I knowed it,&#8221; muttered Mrs. Smithers,
+gloomily, to herself. &#8220;&#8217;E was &#8217;ere w&#8217;en &#8217;er
+come, and &#8217;e&#8217;s the same cat. &#8217;E&#8217;s come back
+to &#8217;aunt us, that&#8217;s wot &#8217;e &#8217;as!&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_76' name='page_76'></a>76</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Harlan,&#8221; said Dorothy, half-way between
+smiles and tears, &#8220;she&#8217;s come.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Harlan dropped his saw and took up his
+hammer. &#8220;Who&#8217;s come?&#8221; he asked. &#8220;From
+your tone, it might be Mrs. Satan, or somebody
+else from the infernal regions.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re not far out of the way,&#8221; rejoined
+Dorothy. &#8220;It&#8217;s Sa&mdash;Mrs. Smithers.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, our maid of all work?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know what she&#8217;s made of,&#8221; giggled
+Dorothy, hysterically. &#8220;She looks like
+a tombstone dressed in deep mourning, and
+carries with her the atmosphere of a graveyard.
+We have to call her &#8216;Mrs. Smithers,&#8217;
+if we don&#8217;t want her to call us by our first
+names, and she has two dollars a week. She
+says Claudius is a cat that uncle killed the
+week before he died, and she thinks you hit
+me and gave me this bruise on my cheek.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The old lizard,&#8221; said Harlan, indignantly.
+&#8220;She sha&#8217;n&#8217;t stay!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now don&#8217;t be cross,&#8221; interrupted Dorothy.
+&#8220;It&#8217;s all in the family, for your uncle
+hit me, as you well know. Besides, we
+can&#8217;t expect all the virtues for two dollars a
+week and I&#8217;m tired almost to death from trying
+to do the housework in this big house
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_77' name='page_77'></a>77</span>
+and take care of the chickens, too. We&#8217;ll
+get on with her as best we can until we see a
+chance to do better.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Wise little woman,&#8221; responded Harlan,
+admiringly. &#8220;Can she milk the cow?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know&mdash;I&#8217;ll go in and ask her.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Excuse me, Miss,&#8221; began Mrs. Smithers,
+before Dorothy had a chance to speak, &#8220;but
+am I to &#8217;ave my old rooms?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Which rooms were they?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;These &#8217;ere, back of the kitchen. My
+own settin&#8217; room and bedroom and kitchen
+and pantry and my own private door outside.
+Your uncle was allers a great hand for bein&#8217;
+private and insistin&#8217; on other folks keepin&#8217;
+private, that &#8217;s wot &#8217;e was, but God rest &#8217;is
+soul, it didn&#8217;t do the poor old gent much
+good.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Certainly,&#8221; said Dorothy, &#8220;take your old
+rooms. And can you milk a cow?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mrs. Smithers sighed. &#8220;I ain&#8217;t never &#8217;ad it
+put on me, Miss,&#8221; she said, with the air of a
+martyr trying to make himself comfortable
+up against the stake, &#8220;not as a regler thing, I
+ain&#8217;t, but wotever I&#8217;m asked to do in the line
+of duty whiles I&#8217;m dwellin&#8217; in this sufferin&#8217;
+and dyin&#8217; world, I aims to do the best wot I
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_78' name='page_78'></a>78</span>
+can, w&#8217;ether it&#8217;s milkin&#8217; a cow, drownin&#8217; kittens,
+or buryin&#8217; a cat wot can&#8217;t stay buried.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;We have breakfast about half-past seven,&#8221;
+went on Dorothy, quickly; &#8220;luncheon at
+noon and dinner at six.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Wot at six?&#8221; demanded Mrs. Smithers,
+pricking up her ears.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dinner! Dinner at six.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Lord preserve us,&#8221; said Mrs. Smithers,
+half to herself. &#8220;Your uncle allers &#8217;ad &#8217;is
+dinner at one o&#8217;clock, sharp, and &#8217;e wouldn&#8217;t
+like it to &#8217;ave such scandalous goin&#8217;s on in &#8217;is
+own &#8217;ouse.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re working for me,&#8221; Dorothy reminded
+her sharply, &#8220;and not for my uncle.&#8221;</p>
+<p>There was a long silence, during which
+Mrs. Smithers peered curiously at her young
+mistress over her steel-bowed spectacles.
+&#8220;I&#8217;m not so sure as you,&#8221; she said. &#8220;On
+account of the cat &#8217;avin come back from &#8217;is
+grave, it wouldn&#8217;t surprise me none to see
+your uncle settin&#8217; &#8217;ere at any time in &#8217;is
+shroud, and a-askin&#8217; to &#8217;ave mush and milk
+for &#8217;is supper, the which &#8217;e was so powerful
+fond of that I was more &#8217;n &#8217;alf minded at the
+last minute to put some of it in &#8217;s coffin.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mrs. Smithers,&#8221; said Dorothy, severely,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_79' name='page_79'></a>79</span>
+&#8220;I do not want to hear any more about dead
+people, or resurrected cats, or anything of
+that nature. What&#8217;s gone is gone, and
+there&#8217;s no use in continually referring to it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>At this significant moment, Claudius Tiberius
+paraded somewhat ostentatiously
+through the kitchen and went outdoors.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You see, Miss?&#8221; asked Mrs. Smithers,
+with ill-concealed satisfaction. &#8220;Wot&#8217;s gone
+ain&#8217;t always gone for long, that&#8217;s wot it
+ain&#8217;t.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dorothy retreated, followed by a sepulchral
+laugh which grated on her nerves.
+&#8220;Upon my word, dear,&#8221; she said to Harlan,
+&#8220;I don&#8217;t know how we&#8217;re going to stand
+having that woman in the house. She makes
+me feel as if I were an undertaker, a grave
+digger, and a cemetery, all rolled into one.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re too imaginative,&#8221; said Harlan,
+tenderly, stroking her soft cheek. He had
+not yet seen Mrs. Smithers.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Perhaps,&#8221; Dorothy admitted, &#8220;when she
+gets that pyramid of crape off her head, she&#8217;ll
+seem more nearly human. Do you suppose
+she expects to wear it in the house all the
+time?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Miss Carr!&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_80' name='page_80'></a>80</span></p>
+<p>The gaunt black shadow appeared in the
+doorway of the kitchen and the high, harsh
+voice shrilled imperiously across the yard.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m coming,&#8221; answered Dorothy, submissively,
+for in the tone there was that which
+instinctively impels obedience. &#8220;What is
+it?&#8221; she asked, when she entered the kitchen.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nothink. I only wants to know wot it is
+you&#8217;re layin&#8217; out to &#8217;ave for your&mdash;luncheon,
+if that&#8217;s wot you call it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Poached eggs on toast, last night&#8217;s cold
+potatoes warmed over, hot biscuits, jam, and
+tea.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mrs. Smithers&#8217;s articulate response resembled
+a cluck more closely than anything else.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You can make biscuits, can&#8217;t you?&#8221;
+went on Dorothy, hastily.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I &#8217;ave,&#8221; responded Mrs. Smithers, dryly.
+&#8220;Begging your parding, Miss, but is that
+there feller sawin&#8217; wood out by the chicken
+coop your &#8217;usband?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The gentleman in the yard,&#8221; said Dorothy,
+icily, &#8220;is Mr. Carr.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Be n&#8217;t you married to &#8217;im?&#8221; cried Mrs.
+Smithers, dropping a fork. &#8220;I understood as
+&#8217;ow you was, else I wouldn&#8217;t &#8217;ave come. I
+was never one to&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_81' name='page_81'></a>81</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;I most assuredly <i>am</i> married to him,&#8221;
+answered Dorothy, with due emphasis on the
+verb.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh! &#8217;E&#8217;s the build of my youngest
+sister&#8217;s poor dead &#8217;usband; the one wot broke
+the tea set wot I give &#8217;er over &#8217;er poor &#8217;ed.
+&#8217;E can &#8217;it powerful &#8217;ard, can&#8217;t &#8217;e?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Quite beyond speech, Dorothy went outdoors
+again, her head held high and a dangerous
+light in her eyes. To-morrow, or next
+week at the latest, should witness the forced
+departure of Mrs. Smithers. Mrs. Carr realised
+that the woman did not intend to be impertinent,
+and that the social forms of Judson
+Centre were not those of New York. Still,
+some things were unbearable.</p>
+<p>The luncheon that was set before them,
+however, went far toward atonement. With
+the best intentions in the world, Dorothy&#8217;s
+cooking nearly always went wide of the mark,
+and Harlan welcomed the change with unmistakable
+pleasure.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I say, Dorothy,&#8221; he whispered, as they
+rose from the table; &#8220;get on with her if you
+can. Anybody who can make such biscuits
+as these will go out of the house only over
+my dead body.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_82' name='page_82'></a>82</span></p>
+<p>The latter part of the speech was unfortunate.
+&#8220;My surroundings are so extremely
+cheerful,&#8221; remarked Dorothy, &#8220;that I&#8217;ve decided
+to spend the afternoon in the library
+reading Poe. I&#8217;ve always wanted to do it
+and I don&#8217;t believe I&#8217;ll ever feel any creepier
+than I do this blessed minute.&#8221;</p>
+<p>In spite of his laughing protest, she went
+into the library, locked the door, and curled
+up in Uncle Ebeneezer&#8217;s easy chair with a
+well-thumbed volume of Poe, finding a two-dollar
+bill used in one place as a book mark.
+She read for some time, then took down another
+book, which opened of itself at &#8220;The
+Gold Bug.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The pages were thickly strewn with marginal
+comments in the fine, small, shaky hand
+she had learned to associate with Uncle Ebeneezer.
+The paragraph about the skull, in the
+tree above the treasure, had evidently filled
+the last reader with unprecedented admiration,
+for on the margin was written twice, in ink:
+&#8220;A very, very pretty idea.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She laughed aloud, for her thoughts since
+morning had been persistently directed toward
+things not of this world. &#8220;I&#8217;m glad I&#8217;m
+not superstitious,&#8221; she thought, then jumped
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_83' name='page_83'></a>83</span>
+almost out of her chair at the sound of an
+ominous crash in the kitchen.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I won&#8217;t go,&#8221; she thought, settling back
+into her place. &#8220;I&#8217;ll let that old monument
+alone just as much as I can.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Upon the whole, it was just as well, for
+the &#8220;old monument&#8221; was on her bony knees,
+with her head and shoulders quite lost in
+the secret depths of the kitchen range. &#8220;I
+wonder,&#8221; she was muttering, &#8220;where &#8217;e could
+&#8217;ave put it. It would &#8217;ave been just like
+that old skinflint to &#8217;ave &#8217;id it in the stove!&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='VI_THE_COMING_OF_ELAINE' id='VI_THE_COMING_OF_ELAINE'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_84' name='page_84'></a>84</span>
+<h2>VI</h2>
+<h3>The Coming of Elaine</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>There is no state of mental wretchedness
+akin to that which precedes the writing
+of a book. Harlan was moody and despairing,
+chiefly because he could not understand what
+it all meant. Something hung over him like a
+black cloud, completely obscuring his usual
+sunny cheerfulness.</p>
+<p>He burned with the desire to achieve, yet
+from the depths of his soul came only emptiness.
+Vague, purposeless aspirations, like disembodied
+spirits, haunted him by night and by
+day. Before his inner vision came unfamiliar
+scenes, detached fragments of conversation,
+the atmosphere, the feeling of an old romance,
+then, by a swift change, darkness from which
+there seemed no possible escape.</p>
+<p>A woman with golden hair, mounted upon
+a white horse, gay with scarlet and silver trappings&mdash;surely
+her name was Elaine? And the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_85' name='page_85'></a>85</span>
+company of gallant knights who followed her
+as she set forth upon her quest&mdash;who were
+they, and from whence did they hail? The
+fool of the court, with his bauble and his
+cracked, meaningless laughter, danced in and
+out of the picture with impish glee. Behind
+it all was the sunset, such a sunset as was
+never seen on land or sea. Ribbons of splendid
+colour streamed from the horizon to the
+zenith and set the shields of the knights aglow
+with shimmering flame. Clashing cymbals
+sounded from afar, then, clear and high, a
+bugle call, the winding silvery notes growing
+fainter and fainter till they were lost in the
+purple silence of the hills. Elaine turned, smiling&mdash;was
+not her name Elaine? And then&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+<p>Darkness fell and the picture was utterly
+wiped out. Harlan turned away with a sigh.</p>
+<p>To take the dead, dry bones of words, the
+tiny black things that march in set spaces
+across the page; to set each where it inevitably
+belongs&mdash;truly, it seems simple enough.
+But from the vast range of our written speech
+to select those which fittingly clothe the
+thought is quite another matter, and presupposes
+the thought. Even then, by necessity,
+the outcome is uncertain.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_86' name='page_86'></a>86</span></p>
+<p>Within the mind of the writer, the Book
+lives and breathes; a child of the brain, yearning
+for birth. At a white heat, after long
+waiting, the words come&mdash;merely a commentary,
+an index, a marginal note of that within.
+Reading afterward the written words, the fine
+invisible links, the colour and the music, are
+treacherously supplied by the imagination,
+which is at once the best friend and the
+worst enemy. How is one to know that
+only a small part of it has been written, that
+the best of it, far past writing, lingers still
+unborn?</p>
+<p>Long afterward, when the original picture
+has faded as though it had never been, one
+may read his printed work, and wonder, in
+abject self-abasement, by what miracle it was
+ever printed. He has trusted to some unknown
+psychology which strongly savours of
+the Black Art to reproduce in the minds of his
+readers the picture which was in his, and from
+which these fragmentary, marginal notes were
+traced. Only the words, the dead, meaningless
+words, stripped of all the fancy which
+once made them fair, to make for the thousands
+the wild, delirious bliss that the writer knew!
+To write with the tears falling upon the page,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_87' name='page_87'></a>87</span>
+and afterward to read, in some particularly
+poignant and searching review, that &#8220;the
+book fails to convince!&#8221; Happy is he whose
+written pages reproduce but faintly the glow
+from whence they came. For &#8220;whoso with
+blood and tears would dig Art out of his soul,
+may lavish his golden prime in pursuit of
+emptiness, or, striking treasure, find only
+fairy gold, so that when his eyes are purged
+of the spell of morning, he sees his hands are
+full of withered leaves.&#8221;</p>
+<p>A meadow-lark, rising from a distant field,
+dropped golden notes into the still, sunlit
+air, then vanished into the blue spaces beyond.
+A bough of apple bloom, its starry
+petals anchored only by invisible cobwebs,
+softly shook white fragrance into the grass.
+Then, like a vision straight from the golden
+city with the walls of pearl, came Elaine, the
+beautiful, her blue eyes laughing, and her
+scarlet lips parted in a smile.</p>
+<p>Harlan&#8217;s heart sang within him. His trembling
+hands grasped feverishly at the sheaf of
+copy-paper which had waited for this, week
+in and week out. The pencil was ready to
+his hand, and the words fairly wrote themselves:
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_88' name='page_88'></a>88</span></p>
+<p><i>It came to pass that when the year was at
+the Spring, the Lady Elaine fared forth upon
+the Heart&#8217;s Quest. She was mounted upon a
+snowy palfrey, whose trappings of scarlet and
+silver gleamed brightly in the sun. Her gown
+was of white satin, wondrously embroidered in
+fine gold thread, which was no less gold than
+her hair, falling in unchecked splendour about
+her.</i></p>
+<p><i>Blue as sapphires were the eyes of Elaine,
+and her fair cheek was like that of an apple-blossom.
+Set like a rose upon pearl was the
+dewy, fragrant sweetness of her mouth, and
+her breath was like that of the rose itself. Her
+hands&mdash;but how shall I write of the flower-like
+hands of Elaine? They&mdash;</i></p>
+<p>The door-bell pealed portentously through
+the house, echoing and re-echoing through the
+empty rooms. No answer. Presently it rang
+again, insistently, and Elaine, with her snowy
+palfrey, whisked suddenly out of sight.</p>
+<p>Gone, except for these few lines! Harlan
+stifled a groan and the bell rang once more.</p>
+<p>Heavens! Where was Dorothy? Where
+was Mrs. Smithers? Was there no one in the
+house but himself? Apparently not, for the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_89' name='page_89'></a>89</span>
+bell rang determinedly, and with military
+precision.</p>
+<p>&#8220;March, march, forward march!&#8221; grumbled
+Harlan, as he ran downstairs, the one-two,
+one-two-three being registered meanwhile on
+the bell-wire.</p>
+<p>It was not a pleasant person who violently
+wrenched the door open, but in spite of his
+annoyance, Harlan could not be discourteous
+to a lady. She was tall, and slender, and pale,
+with blue eyes and yellow hair, and so very
+fragile that it seemed as though a passing
+zephyr might almost blow her away.</p>
+<p>&#8220;How do you do,&#8221; she said, wearily. &#8220;I
+thought you were never coming.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I was busy,&#8221; said Harlan, in extenuation.
+&#8220;Will you come in?&#8221; She was evidently a
+friend of Dorothy&#8217;s, and, as such, demanded
+proper consideration.</p>
+<p>The invitation was needless, however, for
+even as he spoke, she brushed past him, and
+went into the parlour. &#8220;I&#8217;m so tired,&#8221; she
+breathed. &#8220;I walked up that long hill.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You shouldn&#8217;t have done it,&#8221; returned
+Harlan, standing first on one foot and then on
+the other. &#8220;Couldn&#8217;t you find the stage?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I didn&#8217;t look for it. I never had any
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_90' name='page_90'></a>90</span>
+ambition to go on the stage,&#8221; she concluded,
+with a faint smile. &#8220;Where is Uncle
+Ebeneezer?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No friend of Dorothy&#8217;s,&#8221; thought Harlan,
+shifting to the other foot. &#8220;Uncle Ebeneezer,&#8221;
+he said, clearing his throat, &#8220;is at
+peace.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What do you mean?&#8221; demanded the
+girl, sinking into one of the haircloth chairs.
+&#8220;Where is Uncle Ebeneezer?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Uncle Ebeneezer is dead,&#8221; explained Harlan,
+somewhat tartly. Then, as he remembered
+the utter ruin of his work, he added,
+viciously, &#8220;never having known him intimately,
+I can&#8217;t say just where he is.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She leaned back in her chair, her face as
+white as death. Harlan thought she had
+fainted, when she relieved his mind by bursting
+into tears. He was more familiar with
+salt water, but, none the less, the situation
+was awkward.</p>
+<p>There were no signs of Dorothy, so Harlan,
+in an effort to be consoling, took the visitor&#8217;s
+cold hands in his. &#8220;Don&#8217;t,&#8221; he said, kindly;
+&#8220;cheer up. You are among friends.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I have no friends,&#8221; she answered, between
+sobs. &#8220;I lost the last when my dear
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_91' name='page_91'></a>91</span>
+mother died. She made me promise, during
+her last illness, that if anything happened to
+her, I would come to Uncle Ebeneezer. She
+said she had never imposed upon him and that
+he would gladly take care of me, for her sake.
+I was ill a long, long time, but as soon as I was
+able to, I came, and now&mdash;and now&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t,&#8221; said Harlan, again, awkwardly
+patting her hands, and deeply touched by the
+girl&#8217;s distress. &#8220;We are your friends. You
+can stay here just as well as not. I am married
+and&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>Upon his back, Harlan felt eyes. He turned
+quickly, and saw Dorothy standing in the
+door&mdash;quite a new Dorothy, indeed; very
+tall, and stately, and pale.</p>
+<p>Through sheer nervousness, Mr. Carr
+laughed&mdash;an unfortunate, high-pitched laugh
+with no mirth in it. &#8220;Let me present my
+wife,&#8221; he said, sobering suddenly. &#8220;Mrs.
+Carr, Miss&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>Here he coughed, and the guest, rising,
+filled the pause. &#8220;I am Elaine St. Clair,&#8221; she
+explained, offering a white, tremulous hand
+which Dorothy did not seem to see. &#8220;It is
+very good of your husband to ask me to stay
+with you.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_92' name='page_92'></a>92</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Very,&#8221; replied Dorothy, in a tone altogether
+new to her husband. &#8220;He is always
+doing lovely things for people. And now,
+Harlan, if you will show Miss St. Clair to her
+room, I will speak with Mrs. Smithers about
+luncheon, which should be nearly ready by
+this time.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thunder,&#8221; said Harlan to himself, as
+Dorothy withdrew. &#8220;What in the devil do
+I know about &#8217;her room&#8217;? Have you ever
+been here before?&#8221; he inquired of the guest.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Never in my life,&#8221; answered Miss St.
+Clair, wiping her eyes.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; replied Harlan, confusedly, &#8220;just
+go on upstairs, then, and help yourself. There
+are plenty of rooms, and cribs to burn in every
+blamed one of &#8217;em,&#8221; he added, savagely, remembering
+the look in Dorothy&#8217;s eyes.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thank you,&#8221; said Miss St. Clair, diffidently;
+&#8220;it is very kind of you to let me
+choose. Can some one bring my trunk up
+this afternoon?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll attend to it,&#8221; replied her host,
+brusquely.</p>
+<p>She trailed noiselessly upstairs, carrying her
+heavy suit case, and Harlan, not altogether
+happy at the prospect, went in search of
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_93' name='page_93'></a>93</span>
+Dorothy. At the kitchen door he paused,
+hearing voices within.</p>
+<p>&#8220;They&#8217;ve usually et by themselves,&#8221; Mrs.
+Smithers was saying. &#8220;Is this a new one,
+or a friend of yours?&#8221;</p>
+<p>The sentence was utterly without meaning,
+either to Harlan or Dorothy, but the answer
+was given, as quick as a flash. &#8220;A friend,
+Mrs. Smithers&mdash;a very dear old friend of Mr.
+Carr&#8217;s.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Mr. Carr&#8217;s,&#8217;&#8221; repeated Harlan, miserably,
+tiptoeing away to the library, where he
+sat down and wiped his forehead. &#8220;&#8216;A very
+dear old friend.&#8217;&#8221; Disconnectedly, and with
+pronounced emphasis, Harlan mentioned the
+place which is said to be paved with good
+intentions.</p>
+<p>The clock struck twelve, and it was just
+eleven when he had begun on <i>The Quest of
+the Lady Elaine</i>. &#8220;&#8216;One crowded hour of
+glorious life is worth&#8217;&mdash;what idiot said it was
+worth anything?&#8221; groaned Harlan, inwardly.
+&#8220;Anyway, I&#8217;ve had the crowded hour. &#8216;Better
+fifty years of Europe than a cycle of Cathay&#8217;&#8221;&mdash;the
+line sang itself into his consciousness.
+&#8220;Europe be everlastingly condemned,&#8221; he
+muttered. &#8220;Oh, how my head aches!&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_94' name='page_94'></a>94</span></p>
+<p>He leaned back in his chair, wondering
+where &#8220;Cathay&#8221; might be. It sounded like
+a nice, quiet place, with no &#8220;dear old friends&#8221;
+in it&mdash;a peaceful spot where people could
+write books if they wanted to. &#8220;Just why,&#8221;
+he asked himself more than once, &#8220;was I inspired
+to grab the shaky paw of that human
+sponge? &#8216;Tears, idle tears, I know not
+what they mean&#8217;&mdash;oh, the devil! She must
+have a volume of Tennyson in her grip, and
+it&#8217;s soaking through!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mrs. Smithers came out into the hall, more
+sepulchral and grim-visaged than ever, and
+rang the bell for luncheon. To Harlan&#8217;s fevered
+fancy, it sounded like a sexton tolling a
+bell for a funeral. Miss St. Clair, with the
+traces of tears practically removed, floated
+gracefully downstairs, and Harlan, coming
+out of the library with the furtive step of a
+wild beast from its lair, met her inopportunely
+at the foot of the stairs.</p>
+<p>She smiled at him in a timid, but friendly
+fashion, and at the precise moment, Dorothy
+appeared in the dining-room door.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Harlan, dear,&#8221; she said, in her sweetest
+tones, &#8220;will you give our guest your arm and escort
+her out to luncheon? I have it all ready!&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_95' name='page_95'></a>95</span></p>
+<p>Miss St. Clair clutched timidly at Harlan&#8217;s
+rigid coat sleeve, wondering what strange
+custom of the house would be evident next,
+and the fog was thick before Mr. Carr&#8217;s eyes,
+when he took his accustomed seat at the head
+of the table. As a sign of devotion, he tried
+to step on Dorothy&#8217;s foot under the table,
+after a pleasing habit of their courtship in the
+New York boarding-house, but he succeeded
+only in drawing an unconscious &#8220;ouch&#8221; and
+a vivid blush from Miss St. Clair, by which he
+impressed Dorothy more deeply than he
+could have hoped to do otherwise.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Have you come far, Miss St. Clair?&#8221;
+asked Dorothy, conventionally.</p>
+<p>&#8220;From New York,&#8221; answered the guest,
+taking a plate of fried chicken from Harlan&#8217;s
+shaky hand.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I know,&#8221; said Dorothy sweetly. &#8220;We
+come from New York, too.&#8221; Then she took
+a bold, daring plunge. &#8220;I have often heard
+my husband speak of you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Of me, Mrs. Carr? Surely not! It must
+have been some other Elaine.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Perhaps,&#8221; smiled Dorothy, shrugging her
+shoulders. &#8220;No doubt I am mistaken, but
+you may have heard of me?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_96' name='page_96'></a>96</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Indeed I haven&#8217;t,&#8221; Elaine assured her.
+&#8220;I never heard of you in my life before.
+Why should I?&#8221; A sudden and earnest
+crow under the window behind her startled
+her so that she dropped her knife. Harlan
+stooped for it at the same time she did and
+their heads bumped together smartly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Our gentleman chicken,&#8221; went on Dorothy,
+tactfully. &#8220;We call him &#8216;Abdul Hamid.&#8217;
+You know the masculine nature is instinctively
+polygamous.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Harlan cackled mirthlessly, wondering, subconsciously,
+how Abdul Hamid could have
+escaped from the coop. After that there was
+silence, save as Dorothy, in her most hospitable
+manner, occasionally urged the guest to
+have more of something. Throughout luncheon,
+she never once spoke to Harlan, nor
+took so much as a single glance at his red,
+unhappy face. Even his ears were scarlet,
+and the delicious fried chicken which he was
+eating might have been a section of rag
+carpet, for all he knew to the contrary.</p>
+<p>&#8220;And now, Miss St. Clair,&#8221; said Dorothy,
+kindly, as they rose from the table, &#8220;I am sure
+you will wish to lie down and rest after your
+long journey. Which room did you choose?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_97' name='page_97'></a>97</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;I looked at all of them,&#8221; responded Elaine,
+touched to the heart by this unexpected kindness
+from strangers, &#8220;and finally chose the
+suite in the south wing. It&#8217;s a nice large
+room, with such a darling little sitting-room
+attached, and such a dear work basket.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Harlan nearly burst, for the description was
+of Dorothy&#8217;s own particular sanctum.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; said Mrs. Carr, very quietly; &#8220;I
+thought my husband would choose that room
+for you&mdash;dear Harlan is always so thoughtful!
+I will go up with you and take out a few of
+my things which have been unfortunately left
+there.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Shortly afterward, Mr. Carr also climbed the
+stairs, his head swimming and his knees
+knocking together. Nervously, he turned
+over the few pages of his manuscript, then,
+hearing Dorothy coming, grabbed it and fled
+like a thief to the library on the first floor.
+In his panic he bolted the doors and windows
+of Uncle Ebeneezer&#8217;s former retreat. It was
+unnecessary, however, for no one came near
+him.</p>
+<p>Throughout the long, sweet Spring afternoon,
+Miss St. Clair slept the dreamless sleep
+of utter exhaustion, Harlan worked fruitlessly
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_98' name='page_98'></a>98</span>
+at <i>The Quest of Lady Elaine</i>, and Dorothy
+busied herself about her household tasks,
+singing with forced cheerfulness whenever
+she was within hearing of the library.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll explain&#8221; thought Harlan, wretchedly.
+But after all what was there to explain,
+except that he had never seen Miss St. Clair
+before, never in all his life heard of her,
+never knew there was such a person, or had
+never met anybody who knew anything about
+her? &#8220;Besides,&#8221; he continued to himself
+&#8220;even then, what excuse have I got for stroking
+a strange woman&#8217;s hand and telling her
+I&#8217;m married?&#8221;</p>
+<p>As the afternoon wore on, he decided that
+it would be policy to ignore the whole matter.
+It was an unfortunate misunderstanding all
+around, which could not be cleared away by
+speech, unless Dorothy should ask him about
+it&mdash;which he was very certain she would not
+do. &#8220;She ought to trust me,&#8221; he said to
+himself, resentfully, forgetting the absolute
+openness of thought and deed upon which a
+woman&#8217;s trust is founded. &#8220;I&#8217;ll read her the
+book to-night,&#8221; he thought, happily, &#8220;and
+that will please her.&#8221;</p>
+<p>But it was fated not to. After dinner,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_99' name='page_99'></a>99</span>
+which was much the same as luncheon, as
+far as conversation was concerned, Harlan invited
+Dorothy to come into the library.</p>
+<p>She followed him, obediently enough, and
+he closed the door.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dearest,&#8221; he began, with a grin which
+was meant to be cheerful and was merely
+ridiculous, &#8220;I&#8217;ve begun the book&mdash;I actually
+have! I&#8217;ve been working on it all day. Just
+listen!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Hurriedly possessing himself of the manuscript,
+he read it in an unnatural voice, down
+to the flower-like hands.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t see how you can say that, Harlan,&#8221;
+interrupted Dorothy, coolly critical; &#8220;I particularly
+noticed her hands and they&#8217;re not
+nice at all. They&#8217;re red and rough and nearly
+the size of a policeman&#8217;s.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Whose hands?&#8221; demanded Harlan, in
+genuine astonishment.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why, Elaine&#8217;s&mdash;Miss St. Clair&#8217;s. If you&#8217;re
+going to do a book about her, you might at
+least try to make it truthful.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mrs. Carr went out, closing the door carefully,
+but firmly. Then, for the first time, the
+whole wretched situation dawned upon the
+young and aspiring author.</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='VII_AN_UNINVITED_GUEST' id='VII_AN_UNINVITED_GUEST'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_100' name='page_100'></a>100</span>
+<h2>VII</h2>
+<h3>An Uninvited Guest</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Dorothy sat alone in her room, facing
+the first heartache of her married life.
+She repeatedly told herself that she was not
+jealous; that the primitive, unlovely emotion
+was far beneath such as she. But if Harlan
+had only told her, instead of leaving her to
+find out in this miserable way! It had never
+entered her head that the clear-eyed, clean-minded
+boy whom she had married, could
+have anything even remotely resembling a
+past, and here it was in her own house!
+Moreover, it had inspired a book, and she
+herself had been unable to get him to work
+at all.</p>
+<p>Just why women should be concerned in regard
+to old loves has never been wholly clear.
+One might as well fancy a clean slate, freshly
+and elaborately dedicated to noble composition,
+being bothered by the addition and
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_101' name='page_101'></a>101</span>
+subtraction which was once done upon its
+surface.</p>
+<p>With her own eyes she had seen Miss St.
+Clair weeping, while Harlan held her hands
+and explained that he was married. Undoubtedly
+Miss St. Clair accounted for various
+metropolitan delays and absences which she
+had joyously forgiven on the score of Harlan&#8217;s
+&#8220;work.&#8221; Bitterest of all was the thought
+that she must endure it&mdash;that the long years
+ahead of her offered no escape, no remedy,
+except the ignoble, painful one which she
+would not for a moment consider.</p>
+<p>A sudden flash of resentment stiffened her
+backbone, metaphorically speaking. In spite
+of Miss St. Clair, Harlan had married her, and
+it was Miss St. Clair who was weeping over
+the event, not Harlan. She had seen that the
+visitor made Harlan unhappy&mdash;very well, she
+would generously throw them together and
+make him painfully weary of her, for Love&#8217;s
+certain destroyer is Satiety. Deep in Dorothy&#8217;s
+consciousness was the abiding satisfaction that
+she had never once, as she put it to herself,
+&#8220;chased him.&#8221; Never a note, never a telephone
+call, never a question as to his coming
+and going appeared now to trouble her. The
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_102' name='page_102'></a>102</span>
+ancient, primeval relation of the Seeker and
+the Sought had not for a single moment been
+altered through her.</p>
+<p>Meanwhile, Elaine had settled down peacefully
+enough. Having been regaled since
+infancy with tales of Uncle Ebeneezer&#8217;s generous
+hospitality, it seemed only fitting and
+proper that his relatives should make her welcome,
+even though Elaine&#8217;s mother had been
+only a second cousin of Mrs. Judson&#8217;s. Elaine
+had been deeply touched by Harlan&#8217;s solicitude
+and Dorothy&#8217;s kindness, seeing in it
+nothing more than the manifestation of a
+beautiful spirit toward one who was helpless
+and ill.</p>
+<p>A modest wardrobe and a few hundred
+dollars, saved from the wreck of her mother&#8217;s
+estate, and the household furniture in storage,
+represented Elaine&#8217;s worldly goods. As too
+often happens in a material world, she had
+been trained to do nothing but sing a little,
+play a little, and paint unspeakably. She
+planned, vaguely, to stay where she was during
+the Summer, and in the Autumn, when
+she had quite recovered her former strength,
+to take her money and learn some method of
+self-support.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_103' name='page_103'></a>103</span></p>
+<p>Just now she was resting. A late breakfast,
+a walk through the country, a light luncheon,
+and a long nap accounted for Elaine&#8217;s day
+until dinner-time. After dinner, for an hour,
+she exchanged commonplaces with the Carrs,
+then retired to her own room with a book
+from Uncle Ebeneezer&#8217;s library. Even Dorothy
+was forced to admit that she made very
+little trouble.</p>
+<p>The train rumbled into the station&mdash;the very
+same train which had brought the Serpent
+into Paradise. Dorothy smiled a little at the
+idea of a snake travelling on a train unless
+it belonged to a circus, and wiped her eyes.
+Having mapped out her line of conduct, the
+rest was simple enough&mdash;to abide by it even
+to the smallest details, and patiently await
+results.</p>
+<p>When she went downstairs again she was
+outwardly quite herself, but altogether unprepared
+for the surprise that awaited her in the
+parlour.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hello,&#8221; cried a masculine voice, cheerily,
+as she entered the room. &#8220;I&#8217;ve never seen
+you before, have I?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not that I know of,&#8221; replied Dorothy,
+startled, but not in the least afraid.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_104' name='page_104'></a>104</span></p>
+<p>The young man who rose to greet her was
+not at all unpleasant to look upon. He was
+taller than Harlan, smooth-shaven, had nice
+brown eyes, and a mop of curly brown hair
+which evidently annoyed him. Moreover, he
+was laughing, as much from sheer joy of living
+as anything else.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Which side of the house are you a relative
+of?&#8221; he asked.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The inside,&#8221; returned Dorothy. &#8220;I keep
+house here.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You don&#8217;t say so! What&#8217;s become of
+Sally? Uncle shoo her off the lot?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know what you&#8217;re talking about,&#8221;
+answered Dorothy, with a fruitless effort
+to appear matronly and dignified. &#8220;If by
+&#8216;uncle&#8217; you mean Uncle Ebeneezer, he&#8217;s
+dead.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You don&#8217;t tell me! Reaped at last, after
+all this delay! Then how did you come
+here?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;By train,&#8221; responded Dorothy, enjoying
+the situation to the utmost. &#8220;Uncle Ebeneezer
+left the house and furniture to my
+husband.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The young man sank into a chair and
+wiped the traces of deep emotion from his
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_105' name='page_105'></a>105</span>
+ruddy face. &#8220;Hully Gee!&#8221; he said, when he
+recovered speech. &#8220;I suppose that&#8217;s French
+for &#8216;Dick, chase yourself.&#8217;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Perhaps not,&#8221; suggested Mrs. Carr,
+strangely loath to have this breezy individual
+take his departure. &#8220;You might tell me who
+you are; don&#8217;t you think so?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not a bad notion at all. I&#8217;m the Dick of
+the firm of &#8216;Tom, Dick, and Harry,&#8217; you&#8217;ve
+doubtless heard about from your childhood.
+My other name is Chester, but few know it.
+I&#8217;m merely &#8216;Dick&#8217; to everybody, yourself included,
+I trust,&#8221; he added with an elaborate
+bow. &#8220;If you will sit down, and make
+yourself comfortable, I will now unfold to you
+the sad story of my life.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I was born of poor but honest parents
+about twenty-three years ago, according to
+the last official census. They brought me up
+until I reached the ripe age of twelve, then got
+tired of their job and went to heaven. Since
+then I&#8217;ve brought myself up. I&#8217;ve just taught
+a college all it can learn from me, and been
+put out. Prexy confided to me that I wasn&#8217;t
+going to graduate, so I shook the classic dust
+from my weary feet and fled hither as to a
+harbour of refuge. I&#8217;ve always spent my
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_106' name='page_106'></a>106</span>
+Summers with Uncle Ebeneezer, because it
+was cheap for me and good for him, but I can&#8217;t
+undertake to follow him up this Summer, not
+knowing exactly where he is, and not caring
+for a warm climate anyway.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Inexpressibly shocked, Dorothy looked up
+to the portrait over the mantel half fearfully,
+but there was no change in the stern, malicious
+old face.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re afraid of him, aren&#8217;t you?&#8221; asked
+Dick, with a hearty laugh.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I always have been,&#8221; admitted Dorothy.
+&#8220;He scared me the first time we came here&mdash;it
+was at night, and raining.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve known him to scare people in broad
+daylight, and they weren&#8217;t always women
+either. He used to be a pleasant old codger,
+but he got over it, and after he learned to
+swear readily, he was a pretty tough party to
+buck up against. It took nerve to stay here
+when uncle was in a bad mood, but most
+people have more nerve than they think they
+have. You haven&#8217;t told me your name yet.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mrs. Carr&mdash;Dorothy Carr.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Pretty name,&#8221; remarked Dick, with evident
+admiration. &#8220;If you don&#8217;t mind, I&#8217;ll
+call you &#8216;Dorothy&#8217; till the train goes back.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_107' name='page_107'></a>107</span>
+It will be something for me to remember in
+the desert waste of my empty years to come.&#8221;</p>
+<p>A friendly, hospitable impulse seized Mrs.
+Carr. &#8220;Why should you go?&#8221; she inquired,
+smiling. &#8220;If you&#8217;ve been in the habit of
+spending your Summers here, you needn&#8217;t
+change on our account. We&#8217;d be glad to
+have you, I&#8217;m sure. A dear old friend of my
+husband&#8217;s is already here.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Fine or superfine?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Superfine,&#8221; returned Dorothy, feeling very
+much as though the clock had been turned
+back twenty years or more and she was at a
+children&#8217;s party again.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You can bet your sweet life I&#8217;ll stay,&#8221;
+said Dick, &#8220;and if I bother you at any time,
+just say so and I&#8217;ll skate out, with no hard
+feelings on either side. You may need me
+when the rest of the bunch gets here.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The rest of&mdash;oh Harlan, come here a
+minute!&#8221;</p>
+<p>She had caught him as he was going into
+the library with his work, thinking that a
+change of environment might possibly produce
+an acceptable change in the current of
+his thoughts.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dick,&#8221; said Dorothy, when Harlan came
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_108' name='page_108'></a>108</span>
+to the door, &#8220;this is my husband. Mr.
+Chester, Mr. Carr.&#8221;</p>
+<p>For days Harlan had not seen Dorothy with
+such rosy cheeks, such dancing eyes, nor half
+as many dimples. Bewildered, and not altogether
+pleased, he awkwardly extended his
+hand to Mr. Chester, with a conventional
+&#8220;how do you do?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dick wrung the offered hand in a mighty
+grip which made Harlan wince. &#8220;I congratulate
+you, Mr. Carr,&#8221; he said gallantly, &#8220;upon
+possessing the fairest ornament of her sex.
+Guess this letter is for you, isn&#8217;t it? I found
+it in the post-office while the keeper was out,
+and just took it. If it doesn&#8217;t belong here,
+I&#8217;ll skip back with it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thanks,&#8221; murmured Harlan, rubbing the
+injured hand with the other. &#8220;I&mdash;where did
+you come from?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The station,&#8221; explained Dick, pleasantly.
+&#8220;I never trace myself back of where I was
+last seen.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s going to stay with us, Harlan,&#8221; put
+in Dorothy, wickedly, &#8220;so you mustn&#8217;t let us
+keep you away from your work. Come
+along, Dick, and I&#8217;ll show you our cow.&#8221;</p>
+<p>They went out, followed by a long, low
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_109' name='page_109'></a>109</span>
+whistle of astonishment from Harlan which
+Dorothy&#8217;s acute ears did not miss. Presently
+Mr. Carr retreated into the library, and locked
+the door, but he did not work. The book was
+at a deadlock, half a paragraph beyond &#8220;the
+flower-like hands of Elaine,&#8221; of which, indeed,
+the author had confessed his inability to write.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dick,&#8221; thought Harlan. &#8220;Mr. Chester.
+A young giant with a grip like an octopus.
+&#8216;The fairest ornament of her sex.&#8217; Never,
+never heard of him before. Some old flame
+of Dorothy&#8217;s, who has discovered her whereabouts
+and brazenly followed her, even on her
+honeymoon.&#8221;</p>
+<p>And he, Harlan, was absolutely prevented
+from speaking of it by an unhappy chain of
+circumstances which put him in a false light!
+For the first time he fully perceived how a
+single thoughtless action may bind all one&#8217;s
+future existence.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Just because I stroked the hand of a distressed
+damsel,&#8221; muttered Harlan, &#8220;and told
+her I was married, I&#8217;ve got to sit and see a
+procession of my wife&#8217;s old lovers marking
+time here all Summer!&#8221; In his fevered fancy,
+he already saw the Jack-o&#8217;-Lantern surrounded
+by Mrs. Carr&#8217;s former admirers,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_110' name='page_110'></a>110</span>
+heard them call her &#8220;Dorothy,&#8221; and realised
+that there was not a single thing he could do.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Unless, of course,&#8221; he added, mentally,
+&#8220;it gets too bad, and I have an excuse to order
+&#8217;em out. And then, probably, Dorothy
+will tell Elaine to take her dolls and go home,
+and the poor thing&#8217;s got nowhere to go&mdash;nowhere
+in the wide world.</p>
+<p>&#8220;How would Dorothy like to be a lonely
+orphan, with no husband, no friends, and no
+job? She wouldn&#8217;t like it much, but women
+never have any sympathy for each other, nor
+for their husbands, either. I&#8217;d give twenty
+dollars this minute not to have stroked
+Elaine&#8217;s hand, and fifty not to have had
+Dorothy see it, but there&#8217;s no use in crying
+over spilt milk nor in regretting hands that
+have already been stroked.&#8221;</p>
+<p>In search of diversion, he opened his letter,
+which was in answer to the one he had written
+some little time ago, inquiring minutely,
+of an acquaintance who was supposed to be
+successful, just what the prospects were for a
+beginner in the literary craft.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dear Carr,&#8221; the letter read. &#8220;Sorry not
+to have answered before, but I&#8217;ve been away
+and things got mixed up. Wouldn&#8217;t advise
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_111' name='page_111'></a>111</span>
+anybody but an enemy to take up writing as
+a steady job, but if you feel the call, go in and
+win. You can make all the way from eight
+dollars a year, which was what I made when
+I first struck out, up to five thousand, which
+was what I averaged last year. I&#8217;ve always
+envied you fellows who could turn in your
+stuff and get paid for it the following Tuesday.
+In my line, you work like the devil
+this year for what you&#8217;re going to get next,
+and live on the year after.</p>
+<p>&#8220;However, if you&#8217;re bitten with it, there&#8217;s
+no cure. You&#8217;ll see magazine articles in
+stones and books in running brooks all the
+rest of your life. When you get your book
+done, I&#8217;ll trot you around to my publisher,
+who enjoys the proud distinction of being an
+honest one, and if he likes your stuff, he&#8217;ll
+take it, and if he doesn&#8217;t, he&#8217;ll turn you down
+so pleasantly that you&#8217;ll feel as though he&#8217;d
+made you a present of something. If you
+think you&#8217;ve got genius, forget it, and remember
+that nothing takes the place of hard
+work. And, besides, it&#8217;s a pretty blamed
+poor book that can&#8217;t get itself printed these
+days.</p>
+<div class='ra'>
+<p style='margin-right:3em;'>&#8220;Yours as usual,</p>
+<p>&#8220;C. J.&#8221;</p>
+</div>
+
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_112' name='page_112'></a>112</span></div>
+<p>The communication was probably intended
+as encouragement, but the effect was depressing,
+and at the end of an hour, Harlan had
+written only two lines more in his book,
+neither of which pleased him.</p>
+<p>Meanwhile, Dick was renewing his old acquaintance
+with Mrs. Smithers, much to that
+lady&#8217;s pleasure, though she characteristically
+endeavoured to conceal it. She belonged to
+a pious sect which held all mirth to be
+ungodly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sally,&#8221; Dick was saying, &#8220;I&#8217;ve dreamed
+of your biscuits night and day since I ate the
+last one. Are we going to have &#8217;em for
+lunch?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No biscuits in this house to-day,&#8221; grumbled
+the deity of the kitchen, in an attempt to
+be properly stern, &#8220;and as I&#8217;ve told you more
+than once, my name ain&#8217;t &#8216;Sally.&#8217; It&#8217;s Mis&#8217;
+Smithers, that&#8217;s wot it is, and I&#8217;ll thank you
+to call me by it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Between those who love,&#8221; continued
+Dick, with a sidelong glance at Dorothy, who
+stood near by, appalled at his daring, &#8220;the
+best is none too good for common use. If
+my heart breaks the bonds of conventional
+restraint, and I call you by the name under
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_113' name='page_113'></a>113</span>
+which you always appear to me in my longing
+dreams, why should you not be gracious,
+and forgive me? Be kind to me, Sally, be
+just a little kind, and throw together a pan of
+those biscuits in your own inimitable style!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Run along with you, you limb of Satan,&#8221;
+cried Mrs. Smithers, brandishing a floury
+spoon.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Come along, Dorothy,&#8221; said Dick, laying
+a huge but friendly paw upon Mrs. Carr&#8217;s
+shoulder; &#8220;we&#8217;re chased out.&#8221; He put his
+head back into the kitchen, however, to file a
+parting petition for biscuits, which was unnecessary,
+for Mrs. Smithers had already
+found her rolling-pin and had begun to sift her
+flour.</p>
+<p>Outside, he duly admired Maud, who was
+chewing the cud of reflection under a tree,
+created a panic in the chicken yard by lifting
+Abdul Hamid ignominiously by the legs, to
+see how heavy he was, and chased Claudius
+Tiberius under the barn.</p>
+<p>&#8220;If that cat turns up missing some day,&#8221;
+he said, &#8220;don&#8217;t blame me. He looks so much
+like Uncle Ebeneezer that I can&#8217;t stand for him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s something queer about Claudius,
+anyway,&#8221; ventured Dorothy. &#8220;Mrs.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_114' name='page_114'></a>114</span>
+Smithers says that uncle killed him the week
+before he died, and&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Before who died?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Claudius&mdash;no, before uncle died, and she
+buried him, and he&#8217;s come to life again.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Uncle, or Claudius?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Claudius, you goose,&#8221; laughed Dorothy.</p>
+<p>&#8220;If I knew just how nearly related we
+were,&#8221; remarked Dick, irrelevantly enough,
+&#8220;I believe I&#8217;d kiss you. You look so pretty
+with all your dimples hung out and your hair
+blowing in the wind.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dorothy glanced up, startled, and inclined
+to be angry, but it was impossible to take
+offence at such a mischievous youth as Dick
+was at that moment. &#8220;We&#8217;re not related,&#8221;
+she said, coolly, &#8220;except by marriage.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, that&#8217;s near enough,&#8221; returned
+Dick, who was never disposed to be unduly
+critical. &#8220;Your husband is only related to
+you by marriage. Don&#8217;t be such a prude.
+Come to the waiting arms of your uncle, or
+cousin, or brother-in-law, or whatever it is
+that I happen to be.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Go and kiss your friend Sally in the
+kitchen,&#8221; laughed Dorothy. &#8220;You have my
+permission.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_115' name='page_115'></a>115</span>
+Dick made a wry face. &#8220;I don&#8217;t hanker to
+do it,&#8221; he said, &#8220;but if you want me to, I
+will. I suppose she isn&#8217;t pleased with her
+place and you want to make it more homelike
+for her.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What relation were you to Uncle Ebeneezer?&#8221;
+queried Dorothy, curiously.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Uncle and I,&#8221; sighed Dick, &#8220;were connected
+by the closest ties of blood and marriage.
+Nobody could be more related than
+we were. I was the only child of Aunt
+Rebecca&#8217;s sister&#8217;s husband&#8217;s sister&#8217;s husband&#8217;s
+sister. Say, on the dead, if I ever bother you
+will you tell me so and invite me to skip?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Of course I will.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Shake hands on it, then; that&#8217;s a good
+fellow. And say, did you say there was another
+skirt stopping here?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;A&mdash;a what?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Petticoat,&#8221; explained Dick, patiently;
+&#8220;mulier, as the ancient dagoes had it.
+They&#8217;ve been getting mulier ever since, too.
+How old is she?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh,&#8221; answered Dorothy. &#8220;She&#8217;s not
+more than twenty or twenty-one.&#8221; Then,
+endeavouring to be just to Elaine, she added:
+&#8220;And a very pretty girl, too.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_116' name='page_116'></a>116</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Lead me to her,&#8221; exclaimed Dick ecstatically.
+&#8220;Already she is mine!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ll see her at luncheon. There&#8217;s the
+bell, now.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mr. Chester was duly presented to Miss
+St. Clair, and from then on, appeared to be on
+his good behaviour. Elaine&#8217;s delicate, fragile
+beauty appealed strongly to the susceptible
+Dick, and from the very beginning, he was
+afraid of her&mdash;a dangerous symptom, if he had
+only known it.</p>
+<p>Harlan, making the best of a bad bargain,
+devoted himself to his guests impartially, and,
+upon the whole, the luncheon went off very
+well, though the atmosphere was not wholly
+festive.</p>
+<p>Afterward, when they sat down in the parlour,
+there was an awkward pause which no
+one seemed inclined to relieve. At length
+Dorothy, mindful of her duty as hostess,
+asked Miss St. Clair if she would not play
+something.</p>
+<p>Willingly enough, Elaine went to the melodeon,
+which had not been opened since the
+Carrs came to live at the Jack-o&#8217;-Lantern, and
+lifted the lid. Immediately, however, she went
+off into hysterics, which were so violent that
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_117' name='page_117'></a>117</span>
+Harlan and Dorothy were obliged to assist her
+to her room.</p>
+<p>Dick strongly desired to carry Elaine upstairs,
+but was forbidden by the hampering
+conventionalities. So he lounged over to the
+melodeon, somewhat surprised to find that
+&#8220;It&#8221; was still there.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8221; was a brown, wavy, false front of
+human hair, securely anchored to the keys
+underneath by a complicated system of
+loops of linen thread. Pinned to the top
+was a faded slip of paper on which Uncle
+Ebeneezer had written, long ago: &#8220;Mrs. Judson
+always kept her best false front in the
+melodeon. I do not desire to have it disturbed.&mdash;E. J.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;His Nibs never could bear music,&#8221; thought
+Dick, as he closed the instrument, little guessing
+that a vein of sentiment in Uncle Ebeneezer&#8217;s
+hard nature had impelled him to keep
+the prosaic melodeon forever sacred to the
+slender, girlish fingers that had last brought
+music from its yellowed keys.</p>
+<p>From upstairs still came the sound of crying,
+which was not altogether to be wondered at,
+considering Miss St. Clair&#8217;s weak, nervous
+condition. Harlan came down, scowling, and
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_118' name='page_118'></a>118</span>
+took back the brandy flask, moving none too
+hastily.</p>
+<p>&#8220;They don&#8217;t like Elaine,&#8221; murmured Dick
+to himself, vaguely troubled. &#8220;I wonder
+why&mdash;oh, I wonder why!&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='VIII_MORE' id='VIII_MORE'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_119' name='page_119'></a>119</span>
+<h2>VIII</h2>
+<h3>More</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p><i>Blue as sapphires were the eyes of Elaine,
+and her fair cheek was like that of an apple
+blossom. Set like a rose upon pearl was the
+dewy, fragrant sweetness of her mouth, and
+her breath was that of the rose itself. Her
+hands&mdash;but how shall I write of the flower-like
+hands of Elaine? They seemed all too
+frail to hold the reins of her palfrey, much
+less to guide him along the rocky road that lay
+before her.</i></p>
+<p><i>Safely sheltered in a sunny valley was the
+Castle of Content, wherein Elaine&#8217;s father
+reigned as Lord. Upon the hills close at
+hand were the orchards, which were now in
+bloom. A faint, unearthly sweetness came
+with every passing breeze, and was wafted
+through the open windows of the Castle,
+where, upon the upper floor, Elaine was wont
+to sit with her maids at the tapestry frames.</i>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_120' name='page_120'></a>120</span></p>
+<p><i>But, of late, a strange restlessness was
+upon her, and the wander-lust surged through
+her veins.</i></p>
+<p><i>&#8220;My father,&#8221; she said, &#8220;I am fain to
+leave the Castle of Content, and set out upon
+the Heart&#8217;s Quest. Among the gallant knights
+of thy retinue, there is none whom I would
+wed, and it is seemly that I should set out to
+find my lord and master, for behold, father,
+as thou knowest, twenty years and more have
+passed over my head, and my beauty hath begun
+to fade.&#8221;</i></p>
+<p><i>The Lord of the Castle of Content smiled
+in amusement, that Elaine, the beautiful,
+should fancy her charms were on the wane.
+But he was ever eager to gratify the slightest
+wish of this only child of his, and so he gave
+his ready consent.</i></p>
+<p><i>&#8220;Indeed, Elaine,&#8221; he answered, &#8220;and if
+thou choosest, thou shalt go, but these despised
+knights shall attend thee, and also our new
+fool, who hath come from afar to make merry
+in our court. His motley is of an unfamiliar
+pattern, his quips and jests savour not so much
+of antiquity, and his songs are pleasing. He
+shall lighten the rigours of thy journey and
+cheer thee when thou art sad.&#8221;</i>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_121' name='page_121'></a>121</span></p>
+<p><i>&#8220;But, father, I do not choose to have the
+fool.&#8221;</i></p>
+<p><i>&#8220;Say no more, Elaine, for if thou goest,
+thou shall have the fool. It is most fitting
+that in thy retinue there shouldst be more
+than one to wear the cap and bells, and it is in
+my mind to consider this quest of thine somewhat
+more than mildly foolish. Unnumbered
+brave and faithful knights are at thy feet and
+yet thou canst not choose, but must needs fare
+onward in search of a stranger to be thy lord
+and master.&#8221;</i></p>
+<p><i>Elaine raised her hand. &#8220;As thou wilt,
+father,&#8221; she said, submissively. &#8220;Thou canst
+not understand the way of a maid. Bid thy
+fool to prepare himself quickly for a long
+journey, since we start at sunset.&#8221;</i></p>
+<p><i>&#8220;But why at sunset, daughter? The way
+is long. Mayst not thy mission wait until
+sunrise?&#8221;</i></p>
+<p><i>&#8220;Nay, father, for it is my desire to sleep to-night
+upon the ground. The tapestried walls
+of my chamber stifle me and I would fain lie in
+the fresh air with only the green leaves for my
+canopy and the stars for my taper lights.&#8221;</i></p>
+<p><i>&#8220;As thou wilt, Elaine, but my heart is sad at
+the prospect of losing thee. Thou art my only
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_122' name='page_122'></a>122</span>
+child, the image of thy dead mother, and my
+old eyes shall be misty for the sight of thee
+long before my gallant knights bring thee back
+again.&#8221;</i></p>
+<p><i>&#8220;So shall I gain some hours, father,&#8221; she
+answered. &#8220;Perhaps my sunset journeying
+shall bring my return a day nearer. Cross
+me not in this wish, father, for it is my fancy
+to go.&#8221;</i></p>
+<p><i>So it was that the cavalcade was made ready
+and Elaine and her company left the Castle of
+Content at sunset. Two couriers rode at the
+head, to see that the way was clear, and with
+a silver bugle to warn travellers to stand aside
+until the Lady Elaine and her attendants had
+passed.</i></p>
+<p><i>Upon a donkey, caparisoned in a most amusing
+manner, rode Le Jongleur, the new fool of
+whom the Lord of the Castle of Content had
+spoken. His motley, as has been said, was of
+an unfamiliar pattern, but was none the less
+striking, being made wholly of scarlet and gold.
+The Lady Elaine could not have guessed that
+it was assumed as a tribute to the trappings of
+her palfrey, for Le Jongleur&#8217;s heart was most
+humble and loyal, though leaping now with the
+joy of serving the fair Lady Elaine.</i>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_123' name='page_123'></a>123</span></p>
+<p><i>The Lord of Content stood at the portal of
+the Castle to bid the retinue Godspeed, and as
+the cymbals crashed out a sounding farewell,
+he impatiently wiped away the mist, which
+already had clouded his vision. Long he
+waited, straining his eyes toward the distant
+cliffs, where, one by one, the company rode
+upward. The valley was in shadow, but
+the long light lay upon the hills, changing the
+crags to a wonder of purple and gold. To
+him, too, came the breath of apple bloom, but
+it brough no joy to his troubled heart.</i></p>
+<p><i>What dangers lay in wait for Elaine as she
+fared forth upon her wild quest? What
+monsters haunted the primeval forests through
+which her path must lie? And where was the
+knight who should claim her innocent and
+maidenly heart? At this thought, the Lord
+of Content shuddered, then was quickly
+ashamed.</i></p>
+<p><i>&#8220;I am as foolish,&#8221; he muttered, &#8220;as he in
+motley, who rides at the side of Elaine.
+Surely my daughter, the child of a soldier,
+can make no unworthy choice.&#8221;</i></p>
+<p><i>The cavalcade had reached the summit of
+the cliff, now, and at the brink, turned back.
+The cymbals and the bugles pealed forth
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_124' name='page_124'></a>124</span>
+another sounding farewell to the Lord of the
+Castle of Content, whom Elaine well knew was
+waiting in the shadow of the portal till her
+company should be entirely lost to sight.</i></p>
+<p><i>The last light shone upon the wonderful
+mass of gold which rippled to her waist, unbound,
+from beneath her close-fitting scarlet
+cap, and gave her an unearthly beauty. Le
+Jongleur held aloft his bauble, making it to
+nod in merry fashion, but the Lord of Content
+did not see, his eyes being fixed upon Elaine.
+She waved her hand to him, but he could not
+answer, for his shoulders were shaking with
+grief, nor, indeed, across the merciless distance
+that lay between, could he guess at
+Elaine&#8217;s whispered prayer: &#8220;Dear Heavenly
+Father, keep thou my earthly father safe and
+happy, till his child comes back again.&#8221;</i></p>
+<p><i>Over the edge of the cliff and out upon a
+wide plain they fared. Ribbons of glorious
+colour streamed from the horizon to the zenith,
+and touched to flame the cymbals and the
+bugles and the trappings of the horses and the
+shields of the knights. Piercingly sweet, across
+the fields of blowing clover, came the even song
+of a feathered chorister, and</i>&mdash;what on earth
+was that noise?
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_125' name='page_125'></a>125</span></p>
+<p>Harlan went to the window impatiently,
+like one wakened from a dream by a blind
+impulse of action.</p>
+<p>The village stage, piled high with trunks,
+was at his door, and from the cavernous
+depths of the vehicle, shrieks of juvenile terror
+echoed and re-echoed unceasingly. Mr.
+Blake, driving, merely waited in supreme
+unconcern.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What in the hereafter,&#8221; muttered Harlan,
+savagely. &#8220;More old lovers of Dorothy&#8217;s,
+I suppose, or else the&mdash;Good Lord, it&#8217;s
+twins!&#8221;</p>
+<p>A child of four or five fell out of the stage,
+followed by another, who lit unerringly on
+top of the prostrate one. In the meteoric
+moment of the fall, Harlan had seen that the
+two must have discovered America at about
+the same time, for they were exactly alike,
+making due allowance for the slight difference
+made by masculine and feminine attire.</p>
+<p>An enormous doll, which to Harlan&#8217;s
+troubled sight first appeared to be an infant
+in arms, was violently ejected from the stage
+and added to the human pile which was
+wriggling and weeping upon the gravelled
+walk. A cub of seven next leaped out,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_126' name='page_126'></a>126</span>
+whistling shrilly, then came a querulous,
+wailing, feminine voice from the interior.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Willie,&#8221; it whined, &#8220;how can you act so?
+Help your little brother and sister up and get
+Rebbie&#8217;s doll.&#8221;</p>
+<p>To this the lad paid no attention whatever,
+and the mother herself assorted the weeping
+pyramid on the walk. Harlan ran downstairs,
+feeling that the hour had come to defend his
+hearthstone from outsiders. Dick and Dorothy
+were already at the door.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Foundlings&#8217; Home,&#8221; explained Dick,
+briefly, with a wink at Harlan. &#8220;They&#8217;re
+late this year.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dorothy was speechless with amazement
+and despair. Before Harlan had begun to
+think connectedly, one of the twins had darted
+into the house and bumped its head on the
+library door, thereupon making the Jack-o&#8217;-Lantern
+hideous with much lamentation.</p>
+<p>The mother, apparently tired out, came in as
+though she had left something of great value
+there and had come to get it, pausing only
+to direct Harlan to pay the stage driver, and
+have her trunks taken into the rooms opening
+off the dining-room on the south side.</p>
+<p>Willie took a mouth-organ out of his pocket
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_127' name='page_127'></a>127</span>
+and rendered a hitherto unknown air upon it
+with inimitable vigour. In the midst of the
+confusion, Claudius Tiberius had the misfortune
+to appear, and, immediately perceiving
+his mistake, whisked under the sofa, from
+whence the other twin determinedly haled
+him, using the handle which Nature had evidently
+intended for that purpose.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Will you kindly tell me,&#8221; demanded Mrs.
+Carr, when she could make herself heard,
+&#8220;what is the meaning of all this?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I do not understand you,&#8221; said the mother
+of the twins, coldly. &#8220;Were you addressing
+me?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I was,&#8221; returned Mrs. Carr, to Dick&#8217;s
+manifest delight. &#8220;I desire to know why
+you have come to my house, uninvited, and
+made all this disturbance.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The idea!&#8221; exclaimed the woman, trembling
+with anger. &#8220;Will you please send for
+Mr. Judson?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Judson,&#8221; said Dorothy, icily, &#8220;has
+been dead for some time. This house is the
+property of my husband.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Indeed! And who may your husband be?&#8221;
+The tone of the question did not indicate even
+faint interest in the subject under discussion.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_128' name='page_128'></a>128</span></p>
+<p>Dorothy turned, but Harlan had long since
+beat an ignominious retreat, closely followed
+by Dick, whose idea, as audibly expressed,
+was that the women be allowed to &#8220;fight
+it out by themselves.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I can readily understand,&#8221; went on Dorothy,
+with a supreme effort at self-control,
+&#8220;that you have made a mistake for which
+you are not in any sense to blame. You are
+tired from your journey, and you are quite
+welcome to stay until to-morrow.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;To-morrow!&#8221; shrilled the woman. &#8220;I
+guess you don&#8217;t know who I am! I am Mrs.
+Holmes, Rebecca Judson&#8217;s own cousin, and I
+have spent the Summer here ever since Rebecca
+was married! I guess if Ebeneezer
+knew you were practically ordering his wife&#8217;s
+own cousin out of his house, he&#8217;d rise from
+his grave to haunt you!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dorothy fancied that Uncle Ebeneezer&#8217;s
+portrait moved slightly. Aunt Rebecca still
+surveyed the room from the easel, gentle,
+sweet-faced, and saintly. There was no resemblance
+whatever between Aunt Rebecca
+and the sallow, hollow-cheeked, wide-eyed
+termagant, with a markedly receding chin,
+who stood before Mrs. Carr and defied her.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_129' name='page_129'></a>129</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;This is my husband&#8217;s house,&#8221; suggested
+Dorothy, pertinently.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then let your husband do the talking,&#8221;
+rejoined Mrs. Holmes, sarcastically. &#8220;If he
+was sure it was his, I guess he wouldn&#8217;t
+have run away. I&#8217;ve always had my own
+rooms here, and I intend to go and come as I
+please, as I always have done. You can&#8217;t
+make me believe that Ebeneezer gave my
+apartments to your husband, nor him either,
+and I wouldn&#8217;t advise any of you to try it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Sounds of fearful panic came from the
+chicken yard, and Dorothy rushed out, swiftly
+laying avenging hands on the disturber of the
+peace. One of the twins was chasing Abdul
+Hamid around the coop with a lath, as he
+explained between sobs, &#8220;to make him lay.&#8221;
+Mrs. Holmes bore down upon Dorothy before
+any permanent good had been done.</p>
+<p>&#8220;How dare you!&#8221; she cried. &#8220;How
+dare you lay hands on my child! Come,
+Ebbie, come to mamma. Bless his little heart,
+he shall chase the chickens if he wants to, so
+there, there. Don&#8217;t cry, Ebbie. Mamma will
+get you another lath and you shall play with
+the chickens all the afternoon. There, there!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Harlan appeared at this juncture, and in
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_130' name='page_130'></a>130</span>
+a few quiet, well-chosen words told Mrs.
+Holmes that the chicken coop was his property,
+and that neither now nor at any other
+time should any one enter it without his express
+permission.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Upon my word,&#8221; remarked Mrs. Holmes,
+still soothing the unhappy twin. &#8220;How
+high and mighty we are when we&#8217;re living
+off our poor dead uncle&#8217;s bounty! Telling
+his wife&#8217;s own cousin what she&#8217;s to do, and
+what she isn&#8217;t! Upon my word!&#8221;</p>
+<p>So saying, Mrs. Holmes retired to the
+house, her pace hastened by howls from the
+other twin, who was in trouble with her older
+brother somewhere in her &#8220;apartment.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dorothy looked at Harlan, undecided
+whether to laugh or to cry. &#8220;Poor little
+woman,&#8221; he said, softly; &#8220;don&#8217;t you fret.
+We&#8217;ll have them out of the house no later
+than to-morrow.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;All of them?&#8221; asked Dorothy, eagerly,
+as Miss St. Clair strolled into the front yard.</p>
+<p>Harlan&#8217;s brow clouded and he shifted uneasily
+from one foot to the other. &#8220;I don&#8217;t know,&#8221;
+he said, slowly, &#8220;whether I&#8217;ve got nerve
+enough to order a woman out of my house
+or not. Let&#8217;s wait and see what happens.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_131' name='page_131'></a>131</span></p>
+<p>A sob choked Dorothy, and she ran swiftly
+into the house, fortunately meeting no one on
+her way to her room. Dick ventured out of
+the barn and came up to Harlan, who was
+plainly perplexed.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Very, very mild arrival,&#8221; commented Mr.
+Chester, desiring to put his host at his ease.
+&#8220;I&#8217;ve never known &#8217;em to come so peacefully
+as they have to-day. Usually there&#8217;s more or
+less disturbance.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Disturbance,&#8221; repeated Harlan. &#8220;Haven&#8217;t
+we had a disturbance to-day?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;We have not,&#8221; answered Dick, placidly.
+&#8220;Wait till young Ebeneezer and Rebecca get
+more accustomed to their surroundings, and
+then you&#8217;ll have a Fourth of July every
+day, with Christmas, Thanksgiving, and St.
+Patrick&#8217;s Day thrown in. Willie is the worst
+little terror that ever went unlicked, and the
+twins come next.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Perhaps you don&#8217;t understand children,&#8221;
+remarked Harlan, with a patronising air, and
+more from a desire to disagree with Dick than
+from anything else. &#8220;I&#8217;ve always liked them.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;If you have,&#8221; commented Dick, with a
+knowing chuckle, &#8220;you&#8217;re in a fair way to
+get cured of it.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_132' name='page_132'></a>132</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Tell me about these people,&#8221; said Harlan,
+ignoring the speech, and dominated once more
+by healthy human curiosity. &#8220;Who are they
+and where do they come from?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;They&#8217;re dwellers from the infernal regions,&#8221;
+explained Dick, with an air of truthfulness,
+&#8220;and they came from there because the
+old Nick turned &#8217;em out. They were upsetting
+things and giving the place a bad name.
+Mrs. Holmes says she&#8217;s Aunt Rebecca&#8217;s cousin,
+but nobody knows whether she is or not.
+She&#8217;s come here every Summer since Aunt
+Rebecca died, and poor old uncle couldn&#8217;t
+help himself. He hinted more than once that
+he&#8217;d enjoy her absence if she could be moved
+to make herself scarce, but it had no more
+effect than a snowflake would in the place she
+came from. The most he could do was to
+build a wing on the house with a separate
+kitchen and dining-room in it, and take his
+own meals in the library, with the door bolted.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Willie is a Winter product and Judson
+Centre isn&#8217;t a pleasant place in the cold
+months, but the twins were born here, five
+years ago this Summer. They came in the
+night, but didn&#8217;t make any more trouble then
+than they have every day since.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_133' name='page_133'></a>133</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;What would you do?&#8221; asked Harlan, after
+a thoughtful silence, &#8220;if you were in my
+place?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;d be tickled to death because a kind
+Providence had married me to Dorothy instead
+of to Mrs. Holmes. Poor old Holmes
+is in his well-earned grave.&#8221;</p>
+<p>With great dignity, Harlan walked into the
+house, but Dick, occupied with his own
+thoughts, did not guess that his host was
+offended.</p>
+<p>After the first excitement was over, comparative
+peace settled down upon the Jack-o&#8217;-Lantern.
+Mrs. Holmes decided the question
+of where she should eat, by setting four more
+places at the table when Mrs. Smithers&#8217;s back
+was turned. Dorothy did not appear at luncheon,
+and Mrs. Smithers performed her duties
+with such pronounced ungraciousness that
+Elaine felt as though something was about to
+explode.</p>
+<p>A long sleep, born of nervous exhaustion,
+came at last to Dorothy&#8217;s relief. When she
+awoke, it was night and the darkness dazed
+her at first. She sat up and rubbed her eyes,
+wondering whether she had been dead, or
+merely ill.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_134' name='page_134'></a>134</span></p>
+<p>There was not a sound in the Jack-o&#8217;-Lantern,
+and the events of the day seemed like
+some hideous nightmare which waking had
+put to rout. She bathed her face in cool
+water, then went to look out of the window.</p>
+<p>A lantern moved back and forth under the
+trees in the orchard, and a tall, dark figure,
+armed with a spade, accompanied it. &#8220;It&#8217;s
+Harlan,&#8221; thought Dorothy. &#8220;I&#8217;ll go down
+and see what he&#8217;s burying.&#8221;</p>
+<p>But it was only Mrs. Smithers, who appeared
+much startled when she saw her mistress
+at her side.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What are you doing?&#8221; demanded Dorothy,
+seeing that Mrs. Smithers had dug a hole at
+least a foot and a half each way.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Just a-satisfyin&#8217; myself,&#8221; explained the
+handmaiden, with a note of triumph in her
+voice, &#8220;about that there cat. &#8217;Ere&#8217;s where I
+buried &#8217;im, and &#8217;ere&#8217;s where there ain&#8217;t no signs
+of &#8217;is dead body. &#8217;E&#8217;s come back to &#8217;aunt us,
+that&#8217;s wot &#8217;e &#8217;as, and your uncle&#8217;ll be the
+next.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t be so foolish,&#8221; snapped Dorothy.
+&#8220;You&#8217;ve forgotten the place, that&#8217;s all, and I
+don&#8217;t wish to hear any more of this nonsense.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;&#8217;Oo was it?&#8221; asked Mrs. Smithers, &#8220;as
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_135' name='page_135'></a>135</span>
+come out of a warm bed at midnight to see as
+if folks wot was diggin&#8217; for cats found anythink?
+&#8217;T warn&#8217;t me, Miss, that&#8217;s wot it
+warn&#8217;t, and I take it that them as follers is
+as nonsensical as them wot digs. Anyhow,
+Miss, &#8217;ere&#8217;s where &#8217;e was buried, and &#8217;ere&#8217;s
+where &#8217;e ain&#8217;t now. You can think wot you
+likes, that&#8217;s wot you can.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Claudius Tiberius suddenly materialised out
+of the surrounding darkness, and after sniffing
+at the edge of the hole, jumped in to investigate.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You see that, Miss?&#8221; quavered Mrs.
+Smithers. &#8220;&#8217;E knows where &#8217;e&#8217;s been, and
+&#8217;e knows where &#8217;e ain&#8217;t now.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mrs. Smithers,&#8221; said Dorothy, sternly,
+&#8220;will you kindly fill up that hole and come
+into the house and go to bed? I don&#8217;t want
+to be kept awake all night.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You don&#8217;t need to be kept awake, Miss,&#8221;
+said Mrs. Smithers, slowly filling up the hole.
+&#8220;The worst is &#8217;ere already and wot&#8217;s comin&#8217;
+is comin&#8217; anyway, and besides,&#8221; she added,
+as an afterthought, &#8220;there ain&#8217;t a blessed one
+of &#8217;em come &#8217;ere at night since your uncle
+fixed over the house.&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='IX_ANOTHER' id='IX_ANOTHER'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_136' name='page_136'></a>136</span>
+<h2>IX</h2>
+<h3>Another</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>For the first time in her life, Mrs. Carr
+fully comprehended the sensations of a
+wild animal caught in a trap. In her present
+painful predicament, she was absolutely helpless,
+and she realised it. It was Harlan&#8217;s
+house, as he had said, but so powerful and
+penetrating was the personality of the dead
+man that she felt as though it was still largely
+the property of Uncle Ebeneezer.</p>
+<p>The portrait in the parlour gave her no
+light upon the subject, though she studied it
+earnestly. The face was that of an old man,
+soured and embittered by what Life had
+brought him, who seemed now to have a
+peculiarly malignant aspect. Dorothy fancied,
+in certain morbid moments, that Uncle Ebeneezer,
+from some safe place, was keenly relishing
+the whole situation.</p>
+<p>Upon her soul, too, lay heavily that ancient
+Law of the House, which demands unfailing
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_137' name='page_137'></a>137</span>
+courtesy to the stranger within our gates.
+Just why the eating of our bread and salt by
+some undesired guest should exert any particular
+charm of immunity, has long been an
+open question, but the Law remains.</p>
+<p>She felt, dimly, that the end was not yet&mdash;that
+still other strangers were coming to the
+Jack-o&#8217;-Lantern for indefinite periods. She
+saw, now, why wing after wing had been
+added to the house, but could not understand
+the odd arrangement of the front windows.
+Through some inner sense of loyalty to Uncle
+Ebeneezer, she forebore to question either
+Mrs. Smithers or Dick&mdash;two people who
+could probably have given her some light on
+the subject. She had gathered, however,
+from hints dropped here and there, as well
+as from the overpowering evidence of recent
+events, that a horde of relatives swarmed each
+Summer at the queer house on the hilltop and
+remained until late Autumn.</p>
+<p>Harlan said nothing, and nowadays Dorothy
+saw very little of him. Most of the time
+he was at work in the library, or else taking
+long, solitary rambles through the surrounding
+country. At meals he was moody and taciturn,
+his book obliterating all else from his mind.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_138' name='page_138'></a>138</span></p>
+<p>He doubtless knew, subconsciously, that
+his house was disturbed by alien elements,
+but he dwelt too securely in the upper regions
+to be troubled by the obvious fact. Once in
+the library, with every door securely bolted,
+he could afford to laugh at the tumult outside,
+if, indeed, he should ever become aware of its
+existence. The children might make the very
+air vocal with their howls, Elaine might have
+hysterics, Mrs. Smithers render hymns in a
+cracked, squeaky voice, and Dick whistle
+eternally, but Harlan was in a strange new
+country, with a beautiful lady, a company of
+gallant knights, and a jester.</p>
+<p>The rest was all unreal. He seemed to see
+people through a veil, to hear what they said
+without fully comprehending it, and to walk
+through his daily life blindly, without any
+sort of emotion. Worst of all, Dorothy
+herself seemed detached and dream-like. He
+saw that her face was white and her eyes sad,
+but it affected him not at all. He had yet to
+learn that in this, as in everything else, a price
+must inevitably be paid, and that the sudden
+change of all his loved realities to hazy visions
+was the terrible penalty of his craft.</p>
+<p>Yet there was compensation, which is also
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_139' name='page_139'></a>139</span>
+inevitable. To him, the book was vital,
+reaching down into the very heart of the
+world. Fancy took his work, and, to the eyes
+of its creator, made it passing fair. At times
+he would sit for an hour or more, nibbling at
+the end of his pencil, only negatively conscious,
+like one who stares fixedly at a blank
+wall. Presently, Elaine and her company
+would come back again, and he would go on
+with them, writing down only what he saw
+and felt.</p>
+<p>Chapter after chapter was written and
+tossed feverishly aside. The words beat in
+his pulses like music, each one with its own
+particular significance. In return for his personal
+effacement came moments of supremest
+joy, when his whole world was aflame with
+light, and colour, and sound, and his physical
+body fairly shook with ecstasy.</p>
+<p>Little did he know that the Cup was in his
+hands, and that he was draining it to the very
+dregs of bitterness. For this temporary intoxication,
+he must pay in every hour of his
+life to come. Henceforward he was set apart
+from his fellows, painfully isolated, eternally
+alone. He should have friends, but only for
+the hour. The stranger in the street should
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_140' name='page_140'></a>140</span>
+be the same to him as one he had known for
+many years, and he should be equally ready,
+at any moment, to cast either aside. With a
+quick, merciless insight, like the knife of a surgeon
+used without an anæsthetic, he should
+explore the inmost recesses of every personality
+with which he came in contact, involuntarily,
+and find himself interested only
+as some new trait or capacity was revealed.
+Calm and emotionless, urged by some hidden
+power, he should try each individual to see
+of what he was made; observing the man
+under all possible circumstances, and at times
+enmeshing new circumstances about him. He
+should sacrifice himself continually if by so
+doing he could find the deep roots of the
+other man&#8217;s selfishness, and, conversely, be
+utterly selfish if necessary to discover the
+other&#8217;s power of self-sacrifice.</p>
+<p>Unknowingly, he had ceased to be a man
+and had become a ferret. It was no light payment
+exacted in return for the pleasure of writing
+about Elaine. He had the ability to live in
+any place or century he pleased, but he had
+paid for it by putting his present reality upon
+precisely the same footing. Detachment was
+his continually. Henceforth he was a spectator
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_141' name='page_141'></a>141</span>
+merely, without any particular concern
+in what passed before his eyes. Some people
+he should know at a glance, others in a week,
+a month, or a year. Across the emptiness
+between them, some one should clasp his
+hand, yet share no more his inner life than
+one who lies beside a dreamer and thinks
+thus to know where the other wanders on
+the strange trails of sleep.</p>
+<p>In the dregs of the Cup lay the potential
+power to cast off his present life as a mollusk
+leaves his shell, and as completely forget it.
+For Love, and Death, and Pain are only symbols
+to him who is enslaved by the pen.
+Moreover, he suffers always the pangs of an
+unsatisfied hunger, the exquisite torture of an
+unappeased and unappeasable thirst, for something
+which, like a will-o&#8217;-the-wisp, hovers
+ever above and beyond him, past the power
+of words to interpret or express.</p>
+<p>It is often reproachfully said that one
+&#8220;makes copy&#8221; of himself and his friends&mdash;that
+nothing is too intimately sacred to be
+seized upon and dissected in print. Not so
+long ago, it was said that a certain man
+was &#8220;botanising on his mother&#8217;s grave,&#8221; a
+pardonable confusion, perhaps, of facts and
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_142' name='page_142'></a>142</span>
+realities. The bitter truth is that the writer
+lives his books&mdash;and not much else. From
+title to colophon, he escapes no pang,
+misses no joy. The life of the book is his
+from beginning to end. At the close of it,
+he has lived what his dream people have lived
+and borne the sorrows of half a dozen entire
+lifetimes, mercilessly concentrated into the few
+short months of writing.</p>
+<p>One by one, his former pleasures vanish.
+Even the divine consolation of books is partly
+if not wholly gone. Behind the printed
+page, he sees ever the machinery of composition,
+the preparation for climax, the repetition
+in its proper place, the introduction and interweaving
+of major and minor, of theme and
+contrast. For the fine, glowing fancy of the
+other man has not appeared in his book, and
+to the eye of the fellow-craftsman only the
+mechanism is there. Mask-like, the author
+stands behind his Punch-and-Judy box, twitching
+the strings that move his marionettes,
+heedless of the fact that in his audience there
+must be a few who know him surely for what
+he is.</p>
+<p>If only the transfiguring might of the Vision
+could be put into print, there would be little
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_143' name='page_143'></a>143</span>
+in the world save books. Happily heedless
+of the mockery of it all, Harlan laboured on,
+destined fully to sense his entire payment
+much later, suffer vicariously for a few hours
+on account of it, then to forget.</p>
+<p>Dorothy, meanwhile, was learning a hard
+lesson. Harlan&#8217;s changeless preoccupation
+hurt her cruelly, but, woman-like, she considered
+it a manifestation of genius and endeavoured
+to be proud accordingly. It had
+not occurred to her that there could ever be
+anything in Harlan&#8217;s thought into which she
+was not privileged to go. She had thought of
+marriage as a sort of miraculous welding of
+two individualities into one, and was perceiving
+that it changed nothing very much;
+that souls went on their way unaltered. She
+saw, too, that there was no one in the wide
+world who could share her every mood and
+tense, that ultimately each one of us lives and
+dies alone, within the sanctuary of his own
+inner self, cheered only by some passing mood
+of friend or stranger, which chances to chime
+with his.</p>
+<p>It was Dick who, blindly enough, helped
+her over many a hard place, and quickened
+her sense of humour into something upon
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_144' name='page_144'></a>144</span>
+which she might securely lean. He was too
+young and too much occupied with the obvious
+to look further, but he felt that Dorothy
+was troubled, and that it was his duty, as
+a man and a gentleman, to cheer her up.</p>
+<p>Privately, he considered Harlan an amiable
+kind of a fool, who shut himself up needlessly
+in a musty library when he might be outdoors,
+or talking with a charming woman, or both.
+When he discovered that Harlan had hitherto
+earned his living by writing and hoped to
+continue doing it, he looked upon his host
+with profound pity. Books, to Dick, were
+among the things which kept life from being
+wholly pleasant and agreeable. He had gone
+through college because otherwise he would
+have been separated from his friends, and because
+a small legacy from a distant relative,
+who had considerately died at an opportune
+moment, enabled him to pay for his tuition
+and his despised books.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I was never a pig, though,&#8221; he explained
+to Dorothy, in a confidential moment.
+&#8220;There was one chump in our class who
+wanted to know all there was in the book,
+and made himself sick trying to cram it in.
+All of a sudden, he graduated. He left college
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_145' name='page_145'></a>145</span>
+feet first, three on a side, with the class walking
+slow behind him. I never was like that. I
+was sort of an epicure when it came to knowledge,
+tasting delicately here and there, and
+never greedy. Why, as far back as when
+I was studying algebra, I nobly refused to
+learn the binomial theorem. I just read it
+through once, hastily, like taking one sniff at
+a violet, and then let it alone. The other fellows
+fairly gorged themselves with it, but I
+didn&#8217;t&mdash;I had too much sense.&#8221;</p>
+<p>When Mr. Chester had been there a week,
+he gave Dorothy two worn and crumpled
+two-dollar bills.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s this?&#8221; she asked, curiously.
+&#8220;Where did you find it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Find it&#8217; is good,&#8221; laughed Dick. &#8220;I
+earned it, my dear lady, in hard and uncongenial
+toil. It&#8217;s my week&#8217;s board.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re not going to pay any board here.
+You&#8217;re a guest.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not on your life. You don&#8217;t suppose
+I&#8217;m going to sponge my keep off anybody,
+do you? I paid Uncle Ebeneezer board right
+straight along and there&#8217;s no reason why I
+shouldn&#8217;t pay you. You can put that away
+in your sock, or wherever it is that women
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_146' name='page_146'></a>146</span>
+keep money, or else I take the next train. If
+you don&#8217;t want to lose me, you have to accept
+four plunks every Monday. I&#8217;ve got lots of
+four plunks,&#8221; he added, with a winning
+smile.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Very well,&#8221; said Dorothy, quite certain
+that she could not spare Dick. &#8220;If it will
+make you feel any better about staying, I&#8217;ll
+take it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He had quickly made friends with Elaine,
+and the three made a more harmonious group
+than might have been expected under the circumstances.
+With returning strength and
+health, Miss St. Clair began to take more of
+an interest in her surroundings. She gathered
+the white clover blossoms in which Dorothy
+tied up her pats of sweet butter, picked berries
+in the garden, skimmed the milk, helped
+churn, and fed the chickens.</p>
+<p>Dick took entire charge of the cow, thus
+relieving Mrs. Smithers of an uncongenial
+task and winning her heartfelt gratitude. She
+repaid him with unnumbered biscuits of his
+favourite kind and with many a savoury
+&#8220;snack&#8221; between meals. He also helped
+Dorothy in many other ways. It was Dick
+who collected the eggs every morning and
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_147' name='page_147'></a>147</span>
+took them to the sanitarium, along with such
+other produce as might be ready for the market.
+He secured astonishing prices for the
+things he sold, and set it down to man&#8217;s superior
+business ability when questioned by
+his hostess. Dorothy never guessed that
+most of the money came out of his own
+pocket, and was charged up, in the ragged
+memorandum book which he carried, to
+&#8220;Elaine&#8217;s board.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Miss St. Clair had never thought of offering
+compensation, and no one suggested it to her,
+but Dick privately determined to make good
+the deficiency, sure that a woman married to
+&#8220;a writing chump&#8221; would soon be in need
+of ready money if not actually starving at the
+time. That people should pay for what Harlan
+wrote seemed well-nigh incredible. Besides,
+though Dick had never read that &#8220;love
+is an insane desire on the part of a man to pay
+a woman&#8217;s board bill for life,&#8221; he took a definite
+satisfaction out of this secret expenditure,
+which he did not stop to analyse.</p>
+<p>He brought back full price for everything he
+took to the &#8220;repair-shop,&#8221; as he had irreverently
+christened the sanitarium, though he
+seldom sold much. On the other side of the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_148' name='page_148'></a>148</span>
+hill he had a small but select graveyard where
+he buried such unsalable articles as he could
+not eat. His appetite was capricious, and
+Dorothy had frequently observed that when
+he came back from the long walk to the sanitarium,
+he ate nothing at all.</p>
+<p>He established a furniture factory under a
+spreading apple tree at a respectable distance
+from the house, and began to remodel the
+black-walnut relics which were evidence of
+his kinsman&#8217;s poor taste. He took many a
+bed apart, scraped off the disfiguring varnish,
+sandpapered and oiled the wood, and put it
+together in new and beautiful forms. He
+made several tables, a cabinet, a bench, half
+a dozen chairs, a set of hanging shelves, and
+even aspired to a desk, which, owing to the
+limitations of the material, was not wholly
+successful.</p>
+<p>Dorothy and Elaine sat in rocking-chairs under
+the tree and encouraged him while he
+worked. One of them embroidered a simple
+design upon a burlap curtain while the other
+read aloud, and together they planned a
+shapely remodelling of the Jack-o&#8217;-Lantern.
+Fortunately, the woodwork was plain, and
+the ceilings not too high.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_149' name='page_149'></a>149</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;I think,&#8221; said Elaine, &#8220;that the big living
+room with the casement windows will be
+perfectly beautiful. You couldn&#8217;t have anything
+lovelier than this dull walnut with the
+yellow walls.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Whatever Mrs. Carr&#8217;s thoughts might be,
+this simple sentence was usually sufficient to
+turn the current into more pleasant channels.
+She had planned to have needless partitions
+taken out, and make the whole lower floor
+into one room, with only a dining-room, kitchen,
+and pantry back of it. She would
+take up the unsightly carpets, over which impossible
+plants wandered persistently, and
+have them woven into rag rugs, with green
+and brown and yellow borders. The floor
+was to be stained brown and the pine woodwork
+a soft, old green. Yellow walls and
+white net curtains, with the beautiful furniture
+Dick was making, completed a very charming
+picture in the eyes of a woman who loved
+her home.</p>
+<p>Outspeeding it in her fancy was the finer,
+truer living which she believed lay beyond.
+Some day she and Harlan, alone once
+more, with the cobwebs of estrangement
+swept away, should begin a new and happier
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_150' name='page_150'></a>150</span>
+honeymoon in the transformed house. When
+the book was done&mdash;ah, when the book
+was done! But he was not reading any part
+of it to her now and would not let her begin
+copying it on the typewriter.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll do it myself, when I&#8217;m ready,&#8221; he
+said, coldly. &#8220;I can use a typewriter just as
+well as you can.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dorothy sighed, unconsciously, for the
+woman&#8217;s part is always to wait patiently
+while men achieve, and she who has learned
+to wait patiently, and be happy meanwhile,
+has learned the finest art of all&mdash;the art of
+life.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now,&#8221; said Dick, &#8220;that&#8217;s a peach of a
+table, if I do say it as shouldn&#8217;t.&#8221;</p>
+<p>They readily agreed with him, for it was
+low and massive, built on simple, dignified
+lines, and beautifully finished. The headboards
+of three ponderous walnut beds and
+the supporting columns of a hideous sideboard
+had gone into its composition, thus
+illustrating, as Dorothy said, that ugliness may
+be changed to beauty by one who knows
+how and is willing to work for it.</p>
+<p>The noon train whistled shrilly in the distance,
+and Dorothy started out of her chair.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_151' name='page_151'></a>151</span>
+&#8220;She&#8217;s afraid,&#8221; laughed Dick, instantly comprehending.
+&#8220;She&#8217;s afraid somebody is
+coming on it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;More twins?&#8221; queried Elaine, from the
+depths of her rocker. &#8220;Surely there can&#8217;t be
+any more twins?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know,&#8221; answered Dorothy, vaguely
+troubled. &#8220;Someway, I feel as though
+something terrible were going to happen.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Nothing happened, however, until after
+luncheon, just as she had begun to breathe
+peacefully again. Willie saw the procession
+first and ran back with gleeful shouts to
+make the announcement. So it was that
+the entire household, including Harlan, formed
+a reception committee on the front porch.</p>
+<p>Up the hill, drawn by two straining horses,
+came what appeared at first to be a pyramid
+of furniture, but later resolved itself into the
+component parts of a more ponderous bed
+than the ingenuity of man had yet contrived.
+It was made of black walnut, and was at least
+three times as heavy as any of those in the
+Jack-o&#8217;-Lantern. On the top of the mass was
+perched a little old man in a skull cap, a slippered
+foot in a scarlet sock airily waving at
+one side. A bright green coil closely clutched
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_152' name='page_152'></a>152</span>
+in his withered hands was the bed cord
+appertaining to the bed&mdash;a sainted possession
+from which its owner sternly refused to
+part.</p>
+<p>&#8220;By Jove!&#8221; shouted Dick; &#8220;it&#8217;s Uncle
+Israel and his crib!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Paying no heed to the assembled group,
+Uncle Israel dismounted nimbly enough, and
+directed the men to take his bed upstairs,
+which they did, while Harlan and Dorothy
+stood by helplessly. Here, under his profane
+and involved direction, the structure was
+finally set in place, even to the patchwork
+quilt, fearfully and wonderfully made, which
+surmounted it all.</p>
+<p>Financial settlement was waved aside by
+Uncle Israel as a matter in which he was not
+interested, and it was Dick who counted out
+two dimes and a nickel to secure peace. A
+supplementary procession appeared with a
+small, weather-beaten trunk, a folding bath-cabinet,
+and a huge case which, from Uncle
+Israel&#8217;s perturbation, evidently contained numerous
+fragile articles of great value.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Tell Ebeneezer,&#8221; wheezed the newcomer,
+&#8220;that I have arrived.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ebeneezer,&#8221; replied Dick, in wicked imitation
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_153' name='page_153'></a>153</span>
+of the old man&#8217;s asthmatic speech, &#8220;has
+been dead for some time.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then,&#8221; creaked Uncle Israel, waving a
+tremulous, bony hand suggestively toward
+the door, &#8220;kindly leave me alone with my
+grief.&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='X_STILL_MORE' id='X_STILL_MORE'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_154' name='page_154'></a>154</span>
+<h2>X</h2>
+<h3>Still More</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Uncle Israel, whose other name was
+Skiles, adjusted himself to his grief in
+short order. The sounds which issued from
+his room were not those commonly associated
+with mourning. Dick, fully accustomed
+to various noises, explained them for the
+edification of the Carrs, who at present were
+sorely in need of edification.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s the bath cabinet,&#8221; remarked Mr.
+Chester, with the air of a connoisseur. &#8220;He&#8217;s
+setting it up near enough to the door so that
+if anybody should come in unexpectedly while
+it&#8217;s working, the whole thing will be tipped
+over and the house set on fire. Uncle Israel
+won&#8217;t have any lock or bolt on his door for
+fear he should die in the night. He relies
+wholly on the bath cabinet and moral suasion.
+Nobody knocks on doors here, anyway&mdash;just
+goes in.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_155' name='page_155'></a>155</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s his trunk. He keeps it under the
+window. The bed is set up first, then the
+bath cabinet, then the trunk, and last, but not
+least, the medicine chest. He keeps his entire
+pharmacop&oelig;ia on a table at the head of his
+bed, with a candle and matches, so that if he
+feels badly in the night, the proper remedy is
+instantly at hand. He prepares some of his
+medicines himself, but he isn&#8217;t bigoted about
+it. He buys the rest at wholesale, and I&#8217;ll
+eat my hat if he hasn&#8217;t got a full-sized bottle
+of every patent medicine that&#8217;s on sale anywhere
+in the United States.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;How old,&#8221; asked Harlan, speaking for the
+first time, &#8220;is Uncle Israel?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Something over ninety, I believe,&#8221; returned
+Dick. &#8220;I&#8217;ve lost my book of vital
+statistics, so I don&#8217;t know, exactly.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;How long,&#8221; inquired Dorothy, with a
+forced smile, &#8220;does Uncle Israel stay?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Lord bless you, my dear lady, Uncle Israel
+stays all Summer. Hello&mdash;there are some
+more!&#8221;</p>
+<p>A private conveyance of uncertain age and
+purposes drew up before the door. From it
+dismounted a very slender young man of medium
+height, whose long auburn hair hung
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_156' name='page_156'></a>156</span>
+over his coat-collar and at times partially obscured
+his soulful grey eyes. It resembled the
+mane of a lion, except in colour. He carried
+a small black valise, and a roll of manuscript
+tied with a badly soiled ribbon.</p>
+<p>An old lady followed, stepping cautiously,
+but still finding opportunity to scrutinise the
+group in the doorway, peering sharply over
+her gold-bowed spectacles. It was she who
+paid the driver, and even before the two
+reached the house, it was evident that they
+were not on speaking terms.</p>
+<p>The young man offered Mr. Chester a thin,
+tremulous hand which lay on Dick&#8217;s broad
+palm in a nerveless, clammy fashion. &#8220;Pray,&#8221;
+he said, in a high, squeaky voice, &#8220;convey my
+greetings to dear Uncle Ebeneezer, and inform
+him that I have arrived.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I am at present holding no communication
+with Uncle Ebeneezer,&#8221; explained Dick.
+&#8220;The wires are down.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Where is Ebeneezer?&#8221; demanded the old
+lady.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dead,&#8221; answered Dorothy, wearily; &#8220;dead,
+dead. He&#8217;s been dead a long time. This is
+our house&mdash;he left it to my husband and me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t let that disturb you a mite,&#8221; said
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_157' name='page_157'></a>157</span>
+the old lady, cheerfully. &#8220;I like your looks a
+whole lot, an&#8217; I&#8217;d just as soon stay with you
+as with Ebeneezer. I dunno but I&#8217;d ruther.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She must have been well past sixty, but her
+scanty hair was as yet untouched with grey.
+She wore it parted in the middle, after an ancient
+fashion, and twisted at the back into a
+tight little knob, from which the ends of a
+wire hairpin protruded threateningly. Dorothy
+reflected, unhappily, that the whole thing
+was done up almost tight enough to play a
+tune on.</p>
+<p>For the rest, her attire was neat, though
+careless. One had always the delusion that
+part or all of it was on the point of coming
+off.</p>
+<p>The young man was wiping his weak eyes
+upon a voluminous silk handkerchief which had
+evidently seen long service since its last washing.
+&#8220;Dear Uncle Ebeneezer,&#8221; he breathed,
+running his long, bony fingers through his hair.
+&#8220;I cannot tell you how heavily this blow falls
+upon me. Dear Uncle Ebeneezer was a distinguished
+patron of the arts. Our country
+needs more men like him, men with fine appreciation,
+vowed to the service of the Ideal.
+If you will pardon me, I will now retire to my
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_158' name='page_158'></a>158</span>
+apartment and remain there a short time in
+seclusion.&#8221;</p>
+<p>So saying, he ran lightly upstairs, as one
+who was thoroughly at home.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Who in&mdash;&#8221; began Harlan.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Harold Vernon Perkins, poet,&#8221; said
+Dick. &#8220;He&#8217;s got his rhyming dictionary and
+all his odes with him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Without knowing,&#8221; said Dorothy, &#8220;I
+should have thought his name was Harold
+or Arthur or Paul. He looks it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It wa&#8217;n&#8217;t my fault,&#8221; interjected the old
+lady, &#8220;that he come. I didn&#8217;t even sense
+that he was on the same train as me till I hired
+the carriage at the junction an&#8217; he clim&#8217; in. He
+said he might as well come along as we was
+both goin&#8217; to the same place, an&#8217; it would save
+him walkin&#8217;, an&#8217; not cost me no more than &#8217;t
+would anyway.&#8221;</p>
+<p>While she was speaking, she had taken off
+her outer layer of drapery and her bonnet.
+&#8220;I&#8217;ll just put these things in my room, my
+dear,&#8221; she said to Dorothy, &#8220;an&#8217; then I&#8217;ll
+come back an&#8217; talk to you. I like your looks
+first-rate.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Who in&mdash;,&#8221; said Harlan, again, as the old
+lady vanished into one of the lower wings.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_159' name='page_159'></a>159</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Mrs. Belinda something,&#8221; answered Dick.
+&#8220;I don&#8217;t know who she&#8217;s married to now.
+She&#8217;s had bad luck with her husbands.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mrs. Carr, deeply troubled, was leaning
+against the wall in the hall, and Dick patted
+her hand soothingly. &#8220;Don&#8217;t you fret,&#8221; he
+said, cheerily; &#8220;I&#8217;m here to see you through.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That being the case,&#8221; remarked Harlan,
+with a certain acidity in his tone, &#8220;I&#8217;ll go
+back to my work.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The old lady appeared again as Harlan
+slammed the library door, and suggested that
+Dick should go away.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Polite hint,&#8221; commented Mr. Chester, not
+at all disturbed. &#8220;See you later.&#8221; He went
+out, whistling, with his cap on the back of his
+head and his hands in his pockets.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I reckon you&#8217;re a new relative, be n&#8217;t
+you?&#8221; asked the lady guest, eyeing Dorothy
+closely. &#8220;I disremember seein&#8217; you before.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I am Mrs. Carr,&#8221; repeated Dorothy, mechanically.
+&#8220;My husband, Harlan Carr, is
+Uncle Ebeneezer&#8217;s nephew, and the house
+was left to him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do tell!&#8221; ejaculated the other. &#8220;I
+wouldn&#8217;t have thought it of Ebeneezer. I&#8217;m
+Belinda Dodd, relict of Benjamin Dodd, deceased.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_160' name='page_160'></a>160</span>
+How many are there here, my
+dear?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Miss St. Clair, Mr. Chester, Mrs. Holmes
+and her three children, Uncle Israel Skiles, and
+you two, besides Mr. Carr, Mrs. Smithers,
+and myself.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is that all?&#8221; asked the visitor, in evident
+surprise.</p>
+<p>&#8220;All!&#8221; repeated Dorothy. &#8220;Isn&#8217;t that
+enough?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Lord love you, my dear, it&#8217;s plain to be
+seen that you ain&#8217;t never been here before.
+Only them few an&#8217; so late in the season, too.
+Why, there&#8217;s Cousin Si Martin, an&#8217; his wife,
+an&#8217; their eight children, some of the children
+bein&#8217; married an&#8217; havin&#8217; other children, an&#8217;
+Sister-in-law Fanny Wood with her invalid
+husband, her second husband, that is, an&#8217; Rebecca&#8217;s
+Uncle James&#8217;s third wife with her two
+daughters, an&#8217; Rebecca&#8217;s sister&#8217;s second husband
+with his new wife an&#8217; their little boy,
+an&#8217; Uncle Jason an&#8217; his stepson, the one that
+has fits, an&#8217; Cousin Sally Simmons an&#8217; her
+daughter, an&#8217; the four little Riley children an&#8217;
+their Aunt Lucretia, an&#8217; Step-cousin Betsey
+Skiles with her two nieces, though I misdoubt
+their comin&#8217; this year. The youngest niece
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_161' name='page_161'></a>161</span>
+had typhoid fever here last Summer for eight
+weeks, an&#8217; Betsey thinks the location ain&#8217;t
+healthy, in spite of it&#8217;s bein&#8217; so near the sanitarium.
+She was threatenin&#8217; to get the health
+department or somethin&#8217; after Ebeneezer an&#8217;
+have the drinkin&#8217; water looked into, so&#8217;s they
+didn&#8217;t part on the pleasantest terms, but in
+the main we&#8217;ve all got along well together.</p>
+<p>&#8220;If Betsey knowed Ebeneezer was dead,
+she wouldn&#8217;t hesitate none about comin&#8217;,
+typhoid or no typhoid. Mebbe it was her
+fault some, for Ebeneezer wa&#8217;n&#8217;t to blame for
+his drinkin&#8217; water no more &#8217;n I&#8217;d be. Our
+minister used to say that there was no discipline
+for the soul like livin&#8217; with folks, year in
+an&#8217; year out hand-runnin&#8217;, an&#8217; Betsey is naturally
+that kind. Ebeneezer always lived plain,
+but we&#8217;re all simple folks, not carin&#8217; much for
+style, so we never minded it. The air&#8217;s good
+up here an&#8217; I dunno any better place to spend
+the Summer. My gracious! You be n&#8217;t sick,
+be you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know what to do,&#8221; murmured
+Dorothy, her white lips scarcely moving; &#8220;I
+don&#8217;t know what to do.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, now,&#8221; responded Mrs. Dodd, &#8220;I
+can see that I&#8217;ve upset you some. Perhaps
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_162' name='page_162'></a>162</span>
+you&#8217;re one of them people that don&#8217;t like to
+have other folks around you. I&#8217;ve heard of
+such, comin&#8217; from the city. Why, I knew a
+woman that lived in the city, an&#8217; she said she
+didn&#8217;t know the name of the woman next
+door to her after livin&#8217; there over eight
+months,&mdash;an&#8217; their windows lookin&#8217; right into
+each other, too.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I hate people!&#8221; cried Dorothy, in a passion
+of anger. &#8220;I don&#8217;t want anybody here
+but my husband and Mrs. Smithers!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Set quiet, my dear, an&#8217; make your mind
+easy. I&#8217;m sure Ebeneezer never intended his
+death to make any difference in my spendin&#8217;
+the Summer here, especially when I&#8217;m fresh
+from another bereavement, but if you&#8217;re in
+earnest about closin&#8217; your doors on your poor
+dead aunt&#8217;s relations, why I&#8217;ll see what I
+can do.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, if you could!&#8221; Dorothy almost
+screamed the words. &#8220;If you can keep any
+more people from coming here, I&#8217;ll bless you
+for ever.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Poor child, I can see that you&#8217;re considerable
+upset. Just get me the pen an&#8217; ink an&#8217;
+some paper an&#8217; envelopes an&#8217; I&#8217;ll set down
+right now an&#8217; write to the connection an&#8217; tell
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_163' name='page_163'></a>163</span>
+&#8217;em that Ebeneezer&#8217;s dead an&#8217; bein&#8217; of unsound
+mind at the last has willed the house
+to strangers who refuse to open their doors
+to the blood relations of poor dead Rebecca.
+That&#8217;s all I can do an&#8217; I can&#8217;t promise that
+it&#8217;ll work. Ebeneezer writ several times to
+us all that he didn&#8217;t feel like havin&#8217; no more
+company, but Rebecca&#8217;s relatives was all of
+a forgivin&#8217; disposition an&#8217; never laid it up
+against him. We all kep&#8217; on a-comin&#8217; just
+the same.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Tell them,&#8221; cried Dorothy her eyes unusually
+bright and her cheeks burning, &#8220;that
+we&#8217;ve got smallpox here, or diphtheria, or a
+lunatic asylum, or anything you like. Tell
+them there&#8217;s a big dog in the yard that won&#8217;t
+let anybody open the gate. Tell them anything!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Just you leave it all to me, my dear,&#8221; said
+Mrs. Dodd, soothingly. &#8220;On account of the
+connection bein&#8217; so differently constituted,
+I&#8217;ll have to tell &#8217;em all different. Disease
+would keep away some an&#8217; fetch others.
+Betsey Skiles, now, she feels to turn her
+hand to nursin&#8217; an&#8217; I&#8217;ve knowed her to go
+miles in the dead of Winter to set up with a
+stranger that had some disease she wa&#8217;n&#8217;t
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_164' name='page_164'></a>164</span>
+familiar with. Dogs would bring others an&#8217;
+only scare a few. Just you leave it all to me.
+There ain&#8217;t never no use in borrerin&#8217; trouble
+an&#8217; givin&#8217; up your peace of mind as security,
+&#8217;cause you don&#8217;t never get the security back.
+I&#8217;ve been married enough to know that
+there&#8217;s plenty of trouble in life besides what&#8217;s
+looked for, an&#8217; it&#8217;ll get in, without your
+holdin&#8217; open the door an&#8217; spreadin&#8217; a mat
+out with &#8216;Welcome&#8217; on it. Did Ebeneezer
+leave any property?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Only the house and furniture,&#8221; answered
+Dorothy, feeling that the whole burden of the
+world had been suddenly shifted to her young
+shoulders.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Rebecca had a big diamond pin,&#8221; said
+Mrs. Dodd, after a brief silence, &#8220;that she
+allers said was to be mine when she got
+through with it. Ebeneezer give it to her for
+a weddin&#8217; present. You ain&#8217;t seen it layin&#8217;
+around, have you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, I haven&#8217;t seen it &#8216;laying around,&#8217;&#8221;
+retorted Dorothy, conscious that she was
+juggling with the truth.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; continued Mrs. Dodd, easily, nibbling
+her pen holder, &#8220;when it comes to
+light, just remember that it&#8217;s mine. I don&#8217;t
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_165' name='page_165'></a>165</span>
+doubt it&#8217;ll turn up sometime. An&#8217; now, my
+dear, I&#8217;ll just begin on them letters. Cousin
+Si Martin&#8217;s folks are a-packin&#8217; an&#8217; expectin&#8217; to
+get here next week. I suppose you&#8217;re willin&#8217;
+to furnish the stamps?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Willing!&#8221; cried Dorothy, &#8220;I should say
+yes!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mrs. Dodd toiled long at her self-imposed
+task, and, having finished it, went out into
+the kitchen, where for an hour or more she
+exchanged mortuary gossip with Mrs. Smithers,
+every detail of the conversation being
+keenly relished by both ladies.</p>
+<p>At dinner-time, eleven people sat down to
+partake of the excellent repast furnished by
+Mrs. Smithers under the stimulus of pleasant
+talk. Harlan was at the head, with Miss St.
+Clair on his right and Mrs. Dodd on his left.
+Next to Miss St. Clair was the poet, whose
+deep sorrow did not interfere with his appetite.
+The twins were next to him, then Mrs.
+Holmes, then Willie, then Dorothy, at the
+foot of the table. On her right was Dick, the
+space between Dick and Mrs. Dodd being
+occupied by Uncle Israel.</p>
+<p>To a careless observer, it might have seemed
+that Uncle Israel had more than his share of
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_166' name='page_166'></a>166</span>
+the table, but such in reality was not the case.
+His plate was flanked by a goodly array of
+medicine bottles, and cups and bowls of predigested
+and patent food. Uncle Israel, as
+Dick concisely expressed it, was &#8220;pie for the
+cranks.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;My third husband,&#8221; remarked Mrs. Dodd,
+pleasantly, well aware that she was touching
+her neighbour&#8217;s sorest spot, &#8220;was terribly
+afflicted with stomach trouble.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The only stomach trouble I&#8217;ve ever had,&#8221;
+commented Mr. Chester, airily spearing another
+biscuit with his fork, &#8220;was in getting
+enough to put into it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Have a care, young man,&#8221; wheezed Uncle
+Israel, warningly. &#8220;There ain&#8217;t nothin&#8217; so
+bad for the system as hot bread.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It would be bad for my system,&#8221; resumed
+Dick, &#8220;not to be able to get it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;My third husband,&#8221; continued Mrs. Dodd,
+disregarding the interruption, &#8220;wouldn&#8217;t
+have no bread in the house at all. He et
+these little straw mattresses, same as you&#8217;ve
+got, so constant that he finally died from the
+tic doleroo. Will you please pass me them
+biscuits, Mis&#8217; Carr?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mrs. Dodd was obliged to rise and reach
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_167' name='page_167'></a>167</span>
+past Uncle Israel, who declined to be contaminated
+by passing the plate, before she
+attained her desired biscuit.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Next time, Aunt Belinda,&#8221; said Dick, &#8220;I&#8217;ll
+throw you one. Suffering Moses, what new
+dope is that?&#8221;</p>
+<p>A powerful and peculiarly penetrating odour
+filled the room. Presently it became evident
+that Uncle Israel had uncorked a fresh bottle
+of medicine. Miss St. Clair coughed and
+hastily excused herself.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s time for me to take my pain-killer,&#8221;
+murmured Uncle Israel, pouring out a tablespoonful
+of a thick, brown mixture. &#8220;This
+here cured a Congressman in less &#8217;n half a
+bottle of a gnawin&#8217; pain in his vitals. I ain&#8217;t
+never took none of it yet, but I aim to now.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The vapour of it had already made the
+twins cry and brought tears to Mrs. Dodd&#8217;s
+eyes, but Uncle Israel took it clear and
+smacked his lips over it enjoyably. &#8220;It
+seems to be a searchin&#8217; medicine,&#8221; he commented,
+after an interval of silence. &#8220;I don&#8217;t
+misdoubt that it&#8217;ll locate that pain that was
+movin&#8217; up and down my back all night last
+night.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Uncle Israel&#8217;s wizened old face, with its
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_168' name='page_168'></a>168</span>
+fringe of white whisker, beamed with the joy
+of a scientist who has made a new and important
+discovery. He had a long, hooked
+nose, and was painfully near-sighted, but
+refused to wear glasses. Just now he sniffed
+inquiringly at the open bottle of medicine.
+&#8220;Yes,&#8221; he said, nodding his bald head sagely,
+&#8220;I don&#8217;t misdoubt this here can locate it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t, either,&#8221; said Harlan, grimly, putting
+his handkerchief to his nose. &#8220;Will you
+excuse me, Dorothy?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Certainly.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mrs. Holmes took the weeping twins away
+from the table, and Willie, his mentor gone,
+began to eat happily with his fingers. The
+poet rose and drew a roll of manuscript from
+his coat pocket.</p>
+<p>&#8220;This afternoon,&#8221; he said, clearing his
+throat, &#8220;I employed my spare moments in
+composing an ode to the memory of our
+sainted relative, under whose hospitable roof
+we are all now so pleasantly gathered. I will
+read it to you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mrs. Dodd hastily left the table, muttering
+indistinctly, and Dick followed her. Willie
+slipped from his chair, crawled under the
+table, and by stealthily sticking a pin into
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_169' name='page_169'></a>169</span>
+Uncle Israel&#8217;s ankle, produced a violent disturbance,
+during which the pain-killer was
+badly spilled. When the air finally cleared,
+there was no one in the room but the poet,
+who sadly rolled up his manuscript.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I will read it at breakfast,&#8221; he thought.
+&#8220;I will give them all the pleasure of hearing
+it. Art is for the many, not for the few. I
+must use it to elevate humanity to the Ideal.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He went back to his own room to add
+some final reverent touches to the masterpiece,
+and to meditate upon the delicate
+blonde beauty of Miss St. Clair.</p>
+<p>From Mrs. Dodd, meanwhile, Dick had
+gathered the pleasing purport of her voluminous
+correspondence, and insisted on posting
+all the letters that very night, though morning
+would have done just as well. When he had
+gone downhill on his errand of mercy, whistling
+cheerily as was his wont, Mrs. Dodd
+went into her own room and locked the door,
+immediately beginning a careful search of the
+entire apartment.</p>
+<p>She scrutinised the walls closely, and rapped
+softly here and there, listening intently for a
+hollow sound. Standing on a chair, she felt
+all along the mouldings and window-casings,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_170' name='page_170'></a>170</span>
+taking unto herself much dust in the process.
+She spent half an hour in the stuffy closet, investigating
+the shelves and recesses, then she
+got down on her rheumatic old knees and
+crept laboriously over the carpet, systematically
+taking it breadth by breadth, and paying
+special attention to that section of it which
+was under the bed.</p>
+<p>&#8220;When you&#8217;ve found where anythin&#8217; ain&#8217;t,&#8221;
+she said to herself, &#8220;you&#8217;ve gone a long way
+toward findin&#8217; where &#8217;t is. It&#8217;s just like
+Ebeneezer to have hid it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She took down the pictures, which were
+mainly family portraits, life-size, presented to
+the master of the house by devoted relatives,
+and rapidly unframed them. In one of them
+she found a sealed envelope, which she eagerly
+tore open. Inside was a personal communication
+which, though brief, was very much
+to the point.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dear Cousin Belinda,&#8221; it read, &#8220;I hope
+you&#8217;re taking pleasure in your hunt. I have
+kept my word to you and in this very room,
+somewhere, is a sum of money which represents
+my estimate of your worth, as nearly as
+sordid coin can hope to do. It is all in cash,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_171' name='page_171'></a>171</span>
+for greater convenience in handling. I trust
+you will not spend it all in one store, and
+that you will, out of your abundance, be generous
+to the poor. It might be well to use a
+part of it in making a visit to New York.
+When you find this, I shall be out in the
+cemetery all by myself, and very comfortable.</p>
+<div class='ra'>
+<p>&#8220;Yours, <span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Ebeneezer Judson.&#8221;</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<p>&#8220;I knowed it,&#8221; she said to herself, excitedly.
+&#8220;Ebeneezer was a hard man, but he always
+kep&#8217; his word. Dear me! What makes me
+so trembly!&#8221;</p>
+<p>She removed all the bedclothes and pounded
+the pillows and mattress in vain, then turned
+her attention to the furniture. It was almost
+one o&#8217;clock when Mrs. Dodd finally retired,
+worn in body and jaded in spirit, but still far
+from discouraged.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ebeneezer must have mistook the room,&#8221;
+she said to herself, &#8220;but how could he unless
+his mind was failin&#8217;? I&#8217;ve had this now,
+goin&#8217; on ten year.&#8221;</p>
+<p>In the night she dreamed of finding money
+in the bureau, and got up to see if by chance
+she had not received mysterious guidance
+from an unknown source. There was money
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_172' name='page_172'></a>172</span>
+in the bureau, sure enough, but it was only
+two worn copper cents wrapped in many
+thicknesses of old newspaper, and she went
+unsuspiciously back to bed.</p>
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s mistook the room,&#8221; she breathed,
+drowsily, as she sank into troubled slumber,
+&#8220;an&#8217; to-morrer I&#8217;ll have it changed. It&#8217;s
+just as well I&#8217;ve scared them others off, if so
+be I have.&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='XI_MRS_DODD_S_THIRD_HUSBAND' id='XI_MRS_DODD_S_THIRD_HUSBAND'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_173' name='page_173'></a>173</span>
+<h2>XI</h2>
+<h3>Mrs. Dodd&#8217;s Third Husband</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Insidiously, a single idea took possession
+of the entire household. Mrs. Smithers
+kept a spade near at hand and systematically
+dug, as opportunity offered. Dorothy became
+accustomed to an odorous lantern which stood
+near the back door in the daytime and bobbed
+about among the shrubbery at night.</p>
+<p>There was definite method in the madness
+of Mrs. Smithers, however, for she had once
+seen the departed Mr. Judson going out to the
+orchard with a tin box under his arm and her
+own spade but partially concealed under his
+long overcoat. When he came back, he was
+smiling, which was so unusual that she forgot
+all about the box, and did not observe whether
+or not he had brought it back with him.
+Long afterward, however, the incident assumed
+greater significance.</p>
+<p>&#8220;If I&#8217;d &#8217;ave &#8217;ad the sense to &#8217;ave gone out
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_174' name='page_174'></a>174</span>
+there the next day,&#8221; she muttered, &#8220;and &#8217;ave
+seen where &#8217;e &#8217;ad dug, I might be a rich
+woman now, that&#8217;s wot I might. &#8217;E was a
+clever one, &#8217;e was, and &#8217;e&#8217;s &#8217;id it. The old
+skinflint wasn&#8217;t doin&#8217; no work, &#8217;e wasn&#8217;t,
+and &#8217;e lived on &#8217;ere from year to year, a-payin&#8217;
+&#8217;is bills like a Christian gent, and it stands to
+reason there&#8217;s money &#8217;id somewheres. Findin&#8217;
+is keepin&#8217;, and it&#8217;s for me to keep my &#8217;ead
+shut and a sharp lookout. Them Carrs don&#8217;t
+suspect nothink.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She was only half right, however. Harlan,
+lost in his book, was heedless of everything
+that went on around him, but Mrs. Dodd&#8217;s
+reference to the diamond pin, and her own
+recollection of the money she had found in
+the bureau drawer, began to work stealthily
+upon Dorothy&#8217;s mind, surrounded, as she was,
+by people who were continually thinking of
+the same thing.</p>
+<p>Then, too, their funds were getting low.
+There was little to send to the sanitarium now,
+for eleven people, as students of domestic
+economics have often observed, eat more than
+one or two. Dick was also affected by the
+current financial depression, and at length
+conceived the idea that Uncle Ebeneezer&#8217;s
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_175' name='page_175'></a>175</span>
+worldly goods were somewhere on the premises.</p>
+<p>Mrs. Holmes spent a great deal of time in
+the attic, while the care-free children, utterly
+beyond control, rioted madly through the
+house. Dorothy discovered Mr. Perkins, the
+poet, half-way up the parlour chimney, and
+sat down to see what he would do when he
+came out and found her there. He had seemed
+somewhat embarrassed when he wiped the
+soot from his face, but had quickly explained
+that he was writing a poem on chimney-swallows
+and had come to a point where original
+research was essential.</p>
+<p>Even Elaine, not knowing what she sought,
+began to investigate, idly enough, the furniture
+and hangings in her room, and Mrs.
+Dodd, eagerly seizing opportunities, was forever
+keen on the scent. Uncle Israel, owing
+to the poor state of his health, was one of the
+last to be affected by the surrounding atmosphere,
+but when he caught the idea, he made
+up for lost time.</p>
+<p>He was up with the chickens, and invariably
+took a long afternoon nap, so that, during the
+night, there was bound to be a wakeful interval.
+Ordinarily, he took a sleeping potion
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_176' name='page_176'></a>176</span>
+to tide him over till morning, but soon decided
+that a little mild exercise with some pleasant
+purpose animating it, would be far better for
+his nerves.</p>
+<p>Mrs. Dodd was awakened one night by the
+feeling that some one was in her room. A
+vague, mysterious Presence gradually made
+itself known. At first she was frightened,
+then the Presence wheezed, and reassured
+her. Across the path of moonlight that lay
+on her floor, Uncle Israel moved cautiously.</p>
+<p>He was clad in a piebald dressing-gown
+which had been so patched with various materials
+that the original fabric was uncertain.
+An old-fashioned nightcap was on his head,
+the tassel bobbing freakishly in the back, and
+he wore carpet slippers.</p>
+<p>Mrs. Dodd sat up in bed, keenly relishing
+the situation. When he opened a bureau
+drawer, she screamed out: &#8220;What are you
+looking for?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Uncle Israel started violently. &#8220;Money,&#8221;
+he answered, in a shrill whisper, taken altogether
+by surprise.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then,&#8221; said Mrs. Dodd, kindly, &#8220;I&#8217;ll get
+right up and help you!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t, Belinda,&#8221; pleaded the old man.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_177' name='page_177'></a>177</span>
+&#8220;You&#8217;ll wake up everybody. I am a-walkin&#8217;
+in my sleep, I guess. I was a-dreamin&#8217; of
+money that I was to find and give to
+you, and I suppose that&#8217;s why I&#8217;ve come
+to your room. You lay still, Belinda, and
+don&#8217;t tell nobody. I am a-goin&#8217; right
+away.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Before she could answer in a way that
+seemed suitable, he was gone, and the next
+day he renewed his explanations. &#8220;I dunno,
+Belinda, how I ever come to be a-walkin&#8217; in
+my sleep. I ain&#8217;t never done such a thing
+since I was a child, and then only wunst.
+How dretful it would have been if I had gone
+into any other room and mebbe have been
+shot or have scared some young and unprotected
+female into fits. To think of me, with
+my untarnished reputation, and at my age,
+a-doin&#8217; such a thing! You don&#8217;t reckon it
+was my new pain-killer, do you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t misdoubt it had sunthin&#8217; to do
+with payin&#8217;,&#8221; returned Mrs. Dodd, greatly
+pleased with her own poor joke, &#8220;an&#8217;, as you
+say, it might have been dretful. But I am a
+friend to you, Israel, an&#8217; I don&#8217;t &#8217;low to make
+your misfortune public, but, by workin&#8217; private,
+help you overcome it.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_178' name='page_178'></a>178</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;What air you a-layin&#8217; out to do?&#8221; demanded
+Uncle Israel, fearfully.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I ain&#8217;t rightly made up my mind as yet,
+Israel,&#8221; she answered, pleasantly enough,
+&#8220;but I don&#8217;t intend to have it happen to you
+again. Sunthin&#8217; can surely be done that&#8217;ll
+cure you of it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t, Belinda,&#8221; wheezed her victim; &#8220;I
+don&#8217;t think I&#8217;ll ever have it again.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t you fret about it, Israel, &#8217;cause you
+ain&#8217;t goin&#8217; to have it no more. I&#8217;ll attend to
+it. It &#8217;s a most distressin&#8217; disease an&#8217; must
+be took early, but I think I know how to
+fix it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>During her various investigations, she had
+found a huge bunch of keys beneath a pile of
+rubbish on the floor of a closet in an unoccupied
+room. It was altogether possible, as she
+told herself, that one of these keys should fit
+the somnambulist&#8217;s door.</p>
+<p>While Uncle Israel was brewing a fresh supply
+of medicine on the kitchen stove, she
+found, as she had suspected that one of them
+did fit, and thereafter, every night, when
+Uncle Israel had retired, she locked him in,
+letting him out shortly after seven each morning.
+When he remonstrated with her, she
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_179' name='page_179'></a>179</span>
+replied, triumphantly, that it was necessary&mdash;otherwise
+he would never have known that
+the door was locked.</p>
+<p>On her first visit to &#8220;town&#8221; she made it
+her business to call upon Lawyer Bradford and
+inquire as to Mr. Judson&#8217;s last will and testament.
+She learned that it did not concern
+her at all, and was to be probated, in accordance
+with the dead man&#8217;s instructions, at the
+Fall term of court.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then, as yet,&#8221; she said, with a gleam of
+satisfaction in her small, beady eyes, &#8220;they
+ain&#8217;t holdin&#8217; the house legal. Any of us has
+the same right to stay as them Carrs.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s as you look at it,&#8221; returned Mr.
+Bradford, squirming uneasily in his chair.</p>
+<p>Try as she might, she could extract no further
+information, but she at least had a bit of
+knowledge to work on. She went back,
+earnestly desiring quiet, that she might study
+the problem without hindrance, but, unfortunately
+for her purpose, the interior of the
+Jack-o&#8217;-Lantern resembled pandemonium let
+loose.</p>
+<p>Willie was sliding down the railing part
+of the time, and at frequent intervals coasting
+downstairs on Mrs. Smithers&#8217;s tea tray,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_180' name='page_180'></a>180</span>
+vocally expressing his pleasure with each trip.
+The twins, seated in front of the library door,
+were pounding furiously on a milk-pan, which
+had not been empty when they dragged it
+into the hall, but was now. Mrs. Smithers
+was singing: &#8220;We have our trials here below,
+Oh, Glory, Hallelujah,&#8221; and a sickening
+odour from a fresh concoction of Uncle Israel&#8217;s
+permeated the premises. Having irreverently
+detached the false front from the keys of the
+melodeon, Mr. Perkins was playing a sad,
+funereal composition of his own, with all the
+power of the instrument turned loose on it.
+Upstairs, Dick was whistling, with shrill and
+maddening persistence, and Dorothy, quite
+helpless, sat miserably on the porch with her
+fingers in her ears.</p>
+<p>Harlan burst out of the library, just as Mrs.
+Dodd came up the walk, his temper not improved
+by stumbling over the twins and the
+milk-pan, and above their united wails loudly
+censured Dorothy for the noise and confusion.
+&#8220;How in the devil do you expect me to
+work?&#8221; he demanded, irritably. &#8220;If you
+can&#8217;t keep the house quiet, I&#8217;ll go back to
+New York!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Too crushed in spirit to reply, Dorothy said
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_181' name='page_181'></a>181</span>
+nothing, and Harlan whisked back into the
+library again, barely escaping Mrs. Dodd.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Poor child,&#8221; she said to Dorothy; &#8220;you
+look plum beat out.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I am,&#8221; confessed Mrs. Carr, the quick
+tears coming to her eyes.</p>
+<p>&#8220;There, there, my dear, rest easy. I reckon
+this is the first time you&#8217;ve been married,
+ain&#8217;t it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; returned Dorothy, forcing a pitiful
+little smile.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I thought so. Now, when you&#8217;re as
+used to it as I be, you won&#8217;t take it so hard.
+You may think men folks is all different, but
+there&#8217;s a dretful sameness to &#8217;em after they&#8217;ve
+been through a marriage ceremony. Marriage
+is just like findin&#8217; a new penny on the
+walk. When you first see it, it&#8217;s all shiny
+an&#8217; a&#8217;most like gold, an&#8217; it tickles you a&#8217;most
+to pieces to think you&#8217;re gettin&#8217; it, but after
+you&#8217;ve picked it up you see that what you&#8217;ve
+got is half wild Indian, or mebbe more&mdash;I
+ain&#8217;t never been in no mint. You may depend
+upon it, my dear, there&#8217;s two sides to
+all of us, an&#8217; before marriage, you see the
+wreath&mdash;afterwards a savage.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve had seven of &#8217;em,&#8221; she continued,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_182' name='page_182'></a>182</span>
+&#8220;an&#8217; I know. My father give me a cemetery
+lot for a weddin&#8217; present, with a noble grey
+marble monumint in it shaped like a octagon&mdash;leastways
+that&#8217;s what a school-teacher what
+boarded with us said it was, but I call it a
+eight-sided piece. I&#8217;m speakin&#8217; of my first
+marriage now, my dear. My father never
+give me no weddin&#8217; present but the once. An&#8217;
+I can&#8217;t never marry again, &#8217;cause there&#8217;s a
+husband lyin&#8217; now on seven sides of the monumint
+an&#8217; only one place left for me. I was
+told once that I could have further husbands
+cremationed an&#8217; set around the lot in vases,
+but I don&#8217;t take to no such heathenish custom
+as that.</p>
+<p>&#8220;So I&#8217;ve got to go through my declinin&#8217;
+years without no suitable companion an&#8217; I
+call it hard, when one&#8217;s so used to marryin&#8217;
+as what I be.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;If they&#8217;re all savages,&#8221; suggested Dorothy,
+&#8220;why did you keep on marrying?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Because I hadn&#8217;t no other way to get my
+livin&#8217; an&#8217; I was kinder in the habit of it.
+There&#8217;s some little variety, even in savages,
+an&#8217; it&#8217;s human natur&#8217; to keep on a-hopin.&#8217;
+I&#8217;ve had &#8217;em stingy an&#8217; generous, drunk an&#8217;
+sober, peaceful an&#8217; disturbin&#8217;. After the first
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_183' name='page_183'></a>183</span>
+few times, I learned to take real pleasure
+out&#8217;n their queer notions. When you&#8217;ve
+learned to enjoy seein&#8217; your husband make a
+fool of himself an&#8217; have got enough self-control
+not to tell him he&#8217;s doin&#8217; it, nor to let him see
+where your pleasure lies, you&#8217;ve got marryin&#8217;
+down to a fine point.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The third time, it was, I got a food
+crank, an&#8217; let me tell you right now, my
+dear, them&#8217;s the worst kind. A man what&#8217;s
+queer about his food is goin&#8217; to be queerer
+about a&#8217;most everything else. Give me any
+man that can eat three square meals a day an&#8217;
+enjoy &#8217;em, an&#8217; I&#8217;ll undertake to live with him
+peaceful, but I don&#8217;t go to the altar again with
+no food crank, if I know it.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It was partly my own fault, too, as I see
+later. I&#8217;d seen him a-carryin&#8217; a passel of
+health food around in his pocket an&#8217; a-nibblin&#8217;
+at it, but I supposed it was because the poor
+creeter had never had no one to cook proper
+for him, an&#8217; I took a lot of pleasure out of
+thinkin&#8217; how tickled he&#8217;d be when I made
+him one of my chicken pies.</p>
+<p>&#8220;After we was married, we took a honeymoon
+to his folks, an&#8217; I&#8217;ll tell you right now,
+my dear, that if there was more honeymoons
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_184' name='page_184'></a>184</span>
+took beforehand to each other&#8217;s folks, there&#8217;d
+be less marryin&#8217; done than what there is.
+They was all a-eatin&#8217; hay an&#8217; straw an&#8217; oats just
+like the dumb creeters they disdained, an&#8217; a-carryin&#8217;
+wheat an&#8217; corn around in their pockets
+to piece out with between greens.</p>
+<p>&#8220;So the day we got home, never knowin&#8217;
+what I was a-stirrin&#8217; up for myself, I turned
+in an&#8217; made a chicken an&#8217; oyster pie, an&#8217; it
+couldn&#8217;t be beat, not if I do say it as shouldn&#8217;t.
+The crust was as soft an&#8217; flaky an&#8217; brown an&#8217;
+crisp at the edges as any I ever turned out, an&#8217;
+the inside was all chicken an&#8217; oysters well-nigh
+smothered in a thick, creamy yellow
+gravy.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, sir, I brung in that pie, an&#8217; I set it
+on the table, an&#8217; I chirped out that dinner was
+ready, an&#8217; he come, an&#8217;&mdash;my dear! You
+never saw such goins&#8217;-on in all your born
+days! Considerin&#8217; that not eatin&#8217; animals
+makes people&#8217;s dispositions mild an&#8217; pleasant,
+it was sunthin&#8217; terrible, an&#8217; me all the time as
+innercent as a lamb!</p>
+<p>&#8220;I can&#8217;t begin to tell you the things my
+new-made husband said to me. If chickens
+an&#8217; oysters was human, I&#8217;ll bet they&#8217;d have
+sued him for slander. He said that oysters
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_185' name='page_185'></a>185</span>
+was &#8216;the scavengers of the sea&#8217;&mdash;yes&#8217;m,
+them&#8217;s his very words, an&#8217; that chickens was
+even worse. He went on to tell me how
+they et worms an&#8217; potato bugs an&#8217; beetles an&#8217;
+goodness knows what else, an&#8217; that he wa&#8217;n&#8217;t
+goin&#8217; to turn the temple of his body into no
+slaughter-house. He asked me if I desired to
+eat dead animals, an&#8217; when he insisted on an
+answer, I told him I certainly shouldn&#8217;t care
+to eat &#8217;em less&#8217;n they <i>was</i> dead, and from
+then on it was worse &#8217;n ever.</p>
+<p>&#8220;He said that no dead animal was goin&#8217; to
+be interred in the insides of him or his lawful
+wife, an&#8217; he was goin&#8217; to see to it. It come
+out then that he&#8217;d never tasted meat an&#8217;
+hadn&#8217;t rightly sensed what he was missin&#8217;.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, my dear, some women would have
+took the wrong tack an&#8217; would have argyfied
+with him. There&#8217;s never no use in argyfyin&#8217;
+with a husband, an&#8217; never no need to, &#8217;cause
+if you&#8217;re set on it, there&#8217;s all the rest of the
+world to choose from. When he&#8217;d talked
+himself hoarse an&#8217; was beginnin&#8217; to calm
+down again, I took the floor.</p>
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Say no more,&#8217; says I, calm an&#8217; collected-like.
+&#8216;This here is your house an&#8217; the things
+you&#8217;re accustomed to eatin&#8217; can be cooked in
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_186' name='page_186'></a>186</span>
+it, no matter what they be. If I don&#8217;t know
+how to put the slops together, I reckon I can
+learn, not being a plum idjit. If you want
+baked chicken feed and boiled hay, I&#8217;m here
+to bake &#8217;em and boil &#8217;em for you. All you
+have to do is to speak once in a polite manner
+and it&#8217;ll be done. I must insist on the politeness,
+howsumever,&#8217; says I. &#8216;I don&#8217;t propose to
+live with any man what gets the notion a
+woman ceases to be a lady when she marries
+him. A creeter that thinks so poor of himself
+as that ain&#8217;t fit to be my husband,&#8217; says I,
+&#8216;nor no other decent woman&#8217;s.&#8217;</p>
+<p>&#8220;At that he apologised some, an&#8217; when a
+husband apologises, my dear, it&#8217;s the same as
+if he&#8217;d et dirt at your feet. &#8216;The least said
+the soonest mended,&#8217; says I, an&#8217; after that, he
+never had nothin&#8217; to complain of.</p>
+<p>&#8220;But I knowed what his poor, cranky system
+needed, an&#8217; I knowed how to get it into
+him, especially as he&#8217;d never tasted meat in
+all his life. From that time on, he never saw
+no meat on our table, nor no chickens, nor
+sea scavengers, nor nothin&#8217;, but all day,
+while he was gone, I was busy with my soup
+pot, a-makin&#8217; condensed extracts of meat for
+flavourin&#8217; vegetables an&#8217; sauces an&#8217; so on.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_187' name='page_187'></a>187</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;He took mightily to my cookin&#8217; an&#8217; frequently
+said he&#8217;d never et such exquisite victuals.
+I&#8217;d make cream soups for him, an&#8217; in
+every one, there&#8217;d be over a cupful of solid
+meat jelly, as rich as the juice you find in the
+pan when you cook a first-class roast of beef.
+I&#8217;d stew potatoes in veal stock, and cook rice
+slow in water that had had a chicken boiled
+to rags in it. Once I put a cupful of raw
+beef juice in a can of tomatoes I was cookin&#8217;
+and he et a&#8217;most all of &#8217;em.</p>
+<p>&#8220;As he kep&#8217; on havin&#8217; more confidence in
+me, I kep&#8217; on usin&#8217; more an&#8217; more, an&#8217; a-usin&#8217;
+oyster liquor for flavourin&#8217; in most everything
+durin&#8217; the R months. Once he found nearly
+a bushel of clam-shells out behind the house
+an&#8217; wanted to know what they was an&#8217; what
+they was doin&#8217; there. I told him the fish
+man had give &#8217;em to me for a border for my
+flower beds, which was true. I&#8217;d only paid
+for the clams&mdash;there wa&#8217;n&#8217;t nothin&#8217; said about
+the shells&mdash;an&#8217; the juice from them clams
+livened up his soup an&#8217; vegetables for over a
+week. There wa&#8217;n&#8217;t no day that he didn&#8217;t
+have the vital elements of from one to four
+pounds of meat put in his food, an&#8217; all the
+time, he was gettin&#8217; happier an&#8217; healthier an&#8217;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_188' name='page_188'></a>188</span>
+more peaceful to live with. When he died,
+he was as mild as a spring lamb with mint
+sauce on it.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now, my dear, some women would have
+told him what they was doin&#8217;, either after he
+got to likin&#8217; the cookin&#8217; or when he was on
+his death-bed an&#8217; couldn&#8217;t help himself, but I
+never did. I own that it took self-control
+not to do it, but I&#8217;d learned my lesson from
+havin&#8217; been married twicet before an&#8217; never
+havin&#8217; fit any to speak of. I had to take my
+pleasure from seein&#8217; him eat a bowl of rice
+that had a whole chicken in it, exceptin&#8217; only
+the bones and fibres of its mortal frame, an&#8217; a-lappin&#8217;
+up mebbe a pint of tomato soup that
+was founded on eight nice pork chops. I&#8217;m
+a-tellin&#8217; you all this merely to show you my
+point. Every day, Henry was makin&#8217; a blame
+fool of himself without knowin&#8217; it. He&#8217;d
+prattle by the hour of slaughter-houses an&#8217;
+human cemeteries an&#8217; all the time he&#8217;d be
+honin&#8217; for his next meal.</p>
+<p>&#8220;He used to say as how it was dretful
+wicked to kill the dumb animals for food, an&#8217; I
+allers said that there was nothin&#8217; to hinder his
+buyin&#8217; as many as he could afford to an&#8217; savin&#8217;
+their lives by pennin&#8217; &#8217;em up in the back yard,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_189' name='page_189'></a>189</span>
+an&#8217; a-feedin&#8217; &#8217;em the things they liked best to
+eat till they died of old age or sunthin&#8217;. I
+told him they was all vegetarians, the same as
+he was, an&#8217; they could live together peaceful
+an&#8217; happy. I even pointed out that it was his
+duty to do it, an&#8217; that if all believers would do
+the same, the dread slaughter-houses would
+soon be a thing of the past, but I ain&#8217;t never
+seen no food crank yet that&#8217;s advanced that
+far in his humanity.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I never told him a single word about it,
+nor even hinted it to him, nor told nobody
+else, though I often felt wicked to think I was
+keepin&#8217; so much pleasure to myself, but my
+time is comin&#8217;.</p>
+<p>&#8220;When I&#8217;m dead an&#8217; have gone to heaven,
+the first thing I&#8217;m goin&#8217; to do is to hunt up
+Henry. They say there ain&#8217;t no marriage nor
+givin&#8217; in marriage up there, but I reckon there&#8217;s
+seven men there that&#8217;ll at least recognise their
+wife when they see her a-comin&#8217; in. I&#8217;m goin&#8217;
+to pick up my skirts an&#8217; take off my glasses,
+so&#8217;s I&#8217;ll be all ready to skedaddle, for I expect
+to leave my rheumatiz behind me, my dear,
+when I go to heaven&mdash;leastways, no place
+will be heaven for me that&#8217;s got rheumatiz in
+it&mdash;an&#8217; then I&#8217;m goin&#8217; to say: &#8216;Henry, in all
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_190' name='page_190'></a>190</span>
+the four years you was livin&#8217; with me, you
+was eatin&#8217; meat, an&#8217; you never knowed it.
+You&#8217;re nothin&#8217; but a human cemetery.&#8217; Oh,
+my dear, it&#8217;s worth while dyin&#8217; when you
+know you&#8217;re goin&#8217; to have pleasure like that
+at the other end!&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='XII_HER_GIFT_TO_THE_WORLD' id='XII_HER_GIFT_TO_THE_WORLD'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_191' name='page_191'></a>191</span>
+<h2>XII</h2>
+<h3>Her Gift to the World</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>&#8220;I regret, my dear madam,&#8221; said Lawyer
+Bradford, twisting uneasily in his chair,
+&#8220;that I can offer you no encouragement
+whatsoever. The will is clear and explicit in
+every detail, and there are no grounds for a
+contest. I am, perhaps, trespassing upon the
+wishes of my client in giving you this information,
+but if you are remaining here with
+the hope of pecuniary profit, you are remaining
+here unnecessarily.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He rose as though to indicate that the interview
+was at an end, but Mrs. Holmes was
+not to be put away in that fashion. Her eyes
+were blazing and her weak chin trembled
+with anger.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you mean to tell me,&#8221; she demanded,
+&#8220;that Ebeneezer voluntarily died without
+making some sort of provision for me and
+my helpless little children?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_192' name='page_192'></a>192</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Your distinguished relation,&#8221; answered
+Mr. Bradford, slowly, &#8220;certainly died voluntarily.
+He announced the date of his death
+some weeks before it actually occurred, and
+superintended the making of his own coffin.
+He wrote out minute directions for his obsequies,
+had his grave dug, and his shroud
+made, burned his papers, rearranged his
+books, made his will&mdash;and was found dead
+in his bed on the morning of the day set for
+his departure. A methodical person,&#8221; muttered
+the old man, half to himself; &#8220;a most
+methodical and systematic person.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mrs. Holmes shuddered. She was not ordinarily
+a superstitious woman, but there was
+something uncanny in this open partnership
+with Death.</p>
+<p>&#8220;There was a diamond pin,&#8221; she suggested,
+moodily, &#8220;worth, I should think,
+some fifteen or sixteen hundred dollars.
+Ebeneezer gave it to dear Rebecca on their
+wedding day, and she always said it was
+to be mine. Have you any idea where
+it is?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mr. Bradford fidgeted. &#8220;If it was intended
+for you,&#8221; he said, finally, &#8220;it will be given
+to you at the proper time, or you will be
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_193' name='page_193'></a>193</span>
+directed to its location. Mrs. Judson died,
+did she not, about three weeks after their
+marriage?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; snapped Mrs. Holmes, readily perceiving
+the line of his thought, &#8220;and I saw
+her twice in those three weeks. Both times
+she spoke of the pin, which she wore constantly,
+and said that if anything happened to
+her, she wanted me to have it, but that old
+miser hung on to it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Madam,&#8221; said Mr. Bradford, a faint flush
+mounting to his temples as he opened the
+office door, &#8220;you are speaking of my Colonel,
+under whom I served in the war. He was
+my best friend, and though he is dead, it is
+still my privilege to protect him. I bid you
+good afternoon!&#8221;</p>
+<p>She did not perceive until long afterward
+that she had practically been ejected from the
+legal presence. Even then, she was so intent
+upon the point at issue that she was not
+offended, as at another time she certainly
+would have been.</p>
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s lying,&#8221; she said to herself, &#8220;they&#8217;re
+all lying. There&#8217;s money hidden in that
+house, and I know it, and what&#8217;s more, I&#8217;m
+going to have it!&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_194' name='page_194'></a>194</span></p>
+<p>She had searched her own rooms on the
+night of her arrival, but found nothing, and
+the attic, so far, had yielded her naught save
+discouragement and dust. &#8220;To think,&#8221; she
+continued, mentally, &#8220;that after two of my
+children were born here and named for them,
+that we are left in this way! I call it a shame,
+a disgrace, an outrage!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Her anger swiftly cooled, however, as she
+went into the house, and her fond sight rested
+upon her darlings. Willie had a ball and had
+already broken two of the front windows.
+The small Rebecca was under the sofa, tempering
+the pleasure of life for Claudius Tiberius,
+while young Ebeneezer, having found a
+knife somewhere, was diligently scratching
+the melodeon.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Just look,&#8221; said Mrs. Holmes, in delighted
+awe, as Dorothy entered the room. &#8220;Don&#8217;t
+make any noise, or you will disturb Ebbie.
+He is such a sensitive child that the sound of
+a strange voice will upset him. Did you ever
+see anything like those figures he is drawing
+on the melodeon? I believe he&#8217;s going to be
+an artist!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Crushed as she was in spirit by her uncongenial
+surroundings, Dorothy still had enough
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_195' name='page_195'></a>195</span>
+temper left to be furiously angry. In these
+latter days, however, she had gained largely
+in self-control, and now only bit her lips
+without answering.</p>
+<p>But Mrs. Holmes would not have heard
+her, even if she had replied. A sudden yowl
+from the distressed Claudius impelled Dorothy
+to move the sofa and rescue him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;How cruel you are!&#8221; commented Mrs.
+Holmes. &#8220;The idea of taking Rebbie&#8217;s plaything
+away from her! Give it back this
+instant!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mrs. Carr put the cat out and returned with
+a defiant expression on her face, which roused
+Mrs. Holmes to action. &#8220;Willie,&#8221; she commanded,
+&#8220;go out and get the kitty for your
+little sister. There, there, Rebbie, darling,
+don&#8217;t cry any more! Brother has gone to get
+the kitty. Don&#8217;t cry!&#8221;</p>
+<p>But &#8220;brother&#8221; had not gone. &#8220;Chase it
+yourself,&#8221; he remarked, coolly. &#8220;I&#8217;m going
+out to the barn.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dear Willie&#8217;s individuality is developing
+every day,&#8221; Mrs. Holmes went on, smoothly.
+&#8220;There, there, Rebbie, don&#8217;t cry any more.
+Go and tell Mrs. Smithers to give you a big
+piece of bread with lots of butter and jam on
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_196' name='page_196'></a>196</span>
+it. Tell her mamma said so. Run along,
+that&#8217;s a nice little girl.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Rude squares, triangles, and circles appeared
+as by magic on the shining surface
+of the melodeon, the young artist being not
+at all disturbed by the confusion about
+him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I am blessed in my children,&#8221; Mrs.
+Holmes went on, happily. &#8220;I often wonder
+what I have done that I should have so perfect
+a boy as Willie for my very own. Everybody
+admires him so that I dwell in constant
+fear of kidnappers.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I wouldn&#8217;t worry,&#8221; said Dorothy, with
+ill-concealed sarcasm. &#8220;Anybody who took
+him would bring him back inside of two
+hours.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I try to think so,&#8221; returned the mother,
+with a deep sigh. &#8220;Willie&#8217;s indomitable
+will is my deepest comfort. He gets it from
+my side of the family. None of the children
+take after their father at all. Ebbie was a
+little like his father&#8217;s folks at first, but I soon
+got it out of him and made him altogether
+like my people. I do not think anybody
+could keep Willie away from me except by
+superior physical force. He absolutely adores
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_197' name='page_197'></a>197</span>
+his mother, as my other children do. You
+never saw such beautiful sentiment as they
+have. The other day, now, when I went
+away and left Rebbie alone in my apartment,
+she took down my best hat and put it on.
+The poor little thing wanted to be near her
+mother. Is it not touching?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It is indeed,&#8221; Dorothy assented, dryly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;My children have never been punished,&#8221;
+continued Mrs. Holmes, now auspiciously
+launched upon her favourite theme. &#8220;It has
+never been necessary. I rule them entirely
+through love, and they are so accustomed to
+my methods that they bitterly resent any interference
+by outsiders. Why, just before we
+came here, Ebbie, young as he is, put out the
+left eye of a woman who tried to take his dog
+away from him. He did it with his little fist
+and with apparently no effort at all. Is it not
+wonderful to see such strength and power of
+direction in one so young? The woman was
+in the hospital when we came away, and I
+trust by this time, she has learned not to interfere
+with Ebbie. No one is allowed to
+interfere with my children.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Apparently not,&#8221; remarked Mrs. Carr,
+somewhat cynically.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_198' name='page_198'></a>198</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;It is beautiful to be a mother&mdash;the most
+beautiful thing on earth! Just think how
+much I have done for the world!&#8221; Her sallow
+face glowed with the conscious virtue bestowed
+by one of the animal functions upon
+those who have performed it.</p>
+<p>&#8220;In what way?&#8221; queried Mrs. Carr, wholly
+missing the point.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why, in raising Willie and Ebbie and
+Rebbie! No public service can for a moment
+be compared with that! All other things sink
+into insignificance beside the glorious gift of
+maternity. Look at Willie&mdash;a form that a
+sculptor might dream of for a lifetime and
+never hope to imitate&mdash;a head that already has
+inspired great artists! The gentleman who
+took Willie&#8217;s last tintype said that he had
+never seen such perfect lines, and insisted on
+taking several for fear something should happen
+to Willie. He wanted to keep some of
+them for himself&mdash;it was pathetic, the way he
+pleaded, but I made him sell me all of them.
+Willie is mine and I have the first right to his
+tintypes. And a lady once painted Willie at
+his play in black and white and sent it to one
+of the popular weeklies. I have no doubt
+they gave her a fortune for it, but it never
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_199' name='page_199'></a>199</span>
+occurred to her to give us anything more than
+one copy of the paper.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Which paper was it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;One of the so-called comic weeklies.
+You know they publish superb artistic things.
+I think they are doing a wonderful work in
+educating the masses to a true appreciation of
+art. One of the wonderful parts of it was
+that Willie knew all about it and was not in
+the least conceited. Any other child would
+have been set up at being a model for a great
+artist, but Willie was not affected at all. He
+has so much character!&#8221;</p>
+<p>At this point the small Rebecca entered,
+dragging her doll by one arm, and munching
+a thick slice of bread, thinly coated with
+molasses.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I distinctly said jam,&#8221; remarked Mrs.
+Holmes. &#8220;Servants are so heedless. I do
+not know that molasses is good for Rebbie.
+What would you think, Mrs. Carr?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t think it will hurt her if she doesn&#8217;t
+get too much of it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s no danger of her getting too
+much of it. Mrs. Smithers is too stingy for
+that. Why, only yesterday, Willie told me
+that she refused to let him dip his dry bread
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_200' name='page_200'></a>200</span>
+in the cream, and gave him a cup of plain
+milk instead. Willie knows when his system
+needs cream and I want him to have all the
+nourishment he can get. The idea that she
+should think she knew more about it than
+Willie! She was properly punished for it,
+however. I myself saw Willie throw a stick
+of stove wood at her and hit her foolish head
+with it. I think Willie is going to be a soldier,
+a commander of an army. He has so
+much executive ability and never misses what
+he aims at.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Rebbie, don&#8217;t chew on that side, darling;
+remember your loose tooth is there. Mamma
+doesn&#8217;t want it to come out.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why?&#8221; asked Dorothy, with a gleam of
+interest.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Because I can&#8217;t bear to have her little baby
+teeth come out and make her grow up! I
+want to keep her just as she is. I have all my
+children&#8217;s teeth, and some day I am going to
+have them set into a beautiful bracelet. Look
+at that! How generous and unselfish of
+Rebbie! She is trying to share her bread
+with her doll. I believe Rebbie is going to
+be a philanthropist, or a college-settlement
+worker. See, she is trying to give the doll
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_201' name='page_201'></a>201</span>
+the molasses&mdash;the very best part of it. Did
+you ever see such a beautiful spirit in one so
+young?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Before Mrs. Carr could answer, young
+Ebeneezer had finished his wood carving and
+had grabbed his protesting twin by the hair.</p>
+<p>&#8220;There, there, Rebbie,&#8221; soothed the mother,
+&#8220;don&#8217;t cry. Brother was only loving little
+sister. Be careful, Ebbie. You can take hold
+of sister&#8217;s hair, but not too hard. They love
+each other so,&#8221; she went on. &#8220;Ebbie is
+really sentimental about Rebbie. He loves to
+touch and stroke her glorious blonde hair.
+Did you ever see such hair as Rebbie&#8217;s?&#8221;</p>
+<p>It came into Mrs. Carr&#8217;s mind that &#8220;Rebbie&#8217;s&#8221;
+hair looked more like a plate of cold-slaw than
+anything else, but she was too wise to put
+the thought into words.</p>
+<p>Willie slid down the railing and landed in
+the hall with a loud whoop of glee. &#8220;How
+beautiful to hear the sounds of childish mirth,&#8221;
+said Mrs. Holmes. &#8220;How&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>From upstairs came a cry of &#8220;Help! Help!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Muffled though the voice was, it plainly
+issued from Uncle Israel&#8217;s room, and under
+the impression that the bath cabinet had
+finally set the house on fire, Mrs. Carr ran
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_202' name='page_202'></a>202</span>
+hastily upstairs, followed closely by Mrs.
+Holmes, who was flanked at the rear by the
+grinning Willie and the interested twins.</p>
+<p>From a confused heap of bedding, Uncle
+Israel&#8217;s scarlet ankles waved frantically. &#8220;Help!
+Help!&#8221; he cried again, his voice being almost
+wholly deadened by the pillows, which had
+fallen on him after the collapse.</p>
+<p>Dorothy helped the trembling old man to
+his feet. He took a copious draught from the
+pain-killer, then sat down on his trunk, much
+perturbed.</p>
+<p>Investigation proved that the bed cord had
+been cut in a dozen places by some one working
+underneath, and that the entire structure
+had instantly caved in when Uncle Israel had
+crept up to the summit of his bed and lain
+down to take his afternoon nap. When questioned,
+Willie proudly admitted that he had
+done it.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Go down and ask Mrs. Smithers for the
+clothes-line,&#8221; commanded Dorothy, sternly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I won&#8217;t,&#8221; said Willie, smartly, putting his
+hands in his pockets.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You had better go yourself, Mrs. Carr,&#8221;
+suggested Mrs. Holmes. &#8220;Willie is tired.
+He has played hard all day and needs rest.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_203' name='page_203'></a>203</span>
+He must not on any account over-exert himself,
+and, besides, I never allow any one else
+to send my children on errands. They obey
+me and me alone.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Go yourself,&#8221; said Willie, having gathered
+encouragement from the maternal source.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll go,&#8221; wheezed Uncle Israel. &#8220;I can&#8217;t
+sleep in no other bed. Ebeneezer&#8217;s beds is
+all terrible drafty, and I took two colds at
+once sleepin&#8217; in one of &#8217;em when I knowed
+better &#8217;n to try it.&#8221; He tottered out of the
+room, the very picture of wretchedness.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Was it not clever of Willie?&#8221; whispered
+Mrs. Holmes, admiringly, to Dorothy. &#8220;So
+much ingenuity&mdash;such a fine sense of humor!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;If he were my child,&#8221; snapped Dorothy,
+at last losing her admirable control of a tempestuous
+temper, &#8220;he&#8217;d be soundly thrashed
+at least three times a week!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I do not doubt it,&#8221; replied Mrs. Holmes,
+contemptuously. &#8220;These married old maids,
+who have no children of their own, are always
+wholly out of sympathy with a child&#8217;s
+nature.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;When I was young,&#8221; retorted Mrs. Carr,
+&#8220;children were not allowed to rule the entire
+household. There was a current superstition
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_204' name='page_204'></a>204</span>
+to the effect that older people had some
+rights.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And yet,&#8221; Mrs. Holmes continued, meditatively,
+&#8220;as the editor of <i>The Ladies&#8217; Own</i>
+so pertinently asks, what is a house for if
+not to bring up a child in? The purpose of
+architecture is defeated, where there are no
+children.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Uncle Israel, accompanied by Dick, hobbled
+into the room with the clothes-line. Mrs.
+Holmes discreetly retired, followed by her
+offspring, and, late in the afternoon, when
+Dorothy and Dick were well-nigh fagged out,
+the structure was in place again. Tremulously
+the exhausted owner lay down upon
+it, and asked that his supper be sent to his
+room.</p>
+<p>By skilful man&oelig;uvring with Mrs. Smithers,
+Dick compelled the proud-spirited Willie
+to take up Uncle Israel&#8217;s tray and wait for it.
+&#8220;I&#8217;ll tell my mother,&#8221; whimpered the sorrowful
+one.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I hope you will,&#8221; replied Dick, significantly;
+but for some reason of his own, Willie
+neglected to mention it.</p>
+<p>At dinner-time, Mr. Perkins drew a rolled
+manuscript, tied with a black ribbon, from his
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_205' name='page_205'></a>205</span>
+breast pocket, and, without preliminary, proceeded
+to read as follows:</p>
+<p>TO THE MEMORY OF EBENEEZER JUDSON</p>
+<table summary='poetry' style='margin:0 auto'><tr><td>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>A face we loved has vanished,</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.73em;'>A voice we adored is now still,</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>There is no longer any music</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.73em;'>In the tinkling rill.</p>
+<br />
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>His hat is empty of his head,</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.73em;'>His snuff-box has no sneezer,</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>His cane is idle in the hall</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.73em;'>For gone is Ebeneezer.</p>
+<br />
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>Within the house we miss him,</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.73em;'>Let fall the sorrowing tear,</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>Yet shall we gather as was our wont</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.73em;'>Year after sunny year.</p>
+<br />
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>He took such joy in all his friends</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.73em;'>That he would have it so;</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>He left his house to relatives</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.73em;'>But none of us need go.</p>
+<br />
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>In fact, we&#8217;re all related,</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.73em;'>Sister, friend, and brother;</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>And in this hour of our grief</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.73em;'>We must console each other.</p>
+<br />
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>He would not like to have us sad,</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.73em;'>Our smiles were once his pleasure</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>And though we cannot smile at him,</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.73em;'>His memory is our treasure.</p>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_206' name='page_206'></a>206</span></div>
+<p>When he had finished, there was a solemn
+silence, which was at last relieved by Mrs.
+Dodd. &#8220;Poetry broke out in my first husband&#8217;s
+family,&#8221; she said, &#8220;but with sulphur
+an&#8217; molasses an&#8217; quinine an&#8217; plenty of wet-sheet
+packs it was finally cured.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You do not understand,&#8221; said the poet,
+indulgently. &#8220;Your aura is not harmonious
+with mine.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Your&mdash;what?&#8221; demanded Mrs. Dodd,
+pricking up her ears.</p>
+<p>&#8220;My aura,&#8221; explained Mr. Perkins, flushing
+faintly. &#8220;Each individuality gives out a
+spiritual vapour, like a cloud, which surrounds
+one. These are all in different colours,
+and the colours change with the thoughts we
+think. Black and purple are the gloomy,
+morose colours; deep blue and the paler shades
+show a sombre outlook on life; green is more
+cheerful, though still serious; yellow and
+orange show ambition and envy, and red and
+white are emblematic of all the virtues&mdash;red
+of the noble, martial qualities of man and
+white of the angelic disposition of woman,&#8221;
+he concluded, with a meaning glance at
+Elaine, who had been much interested all
+along.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_207' name='page_207'></a>207</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;What perfectly lovely ideas,&#8221; she said, in
+a tone which made Dick&#8217;s blood boil. &#8220;Are
+they original with you, Mr. Perkins?&#8221;</p>
+<p>The poet cleared his throat. &#8220;I cannot
+say that they are wholly original with me,&#8221;
+he admitted, reluctantly, &#8220;though of course I
+have modified and amplified them to accord
+with my own individuality. They are doing
+wonderful things now in the psychological
+laboratories. They have a system of tubes so
+finely constructed that by breathing into one
+of them a person&#8217;s mental state is actually
+expressed. An angry person, breathing into
+one of these finely organised tubes, makes a
+decided change in the colour of the vapour.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Humph!&#8221; snorted Mrs. Dodd, pushing
+back her chair briskly. &#8220;I&#8217;ve been married
+seven times, an&#8217; I never had to breathe into
+no tube to let any of my husbands know
+when I was mad!&#8221;</p>
+<p>The poet crimsoned, but otherwise ignored
+the comment. &#8220;If you will come into the
+parlour just as twilight is falling,&#8221; he said to
+the others, &#8220;I will gladly recite my ode on
+Spring.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Subdued thanks came from the company,
+though Harlan excused himself on the score
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_208' name='page_208'></a>208</span>
+of his work, and Mrs. Holmes was obliged to
+put the twins to bed. When twilight fell, no
+one was at the rendezvous but Elaine and the
+poet.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It is just as well,&#8221; he said, in a low tone.
+&#8220;There are several under dear Uncle Ebeneezer&#8217;s
+roof who are afflicted with an inharmonious
+aura. With yours only am I in full
+accord. It is a great pleasure to an artist to
+feel such beautiful sympathy with his work.
+Shall I say it now?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;If you will,&#8221; murmured Elaine, deeply
+honoured by acquaintance with a real poet.</p>
+<p>Mr. Perkins drew his chair close to hers,
+leaned over with an air of loving confidence,
+and began:</p>
+<table summary='poetry' style='margin:0 auto'><tr><td>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>Spring, oh Spring, dear, gentle Spring,</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>My poet&#8217;s garland do I bring</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>To lay upon thy shining hair</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>Where rests a wreath of flowers so fair.</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>There is a music in the brook</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>Which answers to thy tender look</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>And in thy eyes there is a spell</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>Of soft enchantment too sweet to tell.</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>My heart to thine shall ever turn</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>For thou hast made my soul to burn</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>With rapture far beyond&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p>Elaine screamed, and in a twinkling was on
+her chair with her skirts gathered about her.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_209' name='page_209'></a>209</span>
+It was only Claudius Tiberius, dressed in Rebecca&#8217;s
+doll&#8217;s clothes, scooting madly toward
+the front door, but it served effectually to
+break up the entertainment.</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='XIII_A_SENSITIVE_SOUL' id='XIII_A_SENSITIVE_SOUL'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_210' name='page_210'></a>210</span>
+<h2>XIII</h2>
+<h3>A Sensitive Soul</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Uncle Israel was securely locked in
+for the night, and was correspondingly
+restless. He felt like a caged animal, and
+sleep, though earnestly wooed, failed to come
+to his relief. A powerful draught of his usual
+sleeping potion had been like so much water,
+as far as effect was concerned.</p>
+<p>At length he got up, his lifelong habit of
+cautious movement asserting itself even here,
+and with tremulous, withered hands, lighted
+his candle. Then he put on his piebald dressing-gown
+and his carpet slippers, and sat on
+the declivity of his bed, blinking at the light,
+as wide awake as any owl.</p>
+<p>Presently it came to him that he had not as
+yet made a thorough search of his own apartment,
+so he began at the foundation, so to
+speak, and crawled painfully over the carpet,
+paying special attention to the edges. Next,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_211' name='page_211'></a>211</span>
+he fingered the baseboards carefully, rapping
+here and there, as though he expected some
+significant sound to penetrate his deafness.
+Rising, he went over the wall systematically,
+and at length, with the aid of a chair,
+reached up to the picture-moulding. He had
+gone nearly around the room, without any
+definite idea of what he was searching for,
+when his questioning fingers touched a small,
+metallic object.</p>
+<p>A smile of childlike pleasure transfigured
+Uncle Israel&#8217;s wizened old face. Trembling,
+he slipped down from the chair, falling over
+the bath cabinet in his descent, and tried the
+key in the lock. It fitted, and the old man
+fairly chuckled.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Wait till I tell Belinda,&#8221; he muttered,
+delightedly. Then a crafty second thought
+suggested that it might be wiser to keep
+&#8220;Belinda&#8221; in the dark, lest she might in some
+way gain possession of the duplicate key.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Lor&#8217;,&#8221; he thought, &#8220;but how I pity them
+husbands of her&#8217;n. Bet their graves felt good
+when they got into &#8217;em, the hull seven graves.
+What with sneerin&#8217; at medicines and things a
+person eats, it must have been awful, not to
+mention stealin&#8217; of keys and a-lockin&#8217; &#8217;em
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_212' name='page_212'></a>212</span>
+in nights. S&#8217;pose the house had got afire,
+where&#8217;d I be now?&#8221; Grasping his treasure
+closely, Uncle Israel blew out his candle and
+tottered to bed, thereafter sleeping the sleep
+of the just.</p>
+<p>Mrs. Dodd detected subdued animation in
+his demeanour when he appeared at breakfast
+the following morning, and wondered what
+had occurred.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You look &#8217;s if sunthin&#8217; pleasant had happened,
+Israel,&#8221; she began in a sprightly
+manner.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sunthin&#8217; pleasant has happened,&#8221; he returned,
+applying himself to his imitation coffee
+with renewed vigour. &#8220;I disremember
+when I&#8217;ve felt so good about anythin&#8217; before.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Something pleasant happens every day,&#8221;
+put in Elaine. The country air had made
+roses bloom on her pale cheeks. Her blue
+eyes had new light in them, and her golden
+hair fairly shone. She was far more beautiful
+than the sad, frail young woman who had
+come to the Jack-o&#8217;-Lantern not so many
+weeks before.</p>
+<p>&#8220;How optimistic you are!&#8221; sighed Mr.
+Perkins, who was eating Mrs. Smithers&#8217;s crisp,
+hot rolls with a very unpoetic appetite. &#8220;To
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_213' name='page_213'></a>213</span>
+me, the world grows worse every day. It is
+only a few noble souls devoted to the Ideal
+and holding their heads steadfastly above the
+mire of commercialism that keep our so-called
+civilisation from becoming an absolute hotbed
+of greed&mdash;yes, a hotbed of greed,&#8221; he repeated,
+the words sounding unexpectedly well.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Your aura seems to have a purple tinge
+this morning,&#8221; commented Dorothy, slyly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s a aura, ma?&#8221; demanded Willie,
+with an unusual thirst for knowledge.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Something that goes with a soft person,
+Willie, dear,&#8221; responded Mrs. Holmes, quite
+audibly. &#8220;You know there are some people
+who have no backbone at all, like the jelly-fish
+we saw at the seashore the year before dear
+papa died.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve knowed folks,&#8221; continued Mrs. Dodd,
+taking up the wandering thread of the discourse,
+&#8220;what was so soft when they was
+little that their mas had to carry &#8217;em around
+in a pail for fear they&#8217;d slop over and spile
+the carpet.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And when they grew up, too,&#8221; Dick
+ventured.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Some people,&#8221; said Harlan, in a polite attempt
+to change the conversation, &#8220;never
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_214' name='page_214'></a>214</span>
+grow up at all. Their minds remain at a fixed
+point. We all know them.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; sighed Mrs. Dodd, looking straight
+at the poet, &#8220;we all know them.&#8221;</p>
+<p>At this juncture the sensitive Mr. Perkins
+rose and begged to be excused. It was the
+small Ebeneezer who observed that he took a
+buttered roll with him, and gratuitously gave
+the information to the rest of the company.</p>
+<p>Elaine flushed painfully, and presently excused
+herself, following the crestfallen Mr.
+Perkins to the orchard, where, entirely unsuspected
+by the others, they had a trysting-place.
+At intervals, they met, safely screened
+by the friendly trees, and communed upon
+the old, idyllic subject of poetry, especially as
+represented by the unpublished works of
+Harold Vernon Perkins.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I cannot tell you, Mr. Perkins,&#8221; Elaine began,
+&#8220;how deeply I appreciate your fine, uncommercial
+attitude. As you say, the world
+is sordid, and it needs men like you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The soulful one ran his long, bony fingers
+through his mane of auburn hair, and assented
+with a pleased grunt. &#8220;There are few, Miss
+St. Clair,&#8221; he said, &#8220;who have your fine discernment.
+It is almost ideal.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_215' name='page_215'></a>215</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Yet it seems too bad,&#8221; she went on, &#8220;that
+the world-wide appreciation of your artistic
+devotion should not take some tangible form.
+Dollars may be vulgar and sordid, as you say,
+but still, in our primitive era, they are our
+only expression of value. I have even heard
+it said,&#8221; she went on, rapidly, &#8220;that the
+amount of wealth honestly acquired by any
+individual was, after all, only the measure of
+his usefulness to his race.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Miss St. Clair!&#8221; exclaimed the poet, deeply
+shocked; &#8220;do I understand that you are actually
+advising me to sell a poem?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Far from it, Mr. Perkins,&#8221; Elaine reassured
+him. &#8220;I was only thinking that by having
+your work printed in a volume, or perhaps in
+the pages of a magazine, you could reach a
+wider audience, and thus accomplish your
+ideal of uplifting the multitude.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I am pained,&#8221; breathed the poet; &#8220;inexpressibly
+pained.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then I am sorry,&#8221; answered Elaine. &#8220;I
+was only trying to help.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;To think,&#8221; continued Mr. Perkins, bitterly,
+&#8220;of the soiled fingers of a labouring
+man, a printer, actually touching these fancies
+that even I hesitate to pen! Once I saw the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_216' name='page_216'></a>216</span>
+fair white page of a book that had been
+through that painful experience. You never
+would have known it, my dear Miss St. Clair&mdash;it
+was actually filthy!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I see,&#8221; murmured Elaine, duly impressed,
+&#8220;but are there not more favourable conditions?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I have thought there might be,&#8221; returned
+the poet, after a significant silence, &#8220;indeed,
+I have prayed there might be. In some little
+nook among the pines, where the brook for
+ever sings and the petals of the apple blossoms
+glide away to fairyland upon its shining surface,
+while butterflies float lazily here and
+there, if reverent hands might put the flowering
+of my genius into a modest little book&mdash;I
+should be tempted, yes, sorely tempted.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dear Mr. Perkins,&#8221; cried Elaine, ecstatically
+clapping her hands, &#8220;how perfectly glorious
+that would be! To think how much
+sweetness and beauty would go into the book,
+if that were done!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Additionally,&#8221; corrected Mr. Perkins, with
+a slight flush.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, of course I mean additionally. One
+could smell the apple blossoms through the
+printed page. Oh, Mr. Perkins, if I only had
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_217' name='page_217'></a>217</span>
+the means, how gladly would I devote my all
+to this wonderful, uplifting work!&#8221;</p>
+<p>The poet glanced around furtively, then
+drew closer to Elaine. &#8220;I may tell you,&#8221; he
+murmured, &#8220;in strict confidence, something
+which my lips have never breathed before,
+with the assurance that it will be as though
+unsaid, may I not?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Indeed you may!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then,&#8221; whispered Mr. Perkins, &#8220;I am
+living in that hope. My dear Uncle Ebeneezer,
+though now departed, was a distinguished
+patron of the arts. Many a time have I read
+him my work, assured of his deep, though unexpressed
+sympathy, and, lulled by the rhythm
+of our spoken speech, he has passed without
+a jar from my dreamland to his own. I know
+he would never speak of it to any one&mdash;dear
+Uncle Ebeneezer was too finely grained for
+that&mdash;but still I feel assured that somewhere
+within the walls of that sorely afflicted house,
+a sum of&mdash;of money&mdash;has been placed, in
+the hope that I might find it and carry out this
+beautiful work.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Have you hunted?&#8221; demanded Elaine, her
+eyes wide with wonder.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No&mdash;not hunted. I beg you, do not use
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_218' name='page_218'></a>218</span>
+so coarse a word. It jars upon my poet&#8217;s
+soul with almost physical pain.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I beg your pardon,&#8221; returned Elaine,
+&#8220;but&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sometimes,&#8221; interrupted the poet, in a
+low tone, &#8220;when I have felt especially near
+to Uncle Ebeneezer&#8217;s spirit, I have barely
+glanced in secret places where I have felt he
+might expect me to look for it, but, so far, I
+have been wholly unsuccessful, though I know
+that I plainly read his thought.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Some word&mdash;some clue&mdash;did he give you
+none?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;None whatever, except that once or twice
+he said that he would see that I was suitably
+provided for. He intimated that he intended
+me to have a sum apportioned to my deserts.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Which would be a generous one; but
+now&mdash;Oh, Mr. Perkins, how can I help you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You have never suspected, have you,&#8221;
+asked Mr. Perkins, colouring to his temples,
+&#8220;that the room you now occupy might once
+have been my own? Have no poet&#8217;s dreams,
+lingering in the untenanted spaces, claimed
+your beauteous spirit in sleep?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, Mr. Perkins, have I your room? I
+will so gladly give it up&mdash;I&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_219' name='page_219'></a>219</span></p>
+<p>The poet raised his hand. &#8220;No. The place
+where you have walked is holy ground. Not
+for the world would I dispossess you, but&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>A meaning look did the rest. &#8220;I see,&#8221; said
+Elaine, quickly guessing his thought, &#8220;you
+want to hunt in my room. Oh, Mr. Perkins,
+I have thoughtlessly pained you again. Can
+you ever forgive me?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;My thoughts,&#8221; breathed Mr. Perkins, &#8220;are
+perhaps too finely phrased for modern speech.
+I would not trespass upon the place you have
+made your own, but&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>There was a brief silence, then Elaine understood.
+&#8220;I see,&#8221; she said, submissively, &#8220;I will
+hunt myself. I mean, I will glance about in the
+hope that the spirit of Uncle Ebeneezer may
+make plain to me what you seek. And&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And,&#8221; interjected the poet, quite practical
+for the moment, &#8220;whatever you find is mine,
+for it was once my room. It is only on
+account of Uncle Ebeneezer&#8217;s fine nature and
+his constant devotion to the Ideal that he did
+not give it to me direct. He knew it would
+pain me if he did so. You will remember?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I will remember. You need not fear to
+trust me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then let us shake hands upon our
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_220' name='page_220'></a>220</span>
+compact.&#8221; For a moment, Elaine&#8217;s warm,
+rosy hand rested in the clammy, nerveless palm
+of Harold Vernon Perkins. &#8220;Last night,&#8221; he
+sighed, &#8220;I could not sleep. I was distressed
+by noises which appeared to emanate from
+the apartment of Mr. Skiles. Did you hear
+nothing?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nothing,&#8221; returned Elaine; &#8220;I sleep very
+soundly.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The privilege of unpoetic souls,&#8221; commented
+Mr. Perkins. &#8220;But, as usual, my
+restlessness was not without definite and
+beautiful result. In the still watches of the
+night, I achieved a&mdash;poem.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Read it,&#8221; cried Elaine, rapturously. &#8220;Oh,
+if I might hear it!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Thus encouraged, Mr. Perkins drew a roll
+from his breast pocket. A fresh blue ribbon
+held it in cylindrical form, and the drooping
+ends waved in careless, artistic fashion.</p>
+<p>&#8220;As you might expect, if you knew about
+such things,&#8221; he began, clearing his throat,
+and all unconscious of the rapid approach of
+Mr. Chester, &#8220;it is upon sleep. It is done
+in the sonnet form, a very beautiful measure
+which I have made my own. I will read it
+now.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_221' name='page_221'></a>221</span></p>
+<table summary='poetry' style='margin:0 auto'><tr><td>
+<p  style='text-align: center;'>&#8220;SONNET ON SLEEP</p>
+<br />
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>&#8220;O Sleep, that fillst the human breast with peace,</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.73em;'>When night&#8217;s dim curtains swing from out the West,</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.73em;'>In what way, in what manner, could we rest</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>Were thy beneficent offices to cease?</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>O Sleep, thou art indeed the snowy fleece</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.73em;'>Upon Day&#8217;s lamb. A welcome guest</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.73em;'>That comest alike to palace and to nest</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>And givest the cares of life a glad release.</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>O Sleep, I beg thee, rest upon my eyes,</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.73em;'>For I am weary, worn, and sad,&mdash;indeed,</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.73em;'>Of thy great mercies have I piteous need</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>So come and lead me off to Paradise.&#8221;</p>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p>His voice broke at the end, not so much
+from the intrinsic beauty of the lines as from
+perceiving Mr. Chester close at hand, grinning
+like the fabled pussy-cat of Cheshire, except
+that he did not fade away, leaving only the grin.</p>
+<p>Elaine felt the alien presence and looked
+around. Woman-like, she quickly grasped
+the situation.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I have been having a rare treat, Mr. Chester,&#8221;
+she said, in her smoothest tones. &#8220;Mr.
+Perkins has very kindly been reading to me his
+beautiful <i>Sonnet on Sleep</i>, composed during a
+period of wakefulness last night. Did you
+hear it? Is it not a most unusual sonnet?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It is, indeed,&#8221; answered Dick, dryly. &#8220;I
+never before had the privilege of hearing one
+that contained only twelve lines. Dante and
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_222' name='page_222'></a>222</span>
+Petrarch and Shakespeare and all those other
+ducks put fourteen lines in every blamed sonnet,
+for good measure.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Hurt to the quick, the sensitive poet walked
+away.</p>
+<p>&#8220;How can you speak so!&#8221; cried Elaine,
+angrily. &#8220;Is not Mr. Perkins privileged to
+create a form?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;To create a form, yes,&#8221; returned Dick,
+easily, &#8220;but not to monkey with an old one.
+There&#8217;s a difference.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Elaine would have followed the injured one
+had not Dick interfered. He caught her hand
+quickly, a new and unaccountable lump in his
+throat suddenly choking his utterance. &#8220;I
+say, Elaine,&#8221; he said, huskily, &#8220;you&#8217;re not
+thinking of hooking up with that red-furred
+lobster, are you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I do not know,&#8221; responded Elaine, with
+icy dignity, &#8220;what your uncouth language
+may mean, but I tolerate no interference whatever
+with my personal affairs.&#8221; In a moment
+she was gone, and Dick watched the slender,
+pink-clad figure returning to the house with
+ill-concealed emotion.</p>
+<p>All Summer, so far, he and Elaine had been
+good friends. They had laughed and joked
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_223' name='page_223'></a>223</span>
+and worked together in a care-free, happy-go-lucky
+fashion. The arrival of Mr. Perkins
+and his sudden admiration of Elaine had crystallised
+the situation. Dick knew now what
+caused the violent antics of his heart&mdash;a peaceful
+and well-behaved organ which had never
+before been so disturbed by a woman.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve got it,&#8221; said Dick, to himself, deeply
+shamed. &#8220;Moonlight, poetry, mit-holding,
+and all the rest of it. Never having had it before,
+it&#8217;s going hard with me. Why in the
+devil wasn&#8217;t I taught to write doggerel when
+I was in college? A fellow don&#8217;t stand any
+show nowadays unless he&#8217;s a pocket edition
+of Byron.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He went on through the orchard at a
+run, instinctively healing a troubled mind by
+wearying the body. At the outer edge of it,
+he paused.</p>
+<p>Suspended by a singularly strong bit of
+twine, a small, grinning skull hung from the
+lower branch of an apple tree, far out on the
+limb. &#8220;Cat&#8217;s skull,&#8221; thought Dick. &#8220;Wonder
+who hung it up there?&#8221;</p>
+<p>He lingered, idly, for a moment or two,
+then observed that a small patch of grass
+directly underneath it was of that season&#8217;s
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_224' name='page_224'></a>224</span>
+growth. His curiosity fully awake, he determined
+to dig a bit, though he had dug fruitlessly
+in many places since he came to the
+Jack-o&#8217;-Lantern.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Uncle couldn&#8217;t do anything conventional,&#8221;
+he said to himself, &#8220;and I&#8217;m pretty
+sure he wouldn&#8217;t want any of his relations to
+have his money. Here goes, just for luck!&#8221;</p>
+<p>He went back to the barn for the spade,
+which already had fresh earth on it&mdash;the
+evidence of an early morning excavation privately
+made by Mrs. Smithers in a spot where
+she had dreamed gold was hidden. He went
+off to the orchard with it, whistling, his progress
+being furtively watched with great interest
+by the sour-faced handmaiden in the
+kitchen.</p>
+<p>Back in the orchard again, he worked
+feverishly, possessed by a pleasant thrill of
+excitement, somewhat similar to that conceivably
+enlivening the humdrum existence
+of Captain Kidd. Dick was far from surprised
+when his spade struck something hard,
+and, his hands trembling with eagerness, he
+lifted out a tin box of the kind commonly
+used for private papers.</p>
+<p>It was locked, but a twist of his muscular
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_225' name='page_225'></a>225</span>
+hands sufficed to break it open. Then he
+saw that it was a spring lock, and that, with
+grim, characteristic humour, Uncle Ebeneezer
+had placed the key inside the box. There
+were papers there&mdash;and money, the coins
+and bills being loosely scattered about, and
+the papers firmly sealed in an envelope addressed
+&#8220;To Whom it May Concern.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dick counted the coins and smoothed out
+the bills, more puzzled than he had ever been
+in his life. He was tempted to open the envelope,
+but refrained, not at all sure that he
+was among those whom it concerned. For
+the space of half an hour he stood there,
+frowning, then he laughed.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll just put it back,&#8221; he said to himself.
+&#8220;It&#8217;s not for me to monkey with Uncle
+Ebeneezer&#8217;s purposes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He buried the box in its old place, and
+even cut a bit of sod from a distant part of
+the orchard to hide the traces of his work.
+When all was smooth again, he went back
+to the barn, swinging the spade carelessly
+but no longer whistling.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The old devil,&#8221; he muttered, with keen
+appreciation. &#8220;The wise old devil!&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='XIV_MRS_DODD_S_FIFTH_FATE' id='XIV_MRS_DODD_S_FIFTH_FATE'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_226' name='page_226'></a>226</span>
+<h2>XIV</h2>
+<h3>Mrs. Dodd&#8217;s Fifth Fate</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p><i>Morning lay fair upon the land, and yet
+the Lady Elaine was weary. Like a drooping
+lily she swayed in her saddle, sick at heart
+and cast down. Earnestly her company of
+gallant knights strove to cheer her, but in
+vain. Even the merry quips of the fool in
+motley, who still rode at her side, brought no
+smile to her beautiful face.</i></p>
+<p><i>Presently, he became silent, his heart deeply
+troubled because of her. An hour passed so,
+and no word was spoken, then, timidly enough,
+he ventured another jest.</i></p>
+<p><i>The Lady Elaine turned. &#8220;Say no more,
+fool,&#8221; she commanded, &#8220;but get out thy
+writing tablet and compose me a poem. I
+would fain hear something sad and tender in
+place of this endless folly.&#8221;</i></p>
+<p><i>Le Jongleur bowed. &#8220;And the subject,
+Princess?&#8221;</i>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_227' name='page_227'></a>227</span></p>
+<p><i>Elaine laughed bitterly. &#8220;Myself,&#8221; she
+cried. &#8220;Why not? Myself, Elaine, and this
+foolish quest of mine!&#8221;</i></p>
+<p><i>Then, for a space, there was silence upon
+the road, since the fool, with his writing tablet,
+had dropped back to the rear of the
+company, and the gallant knights, perceiving
+the mood of their mistress, spoke not.</i></p>
+<p><i>At noon, when the white sun trembled at
+the zenith, Le Jongleur urged his donkey forward,
+and presented to Elaine a glorious rose
+which he had found blooming at the wayside.</i></p>
+<p><i>&#8220;The poem is finished, your highness,&#8221; he
+breathed, doffing his cap, &#8220;but &#8217;tis all unworthy,
+so I bring thee this rose also, that
+something in my offering may of a certainty
+be sweet.&#8221;</i></p>
+<p><i>He would have put the scroll into her hand,
+but she swerved her palfrey aside. &#8220;Read
+it,&#8221; she said, impatiently; &#8220;I have no mind
+to try my wits with thy poor scrawls.&#8221;</i></p>
+<p><i>So, with his voice trembling, and overwhelmed
+with self-consciousness, the fool read
+as follows:</i></p>
+<table summary='poetry' style='margin:0 auto'><tr><td>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>The vineyards, purple with their bloom,</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.73em;'>Elaine, hast thou forgotten?</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>The maidens in thy lonely room,</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_228' name='page_228'></a>228</span></div>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>Thy tapestry on silent loom&mdash;</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 1.47em;'>But hush! Where is Elaine?</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.73em;'>Elaine, hast thou forgotten?</p>
+<br />
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>Thy castle in the valley lies,</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.73em;'>Elaine, hast thou forgotten?</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>Where swift the homing swallow flies</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>And in the sunset daylight dies&mdash;</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 1.47em;'>But hush! Where is Elaine?</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.73em;'>Elaine, hast thou forgotten?</p>
+<br />
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>Night comes at last on dreamy wings,</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.73em;'>Elaine, hast thou forgotten?</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>&#8217;Mid gleaming clouds the pale moon swings,</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>Thy taper light a faint star brings,</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 1.47em;'>But hush! Where is Elaine?</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.73em;'>Elaine, hast thou forgotten?</p>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p>Harlan had never written any poetry before,
+but it had always seemed easy. Now,
+as he read the verses over again, he was
+tremendously satisfied with his achievement.
+Unconsciously, he had modelled it upon an
+exquisite little bit by some one else, which
+had once been reprinted beneath a &#8220;story&#8221;
+of his own when he was on the paper. He
+read it aloud, to see how it sounded, and was
+more pleased than ever with the swing of the
+verse and the music of the words. &#8220;It&#8217;s
+pretty close to art,&#8221; he said to himself, &#8220;if it
+isn&#8217;t the real thing.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Just then the luncheon bell rang, and he
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_229' name='page_229'></a>229</span>
+went out to the midday &#8220;gab-fest,&#8221; as
+he inwardly characterised it. The meal proceeded
+to dessert without any unusual disturbance,
+then the diminutive Ebeneezer
+threw the remnants of his cup of milk into
+his mother&#8217;s face, and was carried off,
+howling, to be spanked. Like many other
+mothers, Mrs. Holmes resented her children&#8217;s
+conduct when it incommoded her, but not
+otherwise, and though milk baths are said
+to be fine for the complexion, she was not
+altogether pleased with the manner of application.</p>
+<p>Amid the vocal pyrotechnics from the
+Holmes apartments, Harlan escaped into the
+library, but his poem was gone. He searched
+for it vainly, then sat down to write it over
+before he should forget it. This done, he
+went on with Elaine and her adventures, and
+presently forgot all about the lost page.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t that do your heart good?&#8221; inquired
+Mrs. Dodd, of Dorothy, inclining her
+head toward Mrs. Holmes&#8217;s door.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Be it ever so humble,&#8221; sang Dick, strolling
+out of the room, &#8220;there&#8217;s no place like
+Holmes&#8217;s.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mrs. Carr admitted that her ears were not
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_230' name='page_230'></a>230</span>
+yet so calloused but that the sound gave her
+distinct pleasure.</p>
+<p>&#8220;If that there little limb of Satan had have
+throwed his milk in anybody else&#8217;s face,&#8221;
+went on Mrs. Dodd, &#8220;all she&#8217;d have said
+would have been: &#8216;Ebbie, don&#8217;t spill your
+nice milk. That&#8217;s naughty.&#8217;&#8221;</p>
+<p>Her imitation of the fond mother&#8217;s tone and
+manner was so wickedly exact that Dorothy
+laughed heartily. The others had fled to a
+more quiet spot, except Willie and Rebecca,
+who were fighting for a place at the keyhole
+of their mother&#8217;s door. Finally, Willie gained
+possession of the keyhole, and the ingenious
+Rebecca, lying flat on her small stomach,
+peered under the door, and obtained a pleasing
+view of what was going on inside.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Listen at that!&#8221; cried Mrs. Dodd, her
+countenance fairly beaming with innocent
+pleasure. &#8220;I&#8217;m gettin&#8217; most as much good
+out of it as I would from goin&#8217; to the circus.
+Reckon it&#8217;s a slipper, for it sounds just like
+little Jimmie Young&#8217;s weepin&#8217; did the night I
+come home from my fifth honeymoon.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s the only time,&#8221; she went on,
+reminiscently, &#8220;as I was ever a step-ma to
+children what wasn&#8217;t growed up. You&#8217;d
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_231' name='page_231'></a>231</span>
+think a woman as had been married four
+times afore would have knowed better &#8217;n to
+get her fool head into a noose like that, but
+there seems to be only one way for folks to
+learn things, an&#8217; that&#8217;s by their own experience.
+If we could only use other folks&#8217; experience,
+this here world would be heaven
+in about three generations, but we&#8217;re so constituted
+that we never believe fire &#8217;ll burn till
+we poke our own fingers into it to see. Other
+folks&#8217; scars don&#8217;t go no ways at all toward
+convincin&#8217; us.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You read lots of novels about the sorrers
+of step-children, but I ain&#8217;t never come up
+with no epic as yet portrayin&#8217; the sufferin&#8217;s of
+a step-ma. If I had a talent like your husband&#8217;s
+got, I&#8217;ll be blest if I wouldn&#8217;t do it.
+What I went through with them children
+aged me ten years in less &#8217;n three.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It was like this,&#8221; she prattled on. &#8220;I&#8217;d
+never seen a one of &#8217;em, they livin&#8217; far away
+from their pa, as was necessary if their pa was
+to get any peace an&#8217; happiness out &#8217;n life, an&#8217;
+that lyin&#8217; creeter I married told me there was
+only three. My dear, there was eight, an&#8217;
+sixteen ordinary young ones couldn&#8217;t have
+been no worse.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_232' name='page_232'></a>232</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Our courtin&#8217; was done mainly in the cemetery.
+I&#8217;d just laid my fourth away in his
+proper place an&#8217; had the letterin&#8217; all cut nice
+on his side of the monumint, an&#8217; I was doin&#8217;
+the plantin&#8217; on the grave when I met my
+fate&mdash;my fifth fate, I&#8217;m speakin&#8217; of now. I
+allers aimed to do right by my husbands when
+they was dead no less &#8217;n when they was livin&#8217;,
+an&#8217; I allers planted each one&#8217;s favourite
+flower on his last restin&#8217;-place, an&#8217; planted it
+thick, so &#8217;s when the last trump sounded an&#8217;
+they all riz up, there wouldn&#8217;t be no one of
+&#8217;em that could accuse me of bein&#8217; partial.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Some of the flowers was funny for a
+graveyard. One of &#8217;em loved sunflowers, an&#8217;
+when blossomin&#8217;-time come, you could see a
+spot of light in my lot clear from the gate
+when you went in, an&#8217; on sunny days even
+from quite a piece outside.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Geraniums was on the next grave, red
+an&#8217; pink together, as William loved to see &#8217;em,
+an&#8217; most fittin&#8217; an&#8217; appropriate. He was a
+queer-lookin&#8217; man, William was, all bald except
+for a little fringe of red hair around his
+head, an&#8217; his bald spot gettin&#8217; as pink as anythin&#8217;
+when he got mad. I never could abide
+red an&#8217; pink together, so I did my best not to
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_233' name='page_233'></a>233</span>
+rile him; but la sakes, my dear, red-haired
+folks is that touchy that you never can tell
+what&#8217;s goin&#8217; to rile &#8217;em an&#8217; what ain&#8217;t.
+Some innercent little remark is as likely to set
+&#8217;em off as anythin&#8217; else. All the time it&#8217;s like
+carryin&#8217; a light into a fireworks place. Drop
+it once an&#8217; the air &#8217;ll be full of sky-rockets,
+roman candles, pinwheels, an&#8217; set pieces till
+you&#8217;re that dazed you don&#8217;t know where
+you&#8217;re livin&#8217;. Don&#8217;t never take no red-haired
+one, my dear, if you&#8217;re anyways set on
+peace. I never took but one, but that was
+enough to set me dead against the breed.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, as I was a-sayin&#8217;, James begun to
+woo me in the cemetery. Whenever you see
+a man in a cemetery, my dear, you can take
+it for granted that he&#8217;s a new-made widower.
+After the first week or two, he ain&#8217;t got no
+time to go to no grave, he&#8217;s so busy lookin&#8217;
+out for the next one. When I see James a-waterin&#8217;
+an&#8217; a-weedin&#8217; on the next lot to
+mine, therefore, I knowed his sorrer was
+new, even though the band of crape on his
+hat was rusty an&#8217; old.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Bein&#8217; fellow-mourners, in a way, we
+struck up kind of a melancholy friendship, an&#8217;
+finally got to borrerin&#8217; water from each other&#8217;s
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_234' name='page_234'></a>234</span>
+sprinklin&#8217; cans an&#8217; exchangin&#8217; flower seeds an&#8217;
+slips, an&#8217; even hull plants. That old deceiver
+told me it was his first wife that was a-lyin&#8217;
+there, an&#8217; showed me her name on the monumint.
+She was buried in her own folks&#8217; lot,
+an&#8217; I never knowed till it was too late that his
+own lot was plum full of wives, an&#8217; this here
+was a annex, so to speak. I dunno how I
+come to be so took in, but anyways, when
+James&#8217;s grief had subsided somewhat, we
+decided to travel on the remainin&#8217; stretch
+through this vale of tears together.</p>
+<p>&#8220;He told me he had a beautiful home in
+Taylorville, but was a-livin&#8217; where he was
+so &#8217;s to be near the cemetery an&#8217; where he
+could look after dear Annie&#8217;s grave. The
+sentiment made me think all the more of him,
+so &#8217;s I didn&#8217;t hesitate, an&#8217; was even willin&#8217; to
+be married with one of my old rings, to save
+the expense of a new one. James allers was
+thrifty, an&#8217; the way he put it, it sounded quite
+reasonable, so &#8217;s that&#8217;s how it comes, my
+dear, that in spite of havin&#8217; had seven husbands,
+I&#8217;ve only got six weddin&#8217;-rings.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I put each one on when its own proper
+anniversary comes around an&#8217; wear it till the
+next one, when I change again, though for
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_235' name='page_235'></a>235</span>
+one of the rings it makes only one day, because
+the fourth and seventh times I was
+married so near together. That sounds queer,
+my dear, but if you think it over, you&#8217;ll see
+what I mean. It&#8217;s fortunate, too, in a way,
+&#8217;cause I found out by accident years afterward
+that my fourth weddin&#8217;-ring come out
+of a pawn-shop, an&#8217; I never took much joy
+out of wearin&#8217; it. Bein&#8217; just alike, I wore
+another one mostly, even when Samuel was
+alive, but he never noticed. Besides, I reckon
+&#8217;t wouldn&#8217;t make no difference, for a man
+that&#8217;ll go to a pawn-shop for a weddin&#8217;-ring
+ain&#8217;t one to make a row about his wife&#8217;s
+changin&#8217; it. When I spoke sharp to him
+about it, he snickered, an&#8217; said it was appropriate
+enough, though to this day I&#8217;ve never
+figured out precisely just what the old serpent
+meant by it.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, as I was sayin&#8217;, my dear, the minister
+married us in good an&#8217; proper form, an&#8217;
+I must say that, though I&#8217;ve had all kinds of
+ceremonies, I take to the &#8217;Piscopal one the
+most, in spite of havin&#8217; been brought up
+Methodis&#8217;, an&#8217; hereafter I&#8217;ll be married by it
+if the occasion should arise&mdash;an&#8217; we drove
+over to Taylorville.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_236' name='page_236'></a>236</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;The roads was dretful, but bein&#8217; experienced
+in marriage, I could see that it wasn&#8217;t
+that that was makin&#8217; James drop the whip,
+an&#8217; pull back on the lines when he wanted the
+horses to go faster, an&#8217; not hear things I was
+a-sayin&#8217; to him. Finally, I says, very distinct:
+&#8216;James, dear, how many children did you say
+you had?&#8217;</p>
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Eight,&#8217; says he, clearin&#8217; his throat proud
+and haughty like.</p>
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;You&#8217;re lyin&#8217;,&#8217; says I, &#8216;an&#8217; you know
+you&#8217;re lyin&#8217;. You allers told me you had
+three.&#8217;</p>
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;I was speakin&#8217; of those by my first
+wife,&#8217; says he. &#8216;My other wives all left one
+apiece. Ain&#8217;t I never told you about &#8217;em? I
+thought I had,&#8217; he went on, speakin&#8217; quick,
+&#8216;but if I haven&#8217;t, it &#8217;s because your beauty
+has made me forget all the pain an&#8217; sorrer of
+the past.&#8217;</p>
+<p>&#8220;With that he clicked to the horses so
+sudden that I was near threw out of the rig,
+but it wasn&#8217;t half so bad as the other jolt
+he&#8217;d just give me. For a long time I didn&#8217;t
+say nothin&#8217;, an&#8217; there&#8217;s nothin&#8217; that makes a
+man so uneasy as a woman that don&#8217;t say
+nothin&#8217;, my dear, so you just write that down
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_237' name='page_237'></a>237</span>
+in your little book, an&#8217; remember it. It&#8217;ll
+come in handy long before you&#8217;re through
+with your first marriage an&#8217; have begun on
+your second. Havin&#8217; been through four, I
+was well skilled in keepin&#8217; my mouth shut,
+an&#8217; I never said a word till we drove into the
+yard of the most disconsolate-lookin&#8217; premises
+I ever seen since I was took to the poorhouse
+on a visit.</p>
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;James,&#8217; says I, cool but firm, &#8216;is this
+your magnificent residence?&#8217;</p>
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;It is,&#8217; says he, very soft, &#8216;an&#8217; it is here
+that I welcome my bride. Have you ever
+seen anythin&#8217; like this view?&#8217;</p>
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;No,&#8217; says I, &#8216;I never have&#8217;; an&#8217; it was
+gospel truth I was speakin&#8217;, too, for never before
+had I been to a place where the pigsty
+was in front.</p>
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;It is a wonderful view,&#8217; says I, sarcastic
+like, &#8216;but before I linger to admire it more, I
+would love to look upon the scenery inside
+the house.&#8217;</p>
+<p>&#8220;When we went in, I thought I was either
+dreamin&#8217; or had got to Bedlam. The seven
+youngest children was raisin&#8217; particular Cain,
+an&#8217; the oldest, a pretty little girl of thirteen,
+was doin&#8217; her best to quiet &#8217;em. There was
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_238' name='page_238'></a>238</span>
+six others besides what had been accounted
+for, but I soon found that they belonged to a
+neighbour, an&#8217; was just visitin&#8217; to relieve the
+monotony.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The woman James had left takin&#8217; care of
+&#8217;em had been gone two weeks an&#8217; more, with
+a month&#8217;s wages still comin&#8217; to her, which
+James never felt called on to pay, on account
+of her havin&#8217; left without notice. James was
+dretful thrifty. The youngest one was puttin&#8217;
+the cat into the water-pitcher, an&#8217; as soon as
+I found out what his name was, I called him
+sharp by it an&#8217; told him to quit. He put his
+tongue out at me as sassy as you please, an&#8217;
+says: &#8216;I won&#8217;t.&#8217;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, my dear, I didn&#8217;t wait to hear no
+more, but I opened my satchel an&#8217; took out
+one of my slippers an&#8217; give that child a lickin&#8217;
+that he&#8217;ll remember when he&#8217;s a grandparent.
+&#8216;Hereafter,&#8217; says I, &#8216;when I tell you
+to do anythin&#8217;, you&#8217;ll do it. I&#8217;ll speak kind
+the first time an&#8217; firm the second, and the
+third time the whole thing will be illustrated
+so plain that nobody can&#8217;t misunderstand it.
+Your pa has took me into a confidence game,&#8217;
+says I, speakin&#8217; to all the children, &#8216;but I was
+never one to draw back from what I&#8217;d put
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_239' name='page_239'></a>239</span>
+my hand to, an&#8217; I aim to do right by you if
+you do right by me. You mind,&#8217; says I,
+&#8216;an&#8217; you won&#8217;t have no trouble; an&#8217; the same
+thing,&#8217; says I to James, &#8216;applies to you.&#8217;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I felt sorry for all those poor little motherless
+things, with a liar for a pa, an&#8217; all the
+time I lived there, I tried to make up to &#8217;em
+what I could, but step-mas have their sorrers,
+my dear, that&#8217;s what they do, an&#8217; I ain&#8217;t
+never seen no piece about it in the paper yet,
+either.</p>
+<p>&#8220;If you&#8217;ll excuse me now, my dear, I&#8217;ll
+go to my room. It&#8217;s just come to my mind
+now that this here is one of my anniversaries,
+an&#8217; I&#8217;ll have to look up the facts in my family
+Bible, an&#8217; change my ring.&#8221;</p>
+<p>At dinner-time the chastised and chastened
+twin appeared in freshly starched raiment.
+His eyes were swollen and his face flushed, but
+otherwise his recent painful experience had remarkably
+improved him. He said &#8220;please&#8221;
+and &#8220;thank you,&#8221; and did not even resent it
+when Willie slyly dropped a small piece of
+watermelon down his neck.</p>
+<p>&#8220;This afternoon,&#8221; said Elaine, &#8220;Mr. Perkins
+composed a beautiful poem. I know it
+is beautiful, though I have not yet heard it. I
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_240' name='page_240'></a>240</span>
+do not wish to be selfish in my pleasure, so I
+will ask him to read it to us all.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The poet&#8217;s face suddenly became the colour
+of his hair. He dropped his napkin, and
+swiftly whispered to Elaine, while he was
+picking it up, that she herself was the subject
+of the poem.</p>
+<p>&#8220;How perfectly charming,&#8221; said Elaine,
+clearly. &#8220;Did you hear, Mrs. Carr? Poor
+little, insignificant me has actually inspired a
+great poem. Oh, do read it, Mr. Perkins?
+We are all dying to hear it!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Fairly cornered, the poet muttered that he
+had lost it&mdash;some other time&mdash;wait until to-morrow&mdash;and
+so on.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No need to wait,&#8221; said Dick, with an ironical
+smile. &#8220;It was lost, but now is found.
+I came upon it myself, blowing around unheeded
+under the library window, quite like a
+common bit of paper.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mr. Perkins was transfixed with amazement,
+for his cherished poem was at that
+minute in his breast pocket. He clutched at
+it spasmodically, to be sure it was still safe.</p>
+<p>Very different emotions possessed Harlan,
+who choked on his food. He instinctively
+guessed the worst, and saw his home in lurid
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_241' name='page_241'></a>241</span>
+ruin about him, but was powerless to avert
+the catastrophe.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Read it, Dick,&#8221; said Mrs. Dodd, kindly.
+&#8220;We are all a-perishin&#8217; to hear it. I can&#8217;t
+eat another bite until I do. I reckon it&#8217;ll
+sound like a valentine,&#8221; she concluded, with a
+malicious glance at Mr. Perkins.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I have taken the liberty,&#8221; chuckled Dick,
+&#8220;of changing a word or two occasionally, to
+make better sense of it, and of leaving out
+some lines altogether. Every one is privileged
+to vary an established form.&#8221; Without
+further preliminary, he read the improved
+version.</p>
+<table summary='poetry' style='margin:0 auto'><tr><td>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>&#8220;The little doggie sheds his coat,</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.73em;'>Elaine, have you forgotten?</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>What is it goes around a button?</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>I thought you knew that simple thing,</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>But ideas in your head take wing.</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.73em;'>Elaine, have you forgotten?</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>The answer is a goat.</p>
+<br />
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>&#8220;How much is three times humpty-steen?</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.73em;'>Elaine, have you forgotten?</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>Why does a chicken cross the road?</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>Who carries home a toper&#8217;s load?</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.73em;'>You are so very stupid, dear!</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 1.47em;'>Elaine, have you forgotten?</p>
+<br />
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>&#8220;You think a mop of scarlet hair</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>And pale green eyes&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_242' name='page_242'></a>242</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;That will do,&#8221; said Miss St. Clair, crisply.
+&#8220;Mr. Perkins, may I ask as a favour that you
+will not speak to me again?&#8221; She marched
+out with her head high, and Mr. Perkins,
+wholly unstrung, buried his face in his napkin.</p>
+<p>Harlan laughed&mdash;a loud, ringing laugh, such
+as Dorothy had not heard from him for
+months, and striding around the table, he
+grasped Dick&#8217;s hand in tremendous relief.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Let me have it,&#8221; he cried, eagerly. &#8220;Give
+me all of it!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure,&#8221; said Dick, readily, passing over
+both sheets of paper.</p>
+<p>Harlan went into the library with the composition,
+and presently, when Dick was walking
+around the house and saw bits of torn
+paper fluttering out of the open window, a
+light broke through his usual density.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Whew!&#8221; he said to himself. &#8220;I&#8217;ll be
+darned! I&#8217;ll be everlastingly darned! Idiot!&#8221;
+he continued, savagely. &#8220;Oh, if I could only
+kick myself! Poor Dorothy! I wonder if
+she knows!&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='XV_TREASURETROVE' id='XV_TREASURETROVE'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_243' name='page_243'></a>243</span>
+<h2>XV</h2>
+<h3>Treasure-Trove</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>The August moon swung high in the
+heavens, and the crickets chirped unbearably.
+The luminous dew lay heavily
+upon the surrounding fields, and now and
+then a stray breeze, amid the overhanging
+branches of the trees that lined the roadway,
+aroused in the consciousness of the single
+wayfarer a feeling closely akin to panic. When
+he reached the summit of the hill, he was
+trembling violently.</p>
+<p>In the dooryard of the Jack-o&#8217;-Lantern, he
+paused. It was dark, save for a single round
+window. In an upper front room a night-lamp,
+turned low, gave one leering eye to the
+grotesque exterior of the house.</p>
+<p>With his heart thumping loudly, Mr. Bradford
+leaned against a tree and divested himself
+of his shoes. From a package under his arm,
+he took out a pair of soft felt slippers, the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_244' name='page_244'></a>244</span>
+paper rattling loudly as he did so. He put
+them on, hesitated, then went cautiously up
+the walk.</p>
+<p>&#8220;In all my seventy-eight years,&#8221; he thought,
+&#8220;I have never done anything like this. If I
+had not promised the Colonel&mdash;but a promise
+to a dying man is sacred, especially when he
+is one&#8217;s best friend.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The sound of the key in the lock seemed
+almost like an explosion of dynamite. Mr.
+Bradford wiped the cold perspiration from his
+forehead, turned the door slowly upon its
+squeaky hinges, and went in, feeling like a
+burglar.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I am not a burglar,&#8221; he thought, his hands
+shaking. &#8220;I have come to give, not to take
+away.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Fearfully, he tiptoed into the parlour, expecting
+at any moment to arouse the house.
+Feeling his way carefully along the wall, and
+guided by the moonlight which streamed in
+at the side windows, he came to the wing
+occupied by Mrs. Holmes and her exuberant
+offspring. Here he stooped, awkwardly, and
+slipped a sealed and addressed letter under
+the door, heaving a sigh of relief as he got
+away without having wakened any one.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_245' name='page_245'></a>245</span></p>
+<p>The sounds which came from Mrs. Dodd&#8217;s
+room were reassuringly suggestive of sleep.
+Hastily, he slipped another letter under her
+door, then made his way cautiously to the
+kitchen. The missive intended for Mrs.
+Smithers was left on the door-mat outside,
+for, as Mr. Bradford well knew, the
+ears of the handmaiden were uncomfortably
+keen.</p>
+<p>At the foot of the stairs he hesitated again,
+but by the time he reached the top, his heart
+had ceased to beat audibly. He tiptoed down
+the corridor to Uncle Israel&#8217;s room, then, further
+on, to Dick&#8217;s. The letter intended for
+Mr. Perkins was slipped under Elaine&#8217;s door,
+Mr. Bradford not being aware that the poet
+had changed his room. Having safely accomplished
+his last errand, the tension relaxed,
+and he went downstairs with more assurance,
+his pace being unduly hastened by a subdued
+howl from one of the twins.</p>
+<p>Bidding himself be calm, he got to the front
+door, and drew a long breath of relief as he
+closed it noiselessly. There was a light in
+Mrs. Holmes&#8217;s room now, and Mr. Bradford
+did not wish to linger. He gathered up his
+shoes and fairly ran downhill, arriving at his
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_246' name='page_246'></a>246</span>
+office much shaken in mind and body, nearly
+two hours after he had started.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I do not know,&#8221; he said to himself, &#8220;why
+the Colonel should have been so particular as
+to dates and hours, but he knew his own business
+best.&#8221; Then, further in accordance with
+his instructions, he burned a number of letters
+which could not be delivered personally.</p>
+<p>If Mr. Bradford could have seen the company
+which met at the breakfast table the following
+morning, he would have been amply
+repaid for his supreme effort of the night before,
+had he been blessed with any sense of humour
+at all. The Carrs were untroubled, and Elaine
+appeared as usual, except for her haughty indifference
+to Mr. Perkins. She thought he
+had written a letter to himself and slipped it
+under her door, in order to compel her to
+speak to him, but she had tactfully avoided
+that difficulty by leaving it on his own threshold.
+Dick&#8217;s eyes were dancing and at intervals
+his mirth bubbled over, needlessly, as
+every one else appeared to think.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I doesn&#8217;t know wot folks finds to laugh
+at,&#8221; remarked Mrs. Smithers, as she brought
+in the coffee; &#8220;that&#8217;s wot I doesn&#8217;t. It&#8217;s a
+solemn time, I take it, when the sheeted spectres
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_247' name='page_247'></a>247</span>
+of the dead walks abroad by night, that&#8217;s
+wot it is. It&#8217;s time for folks to be thinkin&#8217;
+about their immortal souls.&#8221;</p>
+<p>This enigmatical utterance produced a startling
+effect. Mr. Perkins turned a pale green
+and hastily excused himself, his breakfast
+wholly untouched. Mrs. Holmes dropped
+her fork and recovered it in evident confusion.
+Mrs. Dodd&#8217;s face was a bright scarlet and appeared
+about to burst, but she kept her lips
+compressed into a thin, tight line. Uncle Israel
+nodded over his predigested food. &#8220;Just
+so,&#8221; he mumbled; &#8220;a solemn time.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Eagerly watching for an opportunity, Mrs.
+Holmes dived into the barn, and emerged,
+cautiously, with the spade concealed under
+her skirts. She carried it into her own apartment
+and hid it under Willie&#8217;s bed. Mrs.
+Smithers went to look for it a little later, and,
+discovering that it was unaccountably missing,
+excavated her own private spade from beneath
+the hay. During the afternoon, the poet was
+observed lashing the fire-shovel to the other
+end of a decrepit rake. Uncle Israel, after a
+fruitless search of the premises, actually went
+to town and came back with a bulky and awkward
+parcel, which he hid in the shrubbery.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_248' name='page_248'></a>248</span></p>
+<p>Meanwhile, Willie had gone whimpering
+to Mrs. Dodd, who was in serious trouble of
+her own. &#8220;I&#8217;m afraid,&#8221; he admitted, when
+closely questioned.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Afraid of what?&#8221; demanded his counsellor,
+sharply.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m afraid of ma,&#8221; sobbed Willie. &#8220;She&#8217;s
+a-goin&#8217; to bury me. She&#8217;s got the spade hid
+under my bed now.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Sudden emotion completely changed Mrs.
+Dodd&#8217;s countenance. &#8220;There, there, Willie,&#8221;
+she said, stroking him kindly. &#8220;Where is
+your ma?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;She&#8217;s out in the orchard with Ebbie and
+Rebbie.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well now, deary, don&#8217;t you say nothin&#8217;
+at all to your ma, an&#8217; we&#8217;ll fool her. The
+idea of buryin&#8217; a nice little boy like you! You
+just go an&#8217; get me that spade an&#8217; I&#8217;ll hide it
+in my room. Then, when your ma asks for
+it, you don&#8217;t know nothin&#8217; about it. See?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Willie&#8217;s troubled face brightened, and presently
+the implement was under Mrs. Dodd&#8217;s
+own bed, and her door locked. Much relieved
+in his mind and cherishing kindly sentiments
+toward his benefactor, Willie slid down the
+banisters, unrebuked, the rest of the afternoon.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_249' name='page_249'></a>249</span></p>
+<p>Meanwhile Mrs. Dodd sat on the porch and
+meditated. &#8220;I&#8217;d never have thought,&#8221; she
+said to herself, &#8220;that Ebeneezer would intend
+that Holmes woman to have any of it, but
+you never can tell what folks&#8217;ll do when their
+minds gets to failin&#8217; at the end. Ebeneezer&#8217;s
+mind must have failed dretful, for I know he
+didn&#8217;t make no promise to her, same as he
+did to me, an&#8217; if she don&#8217;t suspect nothin&#8217;,
+what did she go an&#8217; get the spade for? Dretful
+likely hand it is, for spirit writin&#8217;.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Looking about furtively to make sure that
+she was not observed, Mrs. Dodd drew out
+of the mysterious recesses of her garments,
+the crumpled communication of the night before.
+It was dated, &#8220;Heaven, August 12th,&#8221;
+and the penmanship was Uncle Ebeneezer&#8217;s
+to the life.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dear Belinda,&#8221; it read. &#8220;I find myself
+at the last moment obliged to change my
+plans. If you will go to the orchard at exactly
+twelve o&#8217;clock on the night of August
+13th, you will find there what you seek. Go
+straight ahead to the ninth row of apple trees,
+then seven trees to the left. A cat&#8217;s skull
+hangs from the lower branch, if it hasn&#8217;t
+blown down or been taken away. Dig here
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_250' name='page_250'></a>250</span>
+and you will find a tin box containing what I
+have always meant you to have.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I charge you by all you hold sacred to
+obey these directions in every particular, and
+unless you want to lose it all, to say nothing
+about it to any one who may be in the house.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I am sorry to put you to this inconvenience,
+but the limitations of the spirit
+world cannot well be explained to mortals. I
+hope you will make a wise use of the money
+and not spend it all on clothes, as women are
+apt to do.</p>
+<p>&#8220;In conclusion, let me say that I am very
+happy in heaven, though it is considerably
+more quiet than any place I ever lived in before.
+I have met a great many friends here,
+but no relatives except my wife. Farewell,
+as I shall probably never see you again.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yours,</p>
+<div class='ra'>
+<p><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>&#8220;Ebeneezer Judson.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<p>&#8220;P.S. All of your previous husbands are
+here, in the sunny section set aside for martyrs.
+None of them give you a good reputation.</p>
+<div class='ra'>
+<p>&#8220;E. J.&#8221;</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t it beat all,&#8221; muttered Mrs. Dodd to
+herself, excitedly. &#8220;Here was Ebeneezer at
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_251' name='page_251'></a>251</span>
+my door last night, an&#8217; I never knowed it.
+Sakes alive, if I had knowed it, I wouldn&#8217;t
+have slep&#8217; like I did. Here comes that Holmes
+hussy. Wonder what she knows!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you believe in spirits, Mrs. Dodd?&#8221;
+inquired Mrs. Holmes, in a careless tone that
+did not deceive her listener.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Depends,&#8221; returned the other, with an
+evident distaste for the subject.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you believe spirits can walk?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I ain&#8217;t never seen no spirits walk, but I&#8217;ve
+seen folks try to walk that was full of spirits,
+and there wa&#8217;n&#8217;t no visible improvement in
+their steppin&#8217;.&#8221; This was a pleasant allusion
+to the departed Mr. Holmes, who was currently
+said to have &#8220;drunk hisself to death.&#8221;</p>
+<p>A scarlet flush, which mounted to the roots
+of Mrs. Holmes&#8217;s hair, indicated that the shot
+had told, and Mrs. Dodd went to her own
+room, where she carefully locked herself in.
+She was determined to sit upon her precious
+spade until midnight, if it were necessary, to
+keep it.</p>
+<p>Mrs. Smithers was sitting up in bed with
+the cold perspiration oozing from every pore,
+when the kitchen clock struck twelve sharp,
+quick strokes. The other clocks in the house
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_252' name='page_252'></a>252</span>
+took up the echo and made merry with it.
+The grandfather&#8217;s clock in the hall was the
+last to strike, and the twelve deep-toned notes
+boomed a solemn warning which, to more
+than one quaking listener, bore a strong suggestion
+of another world&mdash;an uncanny world
+at that.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Guess I&#8217;ll go along,&#8221; said Dick to himself,
+yawning and stretching. &#8220;I might just
+as well see the fun.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mrs. Smithers, with her private spade and
+her odorous lantern, was at the spot first,
+closely seconded by Mrs. Dodd, in a voluminous
+garment of red flannel which had
+seen all of its best days and not a few of its
+worst. Trembling from head to foot, came
+Mrs. Holmes, carrying a pair of shears, which
+she had snatched up at the last moment when
+she discovered the spade was missing. Mr.
+Perkins, fully garbed, appeared with his improvised
+shovel. Uncle Israel, in his piebald
+dressing-gown, tottered along in the rear,
+bearing his spade, still unwrapped, his bedroom
+candle, and a box of matches. Dick
+surveyed the scene from a safe, shadowy
+distance, and on a branch near the skull,
+Claudius Tiberius was stretched at full length,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_253' name='page_253'></a>253</span>
+purring with a loud, resonant purr which
+could be heard from afar.</p>
+<p>After the first shock of surprise, which was
+especially keen on the part of Mrs. Dodd,
+when she saw Uncle Israel in the company,
+Mrs. Smithers broke the silence.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s nothink more nor a wild-goose
+chase,&#8221; she said, resentfully. &#8220;A-gettin&#8217; us
+all out&#8217;n our beds at this time o&#8217; night! It&#8217;s
+a sufferin&#8217; and dyin&#8217; shame, that&#8217;s wot it is,
+and if sperrits was like other folks, &#8217;t wouldn&#8217;t
+&#8217;ave happened.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sarah,&#8221; said Mrs. Dodd, firmly, &#8220;keep
+your mouth shut. Israel, will you dig?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ll all dig,&#8221; said Mrs. Holmes, in the
+voice of authority, and thereafter the dirt flew
+briskly enough, accompanied by the laboured
+breathing of perspiring humanity.</p>
+<p>It was Uncle Israel&#8217;s spade that first touched
+the box, and, with a cry of delight, he stooped
+for it, as did everybody else. By sheer force
+of muscle, Mrs. Dodd got it away from him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;This wrangle,&#8221; sighed Mr. Perkins, &#8220;is
+both unseemly and sordid. Let us all agree
+to abide by dear Uncle Ebeneezer&#8217;s last bequests.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;There won&#8217;t be no desire not to abide by
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_254' name='page_254'></a>254</span>
+&#8217;em,&#8221; snorted Mrs. Smithers, &#8220;wot with cats
+as can&#8217;t stay buried and sheeted spectres of
+the dead a-walkin&#8217; through the house by
+night!&#8221;</p>
+<p>By this time, Mrs. Dodd had the box open,
+and a cry of astonishment broke from her
+lips. Several heads were badly bumped in
+the effort to peep into the box, and an unprotected
+sneeze from Uncle Israel added to the
+general unpleasantness.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You can all go away,&#8221; cried Mrs. Dodd,
+shrilly. &#8220;There&#8217;s two one-dollar bills here,
+two quarters, an&#8217; two nickels an&#8217; eight pennies.
+&#8217;T aint nothin&#8217; to be fit over.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But the letter,&#8221; suggested Mr. Perkins,
+hopefully. &#8220;Is there not a letter from dear
+Uncle Ebeneezer? Let us gather around the
+box in a reverent spirit and listen to dear
+Uncle Ebeneezer&#8217;s last words.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You can read &#8217;em,&#8221; snapped Mrs. Holmes,
+&#8220;if you&#8217;re set on hearing.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Uncle Israel wheezed so loudly that for the
+moment he drowned the deep purr of Claudius
+Tiberius. When quiet was restored, Mr.
+Perkins broke the seal of the envelope and
+unfolded the communication within. Uncle
+Israel held the dripping candle on one side
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_255' name='page_255'></a>255</span>
+and Mrs. Smithers the smoking lantern on the
+other, while near by, Dick watched the midnight
+assembly with an unholy glee which,
+in spite of his efforts, nearly became audible.</p>
+<p>&#8220;How beautiful,&#8221; said Mr. Perkins, &#8220;to
+think that dear Uncle Ebeneezer&#8217;s last words
+should be given to us in this unexpected but
+original way.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Shut up,&#8221; said Mrs. Smithers, emphatically,
+&#8220;and read them last words. I&#8217;m
+gettin&#8217; the pneumony now, that&#8217;s wot I
+am.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re the only one,&#8221; chirped Mrs. Dodd,
+hysterically. &#8220;The money in this here box
+is all old.&#8221; It was, indeed. Mr. Judson
+seemed to have purposely chosen ragged bills
+and coins worn smooth.</p>
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Dear Relations,&#8217;&#8221; began Mr. Perkins.
+&#8220;&#8216;As every one of you have at one time or
+another routed me out of bed to let you in
+when you have come to my house on the
+night train, and always uninvited&mdash;&mdash;&#8217;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I never did,&#8221; interrupted Mrs. Holmes.
+&#8220;I always came in the daytime.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nobody ain&#8217;t come at night,&#8221; explained
+Mrs. Smithers, &#8220;since &#8217;e fixed the &#8217;ouse over
+into a face. One female fainted dead away
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_256' name='page_256'></a>256</span>
+when &#8217;er started up the hill and see it a-winkin&#8217;
+at &#8217;er, yes sir, that&#8217;s wot &#8217;er did!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;It seems only fitting and appropriate,&#8217;&#8221;
+continued Mr. Perkins, &#8220;&#8216;that you should all
+see how it seems.&#8217;&#8221; The poet wiped his
+massive brow with his soiled handkerchief.
+&#8220;Dear uncle!&#8221; he commented.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; wheezed Uncle Israel, &#8220;&#8216;dear uncle!&#8217;
+Damn his stingy old soul,&#8221; he added, with
+uncalled-for emphasis.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It gives me pleasure to explain in this
+fashion my disposal of my estate,&#8221; the reader
+went on, huskily.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Of all the connection on both sides, there
+is only one that has never been to see me,
+unless I&#8217;ve forgotten some, and that is my
+beloved nephew, James Harlan Carr.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Him,&#8221; creaked Uncle Israel. &#8220;Him, as
+never see Ebeneezer.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He has never,&#8221; continued the poet, with
+difficulty, &#8220;rung my door bell at night, nor
+eaten me out of house and home, nor written
+begging letters&mdash;&#8221; this phrase was well-nigh
+inaudible&mdash;&#8220;nor had fits on me&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>Here there was a pause and all eyes were
+fastened upon Uncle Israel.</p>
+<p>&#8220;&#8217;T wa&#8217;n&#8217;t a fit!&#8221; he screamed. &#8220;It was
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_257' name='page_257'></a>257</span>
+a involuntary spasm brought on by takin&#8217;
+two searchin&#8217; medicines too near together.
+&#8217;T wa&#8217;n&#8217;t a fit!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nor children&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The idea!&#8221; snapped Mrs. Holmes. &#8220;Poor
+little Ebbie and Rebbie had to be born somewhere.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nor paralysis&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That was Cousin Si Martin,&#8221; said Mrs.
+Dodd, half to herself. &#8220;He was took bad
+with it in the night.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He has never come to spend Christmas
+with me and remained until the ensuing dog
+days, nor sent me a crayon portrait of himself&#8221;&mdash;Mr.
+Perkins faltered here, but nobly
+went on&mdash;&#8220;nor had typhoid fever, nor finished
+up his tuberculosis, nor cut teeth, nor
+set the house on fire with a bath cabinet&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>At this juncture Uncle Israel was so overcome
+with violent emotion that it was some
+time before the reading could proceed.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Never having come into any kind of relations
+with my dear nephew, James Harlan
+Carr,&#8221; continued Mr. Perkins, in troubled
+tones, &#8220;I have shown my gratitude in this
+humble way. To him I give the house and
+all my furniture, my books and personal effects
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_258' name='page_258'></a>258</span>
+of every kind, my farm in Hill County, two
+thousand acres, all improved and clear of incumbrance,
+except blooded stock,&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I never knowed &#8217;e &#8217;ad no farm,&#8221; interrupted
+Mrs. Smithers.</p>
+<p>&#8220;And the ten thousand and eighty-four
+dollars in the City Bank which at this writing
+is there to my credit, but will be duly transferred,
+and my dear Rebecca&#8217;s diamond pin to
+be given to my beloved nephew&#8217;s wife when
+he marries. It is all in my will, which my
+dear friend Jeremiah Bradford has, and which
+he will read at the proper time to those
+concerned.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The old snake!&#8221; shrieked Mrs. Holmes.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Further,&#8221; went on the poet, almost past
+speech by this time, &#8220;I direct that the remainder
+of my estate, which is here in this
+box, shall be divided as follows:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Eight cents each to that loafer, Si Martin,
+his lazy wife, and their eight badly brought-up
+children, with instructions to be generous
+to any additions to said children through matrimony
+or natural causes; Fanny Wood and
+that poor, white-livered creature she married,
+thereby proving her own idiocy if it needed
+proof; Uncle James&#8217;s cross-eyed third wife
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_259' name='page_259'></a>259</span>
+and her two silly daughters; Rebecca&#8217;s sister&#8217;s
+scoundrelly second husband, with his
+foolish wife and their little boy with a face
+like a pug dog; Uncle Jason, who has needed
+a bath ever since I knew him&mdash;I want he
+should spend his legacy for soap&mdash;and his epileptic
+stepson, whose name I forget, though
+he lived with me five years hand-running;
+lying Sally Simmons and her half-witted
+daughter; that old hen, Belinda Dodd; that
+skunk, Harold Vernon Perkins, who never
+did a stroke of honest work in his life till he
+began to dig for this box; monkey-faced Lucretia
+and the four thieving little Riley children,
+who are likely to get into prison when they
+grow up; that human undertaker&#8217;s waggon,
+Betsey Skiles, and her two impudent nieces;
+that grand old perambulating drug store, Israel
+Skiles; that Holmes fool with the three
+reprints of her ugliness&mdash;eight cents apiece,
+and may you get all possible good out of it.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dick Chester, however, having always
+paid his board, and tried to be a help to me in
+several small ways, and in spite of having
+lived with me eight Summers or more without
+having been asked to do so, gets two
+thousand two hundred and fifty dollars which
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_260' name='page_260'></a>260</span>
+is deposited for him in the savings department
+of the Metropolitan Bank, plus the three hundred
+and seventy dollars he paid me for board
+without my asking him for it. Sarah Smithers,
+being in the main a good woman, though
+sharp-tongued at times, and having been faithful
+all the time my house has been full of lowdown
+cusses too lazy to work for their living,
+gets twelve hundred and fifty dollars which is
+in the same bank as Dick&#8217;s. The rest of you
+take your eight cents apiece and be damned.
+You can get the money changed at the store.
+If any have been left out, it is my desire that
+those remembered should divide with the
+unfortunate.</p>
+<p>&#8220;If you had not all claimed to be Rebecca&#8217;s
+relatives, you would have been kicked out of
+my house years ago, but since writing this, I
+have seen Rebecca and made it right with
+her. It was not her desire that I should be
+imposed upon.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Get out of my house, every one of you,
+before noon to-morrow, and the devil has my
+sincere sympathy when you go to live with
+him and make hell what you have made my
+house ever since Rebecca&#8217;s death. <span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Get out!!!</span></p>
+<div class='ra'>
+<p>&#8220;<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Ebeneezer Judson.</span>&#8221;</p>
+</div>
+
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_261' name='page_261'></a>261</span></div>
+<p>The letter was badly written and incoherent,
+yet there could be no doubt of its
+meaning, nor of the state of mind in which
+it had been penned. For a moment, there
+was a tense silence, then Mrs. Dodd tittered
+hysterically.</p>
+<p>&#8220;We thought diamonds was goin&#8217; to be
+trumps,&#8221; she observed, &#8220;an&#8217; it turned out to
+be spades.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Uncle Israel wheezed again and Mrs. Smithers
+smacked her lips with intense satisfaction.
+Mrs. Holmes was pale with anger, and, under
+cover of the night, Dick sneaked back to his
+room, shame-faced, yet happy. Claudius
+Tiberius still purred, sticking his claws into
+the bark with every evidence of pleasure.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I do not know,&#8221; said Mr. Perkins, sadly,
+running his fingers through his mane,
+&#8220;whether we are obliged to take as final
+these vagaries of a dying man. Dear Uncle
+Ebeneezer could not have been sane when he
+penned this cruel letter. I do not believe it
+was his desire to have any of us go away before
+the usual time.&#8221; Under cover of these forgiving
+sentiments, he pocketed all the money
+in the box.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Me neither,&#8221; said Mrs. Dodd. &#8220;Anyhow,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_262' name='page_262'></a>262</span>
+I&#8217;m goin&#8217; to stay. No sheeted spectre can&#8217;t
+scare me away from a place I&#8217;ve always stayed
+in Summers, &#8217;specially,&#8221; she added, sarcastically,
+&#8220;when I&#8217;m remembered in the will.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mrs. Smithers clucked disagreeably and went
+back to the house. Uncle Israel looked after
+her with dismay. &#8220;Do you suppose,&#8221; he
+queried, in falsetto, &#8220;that she&#8217;ll tell the
+Carrs?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hush, Israel,&#8221; replied Mrs. Dodd. &#8220;She
+can&#8217;t tell them Carrs about our diggin&#8217; all night
+in the orchard, &#8217;cause she was here herself.
+They didn&#8217;t get no spirit communication
+an&#8217; they won&#8217;t suspect nothin&#8217;. We&#8217;ll just
+stay where we be an&#8217; go on &#8217;s if nothin&#8217; had
+happened.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Indeed, this seemed the wisest plan, and,
+shivering with the cold, the baffled ones filed
+back to the Jack-o&#8217;-Lantern. &#8220;How did you
+get out, Israel?&#8221; whispered Mrs. Dodd, as
+they approached the house.</p>
+<p>The old man snickered. It was the only
+moment of the evening he had thoroughly enjoyed.
+&#8220;The same spirit that give me the
+letter, Belinda,&#8221; he returned, pleasantly, &#8220;also
+give me a key. You didn&#8217;t think I had no
+flyin&#8217; machine, did you?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_263' name='page_263'></a>263</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Humph&#8221; grunted Mrs. Dodd. &#8220;Spirits
+don&#8217;t carry no keys!&#8221;</p>
+<p>At the threshold they paused, the sensitive
+poet quite unstrung by the night&#8217;s adventure.
+From the depths of the Jack-o&#8217;-Lantern came
+a shrill, infantile cry.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is that Ebbie,&#8221; asked Mrs. Dodd, &#8220;or
+Rebbie?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mrs. Holmes turned upon her with suppressed
+fury. &#8220;Don&#8217;t you ever dare to allude
+to my children in that manner again,&#8221; she
+commanded, hoarsely.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What is their names?&#8221; quavered Uncle
+Israel, lighting his candle.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Their names,&#8221; returned Mrs. Holmes, with
+a vast accession of dignity, &#8220;are Gladys Gwendolen
+and Algernon Paul! Good night!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Just before dawn, a sheeted spectre appeared
+at the side of Sarah Smither&#8217;s bed, and
+swore the trembling woman to secrecy. It
+was long past sunrise before the frightened
+handmaiden came to her senses enough to recall
+that the voice of the apparition had been
+strangely like Mrs. Dodd&#8217;s.</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='XVI_GOOD_FORTUNE' id='XVI_GOOD_FORTUNE'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_264' name='page_264'></a>264</span>
+<h2>XVI</h2>
+<h3>Good Fortune</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>The next morning, Harlan and Dorothy ate
+breakfast by themselves. There was
+suppressed excitement in the manner of Mrs.
+Smithers, who by this time had quite recovered
+from her fright, and, as they readily saw,
+not wholly of an unpleasant kind. From time
+to time she tittered audibly&mdash;a thing which
+had never happened before.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s just as if a tombstone should giggle,&#8221;
+remarked Harlan. His tone was low, but
+unfortunately, it carried well.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Tombstone or not, just as you like,&#8221; responded
+Mrs. Smithers, as she came in with
+the bacon. &#8220;I&#8217;d be careful &#8217;ow I spoke disrespectfully
+of tombstones if I was in your
+places, that&#8217;s wot I would. Tombstones is
+kind to some and cussed to others, that&#8217;s wot
+they are, and if you don&#8217;t like the monument
+wot&#8217;s at present in your kitchen, you know
+wot you can do.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_265' name='page_265'></a>265</span></p>
+<p>After breakfast, she beckoned Dorothy into
+the kitchen, and &#8220;gave notice.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, Mrs. Smithers,&#8221; cried Dorothy, almost
+moved to tears, &#8220;please don&#8217;t leave me
+in the lurch! What should I do without you,
+with all these people on my hands? Don&#8217;t
+think of such a thing as leaving me!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Miss Carr,&#8221; said Mrs. Smithers, solemnly,
+with one long bony finger laid alongside of
+her hooked nose, &#8220;&#8217;t ain&#8217;t necessary for you
+to run no Summer hotel, that&#8217;s what it ain&#8217;t.
+These &#8217;ere all be relations of your uncle&#8217;s wife
+and none of his&#8217;n except by marriage. Wot&#8217;s
+more, your uncle don&#8217;t want &#8217;em &#8217;ere, that&#8217;s
+wot &#8217;e don&#8217;t.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mrs. Smithers&#8217;s tone was so confident that
+for the moment Dorothy was startled, remembering
+yesterday&#8217;s vague allusion to &#8220;sheeted
+spectres of the dead.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What do you mean?&#8221; she demanded.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Miss Carr,&#8221; returned Mrs. Smithers, with
+due dignity, &#8220;ever since I come &#8217;ere, I&#8217;ve
+been invited to shut my &#8217;ead whenever I
+opened it about that there cat or your uncle
+or anythink, as you well knows. I was never
+one wot was fond of &#8217;avin&#8217; my &#8217;ead shut
+up.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_266' name='page_266'></a>266</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Go on,&#8221; said Dorothy, her curiosity fully
+alive, &#8220;and tell me what you mean.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You gives me your solemn oath, Miss,
+that you won&#8217;t tell me to shut my &#8217;ead?&#8221;
+queried Mrs. Smithers.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Of course,&#8221; returned Dorothy, trying to
+be practical, though the atmosphere was
+sepulchral enough.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, then, you knows wot I told you
+about that there cat. &#8217;E was kilt by your
+uncle, that&#8217;s wot &#8217;e was, and your uncle
+couldn&#8217;t never abide cats. &#8217;E was that feared
+of &#8217;em &#8217;e couldn&#8217;t even bury &#8217;em when they
+was kilt, and one of my duties, Miss, as long
+as I lived with &#8217;im, was buryin&#8217; of cats, and
+until this one, I never come up with one wot
+couldn&#8217;t stay buried, that&#8217;s wot I &#8217;aven&#8217;t.</p>
+<p>&#8220;&#8217;E &#8217;ated &#8217;em like poison, that&#8217;s wot &#8217;e did.
+The week afore your uncle died, he kilt this
+&#8217;ere cat wot&#8217;s chasin&#8217; the chickens now, and
+I buried &#8217;im with my own hands, but could &#8217;e
+stay buried? &#8217;E could not. No sooner is
+your uncle dead and gone than this &#8217;ere cat
+comes back, and it&#8217;s the truth, Miss Carr, for
+where &#8217;e was buried, there ain&#8217;t no sign of a
+cat now. Wot&#8217;s worse, this &#8217;ere cat looks
+per-cisely like your uncle, green eyes, white
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_267' name='page_267'></a>267</span>
+shirt front, black tie and all. It&#8217;s enough to
+give a body the shivers to see &#8217;im a-settin&#8217; on
+the kitchen floor lappin&#8217; up &#8217;is mush and milk,
+the which your uncle was so powerful fond of.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Wot&#8217;s more,&#8221; continued Mrs. Smithers,
+in tones of awe, &#8220;I&#8217;ll a&#8217;most bet my immortal
+soul that if you&#8217;ll dig in the cemetery where
+your uncle was buried good and proper, you
+won&#8217;t find nothin&#8217; but the empty coffin and
+maybe &#8217;is grave clothes. Your uncle&#8217;s been
+livin&#8217; with us all along in that there cat,&#8221; she
+added, triumphantly. &#8220;It&#8217;s &#8217;is punishment,
+for &#8217;e couldn&#8217;t never abide &#8217;em, that&#8217;s wot &#8217;e
+couldn&#8217;t.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mrs. Carr opened her mouth to speak, then,
+remembering her promise, took refuge in
+flight.</p>
+<p>&#8220;&#8217;Er&#8217;s scared,&#8221; muttered Mrs. Smithers,
+&#8220;and no wonder. Wot with cats as can&#8217;t
+stay buried, writin&#8217; letters and deliverin&#8217; &#8217;em
+in the dead of night, and a purrin&#8217; like mad
+while blamed fools digs for eight cents, most
+folks would be scared, I take it, that&#8217;s wot
+they would.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dorothy was pale when she went into the
+library where Harlan was at work. He
+frowned at the interruption and Dorothy
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_268' name='page_268'></a>268</span>
+smiled back at him&mdash;it seemed so normal
+and sane.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What is it, Dorothy?&#8221; he asked, not
+unkindly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh&mdash;just Mrs. Smithers&#8217;s nonsense. She&#8217;s
+upset me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What about, dear?&#8221; Harlan put his work
+aside readily enough now.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, the same old story about the cat and
+Uncle Ebeneezer. And I&#8217;m afraid&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Afraid of what?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I know it&#8217;s foolish, but I&#8217;m afraid she&#8217;s
+going to dig in the cemetery to see if Uncle
+Ebeneezer is still there. She thinks he&#8217;s in
+the cat.&#8221;</p>
+<p>For the moment, Harlan thought Dorothy
+had suddenly lost her reason, then he laughed
+heartily.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t worry,&#8221; he said, &#8220;she won&#8217;t do
+anything of the kind, and, besides, what if
+she did? It&#8217;s a free country, isn&#8217;t it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And&mdash;there&#8217;s another thing, Harlan.&#8221;
+For days she had dreaded to speak of it, but
+now it could be put off no longer.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s&mdash;it&#8217;s money,&#8221; she went on, unwillingly.
+&#8220;I&#8217;m afraid I haven&#8217;t managed
+very well, or else it&#8217;s cost so much for everything,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_269' name='page_269'></a>269</span>
+but we&#8217;re&mdash;we&#8217;re almost broke, Harlan,&#8221;
+she concluded, bravely, trying to smile.</p>
+<p>Harlan put his hands in his pockets and
+began to walk back and forth. &#8220;If I can only
+finish the book,&#8221; he said, at length, &#8220;I think
+we&#8217;ll be all right, but I can&#8217;t leave it now.
+There&#8217;s only two more chapters to write, and
+then&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And then,&#8221; cried Dorothy, her beautiful
+belief in him transfiguring her face, &#8220;then
+we&#8217;ll be rich, won&#8217;t we?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I am already rich,&#8221; returned Harlan,
+&#8220;when you have such faith in me as that.&#8221;</p>
+<p>For a moment the shimmering veil of estrangement
+which so long had hung between
+them, seemed to part, and reveal soul to soul.
+As swiftly the mood changed and Dorothy
+felt it first, like a chill mist in the air. Neither
+dreamed that with the writing of the first
+paragraph in the book, the spell had claimed
+one of them for ever&mdash;that cobweb after cobweb,
+of gossamer fineness, should make a
+fabric never to be broken; that on one side of
+it should stand a man who had exchanged his
+dreams for realities and his realities for dreams,
+and on the other, a woman, blindly hurt,
+eternally straining to see beyond the veil.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_270' name='page_270'></a>270</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;What can we do?&#8221; asked Harlan, unwontedly
+practical for the nonce.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know,&#8221; said Dorothy. &#8220;There are
+the diamonds, you know, that we found. I
+don&#8217;t care for any diamonds, except the one
+you gave me. If we could sell those&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dorothy, don&#8217;t. I don&#8217;t believe they&#8217;re
+ours, and if they were, they shouldn&#8217;t be
+sold. You should keep them.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;My engagement ring, then,&#8221; suggested
+Dorothy, her lips trembling. &#8220;That&#8217;s ours.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t be foolish,&#8221; said Harlan, a little
+roughly. &#8220;I&#8217;ll finish this and then we&#8217;ll see
+what&#8217;s to be done.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Feeling her dismissal, Dorothy went out,
+and, all unknowingly, straight into the
+sunshine.</p>
+<p>Elaine was coming downstairs, fresh and
+sweet as the morning itself. &#8220;Am I too late
+to have any breakfast, Mrs. Carr?&#8221; she asked,
+gaily. &#8220;I know I don&#8217;t deserve any.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Of course you shall have breakfast. I&#8217;ll
+see to it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Elaine took her place at the table and Dorothy,
+reluctant to put further strain on the frail
+bond that anchored Mrs. Smithers to her
+service, brought in the breakfast herself.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_271' name='page_271'></a>271</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re so good to me,&#8221; said the girl,
+gratefully, as Dorothy poured out a cup of
+steaming coffee. &#8220;To think how beautiful
+you&#8217;ve been to me, when I never saw either
+one of you in my whole life, till I came here
+ill and broken-hearted! See what you&#8217;ve
+made of me&mdash;see how well and strong I
+am!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Swiftly, Dorothy bent and kissed Elaine, a
+strange, shadowy cloud for ever lifted from
+her heart. She had not known how heavy it
+was nor how charged with foreboding, until it
+was gone.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I want to do something for you,&#8221; Elaine
+went on, laughing to hide the mist in her
+eyes, &#8220;and I&#8217;ve just thought what I can do.
+My mother had some beautiful old mahogany
+furniture, just loads of it, and some wonderful
+laces, and I&#8217;m going to divide with you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, you&#8217;re not,&#8221; returned Dorothy,
+warmly. She felt that Elaine had already
+given her enough.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It isn&#8217;t meant for payment, Mrs. Carr,&#8221;
+the girl went on, her big blue eyes fixed upon
+Dorothy, &#8220;but you&#8217;re to take it from me just
+as I&#8217;ve taken this lovely Summer from you.
+You took in a stranger, weak and helpless and
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_272' name='page_272'></a>272</span>
+half-crazed with grief, and you&#8217;ve made her
+into a happy woman again.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Before Dorothy could answer, Dick lounged
+in, frankly sleepy. &#8220;Second call in the dining
+car?&#8221; he asked, taking Mrs. Dodd&#8217;s place,
+across the table from Elaine.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Third call,&#8221; returned Dorothy, brightly,
+&#8220;and, if you don&#8217;t mind, I&#8217;ll leave you two to
+wait on yourselves.&#8221; She went upstairs, her
+heart light, not so much from reality as from
+prescience. &#8220;How true it is,&#8221; she thought,
+&#8220;that if you only wait and do the best you
+can, things all work out straight again. I&#8217;ve
+had to learn it, but I know it now.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Bully bunch, the Carrs,&#8221; remarked Dick,
+pushing his cup to Elaine.</p>
+<p>&#8220;They&#8217;re lovely,&#8221; she answered, with
+conviction.</p>
+<p>The sun streamed brightly into the dining-room
+of the Jack-o&#8217;-Lantern and changed its
+hideousness into cheer. Seeing Elaine across
+from him, gracefully pouring his coffee, affected
+Dick strangely. Since the day before, he
+had seen clearly something which he must do.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I say, Elaine,&#8221; he began, awkwardly.
+&#8220;That beast of a poem I read the other
+day&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_273' name='page_273'></a>273</span></p>
+<p>Her face paled, ever so slightly. &#8220;Yes?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, Perkins didn&#8217;t write it, you know,&#8221;
+Dick went on, hastily. &#8220;I did it myself.
+Or, rather I found it, blowing around, outside,
+just as I said, and I fixed it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>At length he became restless under the calm
+scrutiny of Elaine&#8217;s clear eyes. &#8220;I beg your
+pardon,&#8221; he continued.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Did you think,&#8221; she asked, &#8220;that it was
+nice to make fun of a lady in that way?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I didn&#8217;t think,&#8221; returned Dick, truthfully.
+&#8220;I never thought for a minute that it was
+making fun of you, but only of that&mdash;that pup,
+Perkins,&#8221; he concluded, viciously.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Under the circumstances,&#8221; said Elaine,
+ignoring the epithet, &#8220;the silence of Mr. Perkins
+has been very noble. I shall tell him
+so.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do,&#8221; answered Dick, with difficulty.
+&#8220;He&#8217;s ambling up to the lunch-counter
+now.&#8221; Mr. Chester went out by way of the
+window, swallowing hard.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I have just been told,&#8221; said Miss St. Clair to
+the poet, &#8220;that the&mdash;er&mdash;poem was not written
+by you, and I apologise for what I said.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mr. Perkins bowed in acknowledgment.
+&#8220;It is a small matter,&#8221; he said, wearily,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_274' name='page_274'></a>274</span>
+running his fingers through his hair. It was,
+indeed, compared with deep sorrow of a penetrating
+kind, and a sleepless night, but Elaine
+did not relish the comment.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Were&mdash;were you restless in the night?&#8221;
+she asked, conventionally.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I was. I did not sleep at all until after
+four o&#8217;clock, and then only for a few moments.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m sorry. Did&mdash;did you write anything?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I began an epic,&#8221; answered the poet,
+touched, for the moment, by this unexpected
+sympathy. &#8220;An epic in blank verse, on
+&#8216;Disappointment.&#8217;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m sure it&#8217;s beautiful,&#8221; continued Elaine,
+coldly. &#8220;And that reminds me. I have
+hunted through my room, in every possible
+place, and found nothing.&#8221;</p>
+<p>A flood of painful emotion overwhelmed
+the poet, and he buried his face in his hands.
+In a flash, Elaine was violently angry, though
+she could not have told why. She marched
+out of the dining-room and slammed the door.
+&#8220;Delicate, sensitive soul,&#8221; she said to herself,
+scornfully. &#8220;Wants people to hunt for money
+he thinks may be hidden in his room, and yet
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_275' name='page_275'></a>275</span>
+is so far above sordidness that he can&#8217;t hear it
+spoken of!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Seeing Mr. Chester pacing back and forth
+moodily at some distance from the house,
+Elaine rushed out to him. &#8220;Dick,&#8221; she cried,
+&#8220;he <i>is</i> a lobster!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dick&#8217;s clouded face brightened. &#8220;Is he?&#8221;
+he asked, eagerly, knowing instinctively
+whom she meant. &#8220;Elaine, you&#8217;re a brick!&#8221;
+They shook hands in token of absolute agreement
+upon one subject at least, and the girl&#8217;s
+right hand hurt her for some little time
+afterward.</p>
+<p>Left to himself, Mr. Perkins mused upon
+the dread prospect before him. For years he
+had calculated upon a generous proportion
+of his Uncle Ebeneezer&#8217;s estate, and had even
+borrowed money upon the strength of his
+expectations. These debts now loomed up
+inconveniently.</p>
+<p>The vulgar, commercial people from whom
+Mr. Perkins had borrowed filthy coin were
+quite capable of speaking of the matter, and
+in an unpleasant manner at that. The fine
+soul of Mr. Perkins shrank from the ordeal.
+He had that particular disdain of commercialism
+which is inseparable from the incapable
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_276' name='page_276'></a>276</span>
+and unsuccessful, and yet, if the light of his
+genius were to illuminate a desolate world,
+Mr. Perkins must have money.</p>
+<p>He might even have to degrade himself by
+coarse toil&mdash;and hitherto, he had been too
+proud to work. The thought was terrible.
+Pegasus hitched to the plough was nothing
+compared with the prospect of Mr. Perkins
+being obliged to earn three or four dollars a
+week in some humble, common capacity.</p>
+<p>Then a bright idea came to his rescue.
+&#8220;Mr. Carr,&#8221; he thought, &#8220;the gentleman who
+is now entertaining me&mdash;he is doing my own
+kind of work, though of course it is less fine
+in quality. Perhaps he would like the opportunity
+of going down to posterity as the
+humble Mæcenas of a new Horace.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Borne to the library in the rush of this attractive
+idea, Mr. Perkins opened the door,
+which Harlan had forgotten to lock, and without
+in any way announcing himself, broke in
+on Harlan&#8217;s chapter.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What do you mean?&#8221; demanded the
+irate author. &#8220;What business have you butting
+in here like this? Get out!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&mdash;&#8221; stammered Mr. Perkins.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Get out!&#8221; thundered Harlan. It sounded
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_277' name='page_277'></a>277</span>
+strangely like the last phrase of &#8220;dear Uncle
+Ebeneezer&#8217;s last communication,&#8221; and, trembling,
+the disconsolate poet obeyed. He fled
+to his own room as a storm-tossed ship to its
+last harbour, and renewed the composition of
+his epic on &#8220;Disappointment,&#8221; for which, by
+this time, he had additional material.</p>
+<p>Harlan went back to his work, but the
+mood was gone. The living, radiant picture
+had wholly vanished, and in its place was a
+heap of dead, dry, meaningless words. &#8220;Did
+I write it?&#8221; asked Harlan, of himself, &#8220;and
+if so, why?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Like the mocking fantasy of a dream as seen
+in the instant of waking, Elaine and her company
+had gone, as if to return no more. Only
+two chapters were yet to be written, and he
+knew, vaguely, what Elaine was about to do
+when he left her, but his pen had lost the
+trick of writing.</p>
+<p>Deeply troubled, Harlan went to the window,
+where the outer world still had the curious
+appearance of unreality. It was as though
+a sheet of glass were between him and the
+life of the rest of the world. He could see
+through it clearly, but the barrier was there,
+and must always be there. Upon the edge
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_278' name='page_278'></a>278</span>
+of this glass, the light of life should break and
+resolve itself into prismatic colours, of which
+he should see one at a time, now and then
+more, and often a clear, pitiless view of the
+world should give him no colour at all.</p>
+<p>Presently Lawyer Bradford came up the hill,
+dressed for a formal call. In a flash it brought
+back to Harlan the day the old man had first
+come to the Jack-o&#8217;-Lantern, when Dorothy
+was a happy girl with a care-free boy for a
+husband. How much had happened since,
+and how old and grey the world had grown!</p>
+<p>&#8220;I desire to see the distinguished author,
+Mr. Carr,&#8221; the thin, piping voice was saying
+at the door, &#8220;upon a matter of immediate
+and personal importance. And Mrs. Carr
+also, if she is at leisure. Privacy is absolutely
+essential.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Come into the library,&#8221; said Harlan, from
+the doorway. Another interruption made
+no difference now. Dorothy soon followed,
+much mystified by the way in which Mrs.
+Smithers had summoned her.</p>
+<p>Remembering the inopportune intrusion of
+Mr. Perkins, Harlan locked the door. &#8220;Now,
+Mr. Bradford,&#8221; he said, easily, &#8220;what is it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I should have told you before,&#8221; began the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_279' name='page_279'></a>279</span>
+old lawyer, &#8220;had not the bonds of silence
+been laid upon me by one whom we all revere
+and who is now past carrying out his own
+desires. The house is yours, as my letters of
+an earlier date apprised you, and the will is to
+be probated at the Fall term of court.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Your uncle,&#8221; went on Mr. Bradford, unwillingly,
+&#8220;was a great sufferer from&mdash;from
+relations,&#8221; he added, lowering his voice to a
+shrill whisper, &#8220;and he has chosen to revenge
+himself for his sufferings in his own way.
+Of this I am not at liberty to speak, though
+no definite silence was required of me later
+than yesterday.</p>
+<p>&#8220;There is, however, a farm of two thousand
+acres, all improved, which is still to come
+to you, and a sum of money amounting to
+something over ten thousand dollars, in the
+bank to your credit. The multitudinous duties
+in connection with the practice of my profession
+have prevented me from making myself
+familiar with the exact amount.</p>
+<p>&#8220;And,&#8221; he went on, looking at Dorothy,
+&#8220;there is a very beautiful diamond pin, the
+gift of my lamented friend to his lovely young
+wife upon the day of the solemnisation of their
+nuptials, which was to be given to the wife of
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_280' name='page_280'></a>280</span>
+Mr. Judson&#8217;s nephew when he should marry.
+It is sewn in a mattress in the room at the end
+of the north wing.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The earth whirled beneath Dorothy&#8217;s feet.
+At first, she had not fully comprehended what
+Mr. Bradford was saying, but now she realised
+that they had passed from pinching poverty
+to affluence&mdash;at least it seemed so to her.
+Harlan was not so readily confused, but none
+the less, he, too, was dazed. Neither of them
+could speak.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I should be grateful,&#8221; the old man was
+saying, &#8220;if you would ask Mr. Richard Chester
+and Mrs. Sarah Smithers to come to my
+office at their earliest convenience. I will not
+trespass upon their valuable time at present.&#8221;</p>
+<p>There was a long silence, during which Mr.
+Bradford cleared his throat, and wiped his
+glasses several times. &#8220;The farm has always
+been held in my name,&#8221; he continued, &#8220;to
+protect our lamented friend and benefactor
+from additional disturbance. If&mdash;if the relations
+had known, his life would have been
+even less peaceful than it was. A further farm,
+valued at twelve thousand dollars, and also
+held in my name, is my friend&#8217;s last gift to
+me, as I discovered by opening a personal
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_281' name='page_281'></a>281</span>
+letter which was to be kept sealed until this
+morning. I did not open it until late in the
+morning, not wishing to show unseemly
+eagerness to pry into my friend&#8217;s affairs. I
+am too much affected to speak of it&mdash;I feel
+his loss too keenly. He was my Colonel&mdash;I
+served under him in the war.&#8221;</p>
+<p>A mist filled the old man&#8217;s eyes and he
+fumbled for the door-knob. Harlan found it
+for him, turned the key, and opened the door.
+Mrs. Dodd, Mrs. Holmes, Mrs. Smithers, and
+the suffering poet were all in the hall, their
+attitudes plainly indicating that they had been
+listening at the door, but something in Mr.
+Bradford&#8217;s face made them huddle back into
+the corner, ashamed.</p>
+<p>Feeling his way with his cane, he went to
+the parlour door, where he stood for a moment
+at the threshold, his streaming eyes
+fixed upon the portrait over the mantel. The
+simple dignity of his grief forbade a word
+from any one. At length he straightened himself,
+brought his trembling hand to his forehead
+in a feeble military salute, and, wiping
+his eyes, tottered off downhill.</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='XVII_THE_LADY_ELAINE_KNOWS_HER_HEART' id='XVII_THE_LADY_ELAINE_KNOWS_HER_HEART'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_282' name='page_282'></a>282</span>
+<h2>XVII</h2>
+<h3>The Lady Elaine knows her Heart</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p><i>It was on a dark and stormy midnight, when
+the thunders boomed and the dread fury of
+the lightnings scarred the overhanging cliffs,
+that the Lady Elaine at last came to know her
+heart.</i></p>
+<p><i>She was in a cave, safe from all but the
+noise of the storm. A cheery fire blazed at
+her door, and her bed within was made soft
+with pine boughs and skins. For weeks they
+had journeyed here and there, yet there had
+been no knight in whose face Elaine could find
+what she sought.</i></p>
+<p><i>As she lay on her couch, she reflected upon
+the faithful wayfarers who had travelled with
+her, who had ever been gentle and courtly,
+saving her from all annoyance and all harm.
+Yet above them all, there was one who, from
+the time of their starting, had kept vigilant
+guard. He was the humblest of them all, but
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_283' name='page_283'></a>283</span>
+it was he who made her rest in shady places by
+the wayside when she herself scarce knew that
+she was weary; had given her cool spring water
+in a cup cunningly woven of leaves before she
+had realised her thirst; had brought her berries
+and strange, luscious fruits before she had
+thought of hunger; and who had cheered her,
+many a time, when no one else had guessed
+that she was sad.</i></p>
+<p><i>Outside, he was guarding her now, all heedless
+of the rain. She could see him dimly in
+the shadow, then, all at once, more clearly in
+the firelight. His head was bowed and his
+arms folded, yet in the strong lines of his
+body there was no hint of weariness. Well
+did the Lady Elaine know that until Dawn spun
+her web of enchantment upon the mysterious
+loom of the East, he would march sleeplessly
+before her door, replenishing the fire, listening
+now and then for her deep breathing,
+and, upon the morrow, gaily tell her of his
+dreams.</i></p>
+<p><i>Dreams they were, indeed, but not the dreams
+of sleep. Upon these midnight marchings,
+her sentinel gave his wandering fancy free
+rein. And because of the dumb pain in his
+heart, these fancies were all the merrier;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_284' name='page_284'></a>284</span>
+more golden with the sun of laughter, more
+gemmed with the pearl of tears.</i></p>
+<p><i>Proud-hearted, yet strangely homesick, the
+Lady Elaine was restless this night. &#8220;I must
+go back,&#8221; she thought, &#8220;to the Castle of Content,
+where my dear father would fain have
+his child again. And yet I dread to go back
+with my errand undone, my quest unrewarded.</i></p>
+<p><i>&#8220;What is it,&#8221; thought Elaine, in sudden
+self-searching, &#8220;that I seek? What must
+this man be, to whom I would surrender the
+keeping of my heart? What do I ask that is
+so hard to find?</i></p>
+<p><i>&#8220;Am I seeking for a god? Nay, surely not,
+but only for a man. Valorous he must be, indeed,
+but not in the lists&mdash;&#8217;tis not a soldier,
+for I have seen them by the hundred since
+I left my home in the valley. &#8217;Tis not a
+model for the tapestry weaver that my heart
+would have, for I have seen the most beautiful
+youths of my country since I came forth upon
+my quest.</i></p>
+<p><i>&#8220;Some one, perchance,&#8221; mused the Lady
+Elaine, &#8220;whose beauty my eyes alone should
+perceive, whose valour only I should guess
+before there was need to test it. Some one great
+of heart and clean of mind, in whose eyes
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_285' name='page_285'></a>285</span>
+there should never be that which makes a
+woman ashamed. Some one fine-fibred and
+strong-souled, not above tenderness when a
+maid was tired. One who should make a
+shield of his love, to keep her not only from
+the great hurts but from the little ones as
+well, and yet with whom she might fare
+onward, shoulder to shoulder, as God meant
+mates should fare.</i></p>
+<p><i>&#8220;Surely &#8217;tis not so unusual, this thing that
+I ask&mdash;only an honest man with human faults
+and human virtues, transfigured by a great
+love. And why is it that in this quest of mine,
+I have found him not?&#8221;</i></p>
+<p><i>&#8220;Princess,&#8221; said a voice at her doorway,
+&#8220;thou art surely still awake. The storm is
+lessening and there is naught to fear. I pray
+thee, try to sleep. And if there is aught I
+can do for thee, thou knowest thou hast only
+to speak.&#8221;</i></p>
+<p><i>From the warm darkness where she lay,
+Elaine saw his face with the firelight upon it,
+and all at once she knew.</i></p>
+<p><i>&#8220;There is naught,&#8221; she answered, with
+what he thought was coldness. &#8220;I bid thee
+leave me and take thine own rest.&#8221;</i></p>
+<p><i>&#8220;As thou wilt,&#8221; he responded, submissively,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_286' name='page_286'></a>286</span>
+but though the sound was now faint
+and far away, she still could hear him walking
+back and forth, keeping his unremitting
+guard.</i></p>
+<p><i>So it was that at last Love came to the Lady
+Elaine. She had dreamed of some fair
+stranger, into whose eyes she should look and
+instantly know him for her lord, never guessing
+that her lord had gone with her when she
+left the Castle of Content. There was none
+of those leaps of the heart of which one of
+the maids at the Castle had read from the
+books while the others worked at the tapestry
+frames. It was nothing new, but only a light
+upon something which had always been, and
+which, because of her own blindness, she had
+not seen.</i></p>
+<p><i>All through this foolish journey, Love had
+ridden beside the Lady Elaine, asking nothing
+but the privilege of serving her; demanding
+only the right to give, to sacrifice, to shield.
+And at last she knew.</i></p>
+<p><i>The doubting in her heart was for ever
+stilled and in its place was a great peace.
+There was an unspeakable tenderness and a
+measureless compassion, so wide and so deep
+that it sheltered all the world. For, strangely
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_287' name='page_287'></a>287</span>
+enough, the love of the many comes first
+through the love of the one.</i></p>
+<p><i>The Lady Elaine did not need to ask whether
+he loved her, for, unerringly, she knew. Mated
+past all power of change, they two were one
+henceforward, though seas should roll between.
+Mated through suffering as well, for, in this
+new bond, as the Lady Elaine dimly perceived,
+there was great possibility of hurt. Yet there
+was no end or no beginning; it simply was, and
+at last she knew.</i></p>
+<p><i>At length, she slept. When she awoke the
+morning was fair upon the mountains, but
+still he paced back and forth before her door.
+Rising, she bathed her face in the cool water
+he had brought her, braided her glorious
+golden hair, changed her soiled habit for a
+fresh robe of white satin traced with gold,
+donned her red embroidered slippers, and
+stepped out into the sunrise, shading her eyes
+with her hand until they grew accustomed to
+the dawn.</i></p>
+<p><i>&#8220;Good morrow, Princess,&#8221; he said.
+&#8220;We&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</i></p>
+<p><i>Of a sudden, he stopped and fled like a
+wild thing into the forest, for by her eyes, he
+saw what was in her heart, and his hot words,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_288' name='page_288'></a>288</span>
+struggling for utterance, choked him. &#8220;At
+last,&#8221; he breathed, with his clenched hands
+on his breast; &#8220;at last&mdash;but no, &#8217;tis another
+dream of mine that I dare not believe.&#8221;</i></p>
+<p><i>His senses reeled, for love comes not to a
+man as to a woman, but rather with the sound
+of trumpets and the glare of white light. The
+cloistered peace that fills her soul rests seldom
+upon him, and instead he is stirred with high
+ambition and spurred on to glorious achievement.
+For to her, love is the end of life; to
+him it is the means.</i></p>
+<p><i>The knights thought it but another caprice
+when the Lady Elaine gave orders to return to
+the Castle of Content, at once, and by the
+shortest way&mdash;all save one of them. With
+his heart rioting madly through his breast, he
+knew, but he did not dare to look at Elaine.
+He was as one long blinded, who suddenly sees
+the sun.</i></p>
+<p><i>So it was that though he still served her, he
+rode no longer by her side, and Elaine, hurt
+at first, at length understood, and smiled
+because of her understanding. All the way
+back, the Lady Elaine sang little songs to herself,
+and, the while she rode upon her palfrey,
+touched her zither into gentle harmonies.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_289' name='page_289'></a>289</span>
+After many days, they came within sight of
+the Castle of Content.</i></p>
+<p><i>As before, it was sunset, and the long light
+lay upon the hills, while the valley was in
+shadow. Purple were the  vineyards, heavy
+with their clustered treasure, over which the
+tiny weavers had made their lace, and purple,
+too, were the many-spired cliffs, behind which
+the sunset shone.</i></p>
+<p><i>A courier, riding swiftly in advance, had
+apprised the Lord of the Castle of Content
+of the return of the Lady Elaine, and the
+maids from the tapestry room, and the keeper
+of the wine-cellar, and the stable-boys, and
+the candle-makers, and the light-bearers all
+rushed out, heedless of their manners, for,
+one and all, they loved the Lady Elaine, and
+were eager to behold their beautiful mistress
+again.</i></p>
+<p><i>But the Lord of the Castle of Content, speaking
+somewhat sternly, ordered them one and
+all back to their places, and, shamefacedly,
+they obeyed. &#8220;I would not be selfish,&#8221; he
+muttered to himself, &#8220;but surely, Elaine is
+mine, and the first gleam of her beauty belongs
+of right to these misty old eyes of mine, that
+have long strained across the dark for the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_290' name='page_290'></a>290</span>
+first hint of her coming. Of a truth her
+quest has been long.&#8221;</i></p>
+<p><i>So it came to pass that when the company
+reached the road that led down into the valley,
+the Lord of the Castle of Content was on
+the portico alone, though he could not have
+known that behind every shuttered window of
+the Castle, a humble servitor of Elaine&#8217;s was
+waiting anxiously for her coming.</i></p>
+<p><i>As before, Elaine rode at the head, waving
+her hand to her father, while the cymbals
+and the bugles crashed out a welcome. She
+could not see, but she guessed that he was
+there, and in return he waved a tremulous
+hand at her, though well he knew that in the
+fast gathering twilight, the child of his heart
+could not see the one who awaited her.</i></p>
+<p><i>One by one, as they came in single file down
+the precipice, the old man counted them, much
+astonished to see that there was no new member
+of the company&mdash;that as many were coming
+back as had gone away. For the moment his
+heart was glad, then he reproached himself
+bitterly for his selfishness, and was truthfully
+most tender toward Elaine, because she had
+failed upon her quest.</i></p>
+<p><i>The light gleamed capriciously upon the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_291' name='page_291'></a>291</span>
+bauble of the fool, which he still carried,
+though now it hung downward from his
+saddle, foolishly enough. &#8220;A most merry
+fool,&#8221; said the Lord of Content to himself.
+&#8220;I was wise to insist upon his accompanying
+this wayward child of mine.&#8221;</i></p>
+<p><i>Wayward she might be, yet her father&#8217;s
+eyes were dim when she came down into the
+valley, where there was no light save the
+evening star, a taper light at an upper window
+of the Castle, and her illumined face.</i></p>
+<p><i>&#8220;How hast thou fared upon thy quest,
+Elaine?&#8221; he asked in trembling tones, when
+at last she released herself from his eager
+embrace. He dreaded to hear her make known
+her disappointment, yet his sorrow was all for
+her, and not in the least for himself.</i></p>
+<p><i>&#8220;I have found him, father,&#8221; she said, the
+gladness in her voice betraying itself as surely
+as the music in a stream when Spring sets it
+free again, &#8220;and, forsooth, he rode with me
+all the time.&#8221;</i></p>
+<p><i>&#8220;Which knight hast thou chosen, Elaine?&#8221;
+he asked, a little sadly.</i></p>
+<p><i>&#8220;No knight at all, dear father. I have
+found my knight in stranger guise than in
+armour and shield. He bears no lance, save
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_292' name='page_292'></a>292</span>
+for those who would injure me.&#8221; And then,
+she beckoned to the fool.</i></p>
+<p><i>&#8220;He is here, my father,&#8221; she went on, her
+great love making her all unconscious of the
+shame she should feel.</i></p>
+<p><i>&#8220;Elaine!&#8221; thundered her father, while
+the fool hung his head, &#8220;hast thou taken
+leave of thy senses? Of a truth, this is a
+sorry jest thou hast chosen to greet me with
+on thy return.&#8221;</i></p>
+<p><i>&#8220;Father,&#8221; said Elaine, made bold by the
+silent pressure of the hand that secretly
+clasped hers, &#8220;&#8217;tis no jest. If thou art
+pained, indeed I am sorry, but if thou choosest
+to banish me, then this night will I go gladly
+with him I have chosen to be my lord. The
+true heart which Heaven has sent for me beats
+beneath his motley, and with him I must go.
+Dear father,&#8221; cried Elaine, piteously, &#8220;do
+not send us away!&#8221;</i></p>
+<p><i>The stern eyes of the Lord of the Castle of
+Content were fixed upon the fool, and in
+the gathering darkness they gleamed like live
+coals. &#8220;And thou,&#8221; he said, scornfully;
+&#8220;what hast thou to say?&#8221;</i></p>
+<p><i>&#8220;Only this,&#8221; answered the fool; &#8220;that the
+Princess has spoken truly. We are mated by
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_293' name='page_293'></a>293</span>
+a higher law than that of thy land or mine,
+and &#8217;tis this law that we must obey. If thou
+sayest the word, we will set forth to my country
+this very night, though we are both weary with
+much journeying.&#8221;</i></p>
+<p><i>&#8220;Thy land,&#8221; said the Lord of the Castle,
+with measureless contempt, &#8220;and what land
+hast thou? Even the six feet of ground thou
+needest for a grave must be given thee at the
+last, unless, perchance, thou hast a handful
+of stolen earth hidden somewhere among thy
+other jewels!&#8221;</i></p>
+<p><i>&#8220;Your lordship,&#8221; cried the fool, with a
+clear ring in his voice, &#8220;thou shall not speak
+so to the man who is to wed thy daughter. I
+had not thought to tell even her till after the
+priests had made us one, but for our own protection,
+I am stung into speech.</i></p>
+<p><i>&#8220;Know then, that I am no fool, but a Prince
+of the House of Bernard. My acres and my
+vineyards cover five times the space of this
+little realm of thine. Chests of gold and
+jewels I have, storehouses overflowing with
+grain and fine fabrics, three castles and a
+royal retinue. Of a truth, thou art blind
+since thou canst see naught but the raiment.
+May not a Prince wear motley if he chooses,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_294' name='page_294'></a>294</span>
+thus to find a maid who will love him for
+himself alone?&#8221;</i></p>
+<p><i>&#8220;Prince Bernard,&#8221; muttered the Lord of
+Content, &#8220;the son of my old friend, whom I
+have long dreamed in secret shouldst wed my
+dear daughter Elaine! Your Highness, I beg
+you to forgive me, and to take my hand.&#8221;</i></p>
+<p><i>But Prince Bernard did not hear, nor see
+the outstretched hand, for Elaine was in his
+arms for the first time, her sweet lips close on
+his. &#8220;My Prince, oh my Prince,&#8221; she murmured,
+when at length he set her free; &#8220;my
+eyes could not see, but my heart knew!&#8221;</i></p>
+<p><i>So ended the Quest of the Lady Elaine.</i></p>
+<p>With a sigh, Harlan wrote the last words
+and pushed the paper from him, staring
+blankly at the wall and seeing nothing. His
+labour was at an end, all save the final copying,
+and the painstaking daily revision which
+would take weeks longer. The exaltation he
+had expected to be conscious of was utterly
+absent; instead of it, he had a sense of loss,
+of change.</p>
+<p>His surroundings seemed hopelessly sordid
+and ugly, now that the glow was gone. All
+unknowingly, when Harlan pencilled: &#8220;The
+End,&#8221; in fanciful letters at the bottom of the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_295' name='page_295'></a>295</span>
+last page, he had had practically his last joy of
+his book. The torturing process of revision
+was to take all the life out of it. Sentences
+born of surging emotion would seem vapid
+and foolish when subjected to the cold, critical
+eye of his reason, yet he knew, dimly, that he
+must not change it too much.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll let it get cool,&#8221; he thought, &#8220;before I
+do anything more to it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Yet, now, it was difficult to stop working.
+The rented typewriter, with its enticing
+bank of keys, was close at hand. A thousand
+sheets of paper and a box of carbon waited in
+the drawer of Uncle Ebeneezer&#8217;s desk. His
+worn <i>Thesaurus of English Words and
+Phrases</i> was at his elbow. And they were
+poor. Then Harlan laughed, for they were no
+longer poor, and he had wholly forgotten it.</p>
+<p>There was a step upon the porch outside,
+then Dorothy came into the hall. She paused
+outside the library door for a moment, ostensibly
+to tie her shoe, but in reality to listen.
+A wave of remorseful tenderness overwhelmed
+Harlan and he unlocked the door.
+&#8220;Come in,&#8221; he said, smiling. &#8220;You needn&#8217;t
+be afraid to come in any more. The book is
+all done.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_296' name='page_296'></a>296</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;O Harlan, is it truly done?&#8221; There
+was no gladness in her voice, only relief.
+Doubt was in every intonation of her sentence;
+incredulity in every line of her body.</p>
+<p>With this pitiless new insight of his, Harlan
+saw how she had felt for these last weeks and
+became very tenderly anxious not to hurt her;
+to shield his transformed self from her quick
+understanding.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Really,&#8221; he answered. &#8220;Have I been a
+beast, Dorothy?&#8221;</p>
+<p>The question was so like the boy she used
+to know that her heart leaped wildly, then
+became portentously still.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Rather,&#8221; she admitted, grudgingly, from
+the shelter of his arms.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m sorry. If you say so, I&#8217;ll burn it.
+Nothing is coming between you and me.&#8221;
+The words sounded hollow and meaningless,
+as he knew they were.</p>
+<p>She put her hand over his mouth. &#8220;You
+won&#8217;t do any such thing,&#8221; she said. Dorothy
+had learned the bitterness of the woman&#8217;s
+part, to stand by, utterly lonely, and dream,
+and wait, while men achieve.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Can I read it now?&#8221; she asked, timidly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You couldn&#8217;t make it out, Dorothy.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_297' name='page_297'></a>297</span>
+When it&#8217;s all done, and every word is just as
+I want it, I&#8217;ll read it to you. That will be
+better, won&#8217;t it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Can Dick come, too?&#8221; She asked the
+question thoughtlessly, then flushed as Harlan
+took her face between his hands.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dorothy, did you know Dick before we
+were married?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why, Harlan! I never saw him in all my
+life till the day he came here. Did you think
+I had?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Harlan only grunted, but she understood,
+and, in return, asked her question. &#8220;Did
+you write the book about Elaine?&#8221; she began,
+half ashamed.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dear little idiot,&#8221; said Harlan, softly.
+&#8220;I&#8217;d begun the book before she came or
+before I knew she was coming. I never saw
+her till she came to live with us. You&#8217;re
+foolish, dearest, don&#8217;t you think you are?&#8221;</p>
+<p>He was swiftly perceiving the necessity of
+creating a new harmony to take the place
+of that old one, now so strangely lost.</p>
+<p>&#8220;There are two of us,&#8221; returned Dorothy,
+with conviction, wiping her eyes.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I wish you&#8217;d ask me things,&#8221; said Harlan,
+a little later. &#8220;I&#8217;m no mind reader.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_298' name='page_298'></a>298</span>
+And, besides, the seventh son of a seventh
+son, born with a caul, and having three
+trances regularly every day after meals, never
+could hope to understand a woman unless
+she was willing to help him out a little,
+occasionally.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Which, after all, was more or less true.</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='XVIII_UNCLE_EBENEEZER_S_DIARY' id='XVIII_UNCLE_EBENEEZER_S_DIARY'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_299' name='page_299'></a>299</span>
+<h2>XVIII</h2>
+<h3>Uncle Ebeneezer&#8217;s Diary</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Harlan had taken his work upstairs,
+that the ceaseless clatter of the typewriter
+might not add to the confusion which
+normally prevailed in the Jack-o&#8217;-Lantern.
+Thus it happened that Dorothy was able to
+begin her long-cherished project of dusting,
+rearranging, and cataloguing the books.</p>
+<p>There is a fine spiritual essence which exhales
+from the covers of a book. Shall one
+touch a copy of Shakespeare with other than
+reverent hands, or take up his Boswell without
+a smile? Through the worn covers and
+broken binding the master-spirit still speaks,
+no less than through the centuries which lie
+between. The man who had the wishing
+carpet, upon which he sat and wished and
+was thence immediately transported to the
+ends of the earth, was not possessed of a finer
+magic than one who takes his Boswell in his
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_300' name='page_300'></a>300</span>
+hands and then, for a golden quarter of an
+hour, lives in a bygone London with Doctor
+Johnson.</p>
+<p>When the book-lover enters his library, no
+matter what storm and tumult may be in his
+heart, he has come to the inmost chamber of
+Peace. The indescribable, musty odour which
+breathes from the printed page is fragrant incense
+to him who loves his books. In unseemly
+caskets his treasures may be hidden,
+yet, when the cover is reverently lifted, the
+jewels shine with no fading light. The old,
+immortal beauty is still there, for any one who
+seeks it in the right way.</p>
+<p>Dorothy had two willing assistants in Dick
+and Elaine. One morning, immediately after
+breakfast, the three went to the library and
+locked the door. Outside, the twins rioted
+unheeded and the perennially joyous Willie
+capered unceasingly. Mr. Perkins, gloomy
+and morose, wrote reams of poetry in his
+own room, distressed beyond measure by the
+rumble of the typewriter, but too much cast
+down to demand that it be stopped.</p>
+<p>Mrs. Dodd and Mrs. Holmes, closely united
+through misfortune, were well-nigh inseparable
+now, while Mrs. Smithers, still sepulchral,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_301' name='page_301'></a>301</span>
+sang continually in a loud, cracked voice,
+never by any chance happening upon the
+right note. As Dorothy said, when there are
+only eight tones in the octave, it would seem
+that sometime, somewhere, a warbler must
+coincide for a brief interval with the tune,
+but as Dick further commented, industry
+and patience can do wonders when rightly
+exercised.</p>
+<p>Uncle Israel&#8217;s midnight excursion to the
+orchard had given him a fresh attack of a
+familiar and distressing ailment to which he
+always alluded as &#8220;the brown kittys.&#8221; Fortunately,
+however, the cure for asthma and
+bronchitis was contained in the same quart
+bottle, and needed only to be heated in
+order to work upon both diseases simultaneously.</p>
+<p>Elaine rolled up the sleeves of her white
+shirt-waist, and turned in her collar, thereby
+producing an effect which Dick privately considered
+distractingly pretty. Dorothy was enveloped
+from head to foot in a voluminous blue
+gingham apron, and a dust cap, airily poised
+upon her smooth brown hair, completed a
+most becoming costume. Dick, having duly
+obtained permission, took off his coat and put
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_302' name='page_302'></a>302</span>
+on his hat, after which the library force was
+ready for action.</p>
+<p>&#8220;First,&#8221; said Dorothy, &#8220;we&#8217;ll take down
+all the books.&#8221; It sounded simple, but it
+took a good share of the day to do it, and
+the clouds of dust disturbed by the process
+produced sneezes which put Uncle Israel&#8217;s
+feeble efforts to shame. When dusting the
+shelves, after they were empty, Elaine came
+upon a panel in the wall which slid back.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Here&#8217;s a secret drawer!&#8221; she cried, in
+wild delight. &#8220;How perfectly lovely! Do
+you suppose there&#8217;s anything in it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dorothy instantly thought of money and
+diamonds, but the concealed treasure proved
+to be merely a book. It was a respectable
+volume, however, at least as far as size was
+concerned, for Elaine and Dorothy together
+could scarcely lift it.</p>
+<p>It was a leather-bound ledger, of the most
+ponderous kind, and was fastened with a lock
+and key. The key, of course, was missing,
+but Dick soon pried open the fastening.</p>
+<p>All but the last few pages in the book were
+covered with fine writing, in ink which was
+brown and faded, but still legible. It was
+Uncle Ebeneezer&#8217;s penmanship throughout,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_303' name='page_303'></a>303</span>
+except for a few entries at the beginning, in
+a fine, flowing feminine hand, which Dorothy
+instantly knew was Aunt Rebecca&#8217;s.</p>
+<p>&#8220;On the night of our wedding,&#8221; the book
+began, &#8220;we begin this record of our lives,
+for until to-day we have not truly lived.&#8221;
+This was signed by both. Then, in the
+woman&#8217;s hand, was written a description
+of her wedding-gown, which was a simple
+white muslin, made by herself. Her ornaments
+were set down briefly&mdash;only a wreath
+of roses in her hair, a string of coral beads,
+and the diamond brooch which was at that
+moment in Dorothy&#8217;s jewel-box.</p>
+<p>For three weeks there were alternate entries,
+then suddenly, without date, were two words
+so badly written as to be scarcely readable:
+&#8220;She died.&#8221; For days thereafter was only
+this: &#8220;I cannot write.&#8221; These simple words
+were the key to a world of pain, for the pages
+were blistered with a man&#8217;s hot tears.</p>
+<p>Then came this: &#8220;She would want me to
+go on writing it, so I will, though I have no
+heart for it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>From thence onward the book proceeded
+without interruption, a minute and faithful
+record of the man&#8217;s inner life. Long extracts
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_304' name='page_304'></a>304</span>
+copied from books filled page after page of
+this strange diary, interspersed with records
+of business transactions, of letters received
+and answered, of wages paid, and of the
+visits of Jeremiah Bradford.</p>
+<p>&#8220;We talked long to-night upon the immortality
+of the soul,&#8221; one entry ran. &#8220;Jeremiah
+does not believe it, but I must&mdash;or die.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dick soon lost interest in the book, and
+finding solitary toil at the shelves uncongenial,
+went out, whistling. Elaine and Dorothy
+read on together, scarcely noting his absence.</p>
+<p>The book had begun in the Spring. Early
+in June was chronicled the arrival of &#8220;a
+woman calling herself Cousin Elmira, blood
+relation of my Rebecca. Was not aware
+my Rebecca had a blood relation named
+Elmira, but there is much in the world that I
+do not know.&#8221;</p>
+<p>According to the diary, Cousin Elmira had
+remained six weeks and had greatly distressed
+her unwilling host. &#8220;Women are peculiar,&#8221;
+Uncle Ebeneezer had written, &#8220;all being
+possessed of the devil, except my sainted
+Rebecca, who was an angel if there ever
+was one.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Cousin Elmira is a curious woman. To-day
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_305' name='page_305'></a>305</span>
+she desired to know what had become of
+my Rebecca&#8217;s wedding garments, her linen
+sheets and table-cloths. Answered that I did
+not know, and immediately put a lock upon
+the chest containing them. Have always been
+truthful up to now, but Rebecca would not
+desire to have any blood relation handling her
+sheets. Of this I am sure.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Aug. 9. To-day came Cousin Silas Martin
+and his wife to spend their honeymoon.
+Much grieved to hear of Rebecca&#8217;s death.
+Said she had invited them to spend their
+honeymoon with her when they married.
+Did not know of this, but our happiness was
+of such short duration that my Rebecca did
+not have time to tell me of all her wishes.
+Company is very hard to bear, but I would do
+much for my Rebecca.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Aug. 10. This world can never be perfect
+under any circumstances, and trials are
+the common lot of humanity. We must all
+endeavour to bear up under affliction. Sarah
+Smithers is a good woman, most faithful, and
+does not talk a great deal, considering her
+sex. Not intending any reflection upon my
+Rebecca, whose sweet voice I could never
+hear too often.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_306' name='page_306'></a>306</span></p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+
+<p>&#8220;Aug. 20. Came Uncle Israel Skiles with
+a bad cough. Thinks the air of Judson
+Centre must be considered healthy as they are
+to build a sanitarium here. Did not know of
+the sanitarium.</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+
+<p>&#8220;Aug. 22. Came Cousin Betsey Skiles to
+look after Uncle Israel. Uncle Israel not
+desiring to be looked after has produced some
+disturbance in my house.</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+
+<p>&#8220;Aug. 23. Cousin Betsey Skiles and Cousin
+Jane Wood, the latter arriving unexpectedly
+this morning, have fought, and Cousin Jane
+has gone away again. Had never met Cousin
+Jane Wood.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Aug. 24. Was set upon by Cousin Silas
+Martin, demanding to know whether his wife
+was to be insulted by Cousin Betsey Skiles.
+Answered that I did not know.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Aug. 25. Was obliged to settle a dispute
+between Sarah Smithers and Cousin Betsey
+Skiles. Decided in favour of S. S., thereby
+angering B. S. Uncle Israel accidentally
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_307' name='page_307'></a>307</span>
+spilled his tonic on Cousin Betsey&#8217;s clean
+apron. Much disturbance in my house.</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+
+<p>&#8220;Aug. 28. Cousin Silas Martin and wife
+went away, telling me they could no longer
+live with Cousin Betsey Skiles. B. S. is
+unpleasant, but has her virtues.</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+
+<p>&#8220;Sept. 5. Uncle Israel thinks air of Judson
+Centre is now too chilly for his cough. Does
+not like his bed, considering it drafty. Says
+Sarah Smithers does not give him nourishing
+food.</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+
+<p>&#8220;Sept. 8. Uncle Israel has gone.</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+
+<p>&#8220;Sept. 10. Cousin Betsey Skiles has gone
+to continue looking after Uncle Israel. Sarah
+Smithers and myself now alone in peace.</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+
+<p>All that Winter, the writing was of books,
+interspersed with occasional business details.
+In the Spring, the influx of blood relations
+began again and continued until Fall. The
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_308' name='page_308'></a>308</span>
+diary revealed the gradual transformation of a
+sunny disposition into a dark one, of a man
+with gregarious instincts into a wild beast
+asking only for solitude. Additions to the
+house were chronicled from time to time,
+with now and then a pathetic comment upon
+the futility of the additions.</p>
+<p>Once there was this item: &#8220;Would go
+away for ever were it not that this was my
+Rebecca&#8217;s home. Where we had hoped to
+be so happy, there is now a great emptiness
+and unnumbered Relations. How shall I endure
+Relations? Still they are all of her blood,
+though the most gentle blood does seem to
+take strange turns.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Again: &#8220;Do not think my Rebecca would
+desire to have all her kin visit her at once.
+Still, would do anything for my Rebecca.
+Have ordered five more beds.&#8221;</p>
+<p>As the years went by, the bitterness became
+more and more apparent. Long before
+the end, the record was frankly profane, and
+saddest of all was the evidence that under the
+stress of annoyance the great love for &#8220;my
+Rebecca&#8221; was slowly, but surely, becoming
+tainted. From simple profanity, Uncle Ebeneezer
+descended into blasphemous comment,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_309' name='page_309'></a>309</span>
+modified at times by remorseful tenderness
+toward the dead.</p>
+<p>&#8220;To-day,&#8221; he wrote, &#8220;under pressure of
+my questioning, Sister-in-law Fanny Wood
+admitted that Rebecca had never invited her
+to come and see her. Asked Sister-in-law
+why she was here. Responded that Rebecca
+would have asked her if she had lived. Perhaps
+others have surmised the same. Fear
+of late I may have been unjust to my
+Rebecca.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Later on, &#8220;my Rebecca&#8221; was mentioned
+but rarely. She became &#8220;my dear companion,&#8221;
+&#8220;my wife,&#8221; or &#8220;my partner.&#8221; The
+building of wings and the purchase of additional
+beds by this time had become a
+permanent feature, though, as the writer admitted,
+it was &#8220;a roundabout way.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The easiest way would be to turn all out.
+Forgetting my duty to the memory of my
+dear companion, and sore pressed by many
+annoyances, did turn out Cousin Betsey
+Skiles, who forgave me for it without being
+so requested, and remained.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Trains to Judson Centre,&#8221; he wrote,
+at one time, &#8220;have been most grievously
+changed. One arrives just after breakfast,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_310' name='page_310'></a>310</span>
+the other at three in the morning. Do not
+understand why this is, and anticipate new
+trouble from it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The entries farther on were full of
+&#8220;trouble,&#8221; being minute and intimate portrayals
+of the emotions of one roused from
+sleep at three in the morning to admit undesired
+guests, interlarded with pardonable profanity.
+&#8220;Seems that house might be altered
+in some way, but do not know. Will consult
+with Jeremiah.&#8221;</p>
+<p>After this came the record of an interview
+with the village carpenter, and rough sketches
+of proposed alterations. &#8220;Putting in new
+window in middle and making two upper
+windows round instead of square, with new
+porch-railing and two new narrow windows
+downstairs will do it. House fortunately
+planned by original architect for such alteration.
+Taking down curtains and keeping
+lights in windows nights should have some
+effect, though much doubt whether anything
+would affect Relations.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Soon afterward the oppressed one chronicled
+with great glee how a lone female,
+arriving on the night train, was found half-dead
+from fright by the roadside in the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_311' name='page_311'></a>311</span>
+morning. &#8220;House <i>is</i> fearsome,&#8221; wrote Uncle
+Ebeneezer, with evident relish. &#8220;Have been
+to Jeremiah&#8217;s of an evening and, returning,
+found it wonderful to behold.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Presently, Dorothy came to an intimate analysis
+of some of the uninvited ones at present
+under her roof. The poet was given a full
+page of scathing comment, illustrated by rude
+caricatures, which were so suggestive that
+even Elaine thoroughly enjoyed them.</p>
+<p>Pleased with his contribution to literature,
+Uncle Ebeneezer had written a long and
+keenly comprehensive essay upon each relation.
+These bits of vivid portraiture were
+numbered in this way: &#8220;Relation Number 8,
+Miss Betsey Skiles, Claiming to be Cousin.&#8221;
+At the end of this series was a very beautiful
+tribute to &#8220;My Dearly Beloved Nephew,
+James Harlan Carr, Who Has Never Come to
+See Me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Frequently, thereafter, came pathetic references
+to &#8220;Dear Nephew James,&#8221; &#8220;Unknown
+Recipient of an Old Man&#8217;s Gratitude,&#8221; &#8220;Discerning
+and Admirable James,&#8221; and so on.</p>
+<p>One entry ran as follows: &#8220;Have been approached
+this season by each Relation present
+in regard to disposal of my estate. Will fix
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_312' name='page_312'></a>312</span>
+surprise for all Relations before leaving to join
+my wife. Shall leave money to every one,
+though perhaps not as much as each expects.
+Jeremiah advises me to leave something to
+each. Laws are such, I believe, that no one
+remembered can claim more. Desire to be
+just, but strongly incline to dear Nephew
+James.&#8221;</p>
+<p>On the last page of all was a significant
+paragraph. &#8220;Dreamed of seeing my Rebecca
+once more, who told me we should be
+together again April 7th. Shall make all arrangements
+for leaving on that day, and
+prepare Surprises spoken of. Shall be very
+quiet in my grave with no Relations at hand,
+but should like to hear and see effect of Surprise.
+Jeremiah will attend.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The last lines were written on April sixth.
+&#8220;To-morrow I shall join my loved Rebecca
+and leave all Relations here to fight by themselves.
+Do not fear Death, but shudder at
+Relations. Relations keep life from being
+pleasant. Did not know my Rebecca was
+possessed of such numbers nor of such kinds,
+but forgive her all. Shall see her to-morrow.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Then, on the line below, in a hand that did
+not falter, was written: &#8220;The End.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_313' name='page_313'></a>313</span></p>
+<p>Dorothy wiped her eyes on a corner of
+Elaine&#8217;s apron, for Uncle Ebeneezer had been
+found dead in his bed on the morning of
+April seventh. &#8220;Elaine,&#8221; she said, &#8220;what
+would you do?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do?&#8221; repeated Elaine. &#8220;I&#8217;d strike one
+blow for poor old Uncle Ebeneezer! I&#8217;d order
+every single one of them out of the house
+to-morrow!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;To-night!&#8221; cried Dorothy, fired with high
+resolve. &#8220;I&#8217;ll do it this very night! Poor
+old Uncle Ebeneezer! Our sufferings have
+been nothing, compared to his.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Are you going to tell Mr. Carr?&#8221; asked
+Elaine, wonderingly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Tell him nothing,&#8221; rejoined Dorothy, with
+spirit. &#8220;He&#8217;s got some old fogy notions about
+your house being a sacred spot where everybody
+in creation can impose on you if they
+want to, just because it is your house. I
+suppose he got it by being related to poor old
+uncle.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do I have to go, too?&#8221; queried Elaine,
+rubbing her soft cheek against Dorothy&#8217;s.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not much,&#8221; answered Mrs. Carr, with a
+sisterly embrace. &#8220;You&#8217;ll stay, and Dick &#8217;ll
+stay, and that old tombstone in the kitchen
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_314' name='page_314'></a>314</span>
+will stay, and so will Claudius Tiberius, but
+the rest&mdash;MOVE!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Consequently, Elaine looked forward to the
+dinner-hour with mixed anticipations. Mr.
+Perkins, Uncle Israel, Mrs. Dodd, and Mrs.
+Holmes each found a note under their plates
+when they sat down. Uncle Israel&#8217;s face relaxed
+into an expression of childlike joy when
+he found the envelope addressed to him.
+&#8220;Valentine, I reckon,&#8221; he said, &#8220;or mebbe
+it&#8217;s sunthin&#8217; from Santa Claus.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Queer acting for Santa Claus,&#8221; snorted
+Mrs. Holmes, who had swiftly torn open her
+note. &#8220;Here we are, all ordered away from
+what&#8217;s been our home for years, by some
+upstart relations who never saw poor, dear
+uncle. Are you going to keep boarders?&#8221;
+she asked, insolently, turning to Dorothy.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No longer,&#8221; returned that young woman,
+imperturbably. &#8220;I have done it just as long
+as I intend to.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Harlan was gazing curiously at Dorothy,
+but she avoided his eyes, and continued to
+eat as though nothing had happened. Dick,
+guessing rightly, choked, and had to be excused.
+Elaine&#8217;s cheeks were flushed and her
+eyes sparkled, the flush deepening when Mrs.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_315' name='page_315'></a>315</span>
+Dodd inquired where <i>her</i> valentine was. Mr.
+Perkins was openly dejected, and Mrs. Dodd,
+receiving no answer to her question, compressed
+her thin lips into a forced silence.</p>
+<p>But Uncle Israel was moved to protesting
+speech. &#8220;&#8217;T is queer doin&#8217;s for Santa Claus,&#8221;
+he mumbled, pouring out a double dose of
+his nerve tonic. &#8220;&#8217;T ain&#8217;t such a thing as
+he&#8217;d do, even if he was drunk. Turnin&#8217; a
+poor old man outdoor, what ain&#8217;t got no
+place to go exceptin&#8217; to Betsey&#8217;s, an&#8217; nobody
+can&#8217;t live with Betsey. She&#8217;s all the time
+mad at herself on account of bein&#8217; obliged to
+live with such a woman as she be. Summers
+I&#8217;ve allers stayed here an&#8217; never made
+no trouble. I&#8217;ve cooked my own food an&#8217;
+brought most of it, an&#8217; provided all my own
+medicines, an&#8217; even took my bed with me,
+goin&#8217; an&#8217; comin&#8217;. Ebeneezer&#8217;s beds is all terrible
+drafty&mdash;I took two colds to once sleepin&#8217;
+in one of &#8217;em&mdash;an&#8217; at my time of life &#8217;t ain&#8217;t
+proper to change beds. Sleepin&#8217; in a drafty
+bed would undo all the good of bein&#8217; near
+the sanitarium. Most likely I&#8217;ll have a fever
+or sunthin&#8217; now an&#8217; die.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Shut up, Israel,&#8221; said Mrs. Dodd, abruptly.
+&#8220;You ain&#8217;t goin&#8217; to die. It wouldn&#8217;t
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_316' name='page_316'></a>316</span>
+surprise me none if you had to be shot on the
+Day of Judgment before you could be resurrected.
+Folks past ninety-five that&#8217;s pickled
+in patent medicine from the inside out, ain&#8217;t
+goin&#8217; to die of no fever.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ninety-six, Belinda,&#8221; said the old man,
+proudly. &#8220;I&#8217;ll be ninety-six next week, an&#8217;
+I&#8217;m as young as I ever was.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then,&#8221; rejoined Mrs. Dodd, tartly, &#8220;what
+you want to look out for is measles an&#8217;
+chicken-pox, to say nothin&#8217; of croup.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Come, Gladys Gwendolen and Algernon
+Paul,&#8221; interrupted Mrs. Holmes, in a high
+key; &#8220;we must go and pack now, to go
+away from dear uncle&#8217;s. Dear uncle is dead,
+you know, and can&#8217;t help his dear ones being
+ordered out of his house by upstarts.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s a upstart, ma?&#8221; inquired Willie.</p>
+<p>&#8220;People who turn their dead uncle&#8217;s relations
+out of his house in order to take boarders,&#8221;
+returned Mrs. Holmes, clearly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mis&#8217; Carr,&#8221; said Mrs. Dodd, sliding up
+into Dick&#8217;s vacant place, &#8220;have I understood
+that you want me to go away to-morrow?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Everybody is going away to-morrow,&#8221;
+returned Dorothy, coldly.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_317' name='page_317'></a>317</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;After all I&#8217;ve done for you?&#8221; persisted
+Mrs. Dodd.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What have you done for me?&#8221; parried
+Dorothy, with a pleading look at Elaine.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Kep&#8217; the others away,&#8221; returned Mrs.
+Dodd, significantly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Uncle Ebeneezer does not want any of
+you here,&#8221; said Dorothy, after a painful
+silence. The impression made by the diary
+was so vividly present with her that she
+felt as though she were delivering an actual
+message.</p>
+<p>Much to her surprise, Mrs. Dodd paled and
+left the room hastily. Uncle Israel tottered
+after her, leaving his predigested food untouched
+on his plate and his imitation coffee
+steaming malodorously in his cup. Mr. Perkins
+bowed his head upon his hands for a
+moment; then, with a sigh, lightly dropped
+out of the open window. The name of Uncle
+Ebeneezer seemed to be one to conjure with.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dorothy,&#8221; said Harlan, &#8220;might an obedient
+husband modestly inquire what you have
+done?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Elaine and I found Uncle Ebeneezer&#8217;s
+diary to-day,&#8221; explained Dorothy, &#8220;and the
+poor old soul was nagged all his life by
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_318' name='page_318'></a>318</span>
+relatives. So, in gratitude for what he&#8217;s
+done for us, I&#8217;ve turned &#8217;em out. I know
+he&#8217;d like to have me do it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Harlan left his place and came to Dorothy,
+where, bending over her chair, he kissed her
+tenderly. &#8220;Good girl,&#8221; he said, patting her
+shoulder. &#8220;Why in thunder didn&#8217;t you do
+it months ago?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Isn&#8217;t that just like a man?&#8221; asked Dorothy,
+gazing after his retreating figure.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know,&#8221; answered Elaine, with a
+pretty blush, &#8220;but I guess it is.&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='XIX_VARIOUS_DEPARTURES' id='XIX_VARIOUS_DEPARTURES'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_319' name='page_319'></a>319</span>
+<h2>XIX</h2>
+<h3>Various Departures</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>&#8220;Algernon Paul,&#8221; called Mrs. Holmes,
+shrilly, &#8220;let the kitty alone!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Every one else on the premises heard the
+command, but &#8220;Algernon Paul,&#8221; perhaps because
+he was not yet fully accustomed to
+his new name, continued forcing Claudius
+Tiberius to walk about on his fore feet, the
+rest of him being held uncomfortably in the
+air by the guiding influence.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Algernon!&#8221; The voice was so close
+this time that the cat was freed by his persecutor&#8217;s
+violent start. Seeing that it was only
+his mother, Algernon Paul attempted to recover
+his treasure again, and was badly
+scratched by that selfsame treasure. Whereupon
+Mrs. Holmes soundly cuffed Claudius
+Tiberius &#8220;for scratching dear little Ebbie, I
+mean Algernon Paul,&#8221; and received a bite or
+two on her own account.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_320' name='page_320'></a>320</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Come, Ebbie, dear,&#8221; she continued, &#8220;we
+are going now. We have been driven away
+from dear uncle&#8217;s. Where is sister?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sister&#8221; was discovered in the forbidden
+Paradise of the chicken-coop, and dragged
+out, howling. Willie, not desiring to leave
+&#8220;dear uncle&#8217;s,&#8221; was forcibly retrieved by Dick
+from the roof of the barn.</p>
+<p>Mr. Harold Vernon Perkins had silently
+disappeared in the night, but no one feared
+foul play. &#8220;He&#8217;ll be waitin&#8217; at the train, I
+reckon,&#8221; said Mrs. Dodd, &#8220;an&#8217; most likely
+composin&#8217; a poem on &#8216;Departure&#8217; or else
+breathin&#8217; into a tube to see if he&#8217;s mad.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She had taken her dismissal very calmly
+after the first shock. &#8220;A woman what&#8217;s
+been married seven times, same as I be,&#8221; she
+explained to Dorothy, &#8220;gets used to bein&#8217;
+moved around from place to place. My sixth
+husband had the movin&#8217; habit terrible. No
+sooner would we get settled nice an&#8217; comfortable
+in a place, an&#8217; I got enough acquainted to
+borrow sugar an&#8217; tea an&#8217; molasses from my new
+neighbours, than Thomas would decide to move,
+an&#8217; more &#8217;n likely, it&#8217;d be to some new town
+where there was a great openin&#8217; in some new
+business that he&#8217;d never tried his hand at yet.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_321' name='page_321'></a>321</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;My dear, I&#8217;ve been the wife of a undertaker,
+a livery-stable keeper, a patent medicine
+man, a grocer, a butcher, a farmer, an&#8217; a
+justice of the peace, all in one an&#8217; the same
+marriage. Seems &#8217;s if there wa&#8217;n&#8217;t no business
+Thomas couldn&#8217;t feel to turn his hand to, an&#8217;
+he knowed how they all ought to be run. If
+anybody was makin&#8217; a failure of anythin&#8217;,
+Thomas knowed just why it was failin&#8217; an&#8217; I
+must say he ought to know, too, for I never
+see no more steady failer than Thomas.</p>
+<p>&#8220;They say a rollin&#8217; stone never gets no
+moss on it, but it gets worn terrible smooth,
+an&#8217; by the time I &#8217;d moved to eight or ten different
+towns an&#8217; got as many as &#8217;leven houses
+all fixed up, the corners was all broke off &#8217;n
+me as well as off &#8217;n the furniture. My third
+husband left me well provided with furniture,
+but when I went to my seventh altar, I didn&#8217;t
+have nothin&#8217; left but a soap box an&#8217; half a
+red blanket, on account of havin&#8217; moved
+around so much.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I got so&#8217;s I&#8217;d never unpack all the things
+in any one place, but keep &#8217;em in their dry-goods
+boxes an&#8217; barrels nice an&#8217; handy to go
+on again. When the movin&#8217; fit come on
+Thomas, I was always in such light marchin&#8217;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_322' name='page_322'></a>322</span>
+order that I could go on a day&#8217;s notice, an&#8217;
+that&#8217;s the way we usually went. I told him
+once it&#8217;d be easier an&#8217; cheaper to fit up a
+prairie schooner such as they used to cross the
+plains in, an&#8217; then when we wanted to move,
+all we&#8217;d have to do would be to put a dipper of
+water on the fire an&#8217; tell the mules to get ap,
+but it riled him so terrible that I never said
+nothin&#8217; about it again, though all through my
+sixth marriage, it seemed a dretful likely
+notion.</p>
+<p>&#8220;A woman with much marryin&#8217; experience
+soon learns not to rile a husband when &#8217;t ain&#8217;t
+necessary. Sometimes I think the poor creeters
+has enough to contend with outside without
+bein&#8217; obliged to fight at home, though it
+does beat all, my dear, what a terrible exertion
+&#8217;t is for most men to earn a livin&#8217;. None
+of my husbands was ever obliged to fight at
+home an&#8217; I take great comfort thinkin&#8217; how
+peaceful they all was when they was livin&#8217;
+with me, an&#8217; how peaceful they all be now,
+though I think it&#8217;s more &#8217;n likely that Thomas
+is a-sufferin&#8217; because he can&#8217;t move no more
+at present.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Her monologue was interrupted by the arrival
+of the stage, which Harlan had gladly ordered.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_323' name='page_323'></a>323</span>
+Mrs. Holmes and the children climbed
+into it without vouchsafing a word to anybody,
+but Mrs. Dodd shook hands all around
+and would have kissed both Dorothy and
+Elaine had they not dodged the caress.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Remember, my dear,&#8221; said Mrs. Dodd to
+Dorothy; &#8220;I don&#8217;t bear you no grudge,
+though I never was turned out of no place
+before. It&#8217;s all in a lifetime, the same as
+marryin&#8217;, and if I should ever marry again an&#8217;
+have a home of my own to invite you to, you
+an&#8217; your husband&#8217;ll be welcome to come and
+stay with me as long as I&#8217;ve stayed with you,
+or longer, if you felt &#8217;twas pleasant, an&#8217; I&#8217;d
+try to make it so.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The kindly speech made Dorothy very
+much ashamed of herself, though she did not
+know exactly why, and Gladys Gwendolen,
+with a cherubic smile, leaned out of the stage
+window and waved a chubby hand, saying:
+&#8220;Bye bye!&#8221; Mrs. Holmes alone seemed
+hard and unforgiving, as she sat sternly upright,
+looking neither to the right nor the left.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Rather unusual, isn&#8217;t it?&#8221; whispered
+Elaine, as the ponderous vehicle turned into
+the yard, &#8220;to see so many of one&#8217;s friends
+going on the stage at once?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_324' name='page_324'></a>324</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Not at all,&#8221; chuckled Dick. &#8220;Everybody
+goes on the stage when they leave the
+Carrs.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Good bye, Belinda,&#8221; yelled Uncle Israel,
+putting his flannel bandaged head out of one
+of the round upper windows. He had climbed
+up on a chair to do it. &#8220;I don&#8217;t reckon I&#8217;ll
+ever hear from you again exceptin&#8217; where
+Lazarus heard from the rich man!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t let that trouble you, Israel,&#8221;
+shrieked Mrs. Dodd, piercingly. &#8220;I take it
+the rich man was diggin&#8217; for eight cents in
+Satan&#8217;s orchard, an&#8217; didn&#8217;t have no time to
+look up his friends.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The rejoinder seemed not to affect Uncle
+Israel, but it sent Dick into a spasm of merriment
+from which he recovered only when
+Harlan pounded him on the back.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Come on,&#8221; said Harlan, &#8220;it&#8217;s not time to
+laugh yet. We&#8217;ve got to pack Uncle Israel&#8217;s
+bed.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Uncle Israel was going on the afternoon
+train, and in another direction. He sat on his
+trunk and issued minute instructions, occasionally
+having the whole thing taken apart
+to be put together in a different kind of a parcel.
+As an especial favour, Dick was allowed
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_325' name='page_325'></a>325</span>
+to crate the bath cabinet, though as a rule, no
+profane hands were permitted to touch this
+instrument of health. Uncle Israel himself
+arranged his bottles, and boxes, and powders;
+a hand-satchel containing his medicines for
+the journey and the night.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I reckon,&#8221; he said, &#8220;if I take a double
+dose of my pain-killer, this noon, an&#8217; a double
+dose of my nerve tonic just before I get on the
+cars, I c&#8217;n get along with these few remedies
+till I get to Betsey&#8217;s, where I&#8217;ll have to take a
+full course of treatment to pay for all this
+travellin&#8217;. The pain-killer bottle an&#8217; the nerve
+tonic bottle is both dretful heavy, in spite of
+bein&#8217; only half full.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;How would it do,&#8221; suggested Harlan,
+kindly, &#8220;to pour the nerve tonic into the pain-killer,
+and then you&#8217;d have only one bottle to
+carry. You mix them inside, anyway.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You seem real intelligent, nephew,&#8221;
+quavered Uncle Israel. &#8220;I never knowed I
+had no such smart relations. As you say, I
+mix &#8217;em in my system anyway, an&#8217; it can&#8217;t
+do no harm to do it in the bottle first.&#8221;</p>
+<p>No sooner said than done, but, strangely
+enough, the mixture turned a vivid emerald
+green, and had such a peculiarly vile odour
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_326' name='page_326'></a>326</span>
+that even Uncle Israel refused to have anything
+further to do with it.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I shouldn&#8217;t wonder but what you&#8217;d done
+me a real service, nephew,&#8221; continued Uncle
+Israel. &#8220;Here I&#8217;ve been takin&#8217; this, month
+after month, an&#8217; never suspectin&#8217; what it was
+doin&#8217; in my insides. I&#8217;ve suspicioned for
+some time that the pain-killer wan&#8217;t doin&#8217; me
+no good, an&#8217; I&#8217;ve been goin&#8217; to try Doctor
+Jones&#8217;s Squaw Remedy, anyhow. I shouldn&#8217;t
+wonder if my whole insides was green instead
+of red as they orter be. The next time I go to
+the City, I&#8217;m goin&#8217; to take this here compound
+to the healin&#8217; emporium where I bought it, an&#8217;
+ask &#8217;em what there is in it that paints folk&#8217;s
+insides. &#8217;Tain&#8217;t nothin&#8217; more &#8217;n green paint.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The patient was so interested in this new
+development that he demanded a paint-brush
+and experimented on the porch railing, where
+it seemed, indeed, to be &#8220;green paint.&#8221; In
+getting a nearer view, he touched his nose to
+it and acquired a bright green spot on the tip
+of that highly useful organ. Desiring to test
+it by every sense, he next put his ear down to
+the railing, as though he expected to hear the
+elements of the compound rushing together
+explosively.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_327' name='page_327'></a>327</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;My hearin&#8217; is bad,&#8221; he explained. &#8220;I
+wish you&#8217;d listen to this here a minute or
+two, nephew, an&#8217; see if you don&#8217;t hear
+sunthin&#8217;.&#8221; But Harlan, with his handkerchief
+pressed tightly to his nose, politely declined.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t feel,&#8221; continued Uncle Israel, tottering
+into the house, &#8220;as though a poor,
+sick man with green insides instead of red
+orter be turned out. Judson Centre is a terrible
+healthy place, or the sanitarium wouldn&#8217;t
+have been built here, an&#8217; travellin&#8217; on the cars
+would shake me up considerable. I feel as
+though I was goin&#8217; to be took bad, an&#8217; as if I
+ought not to go. If somebody&#8217;ll set up my bed,
+I&#8217;ll just lay down on it an&#8217; die now. Ebeneezer
+would be willin&#8217; for me to die in his house, I
+know, for he&#8217;s often said it&#8217;d be a reel
+pleasure to him to pay my funeral expenses
+if I c&#8217;d only make up my mind to claim &#8217;em,
+an&#8217;,&#8221; went on the old man pitifully, &#8220;I feel to
+claim &#8217;em now. Set up my bed,&#8221; he wheezed,
+&#8220;an&#8217; let me die. I&#8217;m bein&#8217; took bad.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He was swiftly reasoning himself into abject
+helplessness when Dick came valiantly to
+the rescue. &#8220;I&#8217;ll tell you what, Uncle Israel,&#8221;
+he said, &#8220;if you&#8217;re going to be sick, and of
+course you know whether you are or not,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_328' name='page_328'></a>328</span>
+we&#8217;ll just get a carriage and take you over to
+the sanitarium. I&#8217;ll pay your board there for
+a week, myself, and by that time we&#8217;ll know
+just what&#8217;s the matter with you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The patient brightened amazingly at the
+mention of the sanitarium, and was more
+than willing to go. &#8220;I&#8217;ve took all kinds of
+treatment,&#8221; he creaked, &#8220;but I ain&#8217;t never
+been to no sanitarium, an&#8217; I misdoubt whether
+they&#8217;ve ever had anybody with green insides.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I reckon,&#8221; he added, proudly, &#8220;that that
+wanderin&#8217; pain in my spine&#8217;ll stump &#8217;em some
+to know what it is. Even in the big store
+where they keep all kinds of medicines, there
+couldn&#8217;t nobody tell me. I know what disease
+&#8217;tis, but I won&#8217;t tell nobody. A man knows
+his own system best an&#8217; I reckon them smart
+doctors up at the sanitarium &#8217;ll be scratchin&#8217;
+their heads over such a complicated case as I
+be. Send my bed on to Betsey&#8217;s but write
+on it that it ain&#8217;t to be set up till I come.
+&#8217;Twouldn&#8217;t be worth while settin&#8217; it up at
+the sanitarium for a week, an&#8217; I&#8217;m minded to
+try a medical bed, anyways. I ain&#8217;t never
+had none. Get the carriage, quick, for I feel
+an ailment comin&#8217; on me powerful hard every
+minute.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_329' name='page_329'></a>329</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Suppose,&#8221; said Harlan, in a swift aside,
+&#8220;that they refuse to take the patient? What
+shall we do then?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;We won&#8217;t discuss that,&#8221; answered Dick,
+in a low tone. &#8220;My plan is to leave the patient,
+drive away swiftly, and, an hour or so
+later, walk back and settle with the head of
+the repair shop for a week&#8217;s mending in
+advance.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Harlan laughed gleefully, at which Uncle
+Israel pricked up his ears. &#8220;I&#8217;m in on the
+bill,&#8221; he continued; &#8220;we&#8217;ll go halves on the
+mending.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Laughin&#8217;&#8221; said Uncle Israel, scornfully,
+&#8220;at your poor old uncle what ain&#8217;t goin&#8217; to
+live much longer. If your insides was all
+turned green, you wouldn&#8217;t be laughin&#8217;&mdash;you&#8217;d
+be thinkin&#8217; about your immortal souls.&#8221;</p>
+<p>It was late afternoon when the bed was
+finally dumped on the side track to await the
+arrival of the freight train, being securely covered
+with a canvas tarpaulin to keep it from
+the night dew and stray, malicious germs,
+seeking that which they might devour. Uncle
+Israel insisted upon overseeing this job himself,
+so that he did not reach the sanitarium
+until almost nightfall. Dick and Harlan were
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_330' name='page_330'></a>330</span>
+driving, and they shamelessly left the patient
+at the door of the Temple of Healing, with his
+crated bath cabinet, his few personal belongings,
+and his medicines.</p>
+<p>Turning back at the foot of the hill, they
+saw that the wanderer had been taken in,
+though the bath cabinet still remained outside.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mean trick to play on a respectable institution,&#8221;
+observed Dick, lashing the horses into
+a gallop, &#8220;but I&#8217;ll go over in the morning and
+square it with &#8217;em.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll go with you,&#8221; volunteered Harlan.
+&#8220;It&#8217;s just as well to have two of us, for we
+won&#8217;t be popular. The survivor can take
+back the farewell message to the wife and
+family of the other.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He meant it for a jest, but even in the gathering
+darkness, he could see the dull red mounting
+to Dick&#8217;s temples. &#8220;I&#8217;ll be darned,&#8221;
+thought Harlan, seeing the whole situation
+instantly. Then, moved by a brotherly impulse,
+he said, cheerfully: &#8220;Go in and win,
+old man. Good luck to you!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thanks,&#8221; muttered Dick, huskily, &#8220;but it&#8217;s
+no use. She won&#8217;t look at me. She wants
+a nice lady-like poet, that&#8217;s what she wants.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, she doesn&#8217;t,&#8221; returned Harlan, with
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_331' name='page_331'></a>331</span>
+deep conviction. &#8220;I don&#8217;t claim to be a specialist,
+but when a man and a poet are entered
+for the matrimonial handicap, I&#8217;ll put my
+money on the man, every time.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dick swiftly changed the subject, and began
+to speculate on probable happenings at the
+sanitarium. They left the conveyance in the
+village, from whence it had been taken, and
+walked uphill.</p>
+<p>Lights gleamed from every window of the
+Jack-o&#8217;-Lantern, but the eccentric face of the
+house had, for the first time, a friendly aspect.
+Warmth and cheer were in the blinking eyes
+and the grinning mouth, though, as Dick said,
+it seemed impossible that &#8220;no pumpkin seeds
+were left inside.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Those who do not believe in personal influence
+should go into a house which uninvited
+and undesired guests have regretfully left.
+Every alien element had gone from the house
+on the hill, yet the very walls were still vocal
+with discord. One expected, every moment,
+to hear Uncle Israel&#8217;s wheeze, the shrill, spiteful
+comment of Mrs. Holmes, or a howl from
+one of the twins.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What shall we do,&#8221; asked Harlan, &#8220;to
+celebrate the day of emancipation?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_332' name='page_332'></a>332</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;I know,&#8221; answered Dorothy, with a little
+laugh. &#8220;We&#8217;ll burn a bed.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Whose bed?&#8221; queried Dick.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Perkins&#8217;s bed,&#8221; responded Elaine,
+readily. The tone of her voice sent a warm
+glow to Dick&#8217;s heart, and he went to work at
+the heavy walnut structure with more gladness
+than exercise of that particular kind had ever
+given him before.</p>
+<p>Harlan rummaged through the cellar and
+found a bottle of Uncle Ebeneezer&#8217;s old port,
+which, for some occult reason, had hitherto
+escaped. Mrs. Smithers, moved to joyful
+song, did herself proud in the matter of fried
+chicken and flaky biscuit. Dorothy had taken
+all the leaves out of the table, so that now it
+was cosily set for four, and placed a battered
+old brass candlestick, with a tallow candle in
+it, in the centre.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Seems like living, doesn&#8217;t it?&#8221; asked
+Harlan. Until now, he had not known how
+surely though secretly distressed he had been
+by Aunt Rebecca&#8217;s persistent kin. Claudius
+Tiberius apparently felt the prevailing cheerfulness,
+and purred vigorously, in Elaine&#8217;s lap.</p>
+<p>Afterward, they made a fire in the parlour,
+even though the night was so warm that they
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_333' name='page_333'></a>333</span>
+were obliged to have all the windows open,
+and, inspired by the portrait of Uncle Ebeneezer,
+discussed the peculiarities of his self-invited
+guests.</p>
+<p>The sacrificial flame arising from the poet&#8217;s
+bed directed the conversation to Mr. Perkins
+and his gift of song. Dick, though feeling
+more deeply upon the subject than any of the
+rest, was wise enough not to say too much.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I found something under his mattress,&#8221;
+remarked Dick, when the conversation flagged,
+&#8220;while I was taking his blooming crib apart
+to chop it up. I guess it must be a poem.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He drew a sorely flattened roll from his
+pocket, and slipped off the crumpled blue
+ribbon. It was, indeed, a poem, entitled
+&#8220;Farewell.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I thought he might have been polite
+enough to say good bye,&#8221; said Dorothy.
+&#8220;Perhaps it was easier to write it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Read it,&#8221; cried Elaine, her eyes dancing.
+&#8220;Please do!&#8221;</p>
+<p>So Dick read as follows:</p>
+<table summary='poetry' style='margin:0 auto'><tr><td>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>All happy times must reach an end</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.73em;'>Sometime, someday, somewhere,</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>A great soul seldom has a friend</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.73em;'>Anyway or anywhere.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_334' name='page_334'></a>334</span></div>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>But one devoted to the Ideal</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.73em;'>Must pass these things all by,</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>His eyes fixed ever on his Art,</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.73em;'>Which lives, though he must die.</p>
+<br />
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>Amid the tide of cruel greed</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.73em;'>Which laps upon our shore,</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>No one takes thought of the poet&#8217;s need</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.73em;'>Nor how his griefs may pour</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>Upon his poor, devoted head</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.73em;'>And his sad, troubled heart;</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>But all these things each one must take,</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.73em;'>Who gives his life to Art.</p>
+<br />
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>His crust of bread, his tick of straw</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.73em;'>His enemies deny,</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>And at the last his patron saint</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.73em;'>Will even pass him by;</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>The wide world is his resting place,</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.73em;'>All o&#8217;er it he may roam,</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>And none will take the poet in,</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.73em;'>Or offer him a home.</p>
+<br />
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>The tears of sorrow blind him now,</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.73em;'>Misunderstood is he,</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>But thus great souls have always been,</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.73em;'>And always they will be;</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>His eyes fixed ever on the Ideal</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.73em;'>Will be there till he die,</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>To-night he goes, but leaves a poem</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.73em;'>To say good bye, good bye!</p>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p>&#8220;Poor Mr. Perkins,&#8221; commented Dorothy,
+softly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; mimicked Harlan, &#8220;poor Mr. Perkins.
+I don&#8217;t see but what he&#8217;ll have to work
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_335' name='page_335'></a>335</span>
+now, like any plain, ordinary mortal, with no
+&#8216;gift&#8217;.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What is the Ideal, anyway?&#8221; queried
+Elaine, looking thoughtfully into the embers
+of the poet&#8217;s bedstead.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s easy,&#8221; answered Dick, not without
+evident feeling. &#8220;It&#8217;s whatever Mr.
+Perkins happens to be doing, or trying to do.
+He fixes it for the rest of us.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I think,&#8221; suggested Dorothy, after a momentary
+silence, &#8220;that the Ideal consists in
+minding your own business and gently, but
+firmly, assisting others to mind theirs.&#8221;</p>
+<p>All unknowingly, Dorothy had expressed
+the dominant idea of the dead master of the
+house. She fancied that the pictured face
+over the mantel was about to smile at her.
+Dorothy and Uncle Ebeneezer understood each
+other now, and she no longer wished to have
+the portrait moved.</p>
+<p>Before they separated for the night, Dick
+told them all about the midnight gathering in
+the orchard, which he had witnessed from
+afar, and which the others enjoyed beyond his
+expectations.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s what uncle meant,&#8221; said Elaine,
+&#8220;by &#8216;fixing a surprise for relations.&#8217;&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_336' name='page_336'></a>336</span>
+&#8220;I don&#8217;t blame him,&#8221; observed Harlan,
+&#8220;not a blooming bit. I wish the poor old
+duck could have been here to see it. Why
+wasn&#8217;t I in on it?&#8221; he demanded of Dick,
+somewhat resentfully. &#8220;When anything like
+that was going on, why didn&#8217;t you take me
+in?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It wasn&#8217;t for me to interfere with his
+doings,&#8221; protested Dick, &#8220;but I do wish you
+could have seen Uncle Israel.&#8221;</p>
+<p>At the recollection he went off into a spasm
+of merriment which bid fair to prove fatal.
+The rest laughed with him, not knowing just
+what it was about, such was the infectious
+quality of Dick&#8217;s mirth.</p>
+<p>&#8220;They&#8217;ve all gone,&#8221; laughed Elaine, happily,
+taking her bedroom candle from Dorothy&#8217;s
+hand, &#8220;they&#8217;ve all gone, every single
+one, and now we&#8217;re going to have some good
+times.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dick watched her as she went upstairs, the
+candlelight shining tenderly upon her sweet
+face, and thus betrayed himself to Dorothy,
+who had suspected for some time that he
+loved Elaine.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh Lord!&#8221; grumbled Dick to himself,
+when he was safely in his own room.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_337' name='page_337'></a>337</span>
+&#8220;Everybody knows it now, except her. I&#8217;ll
+bet even Sis Smithers and the cat are dead
+next to me. I might as well tell her to-morrow
+as any time, the result will be just the
+same. Better do it and have it over with.
+The cat&#8217;ll tell her if nobody else does.&#8221;</p>
+<p>But that night, strangely enough, Claudius
+Tiberius disappeared, to be seen or heard of
+no more.</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='XX_THE_LOVE_OF_ANOTHER_ELAINE' id='XX_THE_LOVE_OF_ANOTHER_ELAINE'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_338' name='page_338'></a>338</span>
+<h2>XX</h2>
+<h3>The Love of Another Elaine</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>When Dick and Harlan ventured up to
+the sanitarium, they were confronted
+by the astonishing fact that Uncle Israel was,
+indeed, ill. Later developements proved that
+he was in a measure personally responsible
+for his condition, since he had, surreptitiously,
+in the night, mixed two or three medicines of
+his own brewing with the liberal dose of a
+different drug which the night nurse gave him,
+in accordance with her instructions.</p>
+<p>Far from being unconscious, however,
+Uncle Israel was even now raging violently
+against further restraint, and demanding to be
+sent home before he was &#8220;murdered.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s being killed with kindness,&#8221; whispered
+Dick, &#8220;like the man who was run over
+by an ambulance.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Harlan arranged for Uncle Israel to stay
+until he was quite healed of this last complication,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_339' name='page_339'></a>339</span>
+and then wrote out the address of
+Cousin Betsey Skiles, with which Dick was
+fortunately familiar. &#8220;And,&#8221; added Dick, &#8220;if
+he&#8217;s troublesome, crate him and send him by
+freight. We don&#8217;t want to see him again.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Less than a week later, Uncle Israel and his
+bed were safely installed at Cousin Betsey&#8217;s,
+and he was able to write twelve pages of
+foolscap, fully expressing his opinion of Harlan
+and Dick and the sanitarium staff, and
+Uncle Ebeneezer, and the rest of the world in
+general, conveying it by registered mail to
+&#8220;J. H. Car &amp; Familey.&#8221; The composition
+revealed an astonishing command of English,
+particularly in the way of vituperation. Had
+Uncle Israel known more profanity, he undoubtedly
+would have incorporated it in the
+text.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It reminds me,&#8221; said Elaine, who was
+permitted to read it, &#8220;of a little coloured boy
+we used to know. A playmate quarrelled
+with him and began to call him names, using
+all the big words he had ever heard, regardless
+of their meaning. When his vocabulary was
+exhausted, our little friend asked, quietly: &#8216;Is
+you froo?&#8217; &#8216;Yes,&#8217; returned the other, &#8216;I&#8217;s
+froo.&#8217; &#8216;Well then,&#8217; said the master of the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_340' name='page_340'></a>340</span>
+situation, calmly, turning on his heel, &#8216;all
+those things what you called me, you is.&#8217;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s right,&#8221; laughed Dick. &#8220;All those
+things Uncle Israel has called us, he is, but it
+makes him a pretty tough old customer.&#8221;</p>
+<p>A blessed peace had descended upon the
+house and its occupants. Harlan&#8217;s work was
+swiftly nearing completion, and in another
+day or two, he would be ready to read the
+neatly typed pages to the members of his
+household. Dorothy could scarcely wait to
+hear it, and stole many a secret glance at the
+manuscript when Harlan was out of the house.
+Lover-like, she expected great things from it,
+and she saw the world of readers, literally, at
+her husband&#8217;s feet. So great was her faith in
+him that she never for an instant suspected
+that there might possibly be difficulty at the
+start&mdash;that any publisher could be wary of
+this masterpiece by an unknown.</p>
+<p>The Carrs had planned to remain where
+they were until the book was finished, then
+to take the precious manuscript, and go forth
+to conquer the City. Afterward, perhaps, a
+second honeymoon journey, for both were
+sorely in need of rest and recreation.</p>
+<p>Elaine was going with them, and Dorothy
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_341' name='page_341'></a>341</span>
+was to interview the Personage whose private
+secretary she had once been, and see if that
+position or one fully as desirable could not be
+found for her friend. Also, Elaine was to
+make her home with the Carrs. &#8220;I won&#8217;t
+let you live in a New York boarding house,&#8221;
+said Dorothy warmly, &#8220;as long as we&#8217;ve any
+kind of a roof over our heads.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dick had discovered that, as he expressed
+it, he must &#8220;quit fooling and get a job.&#8221;
+Hitherto, Mr. Chester had preferred care-free
+idleness to any kind of toil, and a modest sum,
+carefully hoarded, represented to Dick only
+freedom to do as he pleased until it gave out.
+Then he began to consider work again, but as
+he seldom did the same kind of work twice, he
+was not particularly proficient in any one line.</p>
+<p>Still, Dick had no false ideas about labour.
+At college he had canvassed for subscription
+books, solicited life and fire insurance, swept
+walks, shovelled snow, carried out ashes, and
+even handled trunks for the express company,
+all with the same cheerful equanimity. His
+small but certain income sufficed for his tuition
+and other necessary expenses, but for board at
+Uncle Ebeneezer&#8217;s and a few small luxuries,
+he was obliged to work.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_342' name='page_342'></a>342</span></p>
+<p>Just now, unwonted ambition fired his soul.
+&#8220;It&#8217;s funny,&#8221; he mused, &#8220;what&#8217;s come over
+me. I never hankered to work, even in my
+wildest moments, and yet I pine for it this
+minute&mdash;even street-sweeping would be welcome,
+though that sort of thing isn&#8217;t going to
+be much in my line from now on. With the
+start uncle&#8217;s given me, I can surely get along
+all right, and, anyhow, I&#8217;ve got two hands,
+two feet, and one head, all good of their kind,
+so there&#8217;s no call to worry.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Worrying had never been among Dick&#8217;s
+accomplishments, but he was restless, and
+eager for something to do. He plunged into
+furniture-making with renewed energy, inspired
+by the presence of Elaine, who with
+her book or embroidery sat in her low rocker
+under the apple tree and watched him at his
+work.</p>
+<p>Quite often she read aloud, sometimes a
+paragraph, now and then an entire chapter, to
+which Dick submitted pleasantly. He loved
+the smooth, soft cadence of Elaine&#8217;s low voice,
+whether she read or spoke, so, in a way, it
+did not matter. But, one day, when she had
+read uninterruptedly for over an hour, Dick
+was seized with a violent fit of coughing.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_343' name='page_343'></a>343</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;I say,&#8221; he began, when the paroxysm had
+ceased; &#8220;you like books, don&#8217;t you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Indeed I do&mdash;don&#8217;t you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Er&mdash;yes, of course, but say&mdash;aren&#8217;t you
+tired of reading?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not at all. You needn&#8217;t worry about me.
+When I&#8217;m tired, I&#8217;ll stop.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She was pleased with his kindly thought
+for her comfort, and thereafter read a great
+deal by way of reward. As for Dick, he
+burned the midnight candle over many a book
+which he found inexpressibly dull, and skilfully
+led the conversation to it the next day.
+Soon, even Harlan was impressed by his wide
+knowledge of literature, though no one noted
+that about books not in Uncle Ebeneezer&#8217;s
+library, Dick knew nothing at all.</p>
+<p>Dorothy spent much of her time in her own
+room, thus forcing Dick and Elaine to depend
+upon each other for society. Quite often she
+was lonely, and longed for their cheery chatter,
+but sternly reminded herself that she was
+being sacrificed in a good cause. She built
+many an air castle for them as well as for herself,
+furnishing both, impartially, with Elaine&#8217;s
+old mahogany and the simple furniture Dick
+was making out of Uncle Ebeneezer&#8217;s relics.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_344' name='page_344'></a>344</span></p>
+<p>By this time the Jack-o&#8217;-Lantern was nearly
+stripped of everything which might prove
+useful, and they were burning the rest of it in
+the fireplace at night. &#8220;Varnished hardwood,&#8221;
+as Dick said, &#8220;makes a peach of a
+blaze.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Meanwhile Harlan was labouring steadfastly
+at his manuscript. The glowing fancy from
+which the book had sprung was quite gone.
+Still, as he cut, rearranged, changed, interlined,
+reconstructed and polished, he was not
+wholly unsatisfied with his work. &#8220;It may
+not be very good,&#8221; he said to himself, &#8220;but
+it&#8217;s the best I can do&mdash;now. The next will
+be better, I&#8217;m sure.&#8221; He knew, even then,
+that there would be a &#8220;next one,&#8221; for the
+eternal thirst which knows no quenching had
+seized upon his inmost soul.</p>
+<p>Hereafter, by an inexplicably swift reversion,
+he should see all life as literature, and literature
+as life. Friends and acquaintances should
+all be, in his inmost consciousness, ephemeral.
+And Dorothy&mdash;dearly as he loved her, was
+separated from him as by a veil.</p>
+<p>Still, as he worked, he came gradually to a
+better adjustment, and was very tenderly anxious
+that Dorothy should see no change in
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_345' name='page_345'></a>345</span>
+him. He had not yet reached the point, however,
+where he would give it all up for the sake
+of finding things real again, if only for an hour.</p>
+<p>Day after day, his work went on. Sometimes
+he would spend an hour searching for a
+single word, rightly to express his meaning.
+Page after page was re-copied upon the typewriter,
+for, with the nice conscience of a good
+workman, Harlan desired a perfect manuscript,
+at least in mechanical details.</p>
+<p>Finally, he came to the last page and printed
+&#8220;The End&#8221; in capitals with deep satisfaction.
+&#8220;When it&#8217;s sandpapered,&#8221; he said to himself,
+&#8220;and the dust blown off, I suppose it
+will be done.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The &#8220;sandpapering&#8221; took a week longer.
+At the end of that time, Harlan concluded that
+any manuscript was done when the writer
+had read it carefully a dozen times without
+making a single change in it. On a Saturday
+night, just as the hall clock was booming
+eleven, he pushed it aside, and sat staring
+blankly at the wall for a long time.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know what I&#8217;ve got,&#8221; he thought,
+&#8220;but I&#8217;ve certainly got two hundred and fifty
+pages of typed manuscript. It should be good
+for something&mdash;even at space rates.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_346' name='page_346'></a>346</span></p>
+<p>After dinner, Sunday, he told them that the
+book was ready, and they all went out into
+the orchard. Dick was resigned, Elaine pleasantly
+excited, Dorothy eager and aflame with
+triumphant pride, Harlan self-conscious, and,
+in a way, ashamed.</p>
+<p>As he read, however, he forgot everything
+else. The mere sound of the words came
+with caressing music to his ears. At times
+his voice wavered and his hands trembled,
+but he kept on, until it grew so dark that he
+could no longer see.</p>
+<p>They went into the house silently, and Dick
+touched a match to the fire already laid in the
+fireplace, while Dorothy lighted the candles
+and the reading lamp. The afterglow faded
+and the moon rose, yet still they rode with
+Elaine and her company, through mountain
+passes and over blossoming fields, past many
+dangers and strange happenings, and ever
+away from the Castle of Content.</p>
+<p>Harlan&#8217;s deep, vibrant voice, now stern,
+now tender, gave new meaning to his work.
+His secret belief in it gave it a beauty which
+no one else would ever see. Dorothy, listening
+so intently that it was almost pain, never
+took her eyes from his face. In that hour, if
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_347' name='page_347'></a>347</span>
+Harlan could have known it, her woman&#8217;s
+soul was kneeling before his, naked and
+unashamed.</p>
+<p>Dick privately considered the whole thing
+more or less of a nuisance, but the candlelight
+touched Elaine&#8217;s golden hair lovingly,
+and the glow from the fire seemed to rest
+caressingly upon her face. All along, he saw
+a clear resemblance between his Elaine and
+the lady of the book, also, more keenly, a
+closer likeness between himself and the fool
+who rode at her side.</p>
+<p>When Harlan came to the song which the
+fool had written, and which he had so shamelessly
+revised and read aloud at the table, Dick
+seriously considered a private and permanent
+departure, like the nocturnal vanishing of Mr.
+Perkins, without even a poem for farewell.</p>
+<p>Elaine, lost in the story, was heedless of her
+surroundings. It was only at the last chapter
+that she became conscious of self at all. Then,
+suddenly, in her turn, she perceived a parallel,
+and quivered painfully with a new emotion.</p>
+<p><i>&#8220;Some one, perchance,&#8221; mused the Lady
+Elaine, &#8220;whose beauty my eyes alone should
+perceive, whose valour only I should guess
+before there was need to test it. Some one
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_348' name='page_348'></a>348</span>
+great of heart and clean of mind, in whose
+eyes there should never be that which makes a
+woman ashamed. Some one fine-fibred and
+strong-souled, not above tenderness when a
+maid was tired. One who should make a
+shield of his love, to keep her not only from
+the great hurts but from the little ones as well,
+and yet with whom she might fare onward,
+shoulder to shoulder, as God meant mates
+should fare.&#8221;</i></p>
+<p>Like the other Elaine, she saw who had
+served her secretly, asking for no recognition;
+who had always kept watch over her so unobtrusively
+and quietly that she never guessed
+it till now. Like many another woman,
+Elaine had dreamed of her Prince as a paragon
+of beauty and perfection, with unconscious
+vanity deeming such an one her true
+mate. Now her story-book lover had gone
+for ever, and in his place was Dick; sunny-hearted,
+mischievous, whistling, clear-eyed
+Dick, who had laughed and joked with her
+all Summer, and now&mdash;must never know.</p>
+<p>In a fierce agony of shame, she wondered
+if he had already guessed her secret&mdash;if she
+had betrayed it to him before she was conscious
+of it herself; if that was why he had
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_349' name='page_349'></a>349</span>
+been so kind. Harlan was reading the last
+page, and Elaine shaded her face with her
+hand, determined, at all costs, to avoid Dick,
+and to go away to-morrow, somewhere,
+anywhere.</p>
+<p><i>But Prince Bernard did not hear</i>, read
+Harlan, <i>nor see the outstretched hand, for
+Elaine was in his arms for the first time,
+her sweet lips close on his. &#8220;My Prince, Oh,
+my Prince,&#8221; she murmured, when at length
+he set her free; &#8220;my eyes did not see but my
+heart knew!&#8221;</i></p>
+<p><i>So ended the Quest of the Lady Elaine.</i></p>
+<p>The last page of the manuscript fluttered,
+face downward, upon the table, and Dorothy
+wiped her eyes. Elaine&#8217;s mouth was parched,
+but she staggered to her feet, knowing that
+she must say some conventional words of
+congratulation to Harlan, then go to her own
+room.</p>
+<p>Blindly, she put out her hand, trying to
+speak; then, for a single illuminating instant,
+her eyes looked into Dick&#8217;s.</p>
+<p>With a little cry, Elaine fled from the room,
+overwhelmed with shame. In a twinkling,
+she was out of the house, and flying toward
+the orchard as fast as her light feet would
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_350' name='page_350'></a>350</span>
+carry her, her heart beating wildly in her
+breast.</p>
+<p>By the sure instinct of a lover, Dick knew
+that his hour had come. He dropped out of the
+window and overtook her just as she reached
+her little rocking-chair, which, damp with the
+Autumn dew, was still under the apple tree.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Elaine!&#8221; cried Dick, crushing her into his
+arms, all the joy of youth and love in his
+voice. &#8220;Elaine! My Elaine!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The audience,&#8221; remarked Harlan, in an
+unnatural tone, &#8220;appears to have gone. Only
+my faithful wife stands by me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, Harlan,&#8221; answered Dorothy, with a
+swift rush of feeling, &#8220;you&#8217;ll never know till
+your dying day how proud and happy I am.
+It&#8217;s the very beautifullest book that anybody
+ever wrote, and I&#8217;m so glad! Mrs. Shakespeare
+could never have been half as pleased
+as I am! I&mdash;&mdash;,&#8221; but the rest was lost, for
+Dorothy was in his arms, crying her heart
+out for sheer joy.</p>
+<p>&#8220;There, there,&#8221; said Harlan, patting her
+shoulders awkwardly, and rubbing his rough
+cheek against her tear-wet face; &#8220;it wasn&#8217;t
+meant to make anybody cry.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_351' name='page_351'></a>351</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Why can&#8217;t I cry if I want to?&#8221; demanded
+Dorothy, resentfully, between sobs. Harlan&#8217;s
+voice was far from even and his own eyes
+were misty as he answered: &#8220;Because you
+are my own darling girl and I love you, that&#8217;s
+why.&#8221;</p>
+<p>They sat hand in hand for a long time,
+looking into the embers of the dying fire, in
+the depths of that wedded silence which
+has no need of words. The portraits of Uncle
+Ebeneezer and Aunt Rebecca seemed fully in
+accord, and, though mute, eloquent with
+understanding.</p>
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;d be so proud,&#8221; whispered Dorothy,
+looking up at the stern face over the mantel,
+&#8220;if he knew what you had done here in his
+house. He loved books, and now, because of
+his kindness, you can always write them.
+You&#8217;ll never have to go back on the paper
+again.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Harlan smiled reminiscently, for the hurrying,
+ceaseless grind of the newspaper office
+was, indeed, a thing of the past. The dim,
+quiet room was his, not the battle-ground of
+the street. Still, as he knew, the smell of
+printer&#8217;s ink in his nostrils would be like the
+sound of a bugle to an old cavalry horse, and
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_352' name='page_352'></a>352</span>
+even now, he would not quite trust himself to
+walk down Newspaper Row.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I love Uncle Ebeneezer and Aunt Rebecca,&#8221;
+went on Dorothy, happily. &#8220;I love
+everybody. I&#8217;ve love enough to-night to
+spare some for the whole world.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dear little saint,&#8221; said Harlan, softly, &#8220;I
+believe you have.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The clock struck ten and the fire died down.
+A candle flickered in its socket, then went
+out. The chill Autumn mist was rising, and
+through it the new moon gleamed faintly, like
+veiled pearl.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I wonder,&#8221; said Harlan, &#8220;where the rest
+of the audience is? If everybody who reads
+the book is going to disappear suddenly and
+mysteriously, I won&#8217;t be the popular author
+that I pine to be.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hush,&#8221; responded Dorothy; &#8220;I think
+they are coming now. I&#8217;ll go and let them
+in.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Only a single candle was burning in the
+hall, and when Dorothy opened the door, it
+went out suddenly, but in that brief instant,
+she had seen their glorified faces and understood
+it all. The library door was open, and
+the dimly lighted room seemed like a haven of
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_353' name='page_353'></a>353</span>
+refuge to Elaine, radiantly self-conscious, and
+blushing with sweet shame.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hello,&#8221; said Dick, awkwardly, with a tremendous
+effort to appear natural, &#8220;we&#8217;ve
+just been out to get a breath of fresh air.&#8221;</p>
+<p>It had taken them two hours, but Dorothy
+was too wise to say anything. She only
+laughed&mdash;a happy, tender, musical little laugh.
+Then she impulsively kissed them both,
+pushed Elaine gently into the library, and
+went back into the parlour to tell Harlan.</p>
+<div class='ce'>
+<p>THE END</p>
+</div>
+
+<!-- generated by ppgen.rb version: 2.26 -->
+<!-- timestamp: Tue Sep 16 19:58:22 -0500 2008 -->
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's At the Sign of the Jack O'Lantern, by Myrtle Reed
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+Project Gutenberg's At the Sign of the Jack O'Lantern, by Myrtle Reed
+
+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: At the Sign of the Jack O'Lantern
+
+Author: Myrtle Reed
+
+Release Date: September 20, 2008 [EBook #26673]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AT THE SIGN OF THE JACK O'LANTERN ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note: Underscore marks are used to mark passages that were
+originally in italics, _as in this phrase_. There are sections of several
+paragraphs that use this markup throughout the book.
+
+------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+AT THE SIGN OF THE JACK O'LANTERN
+
+By
+MYRTLE REED
+
+Author of
+
+Lavender and Old Lace
+The Master's Violin
+A Spinner in the Sun
+Old Rose and Silver
+A Weaver of Dreams
+Flower of the Dusk
+Etc.
+
+New York
+GROSSET & DUNLAP
+Publishers
+
+------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+Copyright, 1902
+
+BY
+MYRTLE REED
+
+By Myrtle Reed:
+
+A Weaver of Dreams          Sonnets to a Lover
+Old Rose and Silver         Master of the Vineyard
+Lavender and Old Lace       Flower of the Dusk
+The Master's Violin         At the Sign of the Jack-o'-Lantern
+Love Letters of a Musician  A Spinner in the Sun
+The Spinster Book           Later Love Letters of a Musician
+The Shadow of Victory       Love Affairs of Literary Men
+Myrtle Reed Year Book
+
+This edition is issued under arrangement with the publishers
+G. P. Putnam's Sons, New York and London
+
+------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+CONTENTS
+
+CHAPTER                                   PAGE
+     I.  The End of the Honeymoon            1
+    II.  The Day Afterward                  18
+   III.  The First Caller                   35
+    IV.  Finances                           53
+     V.  Mrs. Smithers                      68
+    VI.  The Coming of Elaine               84
+   VII.  An Uninvited Guest                100
+  VIII.  More                              119
+    IX.  Another                           136
+     X.  Still More                        154
+    XI.  Mrs. Dodd's Third Husband         173
+   XII.  Her Gift to the World             191
+  XIII.  A Sensitive Soul                  210
+   XIV.  Mrs. Dodd's Fifth Fate            226
+    XV.  Treasure-Trove                    243
+   XVI.  Good Fortune                      264
+  XVII.  The Lady Elaine Knows Her Heart   282
+ XVIII.  Uncle Ebeneezer's Diary           299
+   XIX.  Various Departures                319
+    XX.  The Love of Another Elaine        338
+
+------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+The End of the Honeymoon
+
+
+It was certainly a queer house. Even through the blinding storm they could
+distinguish its eccentric outlines as they alighted from the stage.
+Dorothy laughed happily, heedless of the fact that her husband's umbrella
+was dripping down her neck. "It's a dear old place," she cried; "I love it
+already!"
+
+For an instant a flash of lightning turned the peculiar windows into
+sheets of flame, then all was dark again. Harlan's answer was drowned by a
+crash of thunder and the turning of the heavy wheels on the gravelled
+road.
+
+"Don't stop," shouted the driver; "I'll come up to-morrer for the money.
+Good luck to you--an' the Jack-o'-Lantern!"
+
+"What did he mean?" asked Dorothy, shaking out her wet skirts, when they
+were safely inside the door. "Who's got a Jack-o'-Lantern?"
+
+"You can search me," answered Harlan, concisely, fumbling for a match. "I
+suppose we've got it. Anyhow, we'll have a look at this sepulchral mansion
+presently."
+
+His deep voice echoed and re-echoed through the empty rooms, and Dorothy
+laughed; a little hysterically this time. Match after match sputtered and
+failed. "Couldn't have got much wetter if I'd been in swimming," he
+grumbled. "Here goes the last one."
+
+By the uncertain light they found a candle and Harlan drew a long breath
+of relief. "It would have been pleasant, wouldn't it?" he went on. "We
+could have sat on the stairs until morning, or broken our admirable necks
+in falling over strange furniture. The next thing is a fire. Wonder where
+my distinguished relative kept his wood?"
+
+Lighting another candle, he went off on a tour of investigation, leaving
+Dorothy alone.
+
+She could not repress a shiver as she glanced around the gloomy room. The
+bare loneliness of the place was accentuated by the depressing furniture,
+which belonged to the black walnut and haircloth period. On the
+marble-topped table, in the exact centre of the room, was a red plush
+album, flanked on one side by a hideous china vase, and on the other by a
+basket of wax flowers under a glass shade.
+
+Her home-coming! How often she had dreamed of it, never for a moment
+guessing that it might be like this! She had fancied a little house in a
+suburb, or a cosy apartment in the city, and a lump came into her throat
+as her air castle dissolved into utter ruin. She was one of those rare,
+unhappy women whose natures are so finely attuned to beauty that ugliness
+hurts like physical pain.
+
+She sat down on one of the slippery haircloth chairs, facing the mantel
+where the single candle threw its tiny light afar. Little by little the
+room crept into shadowy relief--the melodeon in the corner, the what-not,
+with its burden of incongruous ornaments, and even the easel bearing the
+crayon portrait of the former mistress of the house, becoming faintly
+visible.
+
+Presently, from above the mantel, appeared eyes. Dorothy felt them first,
+then looked up affrighted. From the darkness they gleamed upon her in a
+way that made her heart stand still. Human undoubtedly, but not in the
+least friendly, they were the eyes of one who bitterly resented the
+presence of an intruder. The light flickered, then flamed up once more and
+brought into view the features that belonged with the eyes.
+
+Dorothy would have screamed, had it not been for the lump in her throat. A
+step came nearer and nearer, from some distant part of the house,
+accompanied by a cheery, familiar whistle. Still the stern, malicious face
+held her spellbound, and even when Harlan came in with his load of wood,
+she could not turn away.
+
+"Now," he said, "we'll start a fire and hang ourselves up to dry."
+
+"What is it?" asked Dorothy, her lips scarcely moving.
+
+His eyes followed hers. "Uncle Ebeneezer's portrait," he answered. "Why,
+Dorothy Carr! I believe you're scared!"
+
+"I was scared," she admitted, reluctantly, after a brief silence, smiling
+a little at her own foolishness. "It's so dark and gloomy in here, and you
+were gone so long----"
+
+Her voice trailed off into an indistinct murmur, but she still shuddered
+in spite of herself.
+
+"Funny old place," commented Harlan, kneeling on the hearth and laying
+kindlings, log-cabin fashion, in the fireplace. "If an architect planned
+it, he must have gone crazy the week before he did it."
+
+"Or at the time. Don't, dear--wait a minute. Let's light our first fire
+together."
+
+He smiled as she slipped to her knees beside him, and his hand held hers
+while the blazing splinter set the pine kindling aflame. Quickly the whole
+room was aglow with light and warmth, in cheerful contrast to the stormy
+tumult outside.
+
+"Somebody said once," observed Harlan, as they drew their chairs close to
+the hearth, "that four feet on a fender are sufficient for happiness."
+
+"Depends altogether on the feet," rejoined Dorothy, quickly. "I wouldn't
+want Uncle Ebeneezer sitting here beside me--no disrespect intended to
+your relation, as such."
+
+"Poor old duck," said Harlan, kindly. "Life was never very good to him,
+and Death took away the only thing he ever loved.
+
+"Aunt Rebecca," he continued, feeling her unspoken question. "She died
+suddenly, when they had been married only three or four weeks."
+
+"Like us," whispered Dorothy, for the first time conscious of a tenderness
+toward the departed Mr. Judson, of Judson Centre.
+
+"It was four weeks ago to-day, wasn't it?" he mused, instinctively seeking
+her hand.
+
+"I thought you'd forgotten," she smiled back at him. "I feel like an old
+married woman, already."
+
+"You don't look it," he returned, gently. Few would have called her
+beautiful, but love brings beauty with it, and Harlan saw an exquisite
+loveliness in the deep, dark eyes, the brown hair that rippled and shone
+in the firelight, the smooth, creamy skin, and the sensitive mouth that
+betrayed every passing mood.
+
+"None the less, I am," she went on. "I've grown so used to seeing 'Mrs.
+James Harlan Carr' on my visiting cards that I've forgotten there ever was
+such a person as 'Miss Dorothy Locke,' who used to get letters, and go
+calling when she wasn't too busy, and have things sent to her when she had
+the money to buy them."
+
+"I hope--" Harlan stumbled awkwardly over the words--"I hope you'll never
+be sorry."
+
+"I haven't been yet," she laughed, "and it's four whole weeks. Come, let's
+go on an exploring expedition. I'm dry both inside and out, and most
+terribly hungry."
+
+Each took a candle and Harlan led the way, in and out of unexpected doors,
+queer, winding passages, and lonely, untenanted rooms. Originally, the
+house had been simple enough in structure, but wing after wing had been
+added until the first design, if it could be dignified by that name, had
+been wholly obscured. From each room branched a series of apartments--a
+sitting-room, surrounded by bedrooms, each of which contained two or
+sometimes three beds. A combined kitchen and dining-room was in every
+separate wing, with an outside door.
+
+"I wonder," cried Dorothy, "if we've come to an orphan asylum!"
+
+"Heaven knows what we've come to," muttered Harlan. "You know I never was
+here before."
+
+"Did Uncle Ebeneezer have a large family?"
+
+"Only Aunt Rebecca, who died very soon, as I told you. Mother was his only
+sister, and I her only child, so it wasn't on our side."
+
+"Perhaps," observed Dorothy, "Aunt Rebecca had relations."
+
+"One, two, three, four, five," counted Harlan. "There are five sets of
+apartments on this side, and three on the other. Let's go upstairs."
+
+From the low front door a series of low windows extended across the house
+on each side, abundantly lighting the two front rooms, which were
+separated by the wide hall. A high, narrow window in the lower hall,
+seemingly with no purpose whatever, began far above the low door and ended
+abruptly at the ceiling. In the upper hall, a similar window began at the
+floor and extended upward no higher than Harlan's knees. As Dorothy said,
+"one would have to lie down to look out of it," but it lighted the hall,
+which, after all, was the main thing.
+
+In each of the two front rooms, upstairs, was a single round window, too
+high for one to look out of without standing on a chair, though in both
+rooms there was plenty of side light. One wing on each side of the house
+had been carried up to the second story, and the arrangement of rooms was
+the same as below, outside stairways leading from the kitchens to the
+ground.
+
+"I never saw so many beds in my life," cried Dorothy.
+
+"Seems to be a perfect Bedlam," rejoined Harlan, making a poor attempt at
+a joke and laughing mirthlessly. In his heart he began to doubt the wisdom
+of marrying on six hundred dollars, an unexplored heirloom in Judson
+Centre, and an overweening desire to write books.
+
+For the first time, his temerity appeared to him in its proper colours. He
+had been a space writer and Dorothy the private secretary of a Personage,
+when they met, in the dreary basement dining-room of a New York
+boarding-house, and speedily fell in love. Shortly afterward, when Harlan
+received a letter which contained a key, and announced that Mr. Judson's
+house, fully furnished, had been bequeathed to his nephew, they had
+light-heartedly embarked upon matrimony with no fears for the future.
+
+Two hundred dollars had been spent upon a very modest honeymoon, and the
+three hundred and ninety-seven dollars and twenty-three cents remaining,
+as Harlan had accurately calculated, seemed pitifully small. Perplexity,
+doubt, and foreboding were plainly written on his face, when Dorothy
+turned to him.
+
+"Isn't it perfectly lovely," she asked, "for us to have this nice, quiet
+place all to ourselves, where you can write your book?"
+
+Woman-like, she had instantly touched the right chord, and the clouds
+vanished.
+
+"Yes," he cried, eagerly. "Oh, Dorothy, do you think I can really write
+it?"
+
+"Write it," she repeated; "why, you dear, funny goose, you can write a
+better book than anybody has ever written yet, and I know you can! By next
+week we'll be settled here and you can get down to work. I'll help you,
+too," she added, generously. "If you'll buy me a typewriter, I can copy
+the whole book for you."
+
+"Of course I'll buy you a typewriter. We'll send for it to-morrow. How
+much does a nice one cost?"
+
+"The kind I like," she explained, "costs a hundred dollars without the
+stand. I don't need the stand--we can find a table somewhere that will
+do."
+
+"Two hundred and ninety-seven dollars and twenty-three cents," breathed
+Harlan, unconsciously.
+
+"No, only a hundred dollars," corrected Dorothy. "I don't care to have it
+silver mounted."
+
+"I'd buy you a gold one if you wanted it," stammered Harlan, in some
+confusion.
+
+"Not now," she returned, serenely. "Wait till the book is done."
+
+Visions of fame and fortune appeared before his troubled eyes and set his
+soul alight with high ambition. The candle in his hand burned unsteadily
+and dripped tallow, unheeded. "Come," said Dorothy, gently, "let's go
+downstairs again."
+
+An open door revealed a tortuous stairway at the back of the house,
+descending mysteriously into cavernous gloom. "Let's go down here," she
+continued. "I love curly stairs."
+
+"These are kinky enough to please even your refined fancy," laughed
+Harlan. "It reminds me of travelling in the West, where you look out of
+the window and see your engine on the track beside you, going the other
+way."
+
+"This must be the kitchen," said Dorothy, when the stairs finally ceased.
+"Uncle Ebeneezer appears to have had a pronounced fancy for kitchens."
+
+"Here's another wing," added Harlan, opening the back door. "Sitting-room,
+bedroom, and--my soul and body! It's another kitchen!"
+
+"Any more beds?" queried Dorothy, peering into the darkness. "We can't
+keep house unless we can find more beds."
+
+"Only one more. I guess we've come down to bed rock at last."
+
+"In other words, the cradle," she observed, pulling a little old-fashioned
+trundle bed out into the light.
+
+"Oh, what a joke!" cried Harlan. "That's worth three dollars in the office
+of any funny paper in New York!"
+
+"Sell it," commanded Dorothy, inspired by the prospect of wealth, "and
+I'll give you fifty cents for your commission."
+
+Outside, the storm still raged and the old house shook and creaked in the
+blast. The rain swirled furiously against the windows, and a swift rush of
+hailstones beat a fierce tattoo on the roof. Built on the summit of a hill
+and with only a few trees near it, the Judson mansion was but poorly
+protected from the elements.
+
+None the less, there was a sense of warmth and comfort inside. "Let's
+build a fire in the kitchen," suggested Dorothy, "and then we'll try to
+find something to eat."
+
+"Which kitchen?" asked Harlan.
+
+"Any old kitchen. The one the back stairs end in, I guess. It seems to be
+the principal one of the set."
+
+Harlan brought more wood and Dorothy watched him build the fire with a
+sense that a god-like being was here put to base uses. Hampered in his
+log-cabin design by the limitations of the fire box, he handled the
+kindlings awkwardly, got a splinter into his thumb, said something under
+his breath which was not meant for his wife to hear, and powdered his
+linen with soot from the stove pipe. At length, however, a respectable
+fire was started.
+
+"Now," he asked, "what shall I do next?"
+
+"Wind all the clocks. I can't endure a dead clock. While you're doing it,
+I'll get out the remnants of our lunch and see what there is in the pantry
+that is still edible."
+
+In the lunch basket which the erratic ramifications of the road leading to
+Judson Centre had obliged them to carry, there was still, fortunately, a
+supply of sandwiches and fruit. A hasty search through the nearest pantry
+revealed jelly, marmalade, and pickles, a box of musty crackers and a
+canister of tea. When Harlan came back, Dorothy had the kitchen table set
+for two, with a lighted candle dispensing odorous good cheer from the
+centre of it, and the tea kettle singing merrily over the fire.
+
+"Seems like home, doesn't it?" he asked, pleasantly imbued with the
+realisation of the home-making quality in Dorothy. Certain rare women with
+this gift take their atmosphere with them wherever they go.
+
+"To-morrow," he went on, "I'll go into the village and buy more things to
+eat."
+
+"The ruling passion," she smiled. "It's--what's that!"
+
+Clear and high above the sound of the storm came an imperious "Me-ow!"
+
+"It's a cat," said Harlan. "You don't suppose the poor thing is shut up
+anywhere, do you?"
+
+"If it had been, we'd have found it. We've opened every door in the house,
+I'm sure. It must be outside."
+
+"Me-ow! Me-ow! Me-ow!" The voice was not pleading; it was rather a
+command, a challenge.
+
+"Kitty, kitty, kitty," she called. "Where are you, kitty?"
+
+Harlan opened the outside door, and in rushed a huge black cat, with the
+air of one returning home after a long absence.
+
+"Poor kitty," said Dorothy, kindly, stooping to stroke the sable visitor,
+who instinctively dodged the caress, and then scratched her hand.
+
+"The ugly brute!" she exclaimed. "Don't touch him, Harlan."
+
+Throughout the meal the cat sat at a respectful distance, with his
+greenish yellow eyes fixed unwaveringly upon them. He was entirely black,
+save for a white patch under his chin, which, in the half-light, carried
+with it an uncanny suggestion of a shirt front. Dorothy at length became
+restless under the calm scrutiny.
+
+"I don't like him," she said. "Put him out."
+
+"Thought you liked cats," remarked Harlan, reaching for another sandwich.
+
+"I do, but I don't like this one. Please put him out."
+
+"What, in all this storm? He'll get wet."
+
+"He wasn't wet when he came in," objected Dorothy. "He must have some
+warm, dry place of his own outside."
+
+"Come, kitty," said Harlan, pleasantly.
+
+"Kitty" merely blinked, and Harlan rose.
+
+"Come, kitty."
+
+With the characteristic independence of cats, the visitor yawned. The
+conversation evidently bored him.
+
+"Come, kitty," said Harlan, more firmly, with a low swoop of his arm. The
+cat arched his back, erected an enlarged tail, and hissed threateningly.
+In a dignified but effective manner, he eluded all attempts to capture
+him, even avoiding Dorothy and her broom.
+
+"There's something more or less imperial about him," she remarked, wiping
+her flushed cheeks, when they had finally decided not to put the cat out.
+"As long as he's adopted us, we'll have to keep him. What shall we name
+him?"
+
+"Claudius Tiberius," answered Harlan. "It suits him down to the ground."
+
+"His first name is certainly appropriate," laughed Dorothy, with a rueful
+glance at her scratched hand. Making the best of a bad bargain, she spread
+an old grey shawl, nicely folded, on the floor by the stove, and requested
+Claudius Tiberius to recline upon it, but he persistently ignored the
+invitation.
+
+"This is jolly enough," said Harlan. "A cosy little supper in our own
+house, with a gale blowing outside, the tea kettle singing over the fire,
+and a cat purring on the hearth."
+
+"Have you heard Claudius purr?" asked Dorothy, idly.
+
+"Come to think of it, I haven't. Perhaps something is wrong with his
+purrer. We'll fix him to-morrow."
+
+From a remote part of the house came twelve faint, silvery tones. The
+kitchen clock struck next, with short, quick strokes, followed immediately
+by a casual record of the hour from the clock on the mantel beneath Uncle
+Ebeneezer's portrait. Then the grandfather's clock in the hall boomed out
+twelve, solemn funereal chimes. Afterward, the silence seemed acute.
+
+"The end of the honeymoon," said Dorothy, a little sadly, with a quick,
+inquiring look at her husband.
+
+"The end of the honeymoon!" repeated Harlan, gathering her into his arms.
+"To-morrow, life begins!"
+
+Several hours later, Dorothy awoke from a dreamless sleep to wonder
+whether life was any different from a honeymoon, and if so, how and why.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+The Day Afterward
+
+
+By the pitiless light of early morning, the house was even uglier than at
+night. With an irreverence essentially modern, Dorothy decided, while she
+was dressing, to have all the furniture taken out into the back yard,
+where she could look it over at her leisure. She would make a bonfire of
+most of it, or, better yet, have it cut into wood for the fireplace. Thus
+Uncle Ebeneezer's cumbrous bequest might be quickly transformed into
+comfort.
+
+"And," thought Dorothy, "I'll take down that hideous portrait over the
+mantel before I'm a day older."
+
+But when she broached the subject to Harlan, she found him unresponsive
+and somewhat disinclined to interfere with the existing order of things.
+"We'll be here only for the Summer," he said, "so what's the use of
+monkeying with the furniture and burning up fifty or sixty beds? There's
+plenty of wood in the cellar."
+
+"I don't like the furniture," she pouted.
+
+"My dear," said Harlan, with patronising kindness, "as you grow older,
+you'll find lots of things on the planet which you don't like. Moreover,
+it'll be quite out of your power to cremate 'em, and it's just as well to
+begin adjusting yourself now."
+
+This bit of philosophy irritated Mrs. Carr unbearably. "Do you mean to
+say," she demanded, with rising temper, "that you won't do as I ask you
+to?"
+
+"Do you mean to say," inquired Harlan, wickedly, in exact imitation of her
+manner, "that you won't do as I ask you to? Four weeks ago yesterday, if I
+remember rightly, you promised to obey me!"
+
+"Don't remind me of what I'm ashamed of!" flashed Dorothy. "If I'd known
+what a brute you were, I'd never have married you! You may be sure of
+that!"
+
+Claudius Tiberius insinuated himself between Harlan's feet and rubbed
+against his trousers, leaving a thin film of black fur in his wake. Being
+fastidious about his personal appearance, Harlan kicked Claudius Tiberius
+vigorously, grabbed his hat and went out, slamming the door, and whistling
+with an exaggerated cheerfulness.
+
+"Brute!" The word rankled deeply as he went downhill with his hands in his
+pockets, whistling determinedly. So Dorothy was sorry she had married him!
+After all he'd done for her, too. Giving up a good position in New York,
+taking her half-way around the world on a honeymoon, and bringing her to a
+magnificent country residence in a fashionable locality for the Summer!
+
+Safely screened by the hill, he turned back to look at the "magnificent
+country residence," then swore softly under his breath, as, for the first
+time, he took in the full meaning of the eccentric architecture.
+
+Perched high upon the hill, with intervening shrubbery carefully cut down,
+the Judson mansion was not one to inspire confidence in its possessor.
+Outwardly, it was grey and weather-worn, with the shingles dropping off in
+places. At the sides, the rambling wings and outside stairways, branching
+off into space, conveyed the impression that the house had been recently
+subjected to a powerful influence of the centrifugal sort. But worst of
+all was the front elevation, with its two round windows, its narrow, long
+window in the centre, and the low windows on either side of the front
+door--the grinning, distorted semblance of a human face.
+
+The bare, uncurtained windows loomed up boldly in the searching sunlight,
+which spared nothing. The blue smoke rising from the kitchen chimney
+appeared strangely like a plume streaming out from the rear. Harlan noted,
+too, that the railing of the narrow porch extended almost entirely across
+the front of the house, and remembered, dimly, that they had found the
+steps at one side of the porch the night before. Not a single unpleasant
+detail was in any way hidden, and he clutched instinctively at a tree as
+he realised that the supports of the railing were cunningly arranged to
+look like huge teeth.
+
+"No wonder," he said to himself "that the stage driver called it the
+Jack-o'-Lantern! That's exactly what it is! Why didn't he paint it yellow
+and be done with it? The old devil!" The last disrespectful allusion, of
+course, being meant for Uncle Ebeneezer.
+
+"Poor Dorothy," he thought again. "I'll burn the whole thing, and she
+shall put every blamed crib into the purifying flames. It's mine, and I
+can do what I please with it. We'll go away to-morrow, we'll go----"
+
+Where could they go, with less than four hundred dollars? Especially when
+one hundred of it was promised for a typewriter? Harlan had parted with
+his managing editor on terms of great dignity, announcing that he had
+forsworn journalism and would hereafter devote himself to literature. The
+editor had remarked, somewhat cynically, that it was a better day for
+journalism than for literature, the fine, inner meaning of the retort not
+having been fully evident to Harlan until he was some three squares away
+from the office.
+
+Much chastened in spirit, and fully ready to accept his wife's estimate of
+him, he went on downhill into Judson Centre.
+
+It was the usual small town, the post-office, grocery, meat market, and
+general loafing-place being combined under one roof. Near by was the
+blacksmith shop, and across from it was the inevitable saloon. Far up in
+the hills was the Judson Centre Sanitarium, a worthy institution of some
+years standing, where every human ailment from tuberculosis to fits was
+more or less successfully treated.
+
+Upon the inmates of the sanitarium the inhabitants of Judson Centre lived,
+both materially and mentally. Few of them had ever been nearer to it than
+the back door, but tales of dark doings were widely prevalent throughout
+the community, and mothers were wont to frighten their young offspring
+into obedience with threats of the "san-tor-i-yum."
+
+"Now what do you reckon ails _him_?" asked the blacksmith of the
+stage-driver, as Harlan went into the village store.
+
+"Wouldn't reckon nothin' ailed him to look at him, would you?" queried the
+driver, in reply.
+
+Indeed, no one looking at Mr. Carr would have suspected him of an
+"ailment." He was tall and broad-shouldered and well set up, with clear
+grey eyes and a rosy, smooth-shaven, boyish face which had given him the
+nickname of "The Cherub" all along Newspaper Row. In his bearing there was
+a suggestion of boundless energy, which needed only proper direction to
+accomplish wonders.
+
+"You can't never tell," continued the driver, shifting his quid. "Now,
+I've took folks up there goin' on ten year now, an' some I've took up
+looked considerable more healthy than I be when I took 'em up. Comin'
+back, howsumever, it was different. One young feller rode up with me in
+the rain one night, a-singin' an' a-whistlin' to beat the band, an' when I
+took him back, a month or so arterward, he had a striped nurse on one side
+of him an' a doctor on t' other, an' was wearin' a shawl. Couldn't hardly
+set up, but he was a-tryin' to joke just the same. 'Hank,' says he, when
+we got a little way off from the place, 'my book of life has been edited
+by the librarians an' the entire appendix removed.' Them's his very words.
+'An',' says he, 'the time to have the appendix took out is before it does
+much of anythin' to your table of contents.'
+
+"The doctor shut him up then, an' I didn't hear no more, but I remembered
+the language, an' arterwards, when I got a chanst, I looked in the
+school-teacher's dictionary. It said as how the appendix was sunthin'
+appended or added to, but I couldn't get no more about it. I've hearn tell
+of a 'devil child' with a tail to it what was travellin' with the circus
+one year, an' I've surmised as how mebbe a tail had begun to grow on this
+young feller an' it was took off."
+
+"You don't say!" ejaculated the blacksmith.
+
+By reason of his professional connection with the sanitarium, Mr. Henry
+Blake was, in a sense, the oracle of Judson Centre, and he enjoyed his
+proud distinction to the full. Ordinarily, he was taciturn, but the
+present hour found him in a conversational mood.
+
+"He's married," he went on, returning to the original subject. "I took him
+an' his wife up to the Jack-o'-Lantern last night. Come in on the nine
+forty-seven from the Junction. Reckon they're goin' to stay a spell,
+'cause they've got trunks--one of a reasonable size, an' 'nother that
+looks like a dog-house. Box, too, that's got lead in it."
+
+"Books, maybe," suggested the blacksmith, with unexpected discernment.
+"Schoolteacher boarded to our house wunst an' she had most a car-load of
+'em. Educated folks has to have books to keep from losin' their
+education."
+
+"Don't take much stock in it myself," remarked the driver. "It spiles most
+folks. As soon as they get some, they begin to pine an' hanker for more. I
+knowed a feller wunst that begun with one book dropped on the road near
+the sanitarium, an' he never stopped till he was plum through college. An'
+a woman up there sent my darter a book wunst, an' I took it right back to
+her. 'My darter's got a book,' says I, 'an' she ain't a-needin' of no
+duplicates. Keep it,' says I, 'fer somebody that ain't got no book."
+
+"Do you reckon," asked the blacksmith, after a long silence, "that they're
+goin' to live in the Jack-o'-Lantern?"
+
+"I ain't a-sayin'," answered Mr. Blake, cautiously. "They're educated, an'
+there's no tellin' what educated folks is goin' to do. This young lady,
+now, that come up with him last night, she said it was 'a dear old place
+an' she loved it a'ready.' Them's her very words!"
+
+"Do tell!"
+
+"That's c'rrect, an' as I said before, when you're dealin' with educated
+folks, you're swimmin' in deep water with the shore clean out o' sight.
+Education was what ailed him." By a careless nod Mr. Blake indicated the
+Jack-o'-Lantern, which could be seen from the main thoroughfare of Judson
+Centre.
+
+"I've hearn," he went on, taking a fresh bite from his morning purchase of
+"plug," "that he had one hull room mighty nigh plum full o' nothin' but
+books, an' there was always more comin' by freight an' express an' through
+the post-office. It's all on account o' them books that he's made the
+front o' his house into what it is. My wife had a paper book wunst,
+a-tellin' 'How to Transfer a Hopeless Exterior,' with pictures of houses
+in it like they be here an' more arter they'd been transferred. You bet I
+burnt it while she was gone to sewin' circle, an' there ain't no book come
+into my house since."
+
+Mr. Blake spoke with the virtuous air of one who has protected his home
+from contamination. Indeed, as he had often said before, "you can't never
+tell what folks'll do when books gets a holt of 'em."
+
+"Do you reckon," asked the blacksmith, "that there'll be company?"
+
+"Company," snickered Mr. Blake, "oh, my Lord, yes! A little thing like
+death ain't never going to keep company away. Ain't you never hearn as how
+misery loves company? The more miserable you are the more company you'll
+have, an' vice versey, etcetery an' the same."
+
+"Hush!" warned the blacksmith, in a harsh whisper. "He's a-comin'!"
+
+"City feller," grumbled Mr. Blake, affecting not to see.
+
+"Good-morning," said Harlan, pleasantly, though not without an air of
+condescension. "Can you tell me where I can find the stage-driver?"
+
+"That's me," grunted Mr. Blake. "Be you wantin' anythin'?"
+
+"Only to pay you for taking us up to the house last night, and to arrange
+about our trunks. Can you deliver them this afternoon?"
+
+"I ain't a-runnin' of no livery, but I can take 'em up, if that's what
+you're wantin'."
+
+"Exactly," said Harlan, "and the box, too, if you will. And the things
+I've just ordered at the grocery--can you bring them, too?"
+
+Mr. Blake nodded helplessly, and the blacksmith gazed at Harlan,
+open-mouthed, as he started uphill. "Must sure have a ailment," he
+commented, "but I hear tell, Hank, that in the city they never carry
+nothin' round with 'em but perhaps an umbrell. Everythin' else they have
+'sent.'"
+
+"Reckon it's true enough. I took a ham wunst up to the sanitarium for a
+young sprig of a doctor that was too proud to carry it himself. He was
+goin' that way, too--walkin' up to save money--so I charged him for
+carryin' up the ham just what I'd have took both for. 'Pigs is high,' I
+told him, 'same price for one as for 'nother,' but he didn't pay no
+attention to it an' never raised no kick about the price. Thinkin' 'bout
+sunthin' else, most likely--most of 'em are."
+
+Harlan, most assuredly, was "thinkin' 'bout sunthin' else." In fact, he
+was possessed by portentous uneasiness. There was well-defined doubt in
+his mind regarding his reception at the Jack-o'-Lantern. Dorothy's parting
+words had been plain--almost to the point of rudeness, he reflected,
+unhappily, and he was not sure that "a brute" would be allowed in her
+presence again.
+
+The bare, uncurtained windows gave no sign of human occupancy. Perhaps she
+had left him! Then his reason came to the rescue--there was no way for her
+to go but downhill, and he would certainly have seen her had she taken
+that path.
+
+When he entered the yard, he smelled smoke, and ran wildly into the house.
+A hasty search through all the rooms revealed nothing--even Dorothy had
+disappeared. From the kitchen window, he saw her in the back yard, poking
+idly through a heap of smouldering rubbish with an old broomstick.
+
+"What are you doing?" he demanded, breathlessly, before she knew he was
+near her.
+
+Dorothy turned, disguising her sudden start by a toss of her head. "Oh,"
+she said, coolly, "it's you, is it?"
+
+Harlan bit his lips and his eyes laughed. "I say, Dorothy," he began,
+awkwardly; "I was rather a beast, wasn't I?"
+
+"Of course," she returned, in a small, unnatural voice, still poking
+through the ruins. "I told you so, didn't I?"
+
+"I didn't believe you at the time," Harlan went on, eager to make amends,
+"but I do now."
+
+"That's good." Mrs. Carr's tone was not at all reassuring.
+
+There was an awkward pause, then Harlan, putting aside his obstinate
+pride, said the simple sentence which men of all ages have found it
+hardest to say--perhaps because it is the sign of utter masculine
+abasement. "I'm sorry, dear, will you forgive me?"
+
+In a moment, she was in his arms. "It was partly my fault," she admitted,
+generously, from the depths of his coat collar. "I think there must be
+something in the atmosphere of the house. We never quarrelled before."
+
+"And we never will again," answered Harlan, confidently. "What have you
+been burning?"
+
+"It was a mattress," whispered Dorothy, much ashamed. "I tried to get a
+bed out, but it was too heavy."
+
+"You funny, funny girl! How did you ever get a mattress out, all alone?"
+
+"Dragged it to an upper window and dumped it," she explained, blushing,
+"then came down and dragged it some more. Claudius Tiberius didn't like to
+have me do it."
+
+"I don't wonder," laughed Harlan. "That is," he added hastily, "he
+couldn't have been pleased to see you doing it all by yourself. Anybody
+would love to see a mattress burn."
+
+"Shall we get some more? There are plenty."
+
+"Let's not take all our pleasure at once," he suggested, with rare tact.
+"One mattress a day--how'll that do?"
+
+"We'll have it at night," cried Dorothy, clapping her hands, "and when the
+mattresses are all gone, we'll do the beds and bureaus and the haircloth
+furniture in the parlour. Oh, I do so love a bonfire!"
+
+Harlan's heart grew strangely tender, for it had been this underlying
+childishness in her that he had loved the most. She was stirring the ashes
+now, with as much real pleasure as though she were five instead of
+twenty-five.
+
+As it happened, Harlan would have been saved a great deal of trouble if he
+had followed out her suggestion and burned all of the beds in the house
+except two or three, but the balance between foresight and retrospection
+has seldom been exact.
+
+"Beast of a smudge you're making," he commented, choking.
+
+"Get around to the other side, then. Why, Harlan, what's that?"
+
+"What's what?"
+
+She pointed to a small metal box in the midst of the ashes.
+
+"Poem on Spring, probably, put into the corner-stone by the builder of the
+mattress."
+
+"Don't be foolish," she said, with assumed severity. "Get me a pail of
+water."
+
+With two sticks they lifted it into the water and waited, impatiently
+enough, until they were sure it was cool. Then Dorothy, asserting her
+right of discovery, opened it with trembling fingers.
+
+"Why-ee!" she gasped.
+
+Upon a bed of wet cotton lay a large brooch, made wholly of clustered
+diamonds, and a coral necklace, somewhat injured by the fire.
+
+"Whose is it?" demanded Dorothy, when she recovered the faculty of
+speech.
+
+"I should say," returned Harlan, after due deliberation, "that it belonged
+to you."
+
+"After this," she said, slowly, her eyes wide with wonder, "we'll take
+everything apart before we burn it."
+
+Harlan was turning the brooch over in his hand and roughly estimating its
+value at two thousand dollars. "Here's something on the back," he said.
+"'R. from E., March 12, 1865.'"
+
+"Rebecca from Ebeneezer," cried Dorothy. "Oh, Harlan, it's ours! Don't you
+remember the letter said: 'my house and all its contents to my beloved
+nephew, James Harlan Carr'?"
+
+"I remember," said Harlan. But his conscience was uneasy, none the less.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+The First Caller
+
+
+As Mr. Blake had heard, there was "one hull room mighty nigh plum full o'
+nothin' but books"; a grievous waste, indeed, when one already "had a
+book." It was the front room, opposite the parlour, and every door and
+window in it could be securely bolted from the inside. If any one desired
+unbroken privacy, it could be had in the library as nowhere else in the
+house.
+
+The book-shelves were made of rough pine, unplaned, unpainted, and were
+scarcely a seemly setting for the treasure they bore. But in looking at
+the books, one perceived that their owner had been one who passed by the
+body in his eager search for the soul.
+
+Here were no fine editions, no luxurious, costly volumes in full levant.
+Illuminated pages, rubricated headings, and fine illustrations were
+conspicuous by their absence. For the most part, the books were simply but
+serviceably bound in plain cloth covers. Many a paper-covered book had
+been bound by its purchaser in pasteboard, flimsy enough in quality, yet
+further strengthened by cloth at the back. Cheap, pirated editions were so
+many that Harlan wondered whether his uncle had not been wholly without
+conscience in the matter of book-buying.
+
+Shelf after shelf stretched across the long wall, with its company of mute
+consolers whose master was no more. The fine flowering of the centuries,
+like a single precious drop of imperishable perfume, was hidden in this
+rude casket. The minds and hearts of the great, laid pitilessly bare, were
+here in this one room, shielded merely by pasteboard and cloth.
+
+Far up in the mountains, amid snow-clad steeps and rock-bound fastnesses,
+one finds, perchance, a shell. It is so small a thing that it can be held
+in the hollow of the hand; so frail that a slight pressure of the finger
+will crush it to atoms, yet, held to the ear, it brings the surge and
+sweep of that vast, primeval ocean which, in the inconceivably remote
+past, covered the peak. And so, to the eye of the mind, the small brown
+book, with its hundred printed pages, brings back the whole story of the
+world.
+
+A thin, piping voice, to which its fellows have paid no heed, after a time
+becomes silent, and, ceaselessly marching, the years pass on by. Yet that
+trembling old hand, quietly laid at last upon the turbulent heart, in the
+solitude of a garret has guided a pen, and the manuscript is left. Ragged,
+worn, blotted, spotted with candle drippings and endlessly interlined, why
+should these few sheets of paper be saved?
+
+Because, as it happens, the only record of the period is there--a record
+so significant that fifty years can be reconstructed, as an entire
+language was brought to light by a triple inscription upon a single stone.
+Thrown like the shell upon Time's ever-receding shore, it is,
+nevertheless, the means by which unborn thousands shall commune with him
+who wrote in his garret, see his whole life mirrored in his book, know his
+philosophy, and take home his truth. For by way of the printed page comes
+Immortality.
+
+There was no book in the library which had not been read many times. Some
+were falling apart, and others had been carefully sewn together and
+awkwardly rebound. Still open, on a rickety table in the corner, was that
+ponderous volume with an extremely limited circulation: _The Publishers'
+Trade List Annual_. Pencilled crosses here and there indicated books to be
+purchased, or at least sent on approval, to "customers known to the
+House."
+
+"Some day," said Dorothy, "when it's raining and we can't go out, we'll
+take down all these books, arrange them in something like order, and
+catalogue them."
+
+"How optimistic you are!" remarked Harlan. "Do you think it could be done
+in one day?"
+
+"Oh, well," returned Dorothy; "you know what I mean."
+
+Harlan paced restlessly back and forth, pausing now and then to look out
+of the window, where nothing much was to be seen except the orchard, at a
+little distance from the house, and Claudius Tiberius, sunning himself
+pleasantly upon the porch. Four weeks had been a pleasant vacation, but
+two weeks of comparative idleness, added to it, were too much for an
+active mind and body to endure. Three or four times he had tried to begin
+the book that was to bring fame and fortune, and as many times had failed.
+Hitherto Harlan's work had not been obliged to wait for inspiration, and
+it was not so easy as it had seemed the day he bade his managing editor
+farewell.
+
+"Somebody is coming," announced Dorothy, from the window.
+
+"Nonsense! Nobody ever comes here."
+
+"A precedent is about to be established, then. I feel it in my bones that
+we're going to have company."
+
+"Let's see." Harlan went to the window and looked over her shoulder. A
+little man in a huge silk hat was toiling up the hill, aided by a cane. He
+was bent and old, yet he moved with a certain briskness, and, as Dorothy
+had said, he was inevitably coming.
+
+"Who in thunder--" began Harlan.
+
+"Our first company," interrupted Dorothy, with her hand over his mouth.
+"The very first person who has called on us since we were married!"
+
+"Except Claudius Tiberius," amended Harlan. "Isn't a cat anybody?"
+
+"Claudius is. I beg his imperial pardon for forgetting him."
+
+The rusty bell-wire creaked, then a timid ring came from the rear depths
+of the house. "You let him in," said Dorothy, "and I'll go and fix my
+hair."
+
+"Am I right," queried the old gentleman, when Harlan opened the door, "in
+presuming that I am so fortunate as to address Mr. James Harlan Carr?"
+
+"My name is Carr," answered Harlan, politely. "Will you come in?"
+
+"Thank you," answered the visitor, in high staccato, oblivious of the fact
+that Claudius Tiberius had scooted in between his feet; "it will be my
+pleasure to claim your hospitality for a few brief moments.
+
+"I had hoped," he went on, as Harlan ushered him into the parlour, "to be
+able to make your acquaintance before this, but my multitudinous
+duties----"
+
+He fumbled in his pocket and produced a card, cut somewhat irregularly
+from a sheet of white cardboard, and bearing in tremulous autographic
+script: "Jeremiah Bradford, Counsellor at Law."
+
+"Oh," said Harlan, "it was you who wrote me the letter. I should have
+hunted you up when I first came, shouldn't I?"
+
+"Not at all," returned Mr. Bradford. "It is I who have been remiss. It is
+etiquette that the old residents should call first upon the newcomers.
+Many and varied duties in connection with the practice of my profession
+have hitherto--" His eyes sought the portrait over the mantel. "A most
+excellent likeness of your worthy uncle," he continued, irrelevantly, "a
+gentleman with whom, as I understand, you never had the pleasure and
+privilege of becoming acquainted."
+
+"I never met Uncle Ebeneezer," rejoined Harlan, "but mother told me a
+great deal about him and we had one or two pictures--daguerreotypes, I
+believe they were."
+
+"Undoubtedly, my dear sir. This portrait was painted from his very last
+daguerreotype by an artist of renown. It is a wonderful likeness. He was
+my Colonel--I served under him in the war. It was my desire to possess a
+portrait of him in uniform, but he would never consent, and would not
+allow anyone save myself to address him as Colonel. An eccentric, but very
+estimable gentleman."
+
+"I cannot understand," said Harlan, "why he should have left the house to
+me. I had never even seen him."
+
+"Perhaps," smiled Mr. Bradford, enigmatically, "that was his reason, or
+rather, perhaps I should say, if you had known your uncle more intimately
+and had visited him here, or, if he had had the privilege of knowing
+you--quite often, as you know, a personal acquaintance proves
+disappointing, though, of course, in this case----"
+
+The old gentleman was floundering helplessly when Harlan rescued him. "I
+want you to meet my wife, Mr. Bradford. If you will excuse me, I will call
+her."
+
+Left to himself, the visitor slipped back and forth uneasily upon his
+haircloth chair, and took occasion to observe Claudius Tiberius, who sat
+near by and regarded the guest unblinkingly. Hearing approaching
+footsteps, he took out his worn silk handkerchief, unfolded it, and wiped
+the cold perspiration from his legal brow. In his heart of hearts, he
+wished he had not come, but Dorothy's kindly greeting at once relieved him
+of all embarrassment.
+
+"We have been wondering," she said, brightly, "who would be the first to
+call upon us, and you have come at exactly the right time. New residents
+are always given two weeks, are they not, in which to get settled?"
+
+"Quite so, my dear madam, quite so, and I trust that you are by this time
+fully accustomed to your changed environment. Judson Centre, while
+possessing few metropolitan advantages, has distinct and peculiar
+recommendations of an individual character which endear the locality to
+those residing therein."
+
+"I think I shall like it here," said Dorothy. "At least I shall try to."
+
+"A very commendable spirit," rejoined the old gentleman, warmly, "and
+rather remarkable in one so young."
+
+Mrs. Carr graciously acknowledged the compliment, and the guest flushed
+with pleasure. To perception less fine, there would have been food for
+unseemly mirth in his attire. Never in all her life before had Dorothy
+seen rough cow-hide boots, and grey striped trousers worn with a rusty and
+moth-eaten dress-coat in the middle of the afternoon. An immaculate
+expanse of shirt-front and a general air of extreme cleanliness went far
+toward redeeming the unfamiliar costume. The silk hat, with a bell-shaped
+crown and wide, rolling brim, belonged to a much earlier period, and had
+been brushed to look like new. Even Harlan noted that the ravelled edges
+of his linen had been carefully trimmed and the worn binding of the hat
+brim inked wherever necessary.
+
+His wrinkled old face was kindly, though somewhat sad. His weak blue eyes
+were sheltered by an enormous pair of spectacles, which he took off and
+wiped continually. He was smooth-shaven and his scanty hair was as white
+as the driven snow. Now, as he sat in Uncle Ebeneezer's parlour, he seemed
+utterly friendless and forlorn--a complete failure of that pitiful type
+which never for a moment guesses that it has failed.
+
+"It will be my delight," the old man was saying, his hollow cheeks faintly
+flushed, "to see that the elite of Judson Centre pay proper respect to you
+at an early date. If I were not most unfortunately a single gentleman, my
+wife would do herself the honour of calling upon you immediately and of
+tendering you some sort of hospitality approximately commensurate with
+your worth. As it is----"
+
+"As it is," said Harlan, taking up the wandering thread of the discourse,
+"that particular pleasure must be on our side. We both hope that you will
+come often, and informally."
+
+"It would be a solace to me," rejoined the old gentleman, tremulously, "to
+find the niece and nephew of my departed friend both congenial and
+companionable. He was my Colonel--I served under him in the war--and until
+the last, he allowed me to address him as Colonel--a privilege accorded to
+no one else. He very seldom left his own estate, but at his request I
+often spent an evening or a Sunday afternoon in his society, and after his
+untimely death, I feel the loss of his companionship very keenly. He was
+my Colonel--I----"
+
+"I should imagine so," said Harlan, kindly, "though, as I have told you, I
+never knew him at all."
+
+"A much-misunderstood gentleman," continued Mr. Bradford, carefully wiping
+his spectacles. "My grief is too recent, at present, to enable me to
+discourse freely of his many virtues, but at some future time I shall hope
+to make you acquainted with your benefactor. He was my Colonel, and in
+serving under him in the war, I had an unusual opportunity to know him as
+he really was. May I ask, without intruding upon your private affairs,
+whether or not it is your intention to reside here permanently?"
+
+"We have not made up our minds," responded Harlan. "We shall stay here
+this Summer, anyway, as I have some work to do which can be done only in a
+quiet place."
+
+"Quiet!" muttered the old gentleman, "quiet place! If I might venture to
+suggest, I should think you would find any other season more agreeable for
+prolonged mental effort. In Summer there are distractions----"
+
+"Yes," put in Dorothy, "in Summer, one wants to be outdoors, and I am
+going to keep chickens and a cow, but my husband hopes to have his book
+finished by September."
+
+"His book!" repeated Mr. Bradford, in genuine astonishment. "Am I actually
+addressing an author?"
+
+He beamed upon Harlan in a way which that modest youth found positively
+disconcerting.
+
+"A would-be author only," laughed Harlan, the colour mounting to his
+temples. "I've done newspaper work heretofore, and now I'm going to try
+something else."
+
+"My dear sir," said Mr. Bradford, rising, "I must really beg the privilege
+of clasping your hand. It is a great honour for Judson Centre to have an
+author residing in its midst!"
+
+Taking pity upon Harlan, Dorothy hastened to change the subject. "We hope
+it may be," she observed, lightly, "and I wonder, Mr. Bradford, if you
+could not give me some good advice?"
+
+"I shall be delighted, my dear madam. Any knowledge I may possess is
+trebly at your service, for the sake of the distinguished author whose
+wife you have the honour to be, for the sake of your departed relative,
+who was my friend, my Colonel, and last, but not least, for your own
+sake."
+
+"It is only about a maid," said Dorothy.
+
+"A ---- my dear madam, I beg your pardon?"
+
+"A maid," repeated Dorothy; "a servant."
+
+"Oh! A hired girl, or more accurately, in the parlance of Judson Centre,
+the help. Do I understand that it is your desire to become an employer of
+help?"
+
+"It is," answered Dorothy, somewhat awed by the solemnity of his tone, "if
+help is to be found. I thought you might know where I could get some
+one."
+
+"If I might be permitted to suggest," replied Mr. Bradford, after due
+deliberation, "I should unhesitatingly recommend Mrs. Sarah Smithers, who
+did for your uncle during the entire period of his residence here and
+whose privilege it was to close his eyes in his last sleep. She is at
+present without prospect of a situation, and I believe would be very ready
+to accept a new position, especially so desirable a position as this, in
+your service."
+
+"Thank you. Could you--could you send her to me?"
+
+"I shall do so, most assuredly, providing she is willing to come, and
+should she chance not to be agreeably disposed toward so pleasing a
+project, it will be my happiness to endeavour to persuade her." Drawing
+out a memorandum book and a pencil, the old gentleman made an entry upon a
+fresh page. "The multitudinous duties in connection with the practice of
+my profession," he began--"there, my dear madam, it is already attended
+to, since it is placed quite out of my power to forget."
+
+"I am greatly obliged," said Dorothy.
+
+"And now," continued the visitor, "I must go. I fear I have already
+outstayed the limitation of a formal visit, such as the first should be,
+and it is not my desire to intrude upon an author's time. Moreover, my own
+duties, slight and unimportant as they are in comparison, must ultimately
+press upon my attention."
+
+"Come again," said Harlan, kindly, following him to the door.
+
+"It will be my great pleasure," rejoined the guest, "not only on your own
+account, but because your personality reminds me of that of my departed
+friend. You favour him considerably, more particularly in the eyes, if I
+may be permitted to allude to details. I think I told you, did I not, that
+he was my Colonel and I was privileged to serve under him in the war?
+My--oh, I walked, did I not? I remember that it was my intention to come
+in a carriage, as being more suitable to a formal visit, but Mr. Blake had
+other engagements for his vehicle. Dear sir and madam, I bid you good
+afternoon."
+
+So saying, he went downhill, briskly enough, yet stumbling where the way
+was rough. They watched him until the bobbing, bell-shaped crown of the
+ancient head-gear was completely out of sight.
+
+"What a dear old man!" said Dorothy. "He's lonely and we must have him
+come up often."
+
+"Do you think," asked Harlan, "that I look like Uncle Ebeneezer?"
+
+"Indeed you don't!" cried Dorothy, "and that reminds me. I want to take
+that picture down."
+
+"To burn it?" inquired Harlan, slyly.
+
+"No, I wouldn't burn it," answered Dorothy, somewhat spitefully, "but
+there's no law against putting it in the attic, is there?"
+
+"Not that I know of. Can we reach it from a chair?"
+
+Together they mounted one of the haircloth monuments, slipping, as Dorothy
+said, until it was like walking on ice.
+
+"Now then," said Harlan, gaily, "come on down, Uncle! You're about to be
+moved into the attic!"
+
+The picture lunged forward, almost before they had touched it, the heavy
+gilt frame bruising Dorothy's cheek badly. In catching it, Harlan turned
+it completely around, then gave a low whistle of astonishment.
+
+Pasted securely to the back was a fearsome skull and cross-bones, made on
+wrapping paper with a brush and India ink. Below it, in great capitals,
+was the warning inscription: "LET MY PICTURE ALONE!"
+
+"What shall we do with it?" asked Harlan, endeavouring to laugh, though,
+as he afterward admitted, he "felt creepy." "Shall I take it up to the
+attic?"
+
+"No," answered Dorothy, in a small, unnatural voice, "leave it where it
+is."
+
+While Harlan was putting it back, Dorothy, trembling from head to foot,
+crept around to the back of the easel which bore Aunt Rebecca's portrait.
+She was not at all surprised to find, on the back of it, a notice to this
+effect: "ANYONE DARING TO MOVE MRS. JUDSON'S PICTURE WILL BE HAUNTED FOR
+LIFE BY US BOTH."
+
+"I don't doubt it," said Dorothy, somewhat viciously, when Harlan had
+joined her. "What kind of a woman do you suppose she could have been, to
+marry him? I'll bet she's glad she's dead!"
+
+Dorothy was still wiping blood from her face and might not have been
+wholly unprejudiced. Aunt Rebecca was a gentle, sweet-faced woman, if her
+portrait told the truth, possessed of all the virtues save self-assertion
+and dominated by habitual, unselfish kindness to others. She could not
+have been discourteous even to Claudius Tiberius, who at this moment was
+seated in state upon the sofa and purring industriously.
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+Finances
+
+
+"I've ordered the typewriter," said Dorothy, brightly, "and some nice new
+note-paper, and a seal. I've just been reading about making virtue out of
+necessity, so I've ordered 'At the Sign of the Jack-o'-Lantern' put on our
+stationery, in gold, and a yellow pumpkin on the envelope flap, just above
+the seal. And I want you to make a funny sign-board to flap from a pole,
+the way they did in 'Rudder Grange.' If you could make a wooden
+Jack-o'-Lantern, we could have a candle inside it at night, and then the
+sign would be just like the house. We can get the paint and things down in
+the village. Won't it be cute? We're farmers, now, so we'll have to
+pretend we like it."
+
+Harlan repressed an exclamation, which could not have been wholly inspired
+by pleasure.
+
+"What's the matter?" asked Dorothy, easily. "Don't you like the design for
+the note-paper? If you don't, you won't have to use it. Nobody's going to
+make you write letters on paper you don't like, so cheer up."
+
+"It isn't the paper," answered Harlan, miserably; "it's the typewriter."
+Up to the present moment, sustained by a false, but none the less
+determined pride, he had refrained from taking his wife into his
+confidence regarding his finances. With characteristic masculine
+short-sightedness, he had failed to perceive that every moment of delay
+made matters worse.
+
+"Might I inquire," asked Mrs. Carr, coolly, "what is wrong with the
+typewriter?"
+
+"Nothing at all," sighed Harlan, "except that we can't afford it." The
+whole bitter truth was out, now, and he turned away wretchedly, ashamed to
+meet her eyes.
+
+It seemed ages before she spoke. Then she said, in smooth, icy tones:
+"What was your object in offering to get it for me?"
+
+"I spoke impulsively," explained Harlan, forgetting that he had never
+suggested buying a typewriter. "I didn't stop to think. I'm sorry," he
+concluded, lamely.
+
+"I suppose you spoke impulsively," snapped Dorothy, "when you asked me to
+marry you. You're sorry for that, too, aren't you?"
+
+"Dorothy!"
+
+"You're not the only one who's sorry," she rejoined, her cheeks flushed
+and her eyes blazing. "I had no idea what an expense I was going to be!"
+
+"Dorothy!" cried Harlan, angrily; "you didn't think I was a millionaire,
+did you? Were you under the impression that I was an active branch of the
+United States Mint?"
+
+"No," she answered, huskily; "I merely thought I was marrying a gentleman
+instead of a loafer, and I beg your pardon for the mistake!" She slammed
+the door on the last word, and he heard her light feet pattering swiftly
+down the hall, little guessing that she was trying to gain the shelter of
+her own room before giving way to a tempest of sobs.
+
+Happy are they who can drown all pain, sorrow, and disappointment in a
+copious flood of tears. In an hour, at the most, Dorothy would be her
+sunny self again, penitent, and wholly ashamed of her undignified
+outburst. By to-morrow she would have forgotten it, but Harlan, made of
+sterner clay, would remember it for days.
+
+"Loafer!" The cruel word seemed written accusingly on every wall of the
+room. In a sudden flash of insight he perceived the truth of it--and it
+hurt.
+
+"Two months," bethought; "two months of besotted idleness. And I used to
+chase news from the Battery to the Bronx every day from eight to six!
+Murders, smallpox, East Side scraps, and Tammany Hall. Why in the
+hereafter can't they have a fire at the sanitarium, or something that I
+can wire in?"
+
+"The Temple of Healing," as Dorothy had christened it in a happier moment,
+stood on a distant hill, all but hidden now by trees and shrubbery. A
+column of smoke curled lazily upward against the blue, but there was no
+immediate prospect of a fire of the "news" variety.
+
+Harlan stood at the window for a long time, deeply troubled. The call of
+the city dinned relentlessly into his ears. Oh, for an hour in the midst
+of it, with the rumble and roar and clatter of ceaseless traffic, the
+hurrying, heedless throng rushing in every direction, the glare of the sun
+on the many-windowed cliffs, the fever of the struggle in his veins!
+
+And yet--was two months so long, when a fellow was just married, and
+hadn't had more than a day at a time off for six years? Since the "cub
+reporter" was first "licked into shape" in the office of _The Thunderer_,
+there had been plenty of work for him, year in and year out.
+
+"I wonder," he mused, "if the old man would take me back on my job?
+
+"I can see 'em in the office now," went on Harlan, mentally, "when I go
+back and tell 'em I want my place again. The old man will look up and say:
+'The hell you do! Thought you'd accepted a position on the literary
+circuit as manager of the nine muses! Better run along and look after 'em
+before they join the union.'
+
+"And the exchange man will yell at me not to slam the door as I go out,
+and I'll be pointed out to the newest kid as a horrible example of
+misdirected ambition. Brinkman will say: 'Sonny, there's a bloke that got
+too good for his job and now he's come back, willing to edit The Mother's
+Corner.'
+
+"It'd be about the same in the other offices, too," he thought. "'Sorry,
+nothing to-day, but there might be next month. Drop in again sometime
+after six weeks or so and meanwhile I'll let you know if anything turns
+up. Yes, I can remember your address. Don't slam the door as you go out.
+Most people seem to have been born in a barn.'
+
+"Besides," he continued to himself, fiercely, "what is there in it?
+They'll take your youth, all your strength and energy, and give you a
+measly living in exchange. They'll fill you with excitement till you're
+never good for anything else, any more than a cavalry horse is fitted to
+pull a vegetable wagon. Then, when you're old, they've got no use for
+you!"
+
+Before his mental vision, in pitiful array, came that unhappy procession
+of hacks that files, day in and day out, along Newspaper Row, drawn by
+every instinct to the arena that holds nothing for them but a meagre,
+uncertain pittance, dwindling slowly to charity.
+
+"That's where I'd be at the last of it," muttered Harlan, savagely, "with
+even the cubs offering me the price of a drink to get out. And
+Dorothy--good God! Where would Dorothy be?"
+
+He clenched his fists and marched up and down the room in utter despair.
+"Why," he breathed, "why wasn't I taught to do something honest, instead
+of being cursed with this itch to write? A carpenter, a bricklayer, a
+stone-mason,--any one of 'em has a better chance than I!"
+
+And yet, even then, Harlan saw clearly that save where some vast cathedral
+reared its unnumbered spires, the mason and the bricklayer were without
+significance; that even the builders were remembered only because of the
+great uses to which their buildings were put. "That, too, through print,"
+he murmured. "It all comes down to the printed page at last."
+
+On a table, near by, was a sheaf of rough copy paper, and six or eight
+carefully sharpened pencils--the dull, meaningless stone waiting for the
+flint that should strike it into flame. Day after day the table had stood
+by the window, without result, save in Harlan's uneasy conscience.
+
+"I'm only a tramp," he said, aloud, "and I've known it, all along."
+
+He sat down by the table and took up a pencil, but no words came.
+Remorsefully, he wrote to an acquaintance--a man who had a book published
+every year and filled in the intervening time with magazine work and
+newspaper specials. He sealed the letter and addressed it idly, then
+tossed it aside purposelessly.
+
+"Loafer!" The memory of it stung him like a lash, and, completely
+overwhelmed with shame, he hid his face in his hands.
+
+Suddenly, a pair of soft arms stole around his neck, a childish, tear-wet
+cheek was pressed close to his, and a sweet voice whispered, tenderly:
+"Dear, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry I can't live another minute unless you tell
+me you forgive me!"
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Am I really a loafer?" asked Harlan, half an hour later.
+
+"Indeed you're not," answered Dorothy, her trustful eyes looking straight
+into his; "you're absolutely the most adorable boy in the whole world, and
+it's me that knows it!"
+
+"As long as you know it," returned Harlan, seriously, "I don't care a hang
+what other people think."
+
+"Now, tell me," continued Dorothy, "how near are we to being broke?"
+
+Obediently, Harlan turned his pockets inside out and piled his worldly
+wealth on the table.
+
+"Three hundred and seventy-four dollars and sixteen cents," she said, when
+she had finished counting. "Why, we're almost rich, and a little while ago
+you tried to make me think we were poor!"
+
+"It's all I have, Dorothy--every blooming cent, except one dollar in the
+savings bank. Sort of a nest egg I had left," he explained.
+
+"Wait a minute," she said, reaching down into her collar and drawing up a
+loop of worn ribbon. "Straight front corset," she observed, flushing,
+"makes a nice pocket for almost everything." She drew up a chamois-skin
+bag, of an unprepossessing mouse colour, and emptied out a roll of bills.
+"Two hundred and twelve dollars," she said, proudly, "and eighty-three
+cents and four postage stamps in my purse.
+
+"I saved it," she continued, hastily, "for an emergency, and I wanted some
+silk stockings and a French embroidered corset and some handmade lingerie
+worse than you can ever know. Wasn't I a brave, heroic, noble woman?"
+
+"Indeed you were," he cried, "but, Dorothy, you know I can't touch your
+money!"
+
+"Why not?" she demanded.
+
+"Because--because--because it isn't right. Do you think I'm cad enough to
+live on a woman's earnings?"
+
+"Harlan," said Dorothy, kindly, "don't be a fool. You'll take my whole
+heart and soul and life--all that I have been and all that I'm going to
+be--and be glad to get it, and now you're balking at ten cents that I
+happened to have in my stocking when I took the fatal step."
+
+"Dear heart, don't. It's different--tremendously different. Can't you see
+that it is?"
+
+"Do you mean that I'm not worth as much as two hundred and twelve dollars
+and eighty-three cents and four postage stamps?"
+
+"Darling, you're worth more than all the rest of the world put together.
+Don't talk to me like that. But I can't touch your money, truly, dear, I
+can't; so don't ask me."
+
+"Idiot," cried Dorothy, with tears raining down her face, "don't you know
+I'd go with you if you had to grind an organ in the street, and collect
+the money for you in a tin cup till we got enough for a monkey? What kind
+of a dinky little silver-plated wedding present do you think I am, anyway?
+You----"
+
+The rest of it was sobbed out, incoherently enough, on his hitherto
+immaculate shirt-front. "You don't mind," she whispered, "if I cry down
+your neck, do you?"
+
+"If you're going to cry," he answered, his voice trembling, "this is the
+one place for you to do it, but I don't want you to cry."
+
+"I won't, then," she said, wiping her eyes on a wet and crumpled
+handkerchief. In a time astonishingly brief to one hitherto unfamiliar
+with the lachrymal function, her sobs had ceased.
+
+"You've made me cry nearly a quart since morning," she went on, with
+assumed severity, "and I hope you'll behave so well from now on that I'll
+never have to do it again. Look here."
+
+She led him to the window, where a pair of robins were building a nest in
+the boughs of a maple close by. "Do you see those birds?" she demanded,
+pointing at them with a dimpled, rosy forefinger.
+
+"Yes, what of it?"
+
+"Well, they're married, aren't they?"
+
+"I hope they are," laughed Harlan, "or at least engaged."
+
+"Who's bringing the straw and feathers for the nest?" she asked.
+
+"Both, apparently," he replied, unwillingly.
+
+"Why isn't she rocking herself on a bough, and keeping her nails nice, and
+fixing her feathers in the latest style, or perhaps going off to some fool
+bird club while he builds the nest by himself?"
+
+"Don't know."
+
+"Nor anybody else," she continued, with much satisfaction. "Now, if she
+happened to have two hundred and twelve feathers, of the proper size and
+shape to go into that nest, do you suppose he'd refuse to touch them, and
+make her cry because she brought them to him?"
+
+"Probably he wouldn't," admitted Harlan.
+
+There was a long silence, then Dorothy edged up closer to him. "Do you
+suppose," she queried, "that Mr. Robin thinks more of his wife than you do
+of yours?"
+
+"Indeed he doesn't!"
+
+"And still, he's letting her help him."
+
+"But----"
+
+"Now, listen, Harlan. We've got a house, with more than enough furniture
+to make it comfortable, though it's not the kind of furniture either of us
+particularly like. Instead of buying a typewriter, we'll rent one for
+three or four dollars a month until we have enough money to buy one. And
+I'm going to have a cow and some chickens and a garden, and I'm going to
+sell milk and butter and cream and fresh eggs and vegetables and chickens
+and fruit to the sanitarium, and----"
+
+"The sanitarium people must have plenty of those things."
+
+"But not the kind I'm going to raise, nor put up as I'm going to put it
+up, and we'll be raising most of our own living besides. You can write
+when you feel like it, and be helping me when you don't feel like it, and
+before we know it, we'll be rich. Oh, Harlan, I feel like Eve all alone in
+the Garden with Adam!"
+
+The prospect fired his imagination, for, in common with most men, a
+chicken-ranch had appealed strongly to Harlan ever since he could
+remember.
+
+"Well," he began, slowly, in the tone which was always a signal of
+surrender.
+
+"Won't it be lovely," she cried ecstatically, "to have our own bossy cow
+mooing in the barn, and our own chickens for Sunday dinner, and our own
+milk, and butter, and cream? And I'll drive the vegetable waggon and you
+can take the things in----"
+
+"I guess not," interrupted Harlan, firmly. "If you're going to do that
+sort of thing, you'll have people to do the work when I can't help you.
+The idea of my wife driving a vegetable cart!"
+
+"All right," answered Dorothy, submissively, wise enough to let small
+points settle themselves and have her own way in things that really
+mattered. "I've not forgotten that I promised to obey you."
+
+A gratified smile spread over Harlan's smooth, boyish face, and,
+half-fearfully, she reached into her sleeve for a handkerchief which she
+had hitherto carefully concealed.
+
+"That's not all," she smiled. "Look!"
+
+"Twenty-three dollars," he said. "Why, where did you get that?"
+
+"It was in my dresser. There was a false bottom in one of the small
+drawers, and I took it out and found this."
+
+"What in--" began Harlan.
+
+"It's a present to us from Uncle Ebeneezer," she cried, her eyes sparkling
+and her face aglow. "It's for a coop and chickens," she continued,
+executing an intricate dance step. "Oh, Harlan, aren't you awfully glad we
+came?"
+
+Seeing her pleasure he could not help being glad, but afterward, when he
+was alone, he began to wonder whether they had not inadvertently moved
+into a bank.
+
+"Might be worse places," he reflected, "for the poor and deserving to move
+into. Diamonds and money--what next?"
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+Mrs. Smithers
+
+
+The chickens were clucking peacefully in their corner of Uncle Ebeneezer's
+dooryard, and the newly acquired bossy cow mooed unhappily in her
+improvised stable. Harlan had christened the cow "Maud" because she
+insisted upon going into the garden, and though Dorothy had vigorously
+protested against putting Tennyson to such base uses, the name still held,
+out of sheer appropriateness.
+
+Harlan was engaged in that pleasant pastime known as "pottering." The
+instinct to drive nails, put up shelves, and to improve generally his
+local habitation is as firmly seated in the masculine nature as
+housewifely characteristics are ingrained in the feminine soul. Never
+before having had a home of his own, Harlan was enjoying it to the full.
+
+Early hours had been the rule at the Jack-o'-Lantern ever since the
+feathered sultan with his tribe of voluble wives had taken up his abode on
+the hilltop. Indeed, as Harlan said, they were obliged to sleep when the
+chickens did--if they slept at all. So it was not yet seven one morning
+when Dorothy went in from the chicken coop, singing softly to herself, and
+intent upon the particular hammer her husband wanted, never expecting to
+find Her in the kitchen.
+
+"I--I beg your pardon?" she stammered, inquiringly.
+
+A gaunt, aged, and preternaturally solemn female, swathed in crape, bent
+slightly forward in her chair, without making an effort to rise, and
+reached forth a black-gloved hand tightly grasping a letter, which was
+tremulously addressed to "Mrs. J. H. Carr."
+
+  "My dear Madam," Dorothy read.
+
+  "The multitudinous duties in connection with the practice of my
+  profession have unfortunately prevented me, until the present hour,
+  from interviewing Mrs. Sarah Smithers in regard to your requirements.
+  While she is naturally unwilling to commit herself entirely without a
+  more definite idea of what is expected of her, she is none the less
+  kindly disposed. May I hope, my dear madam, that at the first
+  opportunity you will apprise me of ensuing events in this connection,
+  and that in any event I may still faithfully serve you?
+
+  "With kindest personal remembrances and my polite salutations to the
+  distinguished author whose wife you have the honour to be, I am, my
+  dear madam,
+
+  "Yr. most respectful and obedient servant,
+
+                                                 "Jeremiah Bradford.
+
+"Oh," said Dorothy, "you're Sarah. I had almost given you up."
+
+"Begging your parding, Miss," rejoined Mrs. Smithers in a chilly tone of
+reproof, "but I take it it's better for us to begin callin' each other by
+our proper names. If we should get friendly, there'd be ample time to
+change. Your uncle, God rest 'is soul, allers called me 'Mis' Smithers.'"
+
+Somewhat startled at first, Mrs. Carr quickly recovered her equanimity.
+"Very well, Mrs. Smithers," she returned, lightly, reflecting that when in
+Rome one must follow Roman customs; "Do you understand all branches of
+general housework?"
+
+"If I didn't, I wouldn't be makin' no attempts in that direction," replied
+Mrs. Smithers, harshly. "I doesn't allow nobody to do wot I does no better
+than wot I does it."
+
+Dorothy smiled, for this was distinctly encouraging, from at least one
+point of view.
+
+"You wear a cap, I suppose?"
+
+"Yes, mum, for dustin'. When I goes out I puts on my bonnet."
+
+"Can you do plain cooking?" inquired Dorothy, hastily, perceiving that she
+was treading upon dangerous ground.
+
+"Yes, mum. The more plain it is the better all around. Your uncle was
+never one to fill hisself with fancy dishes days and walk the floor with
+'em nights, that's wot 'e wasn't."
+
+"What wages do you have, Sa--Mrs. Smithers?"
+
+"I worked for your uncle for a dollar and a half a week, bein' as we'd
+knowed each other so long, and on account of 'im bein' easy to get along
+with and never makin' no trouble, but I wouldn't work for no woman for
+less 'n two dollars."
+
+"That is satisfactory to me," returned Dorothy, trying to be dignified. "I
+daresay we shall get on all right. Can you stay now?"
+
+"If you've finished," said Mrs. Smithers, ignoring the question, "there's
+a few things I'd like to ask. 'Ow did you get that bruise on your face?"
+
+"I--I ran into something," answered Dorothy, unwillingly, and taken quite
+by surprise.
+
+"Wot was it," demanded Mrs. Smithers. "Your 'usband's fist?"
+
+"No," replied Mrs. Carr, sternly, "it was a piece of furniture."
+
+"I've never knowed furniture," observed Mrs. Smithers, doubtfully, "to get
+up and 'it people in the face wot wasn't doin' nothink to it. If you
+disturb a rockin'-chair at night w'en it's restin' quiet, you'll get your
+ankle 'it, but I've never knowed no furniture to 'it people under the eye
+unless it 'ad been threw, that's wot I ain't.
+
+"I mind me of my youngest sister," Mrs. Smithers went on, her keen eyes
+uncomfortably fixed upon Dorothy. "'Er 'usband was one of these 'ere
+masterful men, 'e was, same as wot yours is, and w'en 'er didn't please
+'im, 'e 'd 'it 'er somethink orful. Many's the time I've gone there and
+found 'er with 'er poor face all cut up and the crockery broke bad. 'I
+dropped a cup' 'er'd say to me, 'and the pieces flew up and 'it me in the
+face.' 'Er face looked like a crazy quilt from 'aving dropped so many
+cups, and wunst, without thinkin' wot I might be doin' of, I gave 'er a
+chiny tea set for 'er Christmas present.
+
+"Wen I went to see 'er again, the tea set was all broke and 'er 'ad court
+plaster all over 'er face. The pieces must 'ave flew more 'n common from
+the tea set, cause 'er 'usband's 'ed was laid open somethink frightful and
+they'd 'ad in the doctor to take a seam in it. From that time on I never
+'eard of no more cups bein' dropped and 'er face looked quite human and
+peaceful like w'en 'e died. God rest 'is soul, 'e ain't a-breakin' no tea
+sets now by accident nor a-purpose neither. I was never one to interfere
+between man and wife, Miss Carr, but I want you to tell your 'usband that
+should 'e undertake to 'it me, 'e'll get a bucket of 'ot tea throwed in
+'is face."
+
+"It's not at all likely," answered Dorothy, biting her lip, "that such a
+thing will happen." She was swayed by two contradictory impulses--one to
+scream with laughter, the other to throw something at Mrs. Smithers.
+
+"'E's been at peace now six months come Tuesday," continued Mrs. Smithers,
+"and on account of 'is 'avin' broke the tea set, I don't feel no call to
+wear mourning for 'im more 'n a year, though folks thinks as 'ow it brands
+me as 'eartless for takin' it off inside of two. Sakes alive, wot's that?"
+she cried, drawing her sable skirts more closely about her as a dark
+shadow darted across the kitchen.
+
+"It's only the cat," answered Dorothy, reassuringly. "Come here,
+Claudius."
+
+Mrs. Smithers repressed an exclamation of horror as Claudius, purring
+pleasantly, came out into the sunlight, brandishing his plumed tail, and
+sat down on the edge of Dorothy's skirt, blinking his green eyes at the
+intruder.
+
+"'E's the very cat," said Mrs. Smithers, hoarsely, "wot your uncle killed
+the week afore 'e died!"
+
+"Before who died?" asked Dorothy, a chill creeping into her blood.
+
+"Your uncle," whispered Mrs. Smithers, her eyes still fixed upon Claudius
+Tiberius. "'E killed that very cat, 'e did, 'cause 'e couldn't never abide
+'im, and now 'e's come back!"
+
+"Nonsense!" cried Dorothy, trying to be severe. "If he killed the cat, it
+couldn't come back--you must know that."
+
+"I don't know w'y not, Miss. Anyhow, 'e killed the cat, that's wot 'e did,
+and I saw 'is dead body, and even buried 'im, on account of your uncle not
+bein' able to abide cats, and 'ere 'e is. Somebody 's dug 'im up, and 'e
+'s come to life again, thinkin' to 'aunt your uncle, and your uncle 'as
+follered 'im, that's wot 'e 'as, and there bein' nobody 'ere to 'aunt but
+us, 'e's a 'auntin' us and a-doin' it 'ard."
+
+"Mrs. Smithers," said Dorothy, rising, "I desire to hear no more of this
+nonsense. The cat happens to be somewhat similar to the dead one, that's
+all."
+
+"Begging your parding, Miss, for askin', but did you bring that there cat
+with you from the city?"
+
+Affecting not to hear, Dorothy went out, followed by Claudius Tiberius,
+who appeared anything but ghostly.
+
+"I knowed it," muttered Mrs. Smithers, gloomily, to herself. "'E was 'ere
+w'en 'er come, and 'e's the same cat. 'E's come back to 'aunt us, that's
+wot 'e 'as!"
+
+"Harlan," said Dorothy, half-way between smiles and tears, "she's come."
+
+Harlan dropped his saw and took up his hammer. "Who's come?" he asked.
+"From your tone, it might be Mrs. Satan, or somebody else from the
+infernal regions."
+
+"You're not far out of the way," rejoined Dorothy. "It's Sa--Mrs.
+Smithers."
+
+"Oh, our maid of all work?"
+
+"I don't know what she's made of," giggled Dorothy, hysterically. "She
+looks like a tombstone dressed in deep mourning, and carries with her the
+atmosphere of a graveyard. We have to call her 'Mrs. Smithers,' if we
+don't want her to call us by our first names, and she has two dollars a
+week. She says Claudius is a cat that uncle killed the week before he
+died, and she thinks you hit me and gave me this bruise on my cheek."
+
+"The old lizard," said Harlan, indignantly. "She sha'n't stay!"
+
+"Now don't be cross," interrupted Dorothy. "It's all in the family, for
+your uncle hit me, as you well know. Besides, we can't expect all the
+virtues for two dollars a week and I'm tired almost to death from trying
+to do the housework in this big house and take care of the chickens, too.
+We'll get on with her as best we can until we see a chance to do better."
+
+"Wise little woman," responded Harlan, admiringly. "Can she milk the
+cow?"
+
+"I don't know--I'll go in and ask her."
+
+"Excuse me, Miss," began Mrs. Smithers, before Dorothy had a chance to
+speak, "but am I to 'ave my old rooms?"
+
+"Which rooms were they?"
+
+"These 'ere, back of the kitchen. My own settin' room and bedroom and
+kitchen and pantry and my own private door outside. Your uncle was allers
+a great hand for bein' private and insistin' on other folks keepin'
+private, that 's wot 'e was, but God rest 'is soul, it didn't do the poor
+old gent much good."
+
+"Certainly," said Dorothy, "take your old rooms. And can you milk a cow?"
+
+Mrs. Smithers sighed. "I ain't never 'ad it put on me, Miss," she said,
+with the air of a martyr trying to make himself comfortable up against the
+stake, "not as a regler thing, I ain't, but wotever I'm asked to do in the
+line of duty whiles I'm dwellin' in this sufferin' and dyin' world, I aims
+to do the best wot I can, w'ether it's milkin' a cow, drownin' kittens, or
+buryin' a cat wot can't stay buried."
+
+"We have breakfast about half-past seven," went on Dorothy, quickly;
+"luncheon at noon and dinner at six."
+
+"Wot at six?" demanded Mrs. Smithers, pricking up her ears.
+
+"Dinner! Dinner at six."
+
+"Lord preserve us," said Mrs. Smithers, half to herself. "Your uncle
+allers 'ad 'is dinner at one o'clock, sharp, and 'e wouldn't like it to
+'ave such scandalous goin's on in 'is own 'ouse."
+
+"You're working for me," Dorothy reminded her sharply, "and not for my
+uncle."
+
+There was a long silence, during which Mrs. Smithers peered curiously at
+her young mistress over her steel-bowed spectacles. "I'm not so sure as
+you," she said. "On account of the cat 'avin come back from 'is grave, it
+wouldn't surprise me none to see your uncle settin' 'ere at any time in
+'is shroud, and a-askin' to 'ave mush and milk for 'is supper, the which
+'e was so powerful fond of that I was more 'n 'alf minded at the last
+minute to put some of it in 's coffin."
+
+"Mrs. Smithers," said Dorothy, severely, "I do not want to hear any more
+about dead people, or resurrected cats, or anything of that nature. What's
+gone is gone, and there's no use in continually referring to it."
+
+At this significant moment, Claudius Tiberius paraded somewhat
+ostentatiously through the kitchen and went outdoors.
+
+"You see, Miss?" asked Mrs. Smithers, with ill-concealed satisfaction.
+"Wot's gone ain't always gone for long, that's wot it ain't."
+
+Dorothy retreated, followed by a sepulchral laugh which grated on her
+nerves. "Upon my word, dear," she said to Harlan, "I don't know how we're
+going to stand having that woman in the house. She makes me feel as if I
+were an undertaker, a grave digger, and a cemetery, all rolled into one."
+
+"You're too imaginative," said Harlan, tenderly, stroking her soft cheek.
+He had not yet seen Mrs. Smithers.
+
+"Perhaps," Dorothy admitted, "when she gets that pyramid of crape off her
+head, she'll seem more nearly human. Do you suppose she expects to wear it
+in the house all the time?"
+
+"Miss Carr!"
+
+The gaunt black shadow appeared in the doorway of the kitchen and the
+high, harsh voice shrilled imperiously across the yard.
+
+"I'm coming," answered Dorothy, submissively, for in the tone there was
+that which instinctively impels obedience. "What is it?" she asked, when
+she entered the kitchen.
+
+"Nothink. I only wants to know wot it is you're layin' out to 'ave for
+your--luncheon, if that's wot you call it."
+
+"Poached eggs on toast, last night's cold potatoes warmed over, hot
+biscuits, jam, and tea."
+
+Mrs. Smithers's articulate response resembled a cluck more closely than
+anything else.
+
+"You can make biscuits, can't you?" went on Dorothy, hastily.
+
+"I 'ave," responded Mrs. Smithers, dryly. "Begging your parding, Miss, but
+is that there feller sawin' wood out by the chicken coop your 'usband?"
+
+"The gentleman in the yard," said Dorothy, icily, "is Mr. Carr."
+
+"Be n't you married to 'im?" cried Mrs. Smithers, dropping a fork. "I
+understood as 'ow you was, else I wouldn't 'ave come. I was never one
+to----"
+
+"I most assuredly _am_ married to him," answered Dorothy, with due
+emphasis on the verb.
+
+"Oh! 'E's the build of my youngest sister's poor dead 'usband; the one wot
+broke the tea set wot I give 'er over 'er poor 'ed. 'E can 'it powerful
+'ard, can't 'e?"
+
+Quite beyond speech, Dorothy went outdoors again, her head held high and a
+dangerous light in her eyes. To-morrow, or next week at the latest, should
+witness the forced departure of Mrs. Smithers. Mrs. Carr realised that the
+woman did not intend to be impertinent, and that the social forms of
+Judson Centre were not those of New York. Still, some things were
+unbearable.
+
+The luncheon that was set before them, however, went far toward atonement.
+With the best intentions in the world, Dorothy's cooking nearly always
+went wide of the mark, and Harlan welcomed the change with unmistakable
+pleasure.
+
+"I say, Dorothy," he whispered, as they rose from the table; "get on with
+her if you can. Anybody who can make such biscuits as these will go out of
+the house only over my dead body."
+
+The latter part of the speech was unfortunate. "My surroundings are so
+extremely cheerful," remarked Dorothy, "that I've decided to spend the
+afternoon in the library reading Poe. I've always wanted to do it and I
+don't believe I'll ever feel any creepier than I do this blessed minute."
+
+In spite of his laughing protest, she went into the library, locked the
+door, and curled up in Uncle Ebeneezer's easy chair with a well-thumbed
+volume of Poe, finding a two-dollar bill used in one place as a book mark.
+She read for some time, then took down another book, which opened of
+itself at "The Gold Bug."
+
+The pages were thickly strewn with marginal comments in the fine, small,
+shaky hand she had learned to associate with Uncle Ebeneezer. The
+paragraph about the skull, in the tree above the treasure, had evidently
+filled the last reader with unprecedented admiration, for on the margin
+was written twice, in ink: "A very, very pretty idea."
+
+She laughed aloud, for her thoughts since morning had been persistently
+directed toward things not of this world. "I'm glad I'm not
+superstitious," she thought, then jumped almost out of her chair at the
+sound of an ominous crash in the kitchen.
+
+"I won't go," she thought, settling back into her place. "I'll let that
+old monument alone just as much as I can."
+
+Upon the whole, it was just as well, for the "old monument" was on her
+bony knees, with her head and shoulders quite lost in the secret depths of
+the kitchen range. "I wonder," she was muttering, "where 'e could 'ave put
+it. It would 'ave been just like that old skinflint to 'ave 'id it in the
+stove!"
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+The Coming of Elaine
+
+
+There is no state of mental wretchedness akin to that which precedes the
+writing of a book. Harlan was moody and despairing, chiefly because he
+could not understand what it all meant. Something hung over him like a
+black cloud, completely obscuring his usual sunny cheerfulness.
+
+He burned with the desire to achieve, yet from the depths of his soul came
+only emptiness. Vague, purposeless aspirations, like disembodied spirits,
+haunted him by night and by day. Before his inner vision came unfamiliar
+scenes, detached fragments of conversation, the atmosphere, the feeling of
+an old romance, then, by a swift change, darkness from which there seemed
+no possible escape.
+
+A woman with golden hair, mounted upon a white horse, gay with scarlet and
+silver trappings--surely her name was Elaine? And the company of gallant
+knights who followed her as she set forth upon her quest--who were they,
+and from whence did they hail? The fool of the court, with his bauble and
+his cracked, meaningless laughter, danced in and out of the picture with
+impish glee. Behind it all was the sunset, such a sunset as was never seen
+on land or sea. Ribbons of splendid colour streamed from the horizon to
+the zenith and set the shields of the knights aglow with shimmering flame.
+Clashing cymbals sounded from afar, then, clear and high, a bugle call,
+the winding silvery notes growing fainter and fainter till they were lost
+in the purple silence of the hills. Elaine turned, smiling--was not her
+name Elaine? And then----
+
+Darkness fell and the picture was utterly wiped out. Harlan turned away
+with a sigh.
+
+To take the dead, dry bones of words, the tiny black things that march in
+set spaces across the page; to set each where it inevitably
+belongs--truly, it seems simple enough. But from the vast range of our
+written speech to select those which fittingly clothe the thought is quite
+another matter, and presupposes the thought. Even then, by necessity, the
+outcome is uncertain.
+
+Within the mind of the writer, the Book lives and breathes; a child of the
+brain, yearning for birth. At a white heat, after long waiting, the words
+come--merely a commentary, an index, a marginal note of that within.
+Reading afterward the written words, the fine invisible links, the colour
+and the music, are treacherously supplied by the imagination, which is at
+once the best friend and the worst enemy. How is one to know that only a
+small part of it has been written, that the best of it, far past writing,
+lingers still unborn?
+
+Long afterward, when the original picture has faded as though it had never
+been, one may read his printed work, and wonder, in abject self-abasement,
+by what miracle it was ever printed. He has trusted to some unknown
+psychology which strongly savours of the Black Art to reproduce in the
+minds of his readers the picture which was in his, and from which these
+fragmentary, marginal notes were traced. Only the words, the dead,
+meaningless words, stripped of all the fancy which once made them fair, to
+make for the thousands the wild, delirious bliss that the writer knew! To
+write with the tears falling upon the page, and afterward to read, in some
+particularly poignant and searching review, that "the book fails to
+convince!" Happy is he whose written pages reproduce but faintly the glow
+from whence they came. For "whoso with blood and tears would dig Art out
+of his soul, may lavish his golden prime in pursuit of emptiness, or,
+striking treasure, find only fairy gold, so that when his eyes are purged
+of the spell of morning, he sees his hands are full of withered leaves."
+
+A meadow-lark, rising from a distant field, dropped golden notes into the
+still, sunlit air, then vanished into the blue spaces beyond. A bough of
+apple bloom, its starry petals anchored only by invisible cobwebs, softly
+shook white fragrance into the grass. Then, like a vision straight from
+the golden city with the walls of pearl, came Elaine, the beautiful, her
+blue eyes laughing, and her scarlet lips parted in a smile.
+
+Harlan's heart sang within him. His trembling hands grasped feverishly at
+the sheaf of copy-paper which had waited for this, week in and week out.
+The pencil was ready to his hand, and the words fairly wrote themselves:
+
+_It came to pass that when the year was at the Spring, the Lady Elaine
+fared forth upon the Heart's Quest. She was mounted upon a snowy palfrey,
+whose trappings of scarlet and silver gleamed brightly in the sun. Her
+gown was of white satin, wondrously embroidered in fine gold thread, which
+was no less gold than her hair, falling in unchecked splendour about
+her._
+
+_Blue as sapphires were the eyes of Elaine, and her fair cheek was like
+that of an apple-blossom. Set like a rose upon pearl was the dewy,
+fragrant sweetness of her mouth, and her breath was like that of the rose
+itself. Her hands--but how shall I write of the flower-like hands of
+Elaine? They--_
+
+The door-bell pealed portentously through the house, echoing and
+re-echoing through the empty rooms. No answer. Presently it rang again,
+insistently, and Elaine, with her snowy palfrey, whisked suddenly out of
+sight.
+
+Gone, except for these few lines! Harlan stifled a groan and the bell rang
+once more.
+
+Heavens! Where was Dorothy? Where was Mrs. Smithers? Was there no one in
+the house but himself? Apparently not, for the bell rang determinedly, and
+with military precision.
+
+"March, march, forward march!" grumbled Harlan, as he ran downstairs, the
+one-two, one-two-three being registered meanwhile on the bell-wire.
+
+It was not a pleasant person who violently wrenched the door open, but in
+spite of his annoyance, Harlan could not be discourteous to a lady. She
+was tall, and slender, and pale, with blue eyes and yellow hair, and so
+very fragile that it seemed as though a passing zephyr might almost blow
+her away.
+
+"How do you do," she said, wearily. "I thought you were never coming."
+
+"I was busy," said Harlan, in extenuation. "Will you come in?" She was
+evidently a friend of Dorothy's, and, as such, demanded proper
+consideration.
+
+The invitation was needless, however, for even as he spoke, she brushed
+past him, and went into the parlour. "I'm so tired," she breathed. "I
+walked up that long hill."
+
+"You shouldn't have done it," returned Harlan, standing first on one foot
+and then on the other. "Couldn't you find the stage?"
+
+"I didn't look for it. I never had any ambition to go on the stage," she
+concluded, with a faint smile. "Where is Uncle Ebeneezer?"
+
+"No friend of Dorothy's," thought Harlan, shifting to the other foot.
+"Uncle Ebeneezer," he said, clearing his throat, "is at peace."
+
+"What do you mean?" demanded the girl, sinking into one of the haircloth
+chairs. "Where is Uncle Ebeneezer?"
+
+"Uncle Ebeneezer is dead," explained Harlan, somewhat tartly. Then, as he
+remembered the utter ruin of his work, he added, viciously, "never having
+known him intimately, I can't say just where he is."
+
+She leaned back in her chair, her face as white as death. Harlan thought
+she had fainted, when she relieved his mind by bursting into tears. He was
+more familiar with salt water, but, none the less, the situation was
+awkward.
+
+There were no signs of Dorothy, so Harlan, in an effort to be consoling,
+took the visitor's cold hands in his. "Don't," he said, kindly; "cheer up.
+You are among friends."
+
+"I have no friends," she answered, between sobs. "I lost the last when my
+dear mother died. She made me promise, during her last illness, that if
+anything happened to her, I would come to Uncle Ebeneezer. She said she
+had never imposed upon him and that he would gladly take care of me, for
+her sake. I was ill a long, long time, but as soon as I was able to, I
+came, and now--and now----"
+
+"Don't," said Harlan, again, awkwardly patting her hands, and deeply
+touched by the girl's distress. "We are your friends. You can stay here
+just as well as not. I am married and----"
+
+Upon his back, Harlan felt eyes. He turned quickly, and saw Dorothy
+standing in the door--quite a new Dorothy, indeed; very tall, and stately,
+and pale.
+
+Through sheer nervousness, Mr. Carr laughed--an unfortunate, high-pitched
+laugh with no mirth in it. "Let me present my wife," he said, sobering
+suddenly. "Mrs. Carr, Miss----"
+
+Here he coughed, and the guest, rising, filled the pause. "I am Elaine St.
+Clair," she explained, offering a white, tremulous hand which Dorothy did
+not seem to see. "It is very good of your husband to ask me to stay with
+you."
+
+"Very," replied Dorothy, in a tone altogether new to her husband. "He is
+always doing lovely things for people. And now, Harlan, if you will show
+Miss St. Clair to her room, I will speak with Mrs. Smithers about
+luncheon, which should be nearly ready by this time."
+
+"Thunder," said Harlan to himself, as Dorothy withdrew. "What in the devil
+do I know about 'her room'? Have you ever been here before?" he inquired
+of the guest.
+
+"Never in my life," answered Miss St. Clair, wiping her eyes.
+
+"Well," replied Harlan, confusedly, "just go on upstairs, then, and help
+yourself. There are plenty of rooms, and cribs to burn in every blamed one
+of 'em," he added, savagely, remembering the look in Dorothy's eyes.
+
+"Thank you," said Miss St. Clair, diffidently; "it is very kind of you to
+let me choose. Can some one bring my trunk up this afternoon?"
+
+"I'll attend to it," replied her host, brusquely.
+
+She trailed noiselessly upstairs, carrying her heavy suit case, and
+Harlan, not altogether happy at the prospect, went in search of Dorothy.
+At the kitchen door he paused, hearing voices within.
+
+"They've usually et by themselves," Mrs. Smithers was saying. "Is this a
+new one, or a friend of yours?"
+
+The sentence was utterly without meaning, either to Harlan or Dorothy, but
+the answer was given, as quick as a flash. "A friend, Mrs. Smithers--a
+very dear old friend of Mr. Carr's."
+
+"'Mr. Carr's,'" repeated Harlan, miserably, tiptoeing away to the library,
+where he sat down and wiped his forehead. "'A very dear old friend.'"
+Disconnectedly, and with pronounced emphasis, Harlan mentioned the place
+which is said to be paved with good intentions.
+
+The clock struck twelve, and it was just eleven when he had begun on _The
+Quest of the Lady Elaine_. "'One crowded hour of glorious life is
+worth'--what idiot said it was worth anything?" groaned Harlan, inwardly.
+"Anyway, I've had the crowded hour. 'Better fifty years of Europe than a
+cycle of Cathay'"--the line sang itself into his consciousness. "Europe be
+everlastingly condemned," he muttered. "Oh, how my head aches!"
+
+He leaned back in his chair, wondering where "Cathay" might be. It sounded
+like a nice, quiet place, with no "dear old friends" in it--a peaceful
+spot where people could write books if they wanted to. "Just why," he
+asked himself more than once, "was I inspired to grab the shaky paw of
+that human sponge? 'Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean'--oh, the
+devil! She must have a volume of Tennyson in her grip, and it's soaking
+through!"
+
+Mrs. Smithers came out into the hall, more sepulchral and grim-visaged
+than ever, and rang the bell for luncheon. To Harlan's fevered fancy, it
+sounded like a sexton tolling a bell for a funeral. Miss St. Clair, with
+the traces of tears practically removed, floated gracefully downstairs,
+and Harlan, coming out of the library with the furtive step of a wild
+beast from its lair, met her inopportunely at the foot of the stairs.
+
+She smiled at him in a timid, but friendly fashion, and at the precise
+moment, Dorothy appeared in the dining-room door.
+
+"Harlan, dear," she said, in her sweetest tones, "will you give our guest
+your arm and escort her out to luncheon? I have it all ready!"
+
+Miss St. Clair clutched timidly at Harlan's rigid coat sleeve, wondering
+what strange custom of the house would be evident next, and the fog was
+thick before Mr. Carr's eyes, when he took his accustomed seat at the head
+of the table. As a sign of devotion, he tried to step on Dorothy's foot
+under the table, after a pleasing habit of their courtship in the New York
+boarding-house, but he succeeded only in drawing an unconscious "ouch" and
+a vivid blush from Miss St. Clair, by which he impressed Dorothy more
+deeply than he could have hoped to do otherwise.
+
+"Have you come far, Miss St. Clair?" asked Dorothy, conventionally.
+
+"From New York," answered the guest, taking a plate of fried chicken from
+Harlan's shaky hand.
+
+"I know," said Dorothy sweetly. "We come from New York, too." Then she
+took a bold, daring plunge. "I have often heard my husband speak of you."
+
+"Of me, Mrs. Carr? Surely not! It must have been some other Elaine."
+
+"Perhaps," smiled Dorothy, shrugging her shoulders. "No doubt I am
+mistaken, but you may have heard of me?"
+
+"Indeed I haven't," Elaine assured her. "I never heard of you in my life
+before. Why should I?" A sudden and earnest crow under the window behind
+her startled her so that she dropped her knife. Harlan stooped for it at
+the same time she did and their heads bumped together smartly.
+
+"Our gentleman chicken," went on Dorothy, tactfully. "We call him 'Abdul
+Hamid.' You know the masculine nature is instinctively polygamous."
+
+Harlan cackled mirthlessly, wondering, subconsciously, how Abdul Hamid
+could have escaped from the coop. After that there was silence, save as
+Dorothy, in her most hospitable manner, occasionally urged the guest to
+have more of something. Throughout luncheon, she never once spoke to
+Harlan, nor took so much as a single glance at his red, unhappy face. Even
+his ears were scarlet, and the delicious fried chicken which he was eating
+might have been a section of rag carpet, for all he knew to the contrary.
+
+"And now, Miss St. Clair," said Dorothy, kindly, as they rose from the
+table, "I am sure you will wish to lie down and rest after your long
+journey. Which room did you choose?"
+
+"I looked at all of them," responded Elaine, touched to the heart by this
+unexpected kindness from strangers, "and finally chose the suite in the
+south wing. It's a nice large room, with such a darling little
+sitting-room attached, and such a dear work basket."
+
+Harlan nearly burst, for the description was of Dorothy's own particular
+sanctum.
+
+"Yes," said Mrs. Carr, very quietly; "I thought my husband would choose
+that room for you--dear Harlan is always so thoughtful! I will go up with
+you and take out a few of my things which have been unfortunately left
+there."
+
+Shortly afterward, Mr. Carr also climbed the stairs, his head swimming and
+his knees knocking together. Nervously, he turned over the few pages of
+his manuscript, then, hearing Dorothy coming, grabbed it and fled like a
+thief to the library on the first floor. In his panic he bolted the doors
+and windows of Uncle Ebeneezer's former retreat. It was unnecessary,
+however, for no one came near him.
+
+Throughout the long, sweet Spring afternoon, Miss St. Clair slept the
+dreamless sleep of utter exhaustion, Harlan worked fruitlessly at _The
+Quest of Lady Elaine_, and Dorothy busied herself about her household
+tasks, singing with forced cheerfulness whenever she was within hearing of
+the library.
+
+"I'll explain" thought Harlan, wretchedly. But after all what was there to
+explain, except that he had never seen Miss St. Clair before, never in all
+his life heard of her, never knew there was such a person, or had never
+met anybody who knew anything about her? "Besides," he continued to
+himself "even then, what excuse have I got for stroking a strange woman's
+hand and telling her I'm married?"
+
+As the afternoon wore on, he decided that it would be policy to ignore the
+whole matter. It was an unfortunate misunderstanding all around, which
+could not be cleared away by speech, unless Dorothy should ask him about
+it--which he was very certain she would not do. "She ought to trust me,"
+he said to himself, resentfully, forgetting the absolute openness of
+thought and deed upon which a woman's trust is founded. "I'll read her the
+book to-night," he thought, happily, "and that will please her."
+
+But it was fated not to. After dinner, which was much the same as
+luncheon, as far as conversation was concerned, Harlan invited Dorothy to
+come into the library.
+
+She followed him, obediently enough, and he closed the door.
+
+"Dearest," he began, with a grin which was meant to be cheerful and was
+merely ridiculous, "I've begun the book--I actually have! I've been
+working on it all day. Just listen!"
+
+Hurriedly possessing himself of the manuscript, he read it in an unnatural
+voice, down to the flower-like hands.
+
+"I don't see how you can say that, Harlan," interrupted Dorothy, coolly
+critical; "I particularly noticed her hands and they're not nice at all.
+They're red and rough and nearly the size of a policeman's."
+
+"Whose hands?" demanded Harlan, in genuine astonishment.
+
+"Why, Elaine's--Miss St. Clair's. If you're going to do a book about her,
+you might at least try to make it truthful."
+
+Mrs. Carr went out, closing the door carefully, but firmly. Then, for the
+first time, the whole wretched situation dawned upon the young and
+aspiring author.
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+An Uninvited Guest
+
+
+Dorothy sat alone in her room, facing the first heartache of her married
+life. She repeatedly told herself that she was not jealous; that the
+primitive, unlovely emotion was far beneath such as she. But if Harlan had
+only told her, instead of leaving her to find out in this miserable way!
+It had never entered her head that the clear-eyed, clean-minded boy whom
+she had married, could have anything even remotely resembling a past, and
+here it was in her own house! Moreover, it had inspired a book, and she
+herself had been unable to get him to work at all.
+
+Just why women should be concerned in regard to old loves has never been
+wholly clear. One might as well fancy a clean slate, freshly and
+elaborately dedicated to noble composition, being bothered by the addition
+and subtraction which was once done upon its surface.
+
+With her own eyes she had seen Miss St. Clair weeping, while Harlan held
+her hands and explained that he was married. Undoubtedly Miss St. Clair
+accounted for various metropolitan delays and absences which she had
+joyously forgiven on the score of Harlan's "work." Bitterest of all was
+the thought that she must endure it--that the long years ahead of her
+offered no escape, no remedy, except the ignoble, painful one which she
+would not for a moment consider.
+
+A sudden flash of resentment stiffened her backbone, metaphorically
+speaking. In spite of Miss St. Clair, Harlan had married her, and it was
+Miss St. Clair who was weeping over the event, not Harlan. She had seen
+that the visitor made Harlan unhappy--very well, she would generously
+throw them together and make him painfully weary of her, for Love's
+certain destroyer is Satiety. Deep in Dorothy's consciousness was the
+abiding satisfaction that she had never once, as she put it to herself,
+"chased him." Never a note, never a telephone call, never a question as to
+his coming and going appeared now to trouble her. The ancient, primeval
+relation of the Seeker and the Sought had not for a single moment been
+altered through her.
+
+Meanwhile, Elaine had settled down peacefully enough. Having been regaled
+since infancy with tales of Uncle Ebeneezer's generous hospitality, it
+seemed only fitting and proper that his relatives should make her welcome,
+even though Elaine's mother had been only a second cousin of Mrs.
+Judson's. Elaine had been deeply touched by Harlan's solicitude and
+Dorothy's kindness, seeing in it nothing more than the manifestation of a
+beautiful spirit toward one who was helpless and ill.
+
+A modest wardrobe and a few hundred dollars, saved from the wreck of her
+mother's estate, and the household furniture in storage, represented
+Elaine's worldly goods. As too often happens in a material world, she had
+been trained to do nothing but sing a little, play a little, and paint
+unspeakably. She planned, vaguely, to stay where she was during the
+Summer, and in the Autumn, when she had quite recovered her former
+strength, to take her money and learn some method of self-support.
+
+Just now she was resting. A late breakfast, a walk through the country, a
+light luncheon, and a long nap accounted for Elaine's day until
+dinner-time. After dinner, for an hour, she exchanged commonplaces with
+the Carrs, then retired to her own room with a book from Uncle Ebeneezer's
+library. Even Dorothy was forced to admit that she made very little
+trouble.
+
+The train rumbled into the station--the very same train which had brought
+the Serpent into Paradise. Dorothy smiled a little at the idea of a snake
+travelling on a train unless it belonged to a circus, and wiped her eyes.
+Having mapped out her line of conduct, the rest was simple enough--to
+abide by it even to the smallest details, and patiently await results.
+
+When she went downstairs again she was outwardly quite herself, but
+altogether unprepared for the surprise that awaited her in the parlour.
+
+"Hello," cried a masculine voice, cheerily, as she entered the room. "I've
+never seen you before, have I?"
+
+"Not that I know of," replied Dorothy, startled, but not in the least
+afraid.
+
+The young man who rose to greet her was not at all unpleasant to look
+upon. He was taller than Harlan, smooth-shaven, had nice brown eyes, and a
+mop of curly brown hair which evidently annoyed him. Moreover, he was
+laughing, as much from sheer joy of living as anything else.
+
+"Which side of the house are you a relative of?" he asked.
+
+"The inside," returned Dorothy. "I keep house here."
+
+"You don't say so! What's become of Sally? Uncle shoo her off the lot?"
+
+"I don't know what you're talking about," answered Dorothy, with a
+fruitless effort to appear matronly and dignified. "If by 'uncle' you mean
+Uncle Ebeneezer, he's dead."
+
+"You don't tell me! Reaped at last, after all this delay! Then how did you
+come here?"
+
+"By train," responded Dorothy, enjoying the situation to the utmost.
+"Uncle Ebeneezer left the house and furniture to my husband."
+
+The young man sank into a chair and wiped the traces of deep emotion from
+his ruddy face. "Hully Gee!" he said, when he recovered speech. "I suppose
+that's French for 'Dick, chase yourself.'"
+
+"Perhaps not," suggested Mrs. Carr, strangely loath to have this breezy
+individual take his departure. "You might tell me who you are; don't you
+think so?"
+
+"Not a bad notion at all. I'm the Dick of the firm of 'Tom, Dick, and
+Harry,' you've doubtless heard about from your childhood. My other name is
+Chester, but few know it. I'm merely 'Dick' to everybody, yourself
+included, I trust," he added with an elaborate bow. "If you will sit down,
+and make yourself comfortable, I will now unfold to you the sad story of
+my life.
+
+"I was born of poor but honest parents about twenty-three years ago,
+according to the last official census. They brought me up until I reached
+the ripe age of twelve, then got tired of their job and went to heaven.
+Since then I've brought myself up. I've just taught a college all it can
+learn from me, and been put out. Prexy confided to me that I wasn't going
+to graduate, so I shook the classic dust from my weary feet and fled
+hither as to a harbour of refuge. I've always spent my Summers with Uncle
+Ebeneezer, because it was cheap for me and good for him, but I can't
+undertake to follow him up this Summer, not knowing exactly where he is,
+and not caring for a warm climate anyway."
+
+Inexpressibly shocked, Dorothy looked up to the portrait over the mantel
+half fearfully, but there was no change in the stern, malicious old face.
+
+"You're afraid of him, aren't you?" asked Dick, with a hearty laugh.
+
+"I always have been," admitted Dorothy. "He scared me the first time we
+came here--it was at night, and raining."
+
+"I've known him to scare people in broad daylight, and they weren't always
+women either. He used to be a pleasant old codger, but he got over it, and
+after he learned to swear readily, he was a pretty tough party to buck up
+against. It took nerve to stay here when uncle was in a bad mood, but most
+people have more nerve than they think they have. You haven't told me your
+name yet."
+
+"Mrs. Carr--Dorothy Carr."
+
+"Pretty name," remarked Dick, with evident admiration. "If you don't mind,
+I'll call you 'Dorothy' till the train goes back. It will be something for
+me to remember in the desert waste of my empty years to come."
+
+A friendly, hospitable impulse seized Mrs. Carr. "Why should you go?" she
+inquired, smiling. "If you've been in the habit of spending your Summers
+here, you needn't change on our account. We'd be glad to have you, I'm
+sure. A dear old friend of my husband's is already here."
+
+"Fine or superfine?"
+
+"Superfine," returned Dorothy, feeling very much as though the clock had
+been turned back twenty years or more and she was at a children's party
+again.
+
+"You can bet your sweet life I'll stay," said Dick, "and if I bother you
+at any time, just say so and I'll skate out, with no hard feelings on
+either side. You may need me when the rest of the bunch gets here."
+
+"The rest of--oh Harlan, come here a minute!"
+
+She had caught him as he was going into the library with his work,
+thinking that a change of environment might possibly produce an acceptable
+change in the current of his thoughts.
+
+"Dick," said Dorothy, when Harlan came to the door, "this is my husband.
+Mr. Chester, Mr. Carr."
+
+For days Harlan had not seen Dorothy with such rosy cheeks, such dancing
+eyes, nor half as many dimples. Bewildered, and not altogether pleased, he
+awkwardly extended his hand to Mr. Chester, with a conventional "how do
+you do?"
+
+Dick wrung the offered hand in a mighty grip which made Harlan wince. "I
+congratulate you, Mr. Carr," he said gallantly, "upon possessing the
+fairest ornament of her sex. Guess this letter is for you, isn't it? I
+found it in the post-office while the keeper was out, and just took it. If
+it doesn't belong here, I'll skip back with it."
+
+"Thanks," murmured Harlan, rubbing the injured hand with the other.
+"I--where did you come from?"
+
+"The station," explained Dick, pleasantly. "I never trace myself back of
+where I was last seen."
+
+"He's going to stay with us, Harlan," put in Dorothy, wickedly, "so you
+mustn't let us keep you away from your work. Come along, Dick, and I'll
+show you our cow."
+
+They went out, followed by a long, low whistle of astonishment from Harlan
+which Dorothy's acute ears did not miss. Presently Mr. Carr retreated into
+the library, and locked the door, but he did not work. The book was at a
+deadlock, half a paragraph beyond "the flower-like hands of Elaine," of
+which, indeed, the author had confessed his inability to write.
+
+"Dick," thought Harlan. "Mr. Chester. A young giant with a grip like an
+octopus. 'The fairest ornament of her sex.' Never, never heard of him
+before. Some old flame of Dorothy's, who has discovered her whereabouts
+and brazenly followed her, even on her honeymoon."
+
+And he, Harlan, was absolutely prevented from speaking of it by an unhappy
+chain of circumstances which put him in a false light! For the first time
+he fully perceived how a single thoughtless action may bind all one's
+future existence.
+
+"Just because I stroked the hand of a distressed damsel," muttered Harlan,
+"and told her I was married, I've got to sit and see a procession of my
+wife's old lovers marking time here all Summer!" In his fevered fancy, he
+already saw the Jack-o'-Lantern surrounded by Mrs. Carr's former admirers,
+heard them call her "Dorothy," and realised that there was not a single
+thing he could do.
+
+"Unless, of course," he added, mentally, "it gets too bad, and I have an
+excuse to order 'em out. And then, probably, Dorothy will tell Elaine to
+take her dolls and go home, and the poor thing's got nowhere to
+go--nowhere in the wide world.
+
+"How would Dorothy like to be a lonely orphan, with no husband, no
+friends, and no job? She wouldn't like it much, but women never have any
+sympathy for each other, nor for their husbands, either. I'd give twenty
+dollars this minute not to have stroked Elaine's hand, and fifty not to
+have had Dorothy see it, but there's no use in crying over spilt milk nor
+in regretting hands that have already been stroked."
+
+In search of diversion, he opened his letter, which was in answer to the
+one he had written some little time ago, inquiring minutely, of an
+acquaintance who was supposed to be successful, just what the prospects
+were for a beginner in the literary craft.
+
+"Dear Carr," the letter read. "Sorry not to have answered before, but I've
+been away and things got mixed up. Wouldn't advise anybody but an enemy to
+take up writing as a steady job, but if you feel the call, go in and win.
+You can make all the way from eight dollars a year, which was what I made
+when I first struck out, up to five thousand, which was what I averaged
+last year. I've always envied you fellows who could turn in your stuff and
+get paid for it the following Tuesday. In my line, you work like the devil
+this year for what you're going to get next, and live on the year after.
+
+"However, if you're bitten with it, there's no cure. You'll see magazine
+articles in stones and books in running brooks all the rest of your life.
+When you get your book done, I'll trot you around to my publisher, who
+enjoys the proud distinction of being an honest one, and if he likes your
+stuff, he'll take it, and if he doesn't, he'll turn you down so pleasantly
+that you'll feel as though he'd made you a present of something. If you
+think you've got genius, forget it, and remember that nothing takes the
+place of hard work. And, besides, it's a pretty blamed poor book that
+can't get itself printed these days.
+
+                                                     "Yours as usual,
+                                                                 "C. J."
+
+The communication was probably intended as encouragement, but the effect
+was depressing, and at the end of an hour, Harlan had written only two
+lines more in his book, neither of which pleased him.
+
+Meanwhile, Dick was renewing his old acquaintance with Mrs. Smithers, much
+to that lady's pleasure, though she characteristically endeavoured to
+conceal it. She belonged to a pious sect which held all mirth to be
+ungodly.
+
+"Sally," Dick was saying, "I've dreamed of your biscuits night and day
+since I ate the last one. Are we going to have 'em for lunch?"
+
+"No biscuits in this house to-day," grumbled the deity of the kitchen, in
+an attempt to be properly stern, "and as I've told you more than once, my
+name ain't 'Sally.' It's Mis' Smithers, that's wot it is, and I'll thank
+you to call me by it."
+
+"Between those who love," continued Dick, with a sidelong glance at
+Dorothy, who stood near by, appalled at his daring, "the best is none too
+good for common use. If my heart breaks the bonds of conventional
+restraint, and I call you by the name under which you always appear to me
+in my longing dreams, why should you not be gracious, and forgive me? Be
+kind to me, Sally, be just a little kind, and throw together a pan of
+those biscuits in your own inimitable style!"
+
+"Run along with you, you limb of Satan," cried Mrs. Smithers, brandishing
+a floury spoon.
+
+"Come along, Dorothy," said Dick, laying a huge but friendly paw upon Mrs.
+Carr's shoulder; "we're chased out." He put his head back into the
+kitchen, however, to file a parting petition for biscuits, which was
+unnecessary, for Mrs. Smithers had already found her rolling-pin and had
+begun to sift her flour.
+
+Outside, he duly admired Maud, who was chewing the cud of reflection under
+a tree, created a panic in the chicken yard by lifting Abdul Hamid
+ignominiously by the legs, to see how heavy he was, and chased Claudius
+Tiberius under the barn.
+
+"If that cat turns up missing some day," he said, "don't blame me. He
+looks so much like Uncle Ebeneezer that I can't stand for him."
+
+"There's something queer about Claudius, anyway," ventured Dorothy. "Mrs.
+Smithers says that uncle killed him the week before he died, and----"
+
+"Before who died?"
+
+"Claudius--no, before uncle died, and she buried him, and he's come to
+life again."
+
+"Uncle, or Claudius?"
+
+"Claudius, you goose," laughed Dorothy.
+
+"If I knew just how nearly related we were," remarked Dick, irrelevantly
+enough, "I believe I'd kiss you. You look so pretty with all your dimples
+hung out and your hair blowing in the wind."
+
+Dorothy glanced up, startled, and inclined to be angry, but it was
+impossible to take offence at such a mischievous youth as Dick was at that
+moment. "We're not related," she said, coolly, "except by marriage."
+
+"Well, that's near enough," returned Dick, who was never disposed to be
+unduly critical. "Your husband is only related to you by marriage. Don't
+be such a prude. Come to the waiting arms of your uncle, or cousin, or
+brother-in-law, or whatever it is that I happen to be."
+
+"Go and kiss your friend Sally in the kitchen," laughed Dorothy. "You have
+my permission." Dick made a wry face. "I don't hanker to do it," he said,
+"but if you want me to, I will. I suppose she isn't pleased with her place
+and you want to make it more homelike for her."
+
+"What relation were you to Uncle Ebeneezer?" queried Dorothy, curiously.
+
+"Uncle and I," sighed Dick, "were connected by the closest ties of blood
+and marriage. Nobody could be more related than we were. I was the only
+child of Aunt Rebecca's sister's husband's sister's husband's sister. Say,
+on the dead, if I ever bother you will you tell me so and invite me to
+skip?"
+
+"Of course I will."
+
+"Shake hands on it, then; that's a good fellow. And say, did you say there
+was another skirt stopping here?"
+
+"A--a what?"
+
+"Petticoat," explained Dick, patiently; "mulier, as the ancient dagoes had
+it. They've been getting mulier ever since, too. How old is she?"
+
+"Oh," answered Dorothy. "She's not more than twenty or twenty-one." Then,
+endeavouring to be just to Elaine, she added: "And a very pretty girl,
+too."
+
+"Lead me to her," exclaimed Dick ecstatically. "Already she is mine!"
+
+"You'll see her at luncheon. There's the bell, now."
+
+Mr. Chester was duly presented to Miss St. Clair, and from then on,
+appeared to be on his good behaviour. Elaine's delicate, fragile beauty
+appealed strongly to the susceptible Dick, and from the very beginning, he
+was afraid of her--a dangerous symptom, if he had only known it.
+
+Harlan, making the best of a bad bargain, devoted himself to his guests
+impartially, and, upon the whole, the luncheon went off very well, though
+the atmosphere was not wholly festive.
+
+Afterward, when they sat down in the parlour, there was an awkward pause
+which no one seemed inclined to relieve. At length Dorothy, mindful of her
+duty as hostess, asked Miss St. Clair if she would not play something.
+
+Willingly enough, Elaine went to the melodeon, which had not been opened
+since the Carrs came to live at the Jack-o'-Lantern, and lifted the lid.
+Immediately, however, she went off into hysterics, which were so violent
+that Harlan and Dorothy were obliged to assist her to her room.
+
+Dick strongly desired to carry Elaine upstairs, but was forbidden by the
+hampering conventionalities. So he lounged over to the melodeon, somewhat
+surprised to find that "It" was still there.
+
+"It" was a brown, wavy, false front of human hair, securely anchored to
+the keys underneath by a complicated system of loops of linen thread.
+Pinned to the top was a faded slip of paper on which Uncle Ebeneezer had
+written, long ago: "Mrs. Judson always kept her best false front in the
+melodeon. I do not desire to have it disturbed.--E. J."
+
+"His Nibs never could bear music," thought Dick, as he closed the
+instrument, little guessing that a vein of sentiment in Uncle Ebeneezer's
+hard nature had impelled him to keep the prosaic melodeon forever sacred
+to the slender, girlish fingers that had last brought music from its
+yellowed keys.
+
+From upstairs still came the sound of crying, which was not altogether to
+be wondered at, considering Miss St. Clair's weak, nervous condition.
+Harlan came down, scowling, and took back the brandy flask, moving none
+too hastily.
+
+"They don't like Elaine," murmured Dick to himself, vaguely troubled. "I
+wonder why--oh, I wonder why!"
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+More
+
+
+_Blue as sapphires were the eyes of Elaine, and her fair cheek was like
+that of an apple blossom. Set like a rose upon pearl was the dewy,
+fragrant sweetness of her mouth, and her breath was that of the rose
+itself. Her hands--but how shall I write of the flower-like hands of
+Elaine? They seemed all too frail to hold the reins of her palfrey, much
+less to guide him along the rocky road that lay before her._
+
+_Safely sheltered in a sunny valley was the Castle of Content, wherein
+Elaine's father reigned as Lord. Upon the hills close at hand were the
+orchards, which were now in bloom. A faint, unearthly sweetness came with
+every passing breeze, and was wafted through the open windows of the
+Castle, where, upon the upper floor, Elaine was wont to sit with her maids
+at the tapestry frames._
+
+_But, of late, a strange restlessness was upon her, and the wander-lust
+surged through her veins._
+
+_"My father," she said, "I am fain to leave the Castle of Content, and set
+out upon the Heart's Quest. Among the gallant knights of thy retinue,
+there is none whom I would wed, and it is seemly that I should set out to
+find my lord and master, for behold, father, as thou knowest, twenty years
+and more have passed over my head, and my beauty hath begun to fade."_
+
+_The Lord of the Castle of Content smiled in amusement, that Elaine, the
+beautiful, should fancy her charms were on the wane. But he was ever eager
+to gratify the slightest wish of this only child of his, and so he gave
+his ready consent._
+
+_"Indeed, Elaine," he answered, "and if thou choosest, thou shalt go, but
+these despised knights shall attend thee, and also our new fool, who hath
+come from afar to make merry in our court. His motley is of an unfamiliar
+pattern, his quips and jests savour not so much of antiquity, and his
+songs are pleasing. He shall lighten the rigours of thy journey and cheer
+thee when thou art sad."_
+
+_"But, father, I do not choose to have the fool."_
+
+_"Say no more, Elaine, for if thou goest, thou shall have the fool. It is
+most fitting that in thy retinue there shouldst be more than one to wear
+the cap and bells, and it is in my mind to consider this quest of thine
+somewhat more than mildly foolish. Unnumbered brave and faithful knights
+are at thy feet and yet thou canst not choose, but must needs fare onward
+in search of a stranger to be thy lord and master."_
+
+_Elaine raised her hand. "As thou wilt, father," she said, submissively.
+"Thou canst not understand the way of a maid. Bid thy fool to prepare
+himself quickly for a long journey, since we start at sunset."_
+
+_"But why at sunset, daughter? The way is long. Mayst not thy mission wait
+until sunrise?"_
+
+_"Nay, father, for it is my desire to sleep to-night upon the ground. The
+tapestried walls of my chamber stifle me and I would fain lie in the fresh
+air with only the green leaves for my canopy and the stars for my taper
+lights."_
+
+_"As thou wilt, Elaine, but my heart is sad at the prospect of losing
+thee. Thou art my only child, the image of thy dead mother, and my old
+eyes shall be misty for the sight of thee long before my gallant knights
+bring thee back again."_
+
+_"So shall I gain some hours, father," she answered. "Perhaps my sunset
+journeying shall bring my return a day nearer. Cross me not in this wish,
+father, for it is my fancy to go."_
+
+_So it was that the cavalcade was made ready and Elaine and her company
+left the Castle of Content at sunset. Two couriers rode at the head, to
+see that the way was clear, and with a silver bugle to warn travellers to
+stand aside until the Lady Elaine and her attendants had passed._
+
+_Upon a donkey, caparisoned in a most amusing manner, rode Le Jongleur,
+the new fool of whom the Lord of the Castle of Content had spoken. His
+motley, as has been said, was of an unfamiliar pattern, but was none the
+less striking, being made wholly of scarlet and gold. The Lady Elaine
+could not have guessed that it was assumed as a tribute to the trappings
+of her palfrey, for Le Jongleur's heart was most humble and loyal, though
+leaping now with the joy of serving the fair Lady Elaine._
+
+_The Lord of Content stood at the portal of the Castle to bid the retinue
+Godspeed, and as the cymbals crashed out a sounding farewell, he
+impatiently wiped away the mist, which already had clouded his vision.
+Long he waited, straining his eyes toward the distant cliffs, where, one
+by one, the company rode upward. The valley was in shadow, but the long
+light lay upon the hills, changing the crags to a wonder of purple and
+gold. To him, too, came the breath of apple bloom, but it brough no joy to
+his troubled heart._
+
+_What dangers lay in wait for Elaine as she fared forth upon her wild
+quest? What monsters haunted the primeval forests through which her path
+must lie? And where was the knight who should claim her innocent and
+maidenly heart? At this thought, the Lord of Content shuddered, then was
+quickly ashamed._
+
+_"I am as foolish," he muttered, "as he in motley, who rides at the side
+of Elaine. Surely my daughter, the child of a soldier, can make no
+unworthy choice."_
+
+_The cavalcade had reached the summit of the cliff, now, and at the brink,
+turned back. The cymbals and the bugles pealed forth another sounding
+farewell to the Lord of the Castle of Content, whom Elaine well knew was
+waiting in the shadow of the portal till her company should be entirely
+lost to sight._
+
+_The last light shone upon the wonderful mass of gold which rippled to her
+waist, unbound, from beneath her close-fitting scarlet cap, and gave her
+an unearthly beauty. Le Jongleur held aloft his bauble, making it to nod
+in merry fashion, but the Lord of Content did not see, his eyes being
+fixed upon Elaine. She waved her hand to him, but he could not answer, for
+his shoulders were shaking with grief, nor, indeed, across the merciless
+distance that lay between, could he guess at Elaine's whispered prayer:
+"Dear Heavenly Father, keep thou my earthly father safe and happy, till
+his child comes back again."_
+
+_Over the edge of the cliff and out upon a wide plain they fared. Ribbons
+of glorious colour streamed from the horizon to the zenith, and touched to
+flame the cymbals and the bugles and the trappings of the horses and the
+shields of the knights. Piercingly sweet, across the fields of blowing
+clover, came the even song of a feathered chorister, and_--what on earth
+was that noise?
+
+Harlan went to the window impatiently, like one wakened from a dream by a
+blind impulse of action.
+
+The village stage, piled high with trunks, was at his door, and from the
+cavernous depths of the vehicle, shrieks of juvenile terror echoed and
+re-echoed unceasingly. Mr. Blake, driving, merely waited in supreme
+unconcern.
+
+"What in the hereafter," muttered Harlan, savagely. "More old lovers of
+Dorothy's, I suppose, or else the--Good Lord, it's twins!"
+
+A child of four or five fell out of the stage, followed by another, who
+lit unerringly on top of the prostrate one. In the meteoric moment of the
+fall, Harlan had seen that the two must have discovered America at about
+the same time, for they were exactly alike, making due allowance for the
+slight difference made by masculine and feminine attire.
+
+An enormous doll, which to Harlan's troubled sight first appeared to be an
+infant in arms, was violently ejected from the stage and added to the
+human pile which was wriggling and weeping upon the gravelled walk. A cub
+of seven next leaped out, whistling shrilly, then came a querulous,
+wailing, feminine voice from the interior.
+
+"Willie," it whined, "how can you act so? Help your little brother and
+sister up and get Rebbie's doll."
+
+To this the lad paid no attention whatever, and the mother herself
+assorted the weeping pyramid on the walk. Harlan ran downstairs, feeling
+that the hour had come to defend his hearthstone from outsiders. Dick and
+Dorothy were already at the door.
+
+"Foundlings' Home," explained Dick, briefly, with a wink at Harlan.
+"They're late this year."
+
+Dorothy was speechless with amazement and despair. Before Harlan had begun
+to think connectedly, one of the twins had darted into the house and
+bumped its head on the library door, thereupon making the Jack-o'-Lantern
+hideous with much lamentation.
+
+The mother, apparently tired out, came in as though she had left something
+of great value there and had come to get it, pausing only to direct Harlan
+to pay the stage driver, and have her trunks taken into the rooms opening
+off the dining-room on the south side.
+
+Willie took a mouth-organ out of his pocket and rendered a hitherto
+unknown air upon it with inimitable vigour. In the midst of the confusion,
+Claudius Tiberius had the misfortune to appear, and, immediately
+perceiving his mistake, whisked under the sofa, from whence the other twin
+determinedly haled him, using the handle which Nature had evidently
+intended for that purpose.
+
+"Will you kindly tell me," demanded Mrs. Carr, when she could make herself
+heard, "what is the meaning of all this?"
+
+"I do not understand you," said the mother of the twins, coldly. "Were you
+addressing me?"
+
+"I was," returned Mrs. Carr, to Dick's manifest delight. "I desire to know
+why you have come to my house, uninvited, and made all this disturbance."
+
+"The idea!" exclaimed the woman, trembling with anger. "Will you please
+send for Mr. Judson?"
+
+"Mr. Judson," said Dorothy, icily, "has been dead for some time. This
+house is the property of my husband."
+
+"Indeed! And who may your husband be?" The tone of the question did not
+indicate even faint interest in the subject under discussion.
+
+Dorothy turned, but Harlan had long since beat an ignominious retreat,
+closely followed by Dick, whose idea, as audibly expressed, was that the
+women be allowed to "fight it out by themselves."
+
+"I can readily understand," went on Dorothy, with a supreme effort at
+self-control, "that you have made a mistake for which you are not in any
+sense to blame. You are tired from your journey, and you are quite welcome
+to stay until to-morrow."
+
+"To-morrow!" shrilled the woman. "I guess you don't know who I am! I am
+Mrs. Holmes, Rebecca Judson's own cousin, and I have spent the Summer here
+ever since Rebecca was married! I guess if Ebeneezer knew you were
+practically ordering his wife's own cousin out of his house, he'd rise
+from his grave to haunt you!"
+
+Dorothy fancied that Uncle Ebeneezer's portrait moved slightly. Aunt
+Rebecca still surveyed the room from the easel, gentle, sweet-faced, and
+saintly. There was no resemblance whatever between Aunt Rebecca and the
+sallow, hollow-cheeked, wide-eyed termagant, with a markedly receding
+chin, who stood before Mrs. Carr and defied her.
+
+"This is my husband's house," suggested Dorothy, pertinently.
+
+"Then let your husband do the talking," rejoined Mrs. Holmes,
+sarcastically. "If he was sure it was his, I guess he wouldn't have run
+away. I've always had my own rooms here, and I intend to go and come as I
+please, as I always have done. You can't make me believe that Ebeneezer
+gave my apartments to your husband, nor him either, and I wouldn't advise
+any of you to try it."
+
+Sounds of fearful panic came from the chicken yard, and Dorothy rushed
+out, swiftly laying avenging hands on the disturber of the peace. One of
+the twins was chasing Abdul Hamid around the coop with a lath, as he
+explained between sobs, "to make him lay." Mrs. Holmes bore down upon
+Dorothy before any permanent good had been done.
+
+"How dare you!" she cried. "How dare you lay hands on my child! Come,
+Ebbie, come to mamma. Bless his little heart, he shall chase the chickens
+if he wants to, so there, there. Don't cry, Ebbie. Mamma will get you
+another lath and you shall play with the chickens all the afternoon.
+There, there!"
+
+Harlan appeared at this juncture, and in a few quiet, well-chosen words
+told Mrs. Holmes that the chicken coop was his property, and that neither
+now nor at any other time should any one enter it without his express
+permission.
+
+"Upon my word," remarked Mrs. Holmes, still soothing the unhappy twin.
+"How high and mighty we are when we're living off our poor dead uncle's
+bounty! Telling his wife's own cousin what she's to do, and what she
+isn't! Upon my word!"
+
+So saying, Mrs. Holmes retired to the house, her pace hastened by howls
+from the other twin, who was in trouble with her older brother somewhere
+in her "apartment."
+
+Dorothy looked at Harlan, undecided whether to laugh or to cry. "Poor
+little woman," he said, softly; "don't you fret. We'll have them out of
+the house no later than to-morrow."
+
+"All of them?" asked Dorothy, eagerly, as Miss St. Clair strolled into the
+front yard.
+
+Harlan's brow clouded and he shifted uneasily from one foot to the other.
+"I don't know," he said, slowly, "whether I've got nerve enough to order a
+woman out of my house or not. Let's wait and see what happens."
+
+A sob choked Dorothy, and she ran swiftly into the house, fortunately
+meeting no one on her way to her room. Dick ventured out of the barn and
+came up to Harlan, who was plainly perplexed.
+
+"Very, very mild arrival," commented Mr. Chester, desiring to put his host
+at his ease. "I've never known 'em to come so peacefully as they have
+to-day. Usually there's more or less disturbance."
+
+"Disturbance," repeated Harlan. "Haven't we had a disturbance to-day?"
+
+"We have not," answered Dick, placidly. "Wait till young Ebeneezer and
+Rebecca get more accustomed to their surroundings, and then you'll have a
+Fourth of July every day, with Christmas, Thanksgiving, and St. Patrick's
+Day thrown in. Willie is the worst little terror that ever went unlicked,
+and the twins come next."
+
+"Perhaps you don't understand children," remarked Harlan, with a
+patronising air, and more from a desire to disagree with Dick than from
+anything else. "I've always liked them."
+
+"If you have," commented Dick, with a knowing chuckle, "you're in a fair
+way to get cured of it."
+
+"Tell me about these people," said Harlan, ignoring the speech, and
+dominated once more by healthy human curiosity. "Who are they and where do
+they come from?"
+
+"They're dwellers from the infernal regions," explained Dick, with an air
+of truthfulness, "and they came from there because the old Nick turned 'em
+out. They were upsetting things and giving the place a bad name. Mrs.
+Holmes says she's Aunt Rebecca's cousin, but nobody knows whether she is
+or not. She's come here every Summer since Aunt Rebecca died, and poor old
+uncle couldn't help himself. He hinted more than once that he'd enjoy her
+absence if she could be moved to make herself scarce, but it had no more
+effect than a snowflake would in the place she came from. The most he
+could do was to build a wing on the house with a separate kitchen and
+dining-room in it, and take his own meals in the library, with the door
+bolted.
+
+"Willie is a Winter product and Judson Centre isn't a pleasant place in
+the cold months, but the twins were born here, five years ago this Summer.
+They came in the night, but didn't make any more trouble then than they
+have every day since."
+
+"What would you do?" asked Harlan, after a thoughtful silence, "if you
+were in my place?"
+
+"I'd be tickled to death because a kind Providence had married me to
+Dorothy instead of to Mrs. Holmes. Poor old Holmes is in his well-earned
+grave."
+
+With great dignity, Harlan walked into the house, but Dick, occupied with
+his own thoughts, did not guess that his host was offended.
+
+After the first excitement was over, comparative peace settled down upon
+the Jack-o'-Lantern. Mrs. Holmes decided the question of where she should
+eat, by setting four more places at the table when Mrs. Smithers's back
+was turned. Dorothy did not appear at luncheon, and Mrs. Smithers
+performed her duties with such pronounced ungraciousness that Elaine felt
+as though something was about to explode.
+
+A long sleep, born of nervous exhaustion, came at last to Dorothy's
+relief. When she awoke, it was night and the darkness dazed her at first.
+She sat up and rubbed her eyes, wondering whether she had been dead, or
+merely ill.
+
+There was not a sound in the Jack-o'-Lantern, and the events of the day
+seemed like some hideous nightmare which waking had put to rout. She
+bathed her face in cool water, then went to look out of the window.
+
+A lantern moved back and forth under the trees in the orchard, and a tall,
+dark figure, armed with a spade, accompanied it. "It's Harlan," thought
+Dorothy. "I'll go down and see what he's burying."
+
+But it was only Mrs. Smithers, who appeared much startled when she saw her
+mistress at her side.
+
+"What are you doing?" demanded Dorothy, seeing that Mrs. Smithers had dug
+a hole at least a foot and a half each way.
+
+"Just a-satisfyin' myself," explained the handmaiden, with a note of
+triumph in her voice, "about that there cat. 'Ere's where I buried 'im,
+and 'ere's where there ain't no signs of 'is dead body. 'E's come back to
+'aunt us, that's wot 'e 'as, and your uncle'll be the next."
+
+"Don't be so foolish," snapped Dorothy. "You've forgotten the place,
+that's all, and I don't wish to hear any more of this nonsense."
+
+"'Oo was it?" asked Mrs. Smithers, "as come out of a warm bed at midnight
+to see as if folks wot was diggin' for cats found anythink? 'T warn't me,
+Miss, that's wot it warn't, and I take it that them as follers is as
+nonsensical as them wot digs. Anyhow, Miss, 'ere's where 'e was buried,
+and 'ere's where 'e ain't now. You can think wot you likes, that's wot you
+can."
+
+Claudius Tiberius suddenly materialised out of the surrounding darkness,
+and after sniffing at the edge of the hole, jumped in to investigate.
+
+"You see that, Miss?" quavered Mrs. Smithers. "'E knows where 'e's been,
+and 'e knows where 'e ain't now."
+
+"Mrs. Smithers," said Dorothy, sternly, "will you kindly fill up that hole
+and come into the house and go to bed? I don't want to be kept awake all
+night."
+
+"You don't need to be kept awake, Miss," said Mrs. Smithers, slowly
+filling up the hole. "The worst is 'ere already and wot's comin' is comin'
+anyway, and besides," she added, as an afterthought, "there ain't a
+blessed one of 'em come 'ere at night since your uncle fixed over the
+house."
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+Another
+
+
+For the first time in her life, Mrs. Carr fully comprehended the
+sensations of a wild animal caught in a trap. In her present painful
+predicament, she was absolutely helpless, and she realised it. It was
+Harlan's house, as he had said, but so powerful and penetrating was the
+personality of the dead man that she felt as though it was still largely
+the property of Uncle Ebeneezer.
+
+The portrait in the parlour gave her no light upon the subject, though she
+studied it earnestly. The face was that of an old man, soured and
+embittered by what Life had brought him, who seemed now to have a
+peculiarly malignant aspect. Dorothy fancied, in certain morbid moments,
+that Uncle Ebeneezer, from some safe place, was keenly relishing the whole
+situation.
+
+Upon her soul, too, lay heavily that ancient Law of the House, which
+demands unfailing courtesy to the stranger within our gates. Just why the
+eating of our bread and salt by some undesired guest should exert any
+particular charm of immunity, has long been an open question, but the Law
+remains.
+
+She felt, dimly, that the end was not yet--that still other strangers were
+coming to the Jack-o'-Lantern for indefinite periods. She saw, now, why
+wing after wing had been added to the house, but could not understand the
+odd arrangement of the front windows. Through some inner sense of loyalty
+to Uncle Ebeneezer, she forebore to question either Mrs. Smithers or
+Dick--two people who could probably have given her some light on the
+subject. She had gathered, however, from hints dropped here and there, as
+well as from the overpowering evidence of recent events, that a horde of
+relatives swarmed each Summer at the queer house on the hilltop and
+remained until late Autumn.
+
+Harlan said nothing, and nowadays Dorothy saw very little of him. Most of
+the time he was at work in the library, or else taking long, solitary
+rambles through the surrounding country. At meals he was moody and
+taciturn, his book obliterating all else from his mind.
+
+He doubtless knew, subconsciously, that his house was disturbed by alien
+elements, but he dwelt too securely in the upper regions to be troubled by
+the obvious fact. Once in the library, with every door securely bolted, he
+could afford to laugh at the tumult outside, if, indeed, he should ever
+become aware of its existence. The children might make the very air vocal
+with their howls, Elaine might have hysterics, Mrs. Smithers render hymns
+in a cracked, squeaky voice, and Dick whistle eternally, but Harlan was in
+a strange new country, with a beautiful lady, a company of gallant
+knights, and a jester.
+
+The rest was all unreal. He seemed to see people through a veil, to hear
+what they said without fully comprehending it, and to walk through his
+daily life blindly, without any sort of emotion. Worst of all, Dorothy
+herself seemed detached and dream-like. He saw that her face was white and
+her eyes sad, but it affected him not at all. He had yet to learn that in
+this, as in everything else, a price must inevitably be paid, and that the
+sudden change of all his loved realities to hazy visions was the terrible
+penalty of his craft.
+
+Yet there was compensation, which is also inevitable. To him, the book was
+vital, reaching down into the very heart of the world. Fancy took his
+work, and, to the eyes of its creator, made it passing fair. At times he
+would sit for an hour or more, nibbling at the end of his pencil, only
+negatively conscious, like one who stares fixedly at a blank wall.
+Presently, Elaine and her company would come back again, and he would go
+on with them, writing down only what he saw and felt.
+
+Chapter after chapter was written and tossed feverishly aside. The words
+beat in his pulses like music, each one with its own particular
+significance. In return for his personal effacement came moments of
+supremest joy, when his whole world was aflame with light, and colour, and
+sound, and his physical body fairly shook with ecstasy.
+
+Little did he know that the Cup was in his hands, and that he was draining
+it to the very dregs of bitterness. For this temporary intoxication, he
+must pay in every hour of his life to come. Henceforward he was set apart
+from his fellows, painfully isolated, eternally alone. He should have
+friends, but only for the hour. The stranger in the street should be the
+same to him as one he had known for many years, and he should be equally
+ready, at any moment, to cast either aside. With a quick, merciless
+insight, like the knife of a surgeon used without an anaesthetic, he should
+explore the inmost recesses of every personality with which he came in
+contact, involuntarily, and find himself interested only as some new trait
+or capacity was revealed. Calm and emotionless, urged by some hidden
+power, he should try each individual to see of what he was made; observing
+the man under all possible circumstances, and at times enmeshing new
+circumstances about him. He should sacrifice himself continually if by so
+doing he could find the deep roots of the other man's selfishness, and,
+conversely, be utterly selfish if necessary to discover the other's power
+of self-sacrifice.
+
+Unknowingly, he had ceased to be a man and had become a ferret. It was no
+light payment exacted in return for the pleasure of writing about Elaine.
+He had the ability to live in any place or century he pleased, but he had
+paid for it by putting his present reality upon precisely the same
+footing. Detachment was his continually. Henceforth he was a spectator
+merely, without any particular concern in what passed before his eyes.
+Some people he should know at a glance, others in a week, a month, or a
+year. Across the emptiness between them, some one should clasp his hand,
+yet share no more his inner life than one who lies beside a dreamer and
+thinks thus to know where the other wanders on the strange trails of
+sleep.
+
+In the dregs of the Cup lay the potential power to cast off his present
+life as a mollusk leaves his shell, and as completely forget it. For Love,
+and Death, and Pain are only symbols to him who is enslaved by the pen.
+Moreover, he suffers always the pangs of an unsatisfied hunger, the
+exquisite torture of an unappeased and unappeasable thirst, for something
+which, like a will-o'-the-wisp, hovers ever above and beyond him, past the
+power of words to interpret or express.
+
+It is often reproachfully said that one "makes copy" of himself and his
+friends--that nothing is too intimately sacred to be seized upon and
+dissected in print. Not so long ago, it was said that a certain man was
+"botanising on his mother's grave," a pardonable confusion, perhaps, of
+facts and realities. The bitter truth is that the writer lives his
+books--and not much else. From title to colophon, he escapes no pang,
+misses no joy. The life of the book is his from beginning to end. At the
+close of it, he has lived what his dream people have lived and borne the
+sorrows of half a dozen entire lifetimes, mercilessly concentrated into
+the few short months of writing.
+
+One by one, his former pleasures vanish. Even the divine consolation of
+books is partly if not wholly gone. Behind the printed page, he sees ever
+the machinery of composition, the preparation for climax, the repetition
+in its proper place, the introduction and interweaving of major and minor,
+of theme and contrast. For the fine, glowing fancy of the other man has
+not appeared in his book, and to the eye of the fellow-craftsman only the
+mechanism is there. Mask-like, the author stands behind his Punch-and-Judy
+box, twitching the strings that move his marionettes, heedless of the fact
+that in his audience there must be a few who know him surely for what he
+is.
+
+If only the transfiguring might of the Vision could be put into print,
+there would be little in the world save books. Happily heedless of the
+mockery of it all, Harlan laboured on, destined fully to sense his entire
+payment much later, suffer vicariously for a few hours on account of it,
+then to forget.
+
+Dorothy, meanwhile, was learning a hard lesson. Harlan's changeless
+preoccupation hurt her cruelly, but, woman-like, she considered it a
+manifestation of genius and endeavoured to be proud accordingly. It had
+not occurred to her that there could ever be anything in Harlan's thought
+into which she was not privileged to go. She had thought of marriage as a
+sort of miraculous welding of two individualities into one, and was
+perceiving that it changed nothing very much; that souls went on their way
+unaltered. She saw, too, that there was no one in the wide world who could
+share her every mood and tense, that ultimately each one of us lives and
+dies alone, within the sanctuary of his own inner self, cheered only by
+some passing mood of friend or stranger, which chances to chime with his.
+
+It was Dick who, blindly enough, helped her over many a hard place, and
+quickened her sense of humour into something upon which she might securely
+lean. He was too young and too much occupied with the obvious to look
+further, but he felt that Dorothy was troubled, and that it was his duty,
+as a man and a gentleman, to cheer her up.
+
+Privately, he considered Harlan an amiable kind of a fool, who shut
+himself up needlessly in a musty library when he might be outdoors, or
+talking with a charming woman, or both. When he discovered that Harlan had
+hitherto earned his living by writing and hoped to continue doing it, he
+looked upon his host with profound pity. Books, to Dick, were among the
+things which kept life from being wholly pleasant and agreeable. He had
+gone through college because otherwise he would have been separated from
+his friends, and because a small legacy from a distant relative, who had
+considerately died at an opportune moment, enabled him to pay for his
+tuition and his despised books.
+
+"I was never a pig, though," he explained to Dorothy, in a confidential
+moment. "There was one chump in our class who wanted to know all there was
+in the book, and made himself sick trying to cram it in. All of a sudden,
+he graduated. He left college feet first, three on a side, with the class
+walking slow behind him. I never was like that. I was sort of an epicure
+when it came to knowledge, tasting delicately here and there, and never
+greedy. Why, as far back as when I was studying algebra, I nobly refused
+to learn the binomial theorem. I just read it through once, hastily, like
+taking one sniff at a violet, and then let it alone. The other fellows
+fairly gorged themselves with it, but I didn't--I had too much sense."
+
+When Mr. Chester had been there a week, he gave Dorothy two worn and
+crumpled two-dollar bills.
+
+"What's this?" she asked, curiously. "Where did you find it?"
+
+"'Find it' is good," laughed Dick. "I earned it, my dear lady, in hard and
+uncongenial toil. It's my week's board."
+
+"You're not going to pay any board here. You're a guest."
+
+"Not on your life. You don't suppose I'm going to sponge my keep off
+anybody, do you? I paid Uncle Ebeneezer board right straight along and
+there's no reason why I shouldn't pay you. You can put that away in your
+sock, or wherever it is that women keep money, or else I take the next
+train. If you don't want to lose me, you have to accept four plunks every
+Monday. I've got lots of four plunks," he added, with a winning smile.
+
+"Very well," said Dorothy, quite certain that she could not spare Dick.
+"If it will make you feel any better about staying, I'll take it."
+
+He had quickly made friends with Elaine, and the three made a more
+harmonious group than might have been expected under the circumstances.
+With returning strength and health, Miss St. Clair began to take more of
+an interest in her surroundings. She gathered the white clover blossoms in
+which Dorothy tied up her pats of sweet butter, picked berries in the
+garden, skimmed the milk, helped churn, and fed the chickens.
+
+Dick took entire charge of the cow, thus relieving Mrs. Smithers of an
+uncongenial task and winning her heartfelt gratitude. She repaid him with
+unnumbered biscuits of his favourite kind and with many a savoury "snack"
+between meals. He also helped Dorothy in many other ways. It was Dick who
+collected the eggs every morning and took them to the sanitarium, along
+with such other produce as might be ready for the market. He secured
+astonishing prices for the things he sold, and set it down to man's
+superior business ability when questioned by his hostess. Dorothy never
+guessed that most of the money came out of his own pocket, and was charged
+up, in the ragged memorandum book which he carried, to "Elaine's board."
+
+Miss St. Clair had never thought of offering compensation, and no one
+suggested it to her, but Dick privately determined to make good the
+deficiency, sure that a woman married to "a writing chump" would soon be
+in need of ready money if not actually starving at the time. That people
+should pay for what Harlan wrote seemed well-nigh incredible. Besides,
+though Dick had never read that "love is an insane desire on the part of a
+man to pay a woman's board bill for life," he took a definite satisfaction
+out of this secret expenditure, which he did not stop to analyse.
+
+He brought back full price for everything he took to the "repair-shop," as
+he had irreverently christened the sanitarium, though he seldom sold much.
+On the other side of the hill he had a small but select graveyard where he
+buried such unsalable articles as he could not eat. His appetite was
+capricious, and Dorothy had frequently observed that when he came back
+from the long walk to the sanitarium, he ate nothing at all.
+
+He established a furniture factory under a spreading apple tree at a
+respectable distance from the house, and began to remodel the black-walnut
+relics which were evidence of his kinsman's poor taste. He took many a bed
+apart, scraped off the disfiguring varnish, sandpapered and oiled the
+wood, and put it together in new and beautiful forms. He made several
+tables, a cabinet, a bench, half a dozen chairs, a set of hanging shelves,
+and even aspired to a desk, which, owing to the limitations of the
+material, was not wholly successful.
+
+Dorothy and Elaine sat in rocking-chairs under the tree and encouraged him
+while he worked. One of them embroidered a simple design upon a burlap
+curtain while the other read aloud, and together they planned a shapely
+remodelling of the Jack-o'-Lantern. Fortunately, the woodwork was plain,
+and the ceilings not too high.
+
+"I think," said Elaine, "that the big living room with the casement
+windows will be perfectly beautiful. You couldn't have anything lovelier
+than this dull walnut with the yellow walls."
+
+Whatever Mrs. Carr's thoughts might be, this simple sentence was usually
+sufficient to turn the current into more pleasant channels. She had
+planned to have needless partitions taken out, and make the whole lower
+floor into one room, with only a dining-room, kitchen, and pantry back of
+it. She would take up the unsightly carpets, over which impossible plants
+wandered persistently, and have them woven into rag rugs, with green and
+brown and yellow borders. The floor was to be stained brown and the pine
+woodwork a soft, old green. Yellow walls and white net curtains, with the
+beautiful furniture Dick was making, completed a very charming picture in
+the eyes of a woman who loved her home.
+
+Outspeeding it in her fancy was the finer, truer living which she believed
+lay beyond. Some day she and Harlan, alone once more, with the cobwebs of
+estrangement swept away, should begin a new and happier honeymoon in the
+transformed house. When the book was done--ah, when the book was done! But
+he was not reading any part of it to her now and would not let her begin
+copying it on the typewriter.
+
+"I'll do it myself, when I'm ready," he said, coldly. "I can use a
+typewriter just as well as you can."
+
+Dorothy sighed, unconsciously, for the woman's part is always to wait
+patiently while men achieve, and she who has learned to wait patiently,
+and be happy meanwhile, has learned the finest art of all--the art of
+life.
+
+"Now," said Dick, "that's a peach of a table, if I do say it as
+shouldn't."
+
+They readily agreed with him, for it was low and massive, built on simple,
+dignified lines, and beautifully finished. The headboards of three
+ponderous walnut beds and the supporting columns of a hideous sideboard
+had gone into its composition, thus illustrating, as Dorothy said, that
+ugliness may be changed to beauty by one who knows how and is willing to
+work for it.
+
+The noon train whistled shrilly in the distance, and Dorothy started out
+of her chair. "She's afraid," laughed Dick, instantly comprehending.
+"She's afraid somebody is coming on it."
+
+"More twins?" queried Elaine, from the depths of her rocker. "Surely there
+can't be any more twins?"
+
+"I don't know," answered Dorothy, vaguely troubled. "Someway, I feel as
+though something terrible were going to happen."
+
+Nothing happened, however, until after luncheon, just as she had begun to
+breathe peacefully again. Willie saw the procession first and ran back
+with gleeful shouts to make the announcement. So it was that the entire
+household, including Harlan, formed a reception committee on the front
+porch.
+
+Up the hill, drawn by two straining horses, came what appeared at first to
+be a pyramid of furniture, but later resolved itself into the component
+parts of a more ponderous bed than the ingenuity of man had yet contrived.
+It was made of black walnut, and was at least three times as heavy as any
+of those in the Jack-o'-Lantern. On the top of the mass was perched a
+little old man in a skull cap, a slippered foot in a scarlet sock airily
+waving at one side. A bright green coil closely clutched in his withered
+hands was the bed cord appertaining to the bed--a sainted possession from
+which its owner sternly refused to part.
+
+"By Jove!" shouted Dick; "it's Uncle Israel and his crib!"
+
+Paying no heed to the assembled group, Uncle Israel dismounted nimbly
+enough, and directed the men to take his bed upstairs, which they did,
+while Harlan and Dorothy stood by helplessly. Here, under his profane and
+involved direction, the structure was finally set in place, even to the
+patchwork quilt, fearfully and wonderfully made, which surmounted it all.
+
+Financial settlement was waved aside by Uncle Israel as a matter in which
+he was not interested, and it was Dick who counted out two dimes and a
+nickel to secure peace. A supplementary procession appeared with a small,
+weather-beaten trunk, a folding bath-cabinet, and a huge case which, from
+Uncle Israel's perturbation, evidently contained numerous fragile articles
+of great value.
+
+"Tell Ebeneezer," wheezed the newcomer, "that I have arrived."
+
+"Ebeneezer," replied Dick, in wicked imitation of the old man's asthmatic
+speech, "has been dead for some time."
+
+"Then," creaked Uncle Israel, waving a tremulous, bony hand suggestively
+toward the door, "kindly leave me alone with my grief."
+
+
+
+
+X
+
+Still More
+
+
+Uncle Israel, whose other name was Skiles, adjusted himself to his grief
+in short order. The sounds which issued from his room were not those
+commonly associated with mourning. Dick, fully accustomed to various
+noises, explained them for the edification of the Carrs, who at present
+were sorely in need of edification.
+
+"That's the bath cabinet," remarked Mr. Chester, with the air of a
+connoisseur. "He's setting it up near enough to the door so that if
+anybody should come in unexpectedly while it's working, the whole thing
+will be tipped over and the house set on fire. Uncle Israel won't have any
+lock or bolt on his door for fear he should die in the night. He relies
+wholly on the bath cabinet and moral suasion. Nobody knocks on doors here,
+anyway--just goes in.
+
+"That's his trunk. He keeps it under the window. The bed is set up first,
+then the bath cabinet, then the trunk, and last, but not least, the
+medicine chest. He keeps his entire pharmacopoeia on a table at the head
+of his bed, with a candle and matches, so that if he feels badly in the
+night, the proper remedy is instantly at hand. He prepares some of his
+medicines himself, but he isn't bigoted about it. He buys the rest at
+wholesale, and I'll eat my hat if he hasn't got a full-sized bottle of
+every patent medicine that's on sale anywhere in the United States."
+
+"How old," asked Harlan, speaking for the first time, "is Uncle Israel?"
+
+"Something over ninety, I believe," returned Dick. "I've lost my book of
+vital statistics, so I don't know, exactly."
+
+"How long," inquired Dorothy, with a forced smile, "does Uncle Israel
+stay?"
+
+"Lord bless you, my dear lady, Uncle Israel stays all Summer. Hello--there
+are some more!"
+
+A private conveyance of uncertain age and purposes drew up before the
+door. From it dismounted a very slender young man of medium height, whose
+long auburn hair hung over his coat-collar and at times partially obscured
+his soulful grey eyes. It resembled the mane of a lion, except in colour.
+He carried a small black valise, and a roll of manuscript tied with a
+badly soiled ribbon.
+
+An old lady followed, stepping cautiously, but still finding opportunity
+to scrutinise the group in the doorway, peering sharply over her
+gold-bowed spectacles. It was she who paid the driver, and even before the
+two reached the house, it was evident that they were not on speaking
+terms.
+
+The young man offered Mr. Chester a thin, tremulous hand which lay on
+Dick's broad palm in a nerveless, clammy fashion. "Pray," he said, in a
+high, squeaky voice, "convey my greetings to dear Uncle Ebeneezer, and
+inform him that I have arrived."
+
+"I am at present holding no communication with Uncle Ebeneezer," explained
+Dick. "The wires are down."
+
+"Where is Ebeneezer?" demanded the old lady.
+
+"Dead," answered Dorothy, wearily; "dead, dead. He's been dead a long
+time. This is our house--he left it to my husband and me."
+
+"Don't let that disturb you a mite," said the old lady, cheerfully. "I
+like your looks a whole lot, an' I'd just as soon stay with you as with
+Ebeneezer. I dunno but I'd ruther."
+
+She must have been well past sixty, but her scanty hair was as yet
+untouched with grey. She wore it parted in the middle, after an ancient
+fashion, and twisted at the back into a tight little knob, from which the
+ends of a wire hairpin protruded threateningly. Dorothy reflected,
+unhappily, that the whole thing was done up almost tight enough to play a
+tune on.
+
+For the rest, her attire was neat, though careless. One had always the
+delusion that part or all of it was on the point of coming off.
+
+The young man was wiping his weak eyes upon a voluminous silk handkerchief
+which had evidently seen long service since its last washing. "Dear Uncle
+Ebeneezer," he breathed, running his long, bony fingers through his hair.
+"I cannot tell you how heavily this blow falls upon me. Dear Uncle
+Ebeneezer was a distinguished patron of the arts. Our country needs more
+men like him, men with fine appreciation, vowed to the service of the
+Ideal. If you will pardon me, I will now retire to my apartment and remain
+there a short time in seclusion."
+
+So saying, he ran lightly upstairs, as one who was thoroughly at home.
+
+"Who in--" began Harlan.
+
+"Mr. Harold Vernon Perkins, poet," said Dick. "He's got his rhyming
+dictionary and all his odes with him."
+
+"Without knowing," said Dorothy, "I should have thought his name was
+Harold or Arthur or Paul. He looks it."
+
+"It wa'n't my fault," interjected the old lady, "that he come. I didn't
+even sense that he was on the same train as me till I hired the carriage
+at the junction an' he clim' in. He said he might as well come along as we
+was both goin' to the same place, an' it would save him walkin', an' not
+cost me no more than 't would anyway."
+
+While she was speaking, she had taken off her outer layer of drapery and
+her bonnet. "I'll just put these things in my room, my dear," she said to
+Dorothy, "an' then I'll come back an' talk to you. I like your looks
+first-rate."
+
+"Who in--," said Harlan, again, as the old lady vanished into one of the
+lower wings.
+
+"Mrs. Belinda something," answered Dick. "I don't know who she's married
+to now. She's had bad luck with her husbands."
+
+Mrs. Carr, deeply troubled, was leaning against the wall in the hall, and
+Dick patted her hand soothingly. "Don't you fret," he said, cheerily; "I'm
+here to see you through."
+
+"That being the case," remarked Harlan, with a certain acidity in his
+tone, "I'll go back to my work."
+
+The old lady appeared again as Harlan slammed the library door, and
+suggested that Dick should go away.
+
+"Polite hint," commented Mr. Chester, not at all disturbed. "See you
+later." He went out, whistling, with his cap on the back of his head and
+his hands in his pockets.
+
+"I reckon you're a new relative, be n't you?" asked the lady guest, eyeing
+Dorothy closely. "I disremember seein' you before."
+
+"I am Mrs. Carr," repeated Dorothy, mechanically. "My husband, Harlan
+Carr, is Uncle Ebeneezer's nephew, and the house was left to him."
+
+"Do tell!" ejaculated the other. "I wouldn't have thought it of Ebeneezer.
+I'm Belinda Dodd, relict of Benjamin Dodd, deceased. How many are there
+here, my dear?"
+
+"Miss St. Clair, Mr. Chester, Mrs. Holmes and her three children, Uncle
+Israel Skiles, and you two, besides Mr. Carr, Mrs. Smithers, and myself."
+
+"Is that all?" asked the visitor, in evident surprise.
+
+"All!" repeated Dorothy. "Isn't that enough?"
+
+"Lord love you, my dear, it's plain to be seen that you ain't never been
+here before. Only them few an' so late in the season, too. Why, there's
+Cousin Si Martin, an' his wife, an' their eight children, some of the
+children bein' married an' havin' other children, an' Sister-in-law Fanny
+Wood with her invalid husband, her second husband, that is, an' Rebecca's
+Uncle James's third wife with her two daughters, an' Rebecca's sister's
+second husband with his new wife an' their little boy, an' Uncle Jason an'
+his stepson, the one that has fits, an' Cousin Sally Simmons an' her
+daughter, an' the four little Riley children an' their Aunt Lucretia, an'
+Step-cousin Betsey Skiles with her two nieces, though I misdoubt their
+comin' this year. The youngest niece had typhoid fever here last Summer
+for eight weeks, an' Betsey thinks the location ain't healthy, in spite of
+it's bein' so near the sanitarium. She was threatenin' to get the health
+department or somethin' after Ebeneezer an' have the drinkin' water looked
+into, so's they didn't part on the pleasantest terms, but in the main
+we've all got along well together.
+
+"If Betsey knowed Ebeneezer was dead, she wouldn't hesitate none about
+comin', typhoid or no typhoid. Mebbe it was her fault some, for Ebeneezer
+wa'n't to blame for his drinkin' water no more 'n I'd be. Our minister
+used to say that there was no discipline for the soul like livin' with
+folks, year in an' year out hand-runnin', an' Betsey is naturally that
+kind. Ebeneezer always lived plain, but we're all simple folks, not carin'
+much for style, so we never minded it. The air's good up here an' I dunno
+any better place to spend the Summer. My gracious! You be n't sick, be
+you?"
+
+"I don't know what to do," murmured Dorothy, her white lips scarcely
+moving; "I don't know what to do."
+
+"Well, now," responded Mrs. Dodd, "I can see that I've upset you some.
+Perhaps you're one of them people that don't like to have other folks
+around you. I've heard of such, comin' from the city. Why, I knew a woman
+that lived in the city, an' she said she didn't know the name of the woman
+next door to her after livin' there over eight months,--an' their windows
+lookin' right into each other, too."
+
+"I hate people!" cried Dorothy, in a passion of anger. "I don't want
+anybody here but my husband and Mrs. Smithers!"
+
+"Set quiet, my dear, an' make your mind easy. I'm sure Ebeneezer never
+intended his death to make any difference in my spendin' the Summer here,
+especially when I'm fresh from another bereavement, but if you're in
+earnest about closin' your doors on your poor dead aunt's relations, why
+I'll see what I can do."
+
+"Oh, if you could!" Dorothy almost screamed the words. "If you can keep
+any more people from coming here, I'll bless you for ever."
+
+"Poor child, I can see that you're considerable upset. Just get me the pen
+an' ink an' some paper an' envelopes an' I'll set down right now an' write
+to the connection an' tell 'em that Ebeneezer's dead an' bein' of unsound
+mind at the last has willed the house to strangers who refuse to open
+their doors to the blood relations of poor dead Rebecca. That's all I can
+do an' I can't promise that it'll work. Ebeneezer writ several times to us
+all that he didn't feel like havin' no more company, but Rebecca's
+relatives was all of a forgivin' disposition an' never laid it up against
+him. We all kep' on a-comin' just the same."
+
+"Tell them," cried Dorothy her eyes unusually bright and her cheeks
+burning, "that we've got smallpox here, or diphtheria, or a lunatic
+asylum, or anything you like. Tell them there's a big dog in the yard that
+won't let anybody open the gate. Tell them anything!"
+
+"Just you leave it all to me, my dear," said Mrs. Dodd, soothingly. "On
+account of the connection bein' so differently constituted, I'll have to
+tell 'em all different. Disease would keep away some an' fetch others.
+Betsey Skiles, now, she feels to turn her hand to nursin' an' I've knowed
+her to go miles in the dead of Winter to set up with a stranger that had
+some disease she wa'n't familiar with. Dogs would bring others an' only
+scare a few. Just you leave it all to me. There ain't never no use in
+borrerin' trouble an' givin' up your peace of mind as security, 'cause you
+don't never get the security back. I've been married enough to know that
+there's plenty of trouble in life besides what's looked for, an' it'll get
+in, without your holdin' open the door an' spreadin' a mat out with
+'Welcome' on it. Did Ebeneezer leave any property?"
+
+"Only the house and furniture," answered Dorothy, feeling that the whole
+burden of the world had been suddenly shifted to her young shoulders.
+
+"Rebecca had a big diamond pin," said Mrs. Dodd, after a brief silence,
+"that she allers said was to be mine when she got through with it.
+Ebeneezer give it to her for a weddin' present. You ain't seen it layin'
+around, have you?"
+
+"No, I haven't seen it 'laying around,'" retorted Dorothy, conscious that
+she was juggling with the truth.
+
+"Well," continued Mrs. Dodd, easily, nibbling her pen holder, "when it
+comes to light, just remember that it's mine. I don't doubt it'll turn up
+sometime. An' now, my dear, I'll just begin on them letters. Cousin Si
+Martin's folks are a-packin' an' expectin' to get here next week. I
+suppose you're willin' to furnish the stamps?"
+
+"Willing!" cried Dorothy, "I should say yes!"
+
+Mrs. Dodd toiled long at her self-imposed task, and, having finished it,
+went out into the kitchen, where for an hour or more she exchanged
+mortuary gossip with Mrs. Smithers, every detail of the conversation being
+keenly relished by both ladies.
+
+At dinner-time, eleven people sat down to partake of the excellent repast
+furnished by Mrs. Smithers under the stimulus of pleasant talk. Harlan was
+at the head, with Miss St. Clair on his right and Mrs. Dodd on his left.
+Next to Miss St. Clair was the poet, whose deep sorrow did not interfere
+with his appetite. The twins were next to him, then Mrs. Holmes, then
+Willie, then Dorothy, at the foot of the table. On her right was Dick, the
+space between Dick and Mrs. Dodd being occupied by Uncle Israel.
+
+To a careless observer, it might have seemed that Uncle Israel had more
+than his share of the table, but such in reality was not the case. His
+plate was flanked by a goodly array of medicine bottles, and cups and
+bowls of predigested and patent food. Uncle Israel, as Dick concisely
+expressed it, was "pie for the cranks."
+
+"My third husband," remarked Mrs. Dodd, pleasantly, well aware that she
+was touching her neighbour's sorest spot, "was terribly afflicted with
+stomach trouble."
+
+"The only stomach trouble I've ever had," commented Mr. Chester, airily
+spearing another biscuit with his fork, "was in getting enough to put into
+it."
+
+"Have a care, young man," wheezed Uncle Israel, warningly. "There ain't
+nothin' so bad for the system as hot bread."
+
+"It would be bad for my system," resumed Dick, "not to be able to get
+it."
+
+"My third husband," continued Mrs. Dodd, disregarding the interruption,
+"wouldn't have no bread in the house at all. He et these little straw
+mattresses, same as you've got, so constant that he finally died from the
+tic doleroo. Will you please pass me them biscuits, Mis' Carr?"
+
+Mrs. Dodd was obliged to rise and reach past Uncle Israel, who declined to
+be contaminated by passing the plate, before she attained her desired
+biscuit.
+
+"Next time, Aunt Belinda," said Dick, "I'll throw you one. Suffering
+Moses, what new dope is that?"
+
+A powerful and peculiarly penetrating odour filled the room. Presently it
+became evident that Uncle Israel had uncorked a fresh bottle of medicine.
+Miss St. Clair coughed and hastily excused herself.
+
+"It's time for me to take my pain-killer," murmured Uncle Israel, pouring
+out a tablespoonful of a thick, brown mixture. "This here cured a
+Congressman in less 'n half a bottle of a gnawin' pain in his vitals. I
+ain't never took none of it yet, but I aim to now."
+
+The vapour of it had already made the twins cry and brought tears to Mrs.
+Dodd's eyes, but Uncle Israel took it clear and smacked his lips over it
+enjoyably. "It seems to be a searchin' medicine," he commented, after an
+interval of silence. "I don't misdoubt that it'll locate that pain that
+was movin' up and down my back all night last night."
+
+Uncle Israel's wizened old face, with its fringe of white whisker, beamed
+with the joy of a scientist who has made a new and important discovery. He
+had a long, hooked nose, and was painfully near-sighted, but refused to
+wear glasses. Just now he sniffed inquiringly at the open bottle of
+medicine. "Yes," he said, nodding his bald head sagely, "I don't misdoubt
+this here can locate it."
+
+"I don't, either," said Harlan, grimly, putting his handkerchief to his
+nose. "Will you excuse me, Dorothy?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+Mrs. Holmes took the weeping twins away from the table, and Willie, his
+mentor gone, began to eat happily with his fingers. The poet rose and drew
+a roll of manuscript from his coat pocket.
+
+"This afternoon," he said, clearing his throat, "I employed my spare
+moments in composing an ode to the memory of our sainted relative, under
+whose hospitable roof we are all now so pleasantly gathered. I will read
+it to you."
+
+Mrs. Dodd hastily left the table, muttering indistinctly, and Dick
+followed her. Willie slipped from his chair, crawled under the table, and
+by stealthily sticking a pin into Uncle Israel's ankle, produced a violent
+disturbance, during which the pain-killer was badly spilled. When the air
+finally cleared, there was no one in the room but the poet, who sadly
+rolled up his manuscript.
+
+"I will read it at breakfast," he thought. "I will give them all the
+pleasure of hearing it. Art is for the many, not for the few. I must use
+it to elevate humanity to the Ideal."
+
+He went back to his own room to add some final reverent touches to the
+masterpiece, and to meditate upon the delicate blonde beauty of Miss St.
+Clair.
+
+From Mrs. Dodd, meanwhile, Dick had gathered the pleasing purport of her
+voluminous correspondence, and insisted on posting all the letters that
+very night, though morning would have done just as well. When he had gone
+downhill on his errand of mercy, whistling cheerily as was his wont, Mrs.
+Dodd went into her own room and locked the door, immediately beginning a
+careful search of the entire apartment.
+
+She scrutinised the walls closely, and rapped softly here and there,
+listening intently for a hollow sound. Standing on a chair, she felt all
+along the mouldings and window-casings, taking unto herself much dust in
+the process. She spent half an hour in the stuffy closet, investigating
+the shelves and recesses, then she got down on her rheumatic old knees and
+crept laboriously over the carpet, systematically taking it breadth by
+breadth, and paying special attention to that section of it which was
+under the bed.
+
+"When you've found where anythin' ain't," she said to herself, "you've
+gone a long way toward findin' where 't is. It's just like Ebeneezer to
+have hid it."
+
+She took down the pictures, which were mainly family portraits, life-size,
+presented to the master of the house by devoted relatives, and rapidly
+unframed them. In one of them she found a sealed envelope, which she
+eagerly tore open. Inside was a personal communication which, though
+brief, was very much to the point.
+
+"Dear Cousin Belinda," it read, "I hope you're taking pleasure in your
+hunt. I have kept my word to you and in this very room, somewhere, is a
+sum of money which represents my estimate of your worth, as nearly as
+sordid coin can hope to do. It is all in cash, for greater convenience in
+handling. I trust you will not spend it all in one store, and that you
+will, out of your abundance, be generous to the poor. It might be well to
+use a part of it in making a visit to New York. When you find this, I
+shall be out in the cemetery all by myself, and very comfortable.
+
+                                              "Yours, Ebeneezer Judson."
+
+"I knowed it," she said to herself, excitedly. "Ebeneezer was a hard man,
+but he always kep' his word. Dear me! What makes me so trembly!"
+
+She removed all the bedclothes and pounded the pillows and mattress in
+vain, then turned her attention to the furniture. It was almost one
+o'clock when Mrs. Dodd finally retired, worn in body and jaded in spirit,
+but still far from discouraged.
+
+"Ebeneezer must have mistook the room," she said to herself, "but how
+could he unless his mind was failin'? I've had this now, goin' on ten
+year."
+
+In the night she dreamed of finding money in the bureau, and got up to see
+if by chance she had not received mysterious guidance from an unknown
+source. There was money in the bureau, sure enough, but it was only two
+worn copper cents wrapped in many thicknesses of old newspaper, and she
+went unsuspiciously back to bed.
+
+"He's mistook the room," she breathed, drowsily, as she sank into troubled
+slumber, "an' to-morrer I'll have it changed. It's just as well I've
+scared them others off, if so be I have."
+
+
+
+
+XI
+
+Mrs. Dodd's Third Husband
+
+
+Insidiously, a single idea took possession of the entire household. Mrs.
+Smithers kept a spade near at hand and systematically dug, as opportunity
+offered. Dorothy became accustomed to an odorous lantern which stood near
+the back door in the daytime and bobbed about among the shrubbery at
+night.
+
+There was definite method in the madness of Mrs. Smithers, however, for
+she had once seen the departed Mr. Judson going out to the orchard with a
+tin box under his arm and her own spade but partially concealed under his
+long overcoat. When he came back, he was smiling, which was so unusual
+that she forgot all about the box, and did not observe whether or not he
+had brought it back with him. Long afterward, however, the incident
+assumed greater significance.
+
+"If I'd 'ave 'ad the sense to 'ave gone out there the next day," she
+muttered, "and 'ave seen where 'e 'ad dug, I might be a rich woman now,
+that's wot I might. 'E was a clever one, 'e was, and 'e's 'id it. The old
+skinflint wasn't doin' no work, 'e wasn't, and 'e lived on 'ere from year
+to year, a-payin' 'is bills like a Christian gent, and it stands to reason
+there's money 'id somewheres. Findin' is keepin', and it's for me to keep
+my 'ead shut and a sharp lookout. Them Carrs don't suspect nothink."
+
+She was only half right, however. Harlan, lost in his book, was heedless
+of everything that went on around him, but Mrs. Dodd's reference to the
+diamond pin, and her own recollection of the money she had found in the
+bureau drawer, began to work stealthily upon Dorothy's mind, surrounded,
+as she was, by people who were continually thinking of the same thing.
+
+Then, too, their funds were getting low. There was little to send to the
+sanitarium now, for eleven people, as students of domestic economics have
+often observed, eat more than one or two. Dick was also affected by the
+current financial depression, and at length conceived the idea that Uncle
+Ebeneezer's worldly goods were somewhere on the premises.
+
+Mrs. Holmes spent a great deal of time in the attic, while the care-free
+children, utterly beyond control, rioted madly through the house. Dorothy
+discovered Mr. Perkins, the poet, half-way up the parlour chimney, and sat
+down to see what he would do when he came out and found her there. He had
+seemed somewhat embarrassed when he wiped the soot from his face, but had
+quickly explained that he was writing a poem on chimney-swallows and had
+come to a point where original research was essential.
+
+Even Elaine, not knowing what she sought, began to investigate, idly
+enough, the furniture and hangings in her room, and Mrs. Dodd, eagerly
+seizing opportunities, was forever keen on the scent. Uncle Israel, owing
+to the poor state of his health, was one of the last to be affected by the
+surrounding atmosphere, but when he caught the idea, he made up for lost
+time.
+
+He was up with the chickens, and invariably took a long afternoon nap, so
+that, during the night, there was bound to be a wakeful interval.
+Ordinarily, he took a sleeping potion to tide him over till morning, but
+soon decided that a little mild exercise with some pleasant purpose
+animating it, would be far better for his nerves.
+
+Mrs. Dodd was awakened one night by the feeling that some one was in her
+room. A vague, mysterious Presence gradually made itself known. At first
+she was frightened, then the Presence wheezed, and reassured her. Across
+the path of moonlight that lay on her floor, Uncle Israel moved
+cautiously.
+
+He was clad in a piebald dressing-gown which had been so patched with
+various materials that the original fabric was uncertain. An old-fashioned
+nightcap was on his head, the tassel bobbing freakishly in the back, and
+he wore carpet slippers.
+
+Mrs. Dodd sat up in bed, keenly relishing the situation. When he opened a
+bureau drawer, she screamed out: "What are you looking for?"
+
+Uncle Israel started violently. "Money," he answered, in a shrill whisper,
+taken altogether by surprise.
+
+"Then," said Mrs. Dodd, kindly, "I'll get right up and help you!"
+
+"Don't, Belinda," pleaded the old man. "You'll wake up everybody. I am
+a-walkin' in my sleep, I guess. I was a-dreamin' of money that I was to
+find and give to you, and I suppose that's why I've come to your room. You
+lay still, Belinda, and don't tell nobody. I am a-goin' right away."
+
+Before she could answer in a way that seemed suitable, he was gone, and
+the next day he renewed his explanations. "I dunno, Belinda, how I ever
+come to be a-walkin' in my sleep. I ain't never done such a thing since I
+was a child, and then only wunst. How dretful it would have been if I had
+gone into any other room and mebbe have been shot or have scared some
+young and unprotected female into fits. To think of me, with my
+untarnished reputation, and at my age, a-doin' such a thing! You don't
+reckon it was my new pain-killer, do you?"
+
+"I don't misdoubt it had sunthin' to do with payin'," returned Mrs. Dodd,
+greatly pleased with her own poor joke, "an', as you say, it might have
+been dretful. But I am a friend to you, Israel, an' I don't 'low to make
+your misfortune public, but, by workin' private, help you overcome it."
+
+"What air you a-layin' out to do?" demanded Uncle Israel, fearfully.
+
+"I ain't rightly made up my mind as yet, Israel," she answered, pleasantly
+enough, "but I don't intend to have it happen to you again. Sunthin' can
+surely be done that'll cure you of it."
+
+"Don't, Belinda," wheezed her victim; "I don't think I'll ever have it
+again."
+
+"Don't you fret about it, Israel, 'cause you ain't goin' to have it no
+more. I'll attend to it. It 's a most distressin' disease an' must be took
+early, but I think I know how to fix it."
+
+During her various investigations, she had found a huge bunch of keys
+beneath a pile of rubbish on the floor of a closet in an unoccupied room.
+It was altogether possible, as she told herself, that one of these keys
+should fit the somnambulist's door.
+
+While Uncle Israel was brewing a fresh supply of medicine on the kitchen
+stove, she found, as she had suspected that one of them did fit, and
+thereafter, every night, when Uncle Israel had retired, she locked him in,
+letting him out shortly after seven each morning. When he remonstrated
+with her, she replied, triumphantly, that it was necessary--otherwise he
+would never have known that the door was locked.
+
+On her first visit to "town" she made it her business to call upon Lawyer
+Bradford and inquire as to Mr. Judson's last will and testament. She
+learned that it did not concern her at all, and was to be probated, in
+accordance with the dead man's instructions, at the Fall term of court.
+
+"Then, as yet," she said, with a gleam of satisfaction in her small, beady
+eyes, "they ain't holdin' the house legal. Any of us has the same right to
+stay as them Carrs."
+
+"That's as you look at it," returned Mr. Bradford, squirming uneasily in
+his chair.
+
+Try as she might, she could extract no further information, but she at
+least had a bit of knowledge to work on. She went back, earnestly desiring
+quiet, that she might study the problem without hindrance, but,
+unfortunately for her purpose, the interior of the Jack-o'-Lantern
+resembled pandemonium let loose.
+
+Willie was sliding down the railing part of the time, and at frequent
+intervals coasting downstairs on Mrs. Smithers's tea tray, vocally
+expressing his pleasure with each trip. The twins, seated in front of the
+library door, were pounding furiously on a milk-pan, which had not been
+empty when they dragged it into the hall, but was now. Mrs. Smithers was
+singing: "We have our trials here below, Oh, Glory, Hallelujah," and a
+sickening odour from a fresh concoction of Uncle Israel's permeated the
+premises. Having irreverently detached the false front from the keys of
+the melodeon, Mr. Perkins was playing a sad, funereal composition of his
+own, with all the power of the instrument turned loose on it. Upstairs,
+Dick was whistling, with shrill and maddening persistence, and Dorothy,
+quite helpless, sat miserably on the porch with her fingers in her ears.
+
+Harlan burst out of the library, just as Mrs. Dodd came up the walk, his
+temper not improved by stumbling over the twins and the milk-pan, and
+above their united wails loudly censured Dorothy for the noise and
+confusion. "How in the devil do you expect me to work?" he demanded,
+irritably. "If you can't keep the house quiet, I'll go back to New York!"
+
+Too crushed in spirit to reply, Dorothy said nothing, and Harlan whisked
+back into the library again, barely escaping Mrs. Dodd.
+
+"Poor child," she said to Dorothy; "you look plum beat out."
+
+"I am," confessed Mrs. Carr, the quick tears coming to her eyes.
+
+"There, there, my dear, rest easy. I reckon this is the first time you've
+been married, ain't it?"
+
+"Yes," returned Dorothy, forcing a pitiful little smile.
+
+"I thought so. Now, when you're as used to it as I be, you won't take it
+so hard. You may think men folks is all different, but there's a dretful
+sameness to 'em after they've been through a marriage ceremony. Marriage
+is just like findin' a new penny on the walk. When you first see it, it's
+all shiny an' a'most like gold, an' it tickles you a'most to pieces to
+think you're gettin' it, but after you've picked it up you see that what
+you've got is half wild Indian, or mebbe more--I ain't never been in no
+mint. You may depend upon it, my dear, there's two sides to all of us, an'
+before marriage, you see the wreath--afterwards a savage.
+
+"I've had seven of 'em," she continued, "an' I know. My father give me a
+cemetery lot for a weddin' present, with a noble grey marble monumint in
+it shaped like a octagon--leastways that's what a school-teacher what
+boarded with us said it was, but I call it a eight-sided piece. I'm
+speakin' of my first marriage now, my dear. My father never give me no
+weddin' present but the once. An' I can't never marry again, 'cause
+there's a husband lyin' now on seven sides of the monumint an' only one
+place left for me. I was told once that I could have further husbands
+cremationed an' set around the lot in vases, but I don't take to no such
+heathenish custom as that.
+
+"So I've got to go through my declinin' years without no suitable
+companion an' I call it hard, when one's so used to marryin' as what I
+be."
+
+"If they're all savages," suggested Dorothy, "why did you keep on
+marrying?"
+
+"Because I hadn't no other way to get my livin' an' I was kinder in the
+habit of it. There's some little variety, even in savages, an' it's human
+natur' to keep on a-hopin.' I've had 'em stingy an' generous, drunk an'
+sober, peaceful an' disturbin'. After the first few times, I learned to
+take real pleasure out'n their queer notions. When you've learned to enjoy
+seein' your husband make a fool of himself an' have got enough
+self-control not to tell him he's doin' it, nor to let him see where your
+pleasure lies, you've got marryin' down to a fine point.
+
+"The third time, it was, I got a food crank, an' let me tell you right
+now, my dear, them's the worst kind. A man what's queer about his food is
+goin' to be queerer about a'most everything else. Give me any man that can
+eat three square meals a day an' enjoy 'em, an' I'll undertake to live
+with him peaceful, but I don't go to the altar again with no food crank,
+if I know it.
+
+"It was partly my own fault, too, as I see later. I'd seen him a-carryin'
+a passel of health food around in his pocket an' a-nibblin' at it, but I
+supposed it was because the poor creeter had never had no one to cook
+proper for him, an' I took a lot of pleasure out of thinkin' how tickled
+he'd be when I made him one of my chicken pies.
+
+"After we was married, we took a honeymoon to his folks, an' I'll tell you
+right now, my dear, that if there was more honeymoons took beforehand to
+each other's folks, there'd be less marryin' done than what there is. They
+was all a-eatin' hay an' straw an' oats just like the dumb creeters they
+disdained, an' a-carryin' wheat an' corn around in their pockets to piece
+out with between greens.
+
+"So the day we got home, never knowin' what I was a-stirrin' up for
+myself, I turned in an' made a chicken an' oyster pie, an' it couldn't be
+beat, not if I do say it as shouldn't. The crust was as soft an' flaky an'
+brown an' crisp at the edges as any I ever turned out, an' the inside was
+all chicken an' oysters well-nigh smothered in a thick, creamy yellow
+gravy.
+
+"Well, sir, I brung in that pie, an' I set it on the table, an' I chirped
+out that dinner was ready, an' he come, an'--my dear! You never saw such
+goins'-on in all your born days! Considerin' that not eatin' animals makes
+people's dispositions mild an' pleasant, it was sunthin' terrible, an' me
+all the time as innercent as a lamb!
+
+"I can't begin to tell you the things my new-made husband said to me. If
+chickens an' oysters was human, I'll bet they'd have sued him for slander.
+He said that oysters was 'the scavengers of the sea'--yes'm, them's his
+very words, an' that chickens was even worse. He went on to tell me how
+they et worms an' potato bugs an' beetles an' goodness knows what else,
+an' that he wa'n't goin' to turn the temple of his body into no
+slaughter-house. He asked me if I desired to eat dead animals, an' when he
+insisted on an answer, I told him I certainly shouldn't care to eat 'em
+less'n they _was_ dead, and from then on it was worse 'n ever.
+
+"He said that no dead animal was goin' to be interred in the insides of
+him or his lawful wife, an' he was goin' to see to it. It come out then
+that he'd never tasted meat an' hadn't rightly sensed what he was
+missin'.
+
+"Well, my dear, some women would have took the wrong tack an' would have
+argyfied with him. There's never no use in argyfyin' with a husband, an'
+never no need to, 'cause if you're set on it, there's all the rest of the
+world to choose from. When he'd talked himself hoarse an' was beginnin' to
+calm down again, I took the floor.
+
+"'Say no more,' says I, calm an' collected-like. 'This here is your house
+an' the things you're accustomed to eatin' can be cooked in it, no matter
+what they be. If I don't know how to put the slops together, I reckon I
+can learn, not being a plum idjit. If you want baked chicken feed and
+boiled hay, I'm here to bake 'em and boil 'em for you. All you have to do
+is to speak once in a polite manner and it'll be done. I must insist on
+the politeness, howsumever,' says I. 'I don't propose to live with any man
+what gets the notion a woman ceases to be a lady when she marries him. A
+creeter that thinks so poor of himself as that ain't fit to be my
+husband,' says I, 'nor no other decent woman's.'
+
+"At that he apologised some, an' when a husband apologises, my dear, it's
+the same as if he'd et dirt at your feet. 'The least said the soonest
+mended,' says I, an' after that, he never had nothin' to complain of.
+
+"But I knowed what his poor, cranky system needed, an' I knowed how to get
+it into him, especially as he'd never tasted meat in all his life. From
+that time on, he never saw no meat on our table, nor no chickens, nor sea
+scavengers, nor nothin', but all day, while he was gone, I was busy with
+my soup pot, a-makin' condensed extracts of meat for flavourin' vegetables
+an' sauces an' so on.
+
+"He took mightily to my cookin' an' frequently said he'd never et such
+exquisite victuals. I'd make cream soups for him, an' in every one,
+there'd be over a cupful of solid meat jelly, as rich as the juice you
+find in the pan when you cook a first-class roast of beef. I'd stew
+potatoes in veal stock, and cook rice slow in water that had had a chicken
+boiled to rags in it. Once I put a cupful of raw beef juice in a can of
+tomatoes I was cookin' and he et a'most all of 'em.
+
+"As he kep' on havin' more confidence in me, I kep' on usin' more an'
+more, an' a-usin' oyster liquor for flavourin' in most everything durin'
+the R months. Once he found nearly a bushel of clam-shells out behind the
+house an' wanted to know what they was an' what they was doin' there. I
+told him the fish man had give 'em to me for a border for my flower beds,
+which was true. I'd only paid for the clams--there wa'n't nothin' said
+about the shells--an' the juice from them clams livened up his soup an'
+vegetables for over a week. There wa'n't no day that he didn't have the
+vital elements of from one to four pounds of meat put in his food, an' all
+the time, he was gettin' happier an' healthier an' more peaceful to live
+with. When he died, he was as mild as a spring lamb with mint sauce on
+it.
+
+"Now, my dear, some women would have told him what they was doin', either
+after he got to likin' the cookin' or when he was on his death-bed an'
+couldn't help himself, but I never did. I own that it took self-control
+not to do it, but I'd learned my lesson from havin' been married twicet
+before an' never havin' fit any to speak of. I had to take my pleasure
+from seein' him eat a bowl of rice that had a whole chicken in it,
+exceptin' only the bones and fibres of its mortal frame, an' a-lappin' up
+mebbe a pint of tomato soup that was founded on eight nice pork chops. I'm
+a-tellin' you all this merely to show you my point. Every day, Henry was
+makin' a blame fool of himself without knowin' it. He'd prattle by the
+hour of slaughter-houses an' human cemeteries an' all the time he'd be
+honin' for his next meal.
+
+"He used to say as how it was dretful wicked to kill the dumb animals for
+food, an' I allers said that there was nothin' to hinder his buyin' as
+many as he could afford to an' savin' their lives by pennin' 'em up in the
+back yard, an' a-feedin' 'em the things they liked best to eat till they
+died of old age or sunthin'. I told him they was all vegetarians, the same
+as he was, an' they could live together peaceful an' happy. I even pointed
+out that it was his duty to do it, an' that if all believers would do the
+same, the dread slaughter-houses would soon be a thing of the past, but I
+ain't never seen no food crank yet that's advanced that far in his
+humanity.
+
+"I never told him a single word about it, nor even hinted it to him, nor
+told nobody else, though I often felt wicked to think I was keepin' so
+much pleasure to myself, but my time is comin'.
+
+"When I'm dead an' have gone to heaven, the first thing I'm goin' to do is
+to hunt up Henry. They say there ain't no marriage nor givin' in marriage
+up there, but I reckon there's seven men there that'll at least recognise
+their wife when they see her a-comin' in. I'm goin' to pick up my skirts
+an' take off my glasses, so's I'll be all ready to skedaddle, for I expect
+to leave my rheumatiz behind me, my dear, when I go to heaven--leastways,
+no place will be heaven for me that's got rheumatiz in it--an' then I'm
+goin' to say: 'Henry, in all the four years you was livin' with me, you
+was eatin' meat, an' you never knowed it. You're nothin' but a human
+cemetery.' Oh, my dear, it's worth while dyin' when you know you're goin'
+to have pleasure like that at the other end!"
+
+
+
+
+XII
+
+Her Gift to the World
+
+
+"I regret, my dear madam," said Lawyer Bradford, twisting uneasily in his
+chair, "that I can offer you no encouragement whatsoever. The will is
+clear and explicit in every detail, and there are no grounds for a
+contest. I am, perhaps, trespassing upon the wishes of my client in giving
+you this information, but if you are remaining here with the hope of
+pecuniary profit, you are remaining here unnecessarily."
+
+He rose as though to indicate that the interview was at an end, but Mrs.
+Holmes was not to be put away in that fashion. Her eyes were blazing and
+her weak chin trembled with anger.
+
+"Do you mean to tell me," she demanded, "that Ebeneezer voluntarily died
+without making some sort of provision for me and my helpless little
+children?"
+
+"Your distinguished relation," answered Mr. Bradford, slowly, "certainly
+died voluntarily. He announced the date of his death some weeks before it
+actually occurred, and superintended the making of his own coffin. He
+wrote out minute directions for his obsequies, had his grave dug, and his
+shroud made, burned his papers, rearranged his books, made his will--and
+was found dead in his bed on the morning of the day set for his departure.
+A methodical person," muttered the old man, half to himself; "a most
+methodical and systematic person."
+
+Mrs. Holmes shuddered. She was not ordinarily a superstitious woman, but
+there was something uncanny in this open partnership with Death.
+
+"There was a diamond pin," she suggested, moodily, "worth, I should think,
+some fifteen or sixteen hundred dollars. Ebeneezer gave it to dear Rebecca
+on their wedding day, and she always said it was to be mine. Have you any
+idea where it is?"
+
+Mr. Bradford fidgeted. "If it was intended for you," he said, finally, "it
+will be given to you at the proper time, or you will be directed to its
+location. Mrs. Judson died, did she not, about three weeks after their
+marriage?"
+
+"Yes," snapped Mrs. Holmes, readily perceiving the line of his thought,
+"and I saw her twice in those three weeks. Both times she spoke of the
+pin, which she wore constantly, and said that if anything happened to her,
+she wanted me to have it, but that old miser hung on to it."
+
+"Madam," said Mr. Bradford, a faint flush mounting to his temples as he
+opened the office door, "you are speaking of my Colonel, under whom I
+served in the war. He was my best friend, and though he is dead, it is
+still my privilege to protect him. I bid you good afternoon!"
+
+She did not perceive until long afterward that she had practically been
+ejected from the legal presence. Even then, she was so intent upon the
+point at issue that she was not offended, as at another time she certainly
+would have been.
+
+"He's lying," she said to herself, "they're all lying. There's money
+hidden in that house, and I know it, and what's more, I'm going to have
+it!"
+
+She had searched her own rooms on the night of her arrival, but found
+nothing, and the attic, so far, had yielded her naught save discouragement
+and dust. "To think," she continued, mentally, "that after two of my
+children were born here and named for them, that we are left in this way!
+I call it a shame, a disgrace, an outrage!"
+
+Her anger swiftly cooled, however, as she went into the house, and her
+fond sight rested upon her darlings. Willie had a ball and had already
+broken two of the front windows. The small Rebecca was under the sofa,
+tempering the pleasure of life for Claudius Tiberius, while young
+Ebeneezer, having found a knife somewhere, was diligently scratching the
+melodeon.
+
+"Just look," said Mrs. Holmes, in delighted awe, as Dorothy entered the
+room. "Don't make any noise, or you will disturb Ebbie. He is such a
+sensitive child that the sound of a strange voice will upset him. Did you
+ever see anything like those figures he is drawing on the melodeon? I
+believe he's going to be an artist!"
+
+Crushed as she was in spirit by her uncongenial surroundings, Dorothy
+still had enough temper left to be furiously angry. In these latter days,
+however, she had gained largely in self-control, and now only bit her lips
+without answering.
+
+But Mrs. Holmes would not have heard her, even if she had replied. A
+sudden yowl from the distressed Claudius impelled Dorothy to move the sofa
+and rescue him.
+
+"How cruel you are!" commented Mrs. Holmes. "The idea of taking Rebbie's
+plaything away from her! Give it back this instant!"
+
+Mrs. Carr put the cat out and returned with a defiant expression on her
+face, which roused Mrs. Holmes to action. "Willie," she commanded, "go out
+and get the kitty for your little sister. There, there, Rebbie, darling,
+don't cry any more! Brother has gone to get the kitty. Don't cry!"
+
+But "brother" had not gone. "Chase it yourself," he remarked, coolly. "I'm
+going out to the barn."
+
+"Dear Willie's individuality is developing every day," Mrs. Holmes went
+on, smoothly. "There, there, Rebbie, don't cry any more. Go and tell Mrs.
+Smithers to give you a big piece of bread with lots of butter and jam on
+it. Tell her mamma said so. Run along, that's a nice little girl."
+
+Rude squares, triangles, and circles appeared as by magic on the shining
+surface of the melodeon, the young artist being not at all disturbed by
+the confusion about him.
+
+"I am blessed in my children," Mrs. Holmes went on, happily. "I often
+wonder what I have done that I should have so perfect a boy as Willie for
+my very own. Everybody admires him so that I dwell in constant fear of
+kidnappers."
+
+"I wouldn't worry," said Dorothy, with ill-concealed sarcasm. "Anybody who
+took him would bring him back inside of two hours."
+
+"I try to think so," returned the mother, with a deep sigh. "Willie's
+indomitable will is my deepest comfort. He gets it from my side of the
+family. None of the children take after their father at all. Ebbie was a
+little like his father's folks at first, but I soon got it out of him and
+made him altogether like my people. I do not think anybody could keep
+Willie away from me except by superior physical force. He absolutely
+adores his mother, as my other children do. You never saw such beautiful
+sentiment as they have. The other day, now, when I went away and left
+Rebbie alone in my apartment, she took down my best hat and put it on. The
+poor little thing wanted to be near her mother. Is it not touching?"
+
+"It is indeed," Dorothy assented, dryly.
+
+"My children have never been punished," continued Mrs. Holmes, now
+auspiciously launched upon her favourite theme. "It has never been
+necessary. I rule them entirely through love, and they are so accustomed
+to my methods that they bitterly resent any interference by outsiders.
+Why, just before we came here, Ebbie, young as he is, put out the left eye
+of a woman who tried to take his dog away from him. He did it with his
+little fist and with apparently no effort at all. Is it not wonderful to
+see such strength and power of direction in one so young? The woman was in
+the hospital when we came away, and I trust by this time, she has learned
+not to interfere with Ebbie. No one is allowed to interfere with my
+children."
+
+"Apparently not," remarked Mrs. Carr, somewhat cynically.
+
+"It is beautiful to be a mother--the most beautiful thing on earth! Just
+think how much I have done for the world!" Her sallow face glowed with the
+conscious virtue bestowed by one of the animal functions upon those who
+have performed it.
+
+"In what way?" queried Mrs. Carr, wholly missing the point.
+
+"Why, in raising Willie and Ebbie and Rebbie! No public service can for a
+moment be compared with that! All other things sink into insignificance
+beside the glorious gift of maternity. Look at Willie--a form that a
+sculptor might dream of for a lifetime and never hope to imitate--a head
+that already has inspired great artists! The gentleman who took Willie's
+last tintype said that he had never seen such perfect lines, and insisted
+on taking several for fear something should happen to Willie. He wanted to
+keep some of them for himself--it was pathetic, the way he pleaded, but I
+made him sell me all of them. Willie is mine and I have the first right to
+his tintypes. And a lady once painted Willie at his play in black and
+white and sent it to one of the popular weeklies. I have no doubt they
+gave her a fortune for it, but it never occurred to her to give us
+anything more than one copy of the paper."
+
+"Which paper was it?"
+
+"One of the so-called comic weeklies. You know they publish superb
+artistic things. I think they are doing a wonderful work in educating the
+masses to a true appreciation of art. One of the wonderful parts of it was
+that Willie knew all about it and was not in the least conceited. Any
+other child would have been set up at being a model for a great artist,
+but Willie was not affected at all. He has so much character!"
+
+At this point the small Rebecca entered, dragging her doll by one arm, and
+munching a thick slice of bread, thinly coated with molasses.
+
+"I distinctly said jam," remarked Mrs. Holmes. "Servants are so heedless.
+I do not know that molasses is good for Rebbie. What would you think, Mrs.
+Carr?"
+
+"I don't think it will hurt her if she doesn't get too much of it."
+
+"There's no danger of her getting too much of it. Mrs. Smithers is too
+stingy for that. Why, only yesterday, Willie told me that she refused to
+let him dip his dry bread in the cream, and gave him a cup of plain milk
+instead. Willie knows when his system needs cream and I want him to have
+all the nourishment he can get. The idea that she should think she knew
+more about it than Willie! She was properly punished for it, however. I
+myself saw Willie throw a stick of stove wood at her and hit her foolish
+head with it. I think Willie is going to be a soldier, a commander of an
+army. He has so much executive ability and never misses what he aims at.
+
+"Rebbie, don't chew on that side, darling; remember your loose tooth is
+there. Mamma doesn't want it to come out."
+
+"Why?" asked Dorothy, with a gleam of interest.
+
+"Because I can't bear to have her little baby teeth come out and make her
+grow up! I want to keep her just as she is. I have all my children's
+teeth, and some day I am going to have them set into a beautiful bracelet.
+Look at that! How generous and unselfish of Rebbie! She is trying to share
+her bread with her doll. I believe Rebbie is going to be a philanthropist,
+or a college-settlement worker. See, she is trying to give the doll the
+molasses--the very best part of it. Did you ever see such a beautiful
+spirit in one so young?"
+
+Before Mrs. Carr could answer, young Ebeneezer had finished his wood
+carving and had grabbed his protesting twin by the hair.
+
+"There, there, Rebbie," soothed the mother, "don't cry. Brother was only
+loving little sister. Be careful, Ebbie. You can take hold of sister's
+hair, but not too hard. They love each other so," she went on. "Ebbie is
+really sentimental about Rebbie. He loves to touch and stroke her glorious
+blonde hair. Did you ever see such hair as Rebbie's?"
+
+It came into Mrs. Carr's mind that "Rebbie's" hair looked more like a
+plate of cold-slaw than anything else, but she was too wise to put the
+thought into words.
+
+Willie slid down the railing and landed in the hall with a loud whoop of
+glee. "How beautiful to hear the sounds of childish mirth," said Mrs.
+Holmes. "How----"
+
+From upstairs came a cry of "Help! Help!"
+
+Muffled though the voice was, it plainly issued from Uncle Israel's room,
+and under the impression that the bath cabinet had finally set the house
+on fire, Mrs. Carr ran hastily upstairs, followed closely by Mrs. Holmes,
+who was flanked at the rear by the grinning Willie and the interested
+twins.
+
+From a confused heap of bedding, Uncle Israel's scarlet ankles waved
+frantically. "Help! Help!" he cried again, his voice being almost wholly
+deadened by the pillows, which had fallen on him after the collapse.
+
+Dorothy helped the trembling old man to his feet. He took a copious
+draught from the pain-killer, then sat down on his trunk, much perturbed.
+
+Investigation proved that the bed cord had been cut in a dozen places by
+some one working underneath, and that the entire structure had instantly
+caved in when Uncle Israel had crept up to the summit of his bed and lain
+down to take his afternoon nap. When questioned, Willie proudly admitted
+that he had done it.
+
+"Go down and ask Mrs. Smithers for the clothes-line," commanded Dorothy,
+sternly.
+
+"I won't," said Willie, smartly, putting his hands in his pockets.
+
+"You had better go yourself, Mrs. Carr," suggested Mrs. Holmes. "Willie is
+tired. He has played hard all day and needs rest. He must not on any
+account over-exert himself, and, besides, I never allow any one else to
+send my children on errands. They obey me and me alone."
+
+"Go yourself," said Willie, having gathered encouragement from the
+maternal source.
+
+"I'll go," wheezed Uncle Israel. "I can't sleep in no other bed.
+Ebeneezer's beds is all terrible drafty, and I took two colds at once
+sleepin' in one of 'em when I knowed better 'n to try it." He tottered out
+of the room, the very picture of wretchedness.
+
+"Was it not clever of Willie?" whispered Mrs. Holmes, admiringly, to
+Dorothy. "So much ingenuity--such a fine sense of humor!"
+
+"If he were my child," snapped Dorothy, at last losing her admirable
+control of a tempestuous temper, "he'd be soundly thrashed at least three
+times a week!"
+
+"I do not doubt it," replied Mrs. Holmes, contemptuously. "These married
+old maids, who have no children of their own, are always wholly out of
+sympathy with a child's nature."
+
+"When I was young," retorted Mrs. Carr, "children were not allowed to rule
+the entire household. There was a current superstition to the effect that
+older people had some rights."
+
+"And yet," Mrs. Holmes continued, meditatively, "as the editor of _The
+Ladies' Own_ so pertinently asks, what is a house for if not to bring up a
+child in? The purpose of architecture is defeated, where there are no
+children."
+
+Uncle Israel, accompanied by Dick, hobbled into the room with the
+clothes-line. Mrs. Holmes discreetly retired, followed by her offspring,
+and, late in the afternoon, when Dorothy and Dick were well-nigh fagged
+out, the structure was in place again. Tremulously the exhausted owner lay
+down upon it, and asked that his supper be sent to his room.
+
+By skilful manoeuvring with Mrs. Smithers, Dick compelled the
+proud-spirited Willie to take up Uncle Israel's tray and wait for it.
+"I'll tell my mother," whimpered the sorrowful one.
+
+"I hope you will," replied Dick, significantly; but for some reason of his
+own, Willie neglected to mention it.
+
+At dinner-time, Mr. Perkins drew a rolled manuscript, tied with a black
+ribbon, from his breast pocket, and, without preliminary, proceeded to
+read as follows:
+
+TO THE MEMORY OF EBENEEZER JUDSON
+
+                  A face we loved has vanished,
+                    A voice we adored is now still,
+                  There is no longer any music
+                    In the tinkling rill.
+
+                  His hat is empty of his head,
+                    His snuff-box has no sneezer,
+                  His cane is idle in the hall
+                    For gone is Ebeneezer.
+
+                  Within the house we miss him,
+                    Let fall the sorrowing tear,
+                  Yet shall we gather as was our wont
+                    Year after sunny year.
+
+                  He took such joy in all his friends
+                    That he would have it so;
+                  He left his house to relatives
+                    But none of us need go.
+
+                  In fact, we're all related,
+                    Sister, friend, and brother;
+                  And in this hour of our grief
+                    We must console each other.
+
+                  He would not like to have us sad,
+                    Our smiles were once his pleasure
+                  And though we cannot smile at him,
+                    His memory is our treasure.
+
+When he had finished, there was a solemn silence, which was at last
+relieved by Mrs. Dodd. "Poetry broke out in my first husband's family,"
+she said, "but with sulphur an' molasses an' quinine an' plenty of
+wet-sheet packs it was finally cured."
+
+"You do not understand," said the poet, indulgently. "Your aura is not
+harmonious with mine."
+
+"Your--what?" demanded Mrs. Dodd, pricking up her ears.
+
+"My aura," explained Mr. Perkins, flushing faintly. "Each individuality
+gives out a spiritual vapour, like a cloud, which surrounds one. These are
+all in different colours, and the colours change with the thoughts we
+think. Black and purple are the gloomy, morose colours; deep blue and the
+paler shades show a sombre outlook on life; green is more cheerful, though
+still serious; yellow and orange show ambition and envy, and red and white
+are emblematic of all the virtues--red of the noble, martial qualities of
+man and white of the angelic disposition of woman," he concluded, with a
+meaning glance at Elaine, who had been much interested all along.
+
+"What perfectly lovely ideas," she said, in a tone which made Dick's blood
+boil. "Are they original with you, Mr. Perkins?"
+
+The poet cleared his throat. "I cannot say that they are wholly original
+with me," he admitted, reluctantly, "though of course I have modified and
+amplified them to accord with my own individuality. They are doing
+wonderful things now in the psychological laboratories. They have a system
+of tubes so finely constructed that by breathing into one of them a
+person's mental state is actually expressed. An angry person, breathing
+into one of these finely organised tubes, makes a decided change in the
+colour of the vapour."
+
+"Humph!" snorted Mrs. Dodd, pushing back her chair briskly. "I've been
+married seven times, an' I never had to breathe into no tube to let any of
+my husbands know when I was mad!"
+
+The poet crimsoned, but otherwise ignored the comment. "If you will come
+into the parlour just as twilight is falling," he said to the others, "I
+will gladly recite my ode on Spring."
+
+Subdued thanks came from the company, though Harlan excused himself on the
+score of his work, and Mrs. Holmes was obliged to put the twins to bed.
+When twilight fell, no one was at the rendezvous but Elaine and the poet.
+
+"It is just as well," he said, in a low tone. "There are several under
+dear Uncle Ebeneezer's roof who are afflicted with an inharmonious aura.
+With yours only am I in full accord. It is a great pleasure to an artist
+to feel such beautiful sympathy with his work. Shall I say it now?"
+
+"If you will," murmured Elaine, deeply honoured by acquaintance with a
+real poet.
+
+Mr. Perkins drew his chair close to hers, leaned over with an air of
+loving confidence, and began:
+
+                Spring, oh Spring, dear, gentle Spring,
+                My poet's garland do I bring
+                To lay upon thy shining hair
+                Where rests a wreath of flowers so fair.
+                There is a music in the brook
+                Which answers to thy tender look
+                And in thy eyes there is a spell
+                Of soft enchantment too sweet to tell.
+                My heart to thine shall ever turn
+                For thou hast made my soul to burn
+                With rapture far beyond----
+
+Elaine screamed, and in a twinkling was on her chair with her skirts
+gathered about her. It was only Claudius Tiberius, dressed in Rebecca's
+doll's clothes, scooting madly toward the front door, but it served
+effectually to break up the entertainment.
+
+
+
+
+XIII
+
+A Sensitive Soul
+
+
+Uncle Israel was securely locked in for the night, and was correspondingly
+restless. He felt like a caged animal, and sleep, though earnestly wooed,
+failed to come to his relief. A powerful draught of his usual sleeping
+potion had been like so much water, as far as effect was concerned.
+
+At length he got up, his lifelong habit of cautious movement asserting
+itself even here, and with tremulous, withered hands, lighted his candle.
+Then he put on his piebald dressing-gown and his carpet slippers, and sat
+on the declivity of his bed, blinking at the light, as wide awake as any
+owl.
+
+Presently it came to him that he had not as yet made a thorough search of
+his own apartment, so he began at the foundation, so to speak, and crawled
+painfully over the carpet, paying special attention to the edges. Next, he
+fingered the baseboards carefully, rapping here and there, as though he
+expected some significant sound to penetrate his deafness. Rising, he went
+over the wall systematically, and at length, with the aid of a chair,
+reached up to the picture-moulding. He had gone nearly around the room,
+without any definite idea of what he was searching for, when his
+questioning fingers touched a small, metallic object.
+
+A smile of childlike pleasure transfigured Uncle Israel's wizened old
+face. Trembling, he slipped down from the chair, falling over the bath
+cabinet in his descent, and tried the key in the lock. It fitted, and the
+old man fairly chuckled.
+
+"Wait till I tell Belinda," he muttered, delightedly. Then a crafty second
+thought suggested that it might be wiser to keep "Belinda" in the dark,
+lest she might in some way gain possession of the duplicate key.
+
+"Lor'," he thought, "but how I pity them husbands of her'n. Bet their
+graves felt good when they got into 'em, the hull seven graves. What with
+sneerin' at medicines and things a person eats, it must have been awful,
+not to mention stealin' of keys and a-lockin' 'em in nights. S'pose the
+house had got afire, where'd I be now?" Grasping his treasure closely,
+Uncle Israel blew out his candle and tottered to bed, thereafter sleeping
+the sleep of the just.
+
+Mrs. Dodd detected subdued animation in his demeanour when he appeared at
+breakfast the following morning, and wondered what had occurred.
+
+"You look 's if sunthin' pleasant had happened, Israel," she began in a
+sprightly manner.
+
+"Sunthin' pleasant has happened," he returned, applying himself to his
+imitation coffee with renewed vigour. "I disremember when I've felt so
+good about anythin' before."
+
+"Something pleasant happens every day," put in Elaine. The country air had
+made roses bloom on her pale cheeks. Her blue eyes had new light in them,
+and her golden hair fairly shone. She was far more beautiful than the sad,
+frail young woman who had come to the Jack-o'-Lantern not so many weeks
+before.
+
+"How optimistic you are!" sighed Mr. Perkins, who was eating Mrs.
+Smithers's crisp, hot rolls with a very unpoetic appetite. "To me, the
+world grows worse every day. It is only a few noble souls devoted to the
+Ideal and holding their heads steadfastly above the mire of commercialism
+that keep our so-called civilisation from becoming an absolute hotbed of
+greed--yes, a hotbed of greed," he repeated, the words sounding
+unexpectedly well.
+
+"Your aura seems to have a purple tinge this morning," commented Dorothy,
+slyly.
+
+"What's a aura, ma?" demanded Willie, with an unusual thirst for
+knowledge.
+
+"Something that goes with a soft person, Willie, dear," responded Mrs.
+Holmes, quite audibly. "You know there are some people who have no
+backbone at all, like the jelly-fish we saw at the seashore the year
+before dear papa died."
+
+"I've knowed folks," continued Mrs. Dodd, taking up the wandering thread
+of the discourse, "what was so soft when they was little that their mas
+had to carry 'em around in a pail for fear they'd slop over and spile the
+carpet."
+
+"And when they grew up, too," Dick ventured.
+
+"Some people," said Harlan, in a polite attempt to change the
+conversation, "never grow up at all. Their minds remain at a fixed point.
+We all know them."
+
+"Yes," sighed Mrs. Dodd, looking straight at the poet, "we all know
+them."
+
+At this juncture the sensitive Mr. Perkins rose and begged to be excused.
+It was the small Ebeneezer who observed that he took a buttered roll with
+him, and gratuitously gave the information to the rest of the company.
+
+Elaine flushed painfully, and presently excused herself, following the
+crestfallen Mr. Perkins to the orchard, where, entirely unsuspected by the
+others, they had a trysting-place. At intervals, they met, safely screened
+by the friendly trees, and communed upon the old, idyllic subject of
+poetry, especially as represented by the unpublished works of Harold
+Vernon Perkins.
+
+"I cannot tell you, Mr. Perkins," Elaine began, "how deeply I appreciate
+your fine, uncommercial attitude. As you say, the world is sordid, and it
+needs men like you."
+
+The soulful one ran his long, bony fingers through his mane of auburn
+hair, and assented with a pleased grunt. "There are few, Miss St. Clair,"
+he said, "who have your fine discernment. It is almost ideal."
+
+"Yet it seems too bad," she went on, "that the world-wide appreciation of
+your artistic devotion should not take some tangible form. Dollars may be
+vulgar and sordid, as you say, but still, in our primitive era, they are
+our only expression of value. I have even heard it said," she went on,
+rapidly, "that the amount of wealth honestly acquired by any individual
+was, after all, only the measure of his usefulness to his race."
+
+"Miss St. Clair!" exclaimed the poet, deeply shocked; "do I understand
+that you are actually advising me to sell a poem?"
+
+"Far from it, Mr. Perkins," Elaine reassured him. "I was only thinking
+that by having your work printed in a volume, or perhaps in the pages of a
+magazine, you could reach a wider audience, and thus accomplish your ideal
+of uplifting the multitude."
+
+"I am pained," breathed the poet; "inexpressibly pained."
+
+"Then I am sorry," answered Elaine. "I was only trying to help."
+
+"To think," continued Mr. Perkins, bitterly, "of the soiled fingers of a
+labouring man, a printer, actually touching these fancies that even I
+hesitate to pen! Once I saw the fair white page of a book that had been
+through that painful experience. You never would have known it, my dear
+Miss St. Clair--it was actually filthy!"
+
+"I see," murmured Elaine, duly impressed, "but are there not more
+favourable conditions?"
+
+"I have thought there might be," returned the poet, after a significant
+silence, "indeed, I have prayed there might be. In some little nook among
+the pines, where the brook for ever sings and the petals of the apple
+blossoms glide away to fairyland upon its shining surface, while
+butterflies float lazily here and there, if reverent hands might put the
+flowering of my genius into a modest little book--I should be tempted,
+yes, sorely tempted."
+
+"Dear Mr. Perkins," cried Elaine, ecstatically clapping her hands, "how
+perfectly glorious that would be! To think how much sweetness and beauty
+would go into the book, if that were done!"
+
+"Additionally," corrected Mr. Perkins, with a slight flush.
+
+"Yes, of course I mean additionally. One could smell the apple blossoms
+through the printed page. Oh, Mr. Perkins, if I only had the means, how
+gladly would I devote my all to this wonderful, uplifting work!"
+
+The poet glanced around furtively, then drew closer to Elaine. "I may tell
+you," he murmured, "in strict confidence, something which my lips have
+never breathed before, with the assurance that it will be as though
+unsaid, may I not?"
+
+"Indeed you may!"
+
+"Then," whispered Mr. Perkins, "I am living in that hope. My dear Uncle
+Ebeneezer, though now departed, was a distinguished patron of the arts.
+Many a time have I read him my work, assured of his deep, though
+unexpressed sympathy, and, lulled by the rhythm of our spoken speech, he
+has passed without a jar from my dreamland to his own. I know he would
+never speak of it to any one--dear Uncle Ebeneezer was too finely grained
+for that--but still I feel assured that somewhere within the walls of that
+sorely afflicted house, a sum of--of money--has been placed, in the hope
+that I might find it and carry out this beautiful work."
+
+"Have you hunted?" demanded Elaine, her eyes wide with wonder.
+
+"No--not hunted. I beg you, do not use so coarse a word. It jars upon my
+poet's soul with almost physical pain."
+
+"I beg your pardon," returned Elaine, "but----"
+
+"Sometimes," interrupted the poet, in a low tone, "when I have felt
+especially near to Uncle Ebeneezer's spirit, I have barely glanced in
+secret places where I have felt he might expect me to look for it, but, so
+far, I have been wholly unsuccessful, though I know that I plainly read
+his thought."
+
+"Some word--some clue--did he give you none?"
+
+"None whatever, except that once or twice he said that he would see that I
+was suitably provided for. He intimated that he intended me to have a sum
+apportioned to my deserts."
+
+"Which would be a generous one; but now--Oh, Mr. Perkins, how can I help
+you?"
+
+"You have never suspected, have you," asked Mr. Perkins, colouring to his
+temples, "that the room you now occupy might once have been my own? Have
+no poet's dreams, lingering in the untenanted spaces, claimed your
+beauteous spirit in sleep?"
+
+"Oh, Mr. Perkins, have I your room? I will so gladly give it up--I----"
+
+The poet raised his hand. "No. The place where you have walked is holy
+ground. Not for the world would I dispossess you, but----"
+
+A meaning look did the rest. "I see," said Elaine, quickly guessing his
+thought, "you want to hunt in my room. Oh, Mr. Perkins, I have
+thoughtlessly pained you again. Can you ever forgive me?"
+
+"My thoughts," breathed Mr. Perkins, "are perhaps too finely phrased for
+modern speech. I would not trespass upon the place you have made your own,
+but----"
+
+There was a brief silence, then Elaine understood. "I see," she said,
+submissively, "I will hunt myself. I mean, I will glance about in the hope
+that the spirit of Uncle Ebeneezer may make plain to me what you seek.
+And----"
+
+"And," interjected the poet, quite practical for the moment, "whatever you
+find is mine, for it was once my room. It is only on account of Uncle
+Ebeneezer's fine nature and his constant devotion to the Ideal that he did
+not give it to me direct. He knew it would pain me if he did so. You will
+remember?"
+
+"I will remember. You need not fear to trust me."
+
+"Then let us shake hands upon our compact." For a moment, Elaine's warm,
+rosy hand rested in the clammy, nerveless palm of Harold Vernon Perkins.
+"Last night," he sighed, "I could not sleep. I was distressed by noises
+which appeared to emanate from the apartment of Mr. Skiles. Did you hear
+nothing?"
+
+"Nothing," returned Elaine; "I sleep very soundly."
+
+"The privilege of unpoetic souls," commented Mr. Perkins. "But, as usual,
+my restlessness was not without definite and beautiful result. In the
+still watches of the night, I achieved a--poem."
+
+"Read it," cried Elaine, rapturously. "Oh, if I might hear it!"
+
+Thus encouraged, Mr. Perkins drew a roll from his breast pocket. A fresh
+blue ribbon held it in cylindrical form, and the drooping ends waved in
+careless, artistic fashion.
+
+"As you might expect, if you knew about such things," he began, clearing
+his throat, and all unconscious of the rapid approach of Mr. Chester, "it
+is upon sleep. It is done in the sonnet form, a very beautiful measure
+which I have made my own. I will read it now.
+
+                            "SONNET ON SLEEP
+
+          "O Sleep, that fillst the human breast with peace,
+            When night's dim curtains swing from out the West,
+            In what way, in what manner, could we rest
+          Were thy beneficent offices to cease?
+          O Sleep, thou art indeed the snowy fleece
+            Upon Day's lamb. A welcome guest
+            That comest alike to palace and to nest
+          And givest the cares of life a glad release.
+          O Sleep, I beg thee, rest upon my eyes,
+            For I am weary, worn, and sad,--indeed,
+            Of thy great mercies have I piteous need
+          So come and lead me off to Paradise."
+
+His voice broke at the end, not so much from the intrinsic beauty of the
+lines as from perceiving Mr. Chester close at hand, grinning like the
+fabled pussy-cat of Cheshire, except that he did not fade away, leaving
+only the grin.
+
+Elaine felt the alien presence and looked around. Woman-like, she quickly
+grasped the situation.
+
+"I have been having a rare treat, Mr. Chester," she said, in her smoothest
+tones. "Mr. Perkins has very kindly been reading to me his beautiful
+_Sonnet on Sleep_, composed during a period of wakefulness last night. Did
+you hear it? Is it not a most unusual sonnet?"
+
+"It is, indeed," answered Dick, dryly. "I never before had the privilege
+of hearing one that contained only twelve lines. Dante and Petrarch and
+Shakespeare and all those other ducks put fourteen lines in every blamed
+sonnet, for good measure."
+
+Hurt to the quick, the sensitive poet walked away.
+
+"How can you speak so!" cried Elaine, angrily. "Is not Mr. Perkins
+privileged to create a form?"
+
+"To create a form, yes," returned Dick, easily, "but not to monkey with an
+old one. There's a difference."
+
+Elaine would have followed the injured one had not Dick interfered. He
+caught her hand quickly, a new and unaccountable lump in his throat
+suddenly choking his utterance. "I say, Elaine," he said, huskily, "you're
+not thinking of hooking up with that red-furred lobster, are you?"
+
+"I do not know," responded Elaine, with icy dignity, "what your uncouth
+language may mean, but I tolerate no interference whatever with my
+personal affairs." In a moment she was gone, and Dick watched the slender,
+pink-clad figure returning to the house with ill-concealed emotion.
+
+All Summer, so far, he and Elaine had been good friends. They had laughed
+and joked and worked together in a care-free, happy-go-lucky fashion. The
+arrival of Mr. Perkins and his sudden admiration of Elaine had
+crystallised the situation. Dick knew now what caused the violent antics
+of his heart--a peaceful and well-behaved organ which had never before
+been so disturbed by a woman.
+
+"I've got it," said Dick, to himself, deeply shamed. "Moonlight, poetry,
+mit-holding, and all the rest of it. Never having had it before, it's
+going hard with me. Why in the devil wasn't I taught to write doggerel
+when I was in college? A fellow don't stand any show nowadays unless he's
+a pocket edition of Byron."
+
+He went on through the orchard at a run, instinctively healing a troubled
+mind by wearying the body. At the outer edge of it, he paused.
+
+Suspended by a singularly strong bit of twine, a small, grinning skull
+hung from the lower branch of an apple tree, far out on the limb. "Cat's
+skull," thought Dick. "Wonder who hung it up there?"
+
+He lingered, idly, for a moment or two, then observed that a small patch
+of grass directly underneath it was of that season's growth. His curiosity
+fully awake, he determined to dig a bit, though he had dug fruitlessly in
+many places since he came to the Jack-o'-Lantern.
+
+"Uncle couldn't do anything conventional," he said to himself, "and I'm
+pretty sure he wouldn't want any of his relations to have his money. Here
+goes, just for luck!"
+
+He went back to the barn for the spade, which already had fresh earth on
+it--the evidence of an early morning excavation privately made by Mrs.
+Smithers in a spot where she had dreamed gold was hidden. He went off to
+the orchard with it, whistling, his progress being furtively watched with
+great interest by the sour-faced handmaiden in the kitchen.
+
+Back in the orchard again, he worked feverishly, possessed by a pleasant
+thrill of excitement, somewhat similar to that conceivably enlivening the
+humdrum existence of Captain Kidd. Dick was far from surprised when his
+spade struck something hard, and, his hands trembling with eagerness, he
+lifted out a tin box of the kind commonly used for private papers.
+
+It was locked, but a twist of his muscular hands sufficed to break it
+open. Then he saw that it was a spring lock, and that, with grim,
+characteristic humour, Uncle Ebeneezer had placed the key inside the box.
+There were papers there--and money, the coins and bills being loosely
+scattered about, and the papers firmly sealed in an envelope addressed "To
+Whom it May Concern."
+
+Dick counted the coins and smoothed out the bills, more puzzled than he
+had ever been in his life. He was tempted to open the envelope, but
+refrained, not at all sure that he was among those whom it concerned. For
+the space of half an hour he stood there, frowning, then he laughed.
+
+"I'll just put it back," he said to himself. "It's not for me to monkey
+with Uncle Ebeneezer's purposes."
+
+He buried the box in its old place, and even cut a bit of sod from a
+distant part of the orchard to hide the traces of his work. When all was
+smooth again, he went back to the barn, swinging the spade carelessly but
+no longer whistling.
+
+"The old devil," he muttered, with keen appreciation. "The wise old
+devil!"
+
+
+
+
+XIV
+
+Mrs. Dodd's Fifth Fate
+
+
+_Morning lay fair upon the land, and yet the Lady Elaine was weary. Like a
+drooping lily she swayed in her saddle, sick at heart and cast down.
+Earnestly her company of gallant knights strove to cheer her, but in vain.
+Even the merry quips of the fool in motley, who still rode at her side,
+brought no smile to her beautiful face._
+
+_Presently, he became silent, his heart deeply troubled because of her. An
+hour passed so, and no word was spoken, then, timidly enough, he ventured
+another jest._
+
+_The Lady Elaine turned. "Say no more, fool," she commanded, "but get out
+thy writing tablet and compose me a poem. I would fain hear something sad
+and tender in place of this endless folly."_
+
+_Le Jongleur bowed. "And the subject, Princess?"_
+
+_Elaine laughed bitterly. "Myself," she cried. "Why not? Myself, Elaine,
+and this foolish quest of mine!"_
+
+_Then, for a space, there was silence upon the road, since the fool, with
+his writing tablet, had dropped back to the rear of the company, and the
+gallant knights, perceiving the mood of their mistress, spoke not._
+
+_At noon, when the white sun trembled at the zenith, Le Jongleur urged his
+donkey forward, and presented to Elaine a glorious rose which he had found
+blooming at the wayside._
+
+_"The poem is finished, your highness," he breathed, doffing his cap, "but
+'tis all unworthy, so I bring thee this rose also, that something in my
+offering may of a certainty be sweet."_
+
+_He would have put the scroll into her hand, but she swerved her palfrey
+aside. "Read it," she said, impatiently; "I have no mind to try my wits
+with thy poor scrawls."_
+
+_So, with his voice trembling, and overwhelmed with self-consciousness,
+the fool read as follows:_
+
+               The vineyards, purple with their bloom,
+                 Elaine, hast thou forgotten?
+               The maidens in thy lonely room,
+               Thy tapestry on silent loom--
+                   But hush! Where is Elaine?
+                 Elaine, hast thou forgotten?
+
+               Thy castle in the valley lies,
+                 Elaine, hast thou forgotten?
+               Where swift the homing swallow flies
+               And in the sunset daylight dies--
+                   But hush! Where is Elaine?
+                 Elaine, hast thou forgotten?
+
+               Night comes at last on dreamy wings,
+                 Elaine, hast thou forgotten?
+               'Mid gleaming clouds the pale moon swings,
+               Thy taper light a faint star brings,
+                   But hush! Where is Elaine?
+                 Elaine, hast thou forgotten?
+
+Harlan had never written any poetry before, but it had always seemed easy.
+Now, as he read the verses over again, he was tremendously satisfied with
+his achievement. Unconsciously, he had modelled it upon an exquisite
+little bit by some one else, which had once been reprinted beneath a
+"story" of his own when he was on the paper. He read it aloud, to see how
+it sounded, and was more pleased than ever with the swing of the verse and
+the music of the words. "It's pretty close to art," he said to himself,
+"if it isn't the real thing."
+
+Just then the luncheon bell rang, and he went out to the midday
+"gab-fest," as he inwardly characterised it. The meal proceeded to dessert
+without any unusual disturbance, then the diminutive Ebeneezer threw the
+remnants of his cup of milk into his mother's face, and was carried off,
+howling, to be spanked. Like many other mothers, Mrs. Holmes resented her
+children's conduct when it incommoded her, but not otherwise, and though
+milk baths are said to be fine for the complexion, she was not altogether
+pleased with the manner of application.
+
+Amid the vocal pyrotechnics from the Holmes apartments, Harlan escaped
+into the library, but his poem was gone. He searched for it vainly, then
+sat down to write it over before he should forget it. This done, he went
+on with Elaine and her adventures, and presently forgot all about the lost
+page.
+
+"Don't that do your heart good?" inquired Mrs. Dodd, of Dorothy, inclining
+her head toward Mrs. Holmes's door.
+
+"Be it ever so humble," sang Dick, strolling out of the room, "there's no
+place like Holmes's."
+
+Mrs. Carr admitted that her ears were not yet so calloused but that the
+sound gave her distinct pleasure.
+
+"If that there little limb of Satan had have throwed his milk in anybody
+else's face," went on Mrs. Dodd, "all she'd have said would have been:
+'Ebbie, don't spill your nice milk. That's naughty.'"
+
+Her imitation of the fond mother's tone and manner was so wickedly exact
+that Dorothy laughed heartily. The others had fled to a more quiet spot,
+except Willie and Rebecca, who were fighting for a place at the keyhole of
+their mother's door. Finally, Willie gained possession of the keyhole, and
+the ingenious Rebecca, lying flat on her small stomach, peered under the
+door, and obtained a pleasing view of what was going on inside.
+
+"Listen at that!" cried Mrs. Dodd, her countenance fairly beaming with
+innocent pleasure. "I'm gettin' most as much good out of it as I would
+from goin' to the circus. Reckon it's a slipper, for it sounds just like
+little Jimmie Young's weepin' did the night I come home from my fifth
+honeymoon.
+
+"That's the only time," she went on, reminiscently, "as I was ever a
+step-ma to children what wasn't growed up. You'd think a woman as had been
+married four times afore would have knowed better 'n to get her fool head
+into a noose like that, but there seems to be only one way for folks to
+learn things, an' that's by their own experience. If we could only use
+other folks' experience, this here world would be heaven in about three
+generations, but we're so constituted that we never believe fire 'll burn
+till we poke our own fingers into it to see. Other folks' scars don't go
+no ways at all toward convincin' us.
+
+"You read lots of novels about the sorrers of step-children, but I ain't
+never come up with no epic as yet portrayin' the sufferin's of a step-ma.
+If I had a talent like your husband's got, I'll be blest if I wouldn't do
+it. What I went through with them children aged me ten years in less 'n
+three.
+
+"It was like this," she prattled on. "I'd never seen a one of 'em, they
+livin' far away from their pa, as was necessary if their pa was to get any
+peace an' happiness out 'n life, an' that lyin' creeter I married told me
+there was only three. My dear, there was eight, an' sixteen ordinary young
+ones couldn't have been no worse.
+
+"Our courtin' was done mainly in the cemetery. I'd just laid my fourth
+away in his proper place an' had the letterin' all cut nice on his side of
+the monumint, an' I was doin' the plantin' on the grave when I met my
+fate--my fifth fate, I'm speakin' of now. I allers aimed to do right by my
+husbands when they was dead no less 'n when they was livin', an' I allers
+planted each one's favourite flower on his last restin'-place, an' planted
+it thick, so 's when the last trump sounded an' they all riz up, there
+wouldn't be no one of 'em that could accuse me of bein' partial.
+
+"Some of the flowers was funny for a graveyard. One of 'em loved
+sunflowers, an' when blossomin'-time come, you could see a spot of light
+in my lot clear from the gate when you went in, an' on sunny days even
+from quite a piece outside.
+
+"Geraniums was on the next grave, red an' pink together, as William loved
+to see 'em, an' most fittin' an' appropriate. He was a queer-lookin' man,
+William was, all bald except for a little fringe of red hair around his
+head, an' his bald spot gettin' as pink as anythin' when he got mad. I
+never could abide red an' pink together, so I did my best not to rile him;
+but la sakes, my dear, red-haired folks is that touchy that you never can
+tell what's goin' to rile 'em an' what ain't. Some innercent little remark
+is as likely to set 'em off as anythin' else. All the time it's like
+carryin' a light into a fireworks place. Drop it once an' the air 'll be
+full of sky-rockets, roman candles, pinwheels, an' set pieces till you're
+that dazed you don't know where you're livin'. Don't never take no
+red-haired one, my dear, if you're anyways set on peace. I never took but
+one, but that was enough to set me dead against the breed.
+
+"Well, as I was a-sayin', James begun to woo me in the cemetery. Whenever
+you see a man in a cemetery, my dear, you can take it for granted that
+he's a new-made widower. After the first week or two, he ain't got no time
+to go to no grave, he's so busy lookin' out for the next one. When I see
+James a-waterin' an' a-weedin' on the next lot to mine, therefore, I
+knowed his sorrer was new, even though the band of crape on his hat was
+rusty an' old.
+
+"Bein' fellow-mourners, in a way, we struck up kind of a melancholy
+friendship, an' finally got to borrerin' water from each other's
+sprinklin' cans an' exchangin' flower seeds an' slips, an' even hull
+plants. That old deceiver told me it was his first wife that was a-lyin'
+there, an' showed me her name on the monumint. She was buried in her own
+folks' lot, an' I never knowed till it was too late that his own lot was
+plum full of wives, an' this here was a annex, so to speak. I dunno how I
+come to be so took in, but anyways, when James's grief had subsided
+somewhat, we decided to travel on the remainin' stretch through this vale
+of tears together.
+
+"He told me he had a beautiful home in Taylorville, but was a-livin' where
+he was so 's to be near the cemetery an' where he could look after dear
+Annie's grave. The sentiment made me think all the more of him, so 's I
+didn't hesitate, an' was even willin' to be married with one of my old
+rings, to save the expense of a new one. James allers was thrifty, an' the
+way he put it, it sounded quite reasonable, so 's that's how it comes, my
+dear, that in spite of havin' had seven husbands, I've only got six
+weddin'-rings.
+
+"I put each one on when its own proper anniversary comes around an' wear
+it till the next one, when I change again, though for one of the rings it
+makes only one day, because the fourth and seventh times I was married so
+near together. That sounds queer, my dear, but if you think it over,
+you'll see what I mean. It's fortunate, too, in a way, 'cause I found out
+by accident years afterward that my fourth weddin'-ring come out of a
+pawn-shop, an' I never took much joy out of wearin' it. Bein' just alike,
+I wore another one mostly, even when Samuel was alive, but he never
+noticed. Besides, I reckon 't wouldn't make no difference, for a man
+that'll go to a pawn-shop for a weddin'-ring ain't one to make a row about
+his wife's changin' it. When I spoke sharp to him about it, he snickered,
+an' said it was appropriate enough, though to this day I've never figured
+out precisely just what the old serpent meant by it.
+
+"Well, as I was sayin', my dear, the minister married us in good an'
+proper form, an' I must say that, though I've had all kinds of ceremonies,
+I take to the 'Piscopal one the most, in spite of havin' been brought up
+Methodis', an' hereafter I'll be married by it if the occasion should
+arise--an' we drove over to Taylorville.
+
+"The roads was dretful, but bein' experienced in marriage, I could see
+that it wasn't that that was makin' James drop the whip, an' pull back on
+the lines when he wanted the horses to go faster, an' not hear things I
+was a-sayin' to him. Finally, I says, very distinct: 'James, dear, how
+many children did you say you had?'
+
+"'Eight,' says he, clearin' his throat proud and haughty like.
+
+"'You're lyin',' says I, 'an' you know you're lyin'. You allers told me
+you had three.'
+
+"'I was speakin' of those by my first wife,' says he. 'My other wives all
+left one apiece. Ain't I never told you about 'em? I thought I had,' he
+went on, speakin' quick, 'but if I haven't, it 's because your beauty has
+made me forget all the pain an' sorrer of the past.'
+
+"With that he clicked to the horses so sudden that I was near threw out of
+the rig, but it wasn't half so bad as the other jolt he'd just give me.
+For a long time I didn't say nothin', an' there's nothin' that makes a man
+so uneasy as a woman that don't say nothin', my dear, so you just write
+that down in your little book, an' remember it. It'll come in handy long
+before you're through with your first marriage an' have begun on your
+second. Havin' been through four, I was well skilled in keepin' my mouth
+shut, an' I never said a word till we drove into the yard of the most
+disconsolate-lookin' premises I ever seen since I was took to the
+poorhouse on a visit.
+
+"'James,' says I, cool but firm, 'is this your magnificent residence?'
+
+"'It is,' says he, very soft, 'an' it is here that I welcome my bride.
+Have you ever seen anythin' like this view?'
+
+"'No,' says I, 'I never have'; an' it was gospel truth I was speakin',
+too, for never before had I been to a place where the pigsty was in
+front.
+
+"'It is a wonderful view,' says I, sarcastic like, 'but before I linger to
+admire it more, I would love to look upon the scenery inside the house.'
+
+"When we went in, I thought I was either dreamin' or had got to Bedlam.
+The seven youngest children was raisin' particular Cain, an' the oldest, a
+pretty little girl of thirteen, was doin' her best to quiet 'em. There was
+six others besides what had been accounted for, but I soon found that they
+belonged to a neighbour, an' was just visitin' to relieve the monotony.
+
+"The woman James had left takin' care of 'em had been gone two weeks an'
+more, with a month's wages still comin' to her, which James never felt
+called on to pay, on account of her havin' left without notice. James was
+dretful thrifty. The youngest one was puttin' the cat into the
+water-pitcher, an' as soon as I found out what his name was, I called him
+sharp by it an' told him to quit. He put his tongue out at me as sassy as
+you please, an' says: 'I won't.'
+
+"Well, my dear, I didn't wait to hear no more, but I opened my satchel an'
+took out one of my slippers an' give that child a lickin' that he'll
+remember when he's a grandparent. 'Hereafter,' says I, 'when I tell you to
+do anythin', you'll do it. I'll speak kind the first time an' firm the
+second, and the third time the whole thing will be illustrated so plain
+that nobody can't misunderstand it. Your pa has took me into a confidence
+game,' says I, speakin' to all the children, 'but I was never one to draw
+back from what I'd put my hand to, an' I aim to do right by you if you do
+right by me. You mind,' says I, 'an' you won't have no trouble; an' the
+same thing,' says I to James, 'applies to you.'
+
+"I felt sorry for all those poor little motherless things, with a liar for
+a pa, an' all the time I lived there, I tried to make up to 'em what I
+could, but step-mas have their sorrers, my dear, that's what they do, an'
+I ain't never seen no piece about it in the paper yet, either.
+
+"If you'll excuse me now, my dear, I'll go to my room. It's just come to
+my mind now that this here is one of my anniversaries, an' I'll have to
+look up the facts in my family Bible, an' change my ring."
+
+At dinner-time the chastised and chastened twin appeared in freshly
+starched raiment. His eyes were swollen and his face flushed, but
+otherwise his recent painful experience had remarkably improved him. He
+said "please" and "thank you," and did not even resent it when Willie
+slyly dropped a small piece of watermelon down his neck.
+
+"This afternoon," said Elaine, "Mr. Perkins composed a beautiful poem. I
+know it is beautiful, though I have not yet heard it. I do not wish to be
+selfish in my pleasure, so I will ask him to read it to us all."
+
+The poet's face suddenly became the colour of his hair. He dropped his
+napkin, and swiftly whispered to Elaine, while he was picking it up, that
+she herself was the subject of the poem.
+
+"How perfectly charming," said Elaine, clearly. "Did you hear, Mrs. Carr?
+Poor little, insignificant me has actually inspired a great poem. Oh, do
+read it, Mr. Perkins? We are all dying to hear it!"
+
+Fairly cornered, the poet muttered that he had lost it--some other
+time--wait until to-morrow--and so on.
+
+"No need to wait," said Dick, with an ironical smile. "It was lost, but
+now is found. I came upon it myself, blowing around unheeded under the
+library window, quite like a common bit of paper."
+
+Mr. Perkins was transfixed with amazement, for his cherished poem was at
+that minute in his breast pocket. He clutched at it spasmodically, to be
+sure it was still safe.
+
+Very different emotions possessed Harlan, who choked on his food. He
+instinctively guessed the worst, and saw his home in lurid ruin about him,
+but was powerless to avert the catastrophe.
+
+"Read it, Dick," said Mrs. Dodd, kindly. "We are all a-perishin' to hear
+it. I can't eat another bite until I do. I reckon it'll sound like a
+valentine," she concluded, with a malicious glance at Mr. Perkins.
+
+"I have taken the liberty," chuckled Dick, "of changing a word or two
+occasionally, to make better sense of it, and of leaving out some lines
+altogether. Every one is privileged to vary an established form." Without
+further preliminary, he read the improved version.
+
+                 "The little doggie sheds his coat,
+                   Elaine, have you forgotten?
+                 What is it goes around a button?
+                 I thought you knew that simple thing,
+                 But ideas in your head take wing.
+                   Elaine, have you forgotten?
+                 The answer is a goat.
+
+                 "How much is three times humpty-steen?
+                   Elaine, have you forgotten?
+                 Why does a chicken cross the road?
+                 Who carries home a toper's load?
+                   You are so very stupid, dear!
+                     Elaine, have you forgotten?
+
+                 "You think a mop of scarlet hair
+                 And pale green eyes----"
+
+"That will do," said Miss St. Clair, crisply. "Mr. Perkins, may I ask as a
+favour that you will not speak to me again?" She marched out with her head
+high, and Mr. Perkins, wholly unstrung, buried his face in his napkin.
+
+Harlan laughed--a loud, ringing laugh, such as Dorothy had not heard from
+him for months, and striding around the table, he grasped Dick's hand in
+tremendous relief.
+
+"Let me have it," he cried, eagerly. "Give me all of it!"
+
+"Sure," said Dick, readily, passing over both sheets of paper.
+
+Harlan went into the library with the composition, and presently, when
+Dick was walking around the house and saw bits of torn paper fluttering
+out of the open window, a light broke through his usual density.
+
+"Whew!" he said to himself. "I'll be darned! I'll be everlastingly darned!
+Idiot!" he continued, savagely. "Oh, if I could only kick myself! Poor
+Dorothy! I wonder if she knows!"
+
+
+
+
+XV
+
+Treasure-Trove
+
+
+The August moon swung high in the heavens, and the crickets chirped
+unbearably. The luminous dew lay heavily upon the surrounding fields, and
+now and then a stray breeze, amid the overhanging branches of the trees
+that lined the roadway, aroused in the consciousness of the single
+wayfarer a feeling closely akin to panic. When he reached the summit of
+the hill, he was trembling violently.
+
+In the dooryard of the Jack-o'-Lantern, he paused. It was dark, save for a
+single round window. In an upper front room a night-lamp, turned low, gave
+one leering eye to the grotesque exterior of the house.
+
+With his heart thumping loudly, Mr. Bradford leaned against a tree and
+divested himself of his shoes. From a package under his arm, he took out a
+pair of soft felt slippers, the paper rattling loudly as he did so. He put
+them on, hesitated, then went cautiously up the walk.
+
+"In all my seventy-eight years," he thought, "I have never done anything
+like this. If I had not promised the Colonel--but a promise to a dying man
+is sacred, especially when he is one's best friend."
+
+The sound of the key in the lock seemed almost like an explosion of
+dynamite. Mr. Bradford wiped the cold perspiration from his forehead,
+turned the door slowly upon its squeaky hinges, and went in, feeling like
+a burglar.
+
+"I am not a burglar," he thought, his hands shaking. "I have come to give,
+not to take away."
+
+Fearfully, he tiptoed into the parlour, expecting at any moment to arouse
+the house. Feeling his way carefully along the wall, and guided by the
+moonlight which streamed in at the side windows, he came to the wing
+occupied by Mrs. Holmes and her exuberant offspring. Here he stooped,
+awkwardly, and slipped a sealed and addressed letter under the door,
+heaving a sigh of relief as he got away without having wakened any one.
+
+The sounds which came from Mrs. Dodd's room were reassuringly suggestive
+of sleep. Hastily, he slipped another letter under her door, then made his
+way cautiously to the kitchen. The missive intended for Mrs. Smithers was
+left on the door-mat outside, for, as Mr. Bradford well knew, the ears of
+the handmaiden were uncomfortably keen.
+
+At the foot of the stairs he hesitated again, but by the time he reached
+the top, his heart had ceased to beat audibly. He tiptoed down the
+corridor to Uncle Israel's room, then, further on, to Dick's. The letter
+intended for Mr. Perkins was slipped under Elaine's door, Mr. Bradford not
+being aware that the poet had changed his room. Having safely accomplished
+his last errand, the tension relaxed, and he went downstairs with more
+assurance, his pace being unduly hastened by a subdued howl from one of
+the twins.
+
+Bidding himself be calm, he got to the front door, and drew a long breath
+of relief as he closed it noiselessly. There was a light in Mrs. Holmes's
+room now, and Mr. Bradford did not wish to linger. He gathered up his
+shoes and fairly ran downhill, arriving at his office much shaken in mind
+and body, nearly two hours after he had started.
+
+"I do not know," he said to himself, "why the Colonel should have been so
+particular as to dates and hours, but he knew his own business best."
+Then, further in accordance with his instructions, he burned a number of
+letters which could not be delivered personally.
+
+If Mr. Bradford could have seen the company which met at the breakfast
+table the following morning, he would have been amply repaid for his
+supreme effort of the night before, had he been blessed with any sense of
+humour at all. The Carrs were untroubled, and Elaine appeared as usual,
+except for her haughty indifference to Mr. Perkins. She thought he had
+written a letter to himself and slipped it under her door, in order to
+compel her to speak to him, but she had tactfully avoided that difficulty
+by leaving it on his own threshold. Dick's eyes were dancing and at
+intervals his mirth bubbled over, needlessly, as every one else appeared
+to think.
+
+"I doesn't know wot folks finds to laugh at," remarked Mrs. Smithers, as
+she brought in the coffee; "that's wot I doesn't. It's a solemn time, I
+take it, when the sheeted spectres of the dead walks abroad by night,
+that's wot it is. It's time for folks to be thinkin' about their immortal
+souls."
+
+This enigmatical utterance produced a startling effect. Mr. Perkins turned
+a pale green and hastily excused himself, his breakfast wholly untouched.
+Mrs. Holmes dropped her fork and recovered it in evident confusion. Mrs.
+Dodd's face was a bright scarlet and appeared about to burst, but she kept
+her lips compressed into a thin, tight line. Uncle Israel nodded over his
+predigested food. "Just so," he mumbled; "a solemn time."
+
+Eagerly watching for an opportunity, Mrs. Holmes dived into the barn, and
+emerged, cautiously, with the spade concealed under her skirts. She
+carried it into her own apartment and hid it under Willie's bed. Mrs.
+Smithers went to look for it a little later, and, discovering that it was
+unaccountably missing, excavated her own private spade from beneath the
+hay. During the afternoon, the poet was observed lashing the fire-shovel
+to the other end of a decrepit rake. Uncle Israel, after a fruitless
+search of the premises, actually went to town and came back with a bulky
+and awkward parcel, which he hid in the shrubbery.
+
+Meanwhile, Willie had gone whimpering to Mrs. Dodd, who was in serious
+trouble of her own. "I'm afraid," he admitted, when closely questioned.
+
+"Afraid of what?" demanded his counsellor, sharply.
+
+"I'm afraid of ma," sobbed Willie. "She's a-goin' to bury me. She's got
+the spade hid under my bed now."
+
+Sudden emotion completely changed Mrs. Dodd's countenance. "There, there,
+Willie," she said, stroking him kindly. "Where is your ma?"
+
+"She's out in the orchard with Ebbie and Rebbie."
+
+"Well now, deary, don't you say nothin' at all to your ma, an' we'll fool
+her. The idea of buryin' a nice little boy like you! You just go an' get
+me that spade an' I'll hide it in my room. Then, when your ma asks for it,
+you don't know nothin' about it. See?"
+
+Willie's troubled face brightened, and presently the implement was under
+Mrs. Dodd's own bed, and her door locked. Much relieved in his mind and
+cherishing kindly sentiments toward his benefactor, Willie slid down the
+banisters, unrebuked, the rest of the afternoon.
+
+Meanwhile Mrs. Dodd sat on the porch and meditated. "I'd never have
+thought," she said to herself, "that Ebeneezer would intend that Holmes
+woman to have any of it, but you never can tell what folks'll do when
+their minds gets to failin' at the end. Ebeneezer's mind must have failed
+dretful, for I know he didn't make no promise to her, same as he did to
+me, an' if she don't suspect nothin', what did she go an' get the spade
+for? Dretful likely hand it is, for spirit writin'."
+
+Looking about furtively to make sure that she was not observed, Mrs. Dodd
+drew out of the mysterious recesses of her garments, the crumpled
+communication of the night before. It was dated, "Heaven, August 12th,"
+and the penmanship was Uncle Ebeneezer's to the life.
+
+"Dear Belinda," it read. "I find myself at the last moment obliged to
+change my plans. If you will go to the orchard at exactly twelve o'clock
+on the night of August 13th, you will find there what you seek. Go
+straight ahead to the ninth row of apple trees, then seven trees to the
+left. A cat's skull hangs from the lower branch, if it hasn't blown down
+or been taken away. Dig here and you will find a tin box containing what I
+have always meant you to have.
+
+"I charge you by all you hold sacred to obey these directions in every
+particular, and unless you want to lose it all, to say nothing about it to
+any one who may be in the house.
+
+"I am sorry to put you to this inconvenience, but the limitations of the
+spirit world cannot well be explained to mortals. I hope you will make a
+wise use of the money and not spend it all on clothes, as women are apt to
+do.
+
+"In conclusion, let me say that I am very happy in heaven, though it is
+considerably more quiet than any place I ever lived in before. I have met
+a great many friends here, but no relatives except my wife. Farewell, as I
+shall probably never see you again.
+
+"Yours,
+
+                                                      "Ebeneezer Judson.
+
+"P.S. All of your previous husbands are here, in the sunny section set
+aside for martyrs. None of them give you a good reputation.
+
+                                                                 "E. J."
+
+"Don't it beat all," muttered Mrs. Dodd to herself, excitedly. "Here was
+Ebeneezer at my door last night, an' I never knowed it. Sakes alive, if I
+had knowed it, I wouldn't have slep' like I did. Here comes that Holmes
+hussy. Wonder what she knows!"
+
+"Do you believe in spirits, Mrs. Dodd?" inquired Mrs. Holmes, in a
+careless tone that did not deceive her listener.
+
+"Depends," returned the other, with an evident distaste for the subject.
+
+"Do you believe spirits can walk?"
+
+"I ain't never seen no spirits walk, but I've seen folks try to walk that
+was full of spirits, and there wa'n't no visible improvement in their
+steppin'." This was a pleasant allusion to the departed Mr. Holmes, who
+was currently said to have "drunk hisself to death."
+
+A scarlet flush, which mounted to the roots of Mrs. Holmes's hair,
+indicated that the shot had told, and Mrs. Dodd went to her own room,
+where she carefully locked herself in. She was determined to sit upon her
+precious spade until midnight, if it were necessary, to keep it.
+
+Mrs. Smithers was sitting up in bed with the cold perspiration oozing from
+every pore, when the kitchen clock struck twelve sharp, quick strokes. The
+other clocks in the house took up the echo and made merry with it. The
+grandfather's clock in the hall was the last to strike, and the twelve
+deep-toned notes boomed a solemn warning which, to more than one quaking
+listener, bore a strong suggestion of another world--an uncanny world at
+that.
+
+"Guess I'll go along," said Dick to himself, yawning and stretching. "I
+might just as well see the fun."
+
+Mrs. Smithers, with her private spade and her odorous lantern, was at the
+spot first, closely seconded by Mrs. Dodd, in a voluminous garment of red
+flannel which had seen all of its best days and not a few of its worst.
+Trembling from head to foot, came Mrs. Holmes, carrying a pair of shears,
+which she had snatched up at the last moment when she discovered the spade
+was missing. Mr. Perkins, fully garbed, appeared with his improvised
+shovel. Uncle Israel, in his piebald dressing-gown, tottered along in the
+rear, bearing his spade, still unwrapped, his bedroom candle, and a box of
+matches. Dick surveyed the scene from a safe, shadowy distance, and on a
+branch near the skull, Claudius Tiberius was stretched at full length,
+purring with a loud, resonant purr which could be heard from afar.
+
+After the first shock of surprise, which was especially keen on the part
+of Mrs. Dodd, when she saw Uncle Israel in the company, Mrs. Smithers
+broke the silence.
+
+"It's nothink more nor a wild-goose chase," she said, resentfully.
+"A-gettin' us all out'n our beds at this time o' night! It's a sufferin'
+and dyin' shame, that's wot it is, and if sperrits was like other folks,
+'t wouldn't 'ave happened."
+
+"Sarah," said Mrs. Dodd, firmly, "keep your mouth shut. Israel, will you
+dig?"
+
+"We'll all dig," said Mrs. Holmes, in the voice of authority, and
+thereafter the dirt flew briskly enough, accompanied by the laboured
+breathing of perspiring humanity.
+
+It was Uncle Israel's spade that first touched the box, and, with a cry of
+delight, he stooped for it, as did everybody else. By sheer force of
+muscle, Mrs. Dodd got it away from him.
+
+"This wrangle," sighed Mr. Perkins, "is both unseemly and sordid. Let us
+all agree to abide by dear Uncle Ebeneezer's last bequests."
+
+"There won't be no desire not to abide by 'em," snorted Mrs. Smithers,
+"wot with cats as can't stay buried and sheeted spectres of the dead
+a-walkin' through the house by night!"
+
+By this time, Mrs. Dodd had the box open, and a cry of astonishment broke
+from her lips. Several heads were badly bumped in the effort to peep into
+the box, and an unprotected sneeze from Uncle Israel added to the general
+unpleasantness.
+
+"You can all go away," cried Mrs. Dodd, shrilly. "There's two one-dollar
+bills here, two quarters, an' two nickels an' eight pennies. 'T aint
+nothin' to be fit over."
+
+"But the letter," suggested Mr. Perkins, hopefully. "Is there not a letter
+from dear Uncle Ebeneezer? Let us gather around the box in a reverent
+spirit and listen to dear Uncle Ebeneezer's last words."
+
+"You can read 'em," snapped Mrs. Holmes, "if you're set on hearing."
+
+Uncle Israel wheezed so loudly that for the moment he drowned the deep
+purr of Claudius Tiberius. When quiet was restored, Mr. Perkins broke the
+seal of the envelope and unfolded the communication within. Uncle Israel
+held the dripping candle on one side and Mrs. Smithers the smoking lantern
+on the other, while near by, Dick watched the midnight assembly with an
+unholy glee which, in spite of his efforts, nearly became audible.
+
+"How beautiful," said Mr. Perkins, "to think that dear Uncle Ebeneezer's
+last words should be given to us in this unexpected but original way."
+
+"Shut up," said Mrs. Smithers, emphatically, "and read them last words.
+I'm gettin' the pneumony now, that's wot I am."
+
+"You're the only one," chirped Mrs. Dodd, hysterically. "The money in this
+here box is all old." It was, indeed. Mr. Judson seemed to have purposely
+chosen ragged bills and coins worn smooth.
+
+"'Dear Relations,'" began Mr. Perkins. "'As every one of you have at one
+time or another routed me out of bed to let you in when you have come to
+my house on the night train, and always uninvited----'"
+
+"I never did," interrupted Mrs. Holmes. "I always came in the daytime."
+
+"Nobody ain't come at night," explained Mrs. Smithers, "since 'e fixed the
+'ouse over into a face. One female fainted dead away when 'er started up
+the hill and see it a-winkin' at 'er, yes sir, that's wot 'er did!"
+
+"'It seems only fitting and appropriate,'" continued Mr. Perkins, "'that
+you should all see how it seems.'" The poet wiped his massive brow with
+his soiled handkerchief. "Dear uncle!" he commented.
+
+"Yes," wheezed Uncle Israel, "'dear uncle!' Damn his stingy old soul," he
+added, with uncalled-for emphasis.
+
+"It gives me pleasure to explain in this fashion my disposal of my
+estate," the reader went on, huskily.
+
+"Of all the connection on both sides, there is only one that has never
+been to see me, unless I've forgotten some, and that is my beloved nephew,
+James Harlan Carr."
+
+"Him," creaked Uncle Israel. "Him, as never see Ebeneezer."
+
+"He has never," continued the poet, with difficulty, "rung my door bell at
+night, nor eaten me out of house and home, nor written begging letters--"
+this phrase was well-nigh inaudible--"nor had fits on me----"
+
+Here there was a pause and all eyes were fastened upon Uncle Israel.
+
+"'T wa'n't a fit!" he screamed. "It was a involuntary spasm brought on by
+takin' two searchin' medicines too near together. 'T wa'n't a fit!"
+
+"Nor children----"
+
+"The idea!" snapped Mrs. Holmes. "Poor little Ebbie and Rebbie had to be
+born somewhere."
+
+"Nor paralysis----"
+
+"That was Cousin Si Martin," said Mrs. Dodd, half to herself. "He was took
+bad with it in the night."
+
+"He has never come to spend Christmas with me and remained until the
+ensuing dog days, nor sent me a crayon portrait of himself"--Mr. Perkins
+faltered here, but nobly went on--"nor had typhoid fever, nor finished up
+his tuberculosis, nor cut teeth, nor set the house on fire with a bath
+cabinet----"
+
+At this juncture Uncle Israel was so overcome with violent emotion that it
+was some time before the reading could proceed.
+
+"Never having come into any kind of relations with my dear nephew, James
+Harlan Carr," continued Mr. Perkins, in troubled tones, "I have shown my
+gratitude in this humble way. To him I give the house and all my
+furniture, my books and personal effects of every kind, my farm in Hill
+County, two thousand acres, all improved and clear of incumbrance, except
+blooded stock,----"
+
+"I never knowed 'e 'ad no farm," interrupted Mrs. Smithers.
+
+"And the ten thousand and eighty-four dollars in the City Bank which at
+this writing is there to my credit, but will be duly transferred, and my
+dear Rebecca's diamond pin to be given to my beloved nephew's wife when he
+marries. It is all in my will, which my dear friend Jeremiah Bradford has,
+and which he will read at the proper time to those concerned."
+
+"The old snake!" shrieked Mrs. Holmes.
+
+"Further," went on the poet, almost past speech by this time, "I direct
+that the remainder of my estate, which is here in this box, shall be
+divided as follows:
+
+"Eight cents each to that loafer, Si Martin, his lazy wife, and their
+eight badly brought-up children, with instructions to be generous to any
+additions to said children through matrimony or natural causes; Fanny Wood
+and that poor, white-livered creature she married, thereby proving her own
+idiocy if it needed proof; Uncle James's cross-eyed third wife and her two
+silly daughters; Rebecca's sister's scoundrelly second husband, with his
+foolish wife and their little boy with a face like a pug dog; Uncle Jason,
+who has needed a bath ever since I knew him--I want he should spend his
+legacy for soap--and his epileptic stepson, whose name I forget, though he
+lived with me five years hand-running; lying Sally Simmons and her
+half-witted daughter; that old hen, Belinda Dodd; that skunk, Harold
+Vernon Perkins, who never did a stroke of honest work in his life till he
+began to dig for this box; monkey-faced Lucretia and the four thieving
+little Riley children, who are likely to get into prison when they grow
+up; that human undertaker's waggon, Betsey Skiles, and her two impudent
+nieces; that grand old perambulating drug store, Israel Skiles; that
+Holmes fool with the three reprints of her ugliness--eight cents apiece,
+and may you get all possible good out of it.
+
+"Dick Chester, however, having always paid his board, and tried to be a
+help to me in several small ways, and in spite of having lived with me
+eight Summers or more without having been asked to do so, gets two
+thousand two hundred and fifty dollars which is deposited for him in the
+savings department of the Metropolitan Bank, plus the three hundred and
+seventy dollars he paid me for board without my asking him for it. Sarah
+Smithers, being in the main a good woman, though sharp-tongued at times,
+and having been faithful all the time my house has been full of lowdown
+cusses too lazy to work for their living, gets twelve hundred and fifty
+dollars which is in the same bank as Dick's. The rest of you take your
+eight cents apiece and be damned. You can get the money changed at the
+store. If any have been left out, it is my desire that those remembered
+should divide with the unfortunate.
+
+"If you had not all claimed to be Rebecca's relatives, you would have been
+kicked out of my house years ago, but since writing this, I have seen
+Rebecca and made it right with her. It was not her desire that I should be
+imposed upon.
+
+"Get out of my house, every one of you, before noon to-morrow, and the
+devil has my sincere sympathy when you go to live with him and make hell
+what you have made my house ever since Rebecca's death. GET OUT!!!
+
+                                                     "Ebeneezer Judson."
+
+The letter was badly written and incoherent, yet there could be no doubt
+of its meaning, nor of the state of mind in which it had been penned. For
+a moment, there was a tense silence, then Mrs. Dodd tittered
+hysterically.
+
+"We thought diamonds was goin' to be trumps," she observed, "an' it turned
+out to be spades."
+
+Uncle Israel wheezed again and Mrs. Smithers smacked her lips with intense
+satisfaction. Mrs. Holmes was pale with anger, and, under cover of the
+night, Dick sneaked back to his room, shame-faced, yet happy. Claudius
+Tiberius still purred, sticking his claws into the bark with every
+evidence of pleasure.
+
+"I do not know," said Mr. Perkins, sadly, running his fingers through his
+mane, "whether we are obliged to take as final these vagaries of a dying
+man. Dear Uncle Ebeneezer could not have been sane when he penned this
+cruel letter. I do not believe it was his desire to have any of us go away
+before the usual time." Under cover of these forgiving sentiments, he
+pocketed all the money in the box.
+
+"Me neither," said Mrs. Dodd. "Anyhow, I'm goin' to stay. No sheeted
+spectre can't scare me away from a place I've always stayed in Summers,
+'specially," she added, sarcastically, "when I'm remembered in the will."
+
+Mrs. Smithers clucked disagreeably and went back to the house. Uncle
+Israel looked after her with dismay. "Do you suppose," he queried, in
+falsetto, "that she'll tell the Carrs?"
+
+"Hush, Israel," replied Mrs. Dodd. "She can't tell them Carrs about our
+diggin' all night in the orchard, 'cause she was here herself. They didn't
+get no spirit communication an' they won't suspect nothin'. We'll just
+stay where we be an' go on 's if nothin' had happened."
+
+Indeed, this seemed the wisest plan, and, shivering with the cold, the
+baffled ones filed back to the Jack-o'-Lantern. "How did you get out,
+Israel?" whispered Mrs. Dodd, as they approached the house.
+
+The old man snickered. It was the only moment of the evening he had
+thoroughly enjoyed. "The same spirit that give me the letter, Belinda," he
+returned, pleasantly, "also give me a key. You didn't think I had no
+flyin' machine, did you?"
+
+"Humph" grunted Mrs. Dodd. "Spirits don't carry no keys!"
+
+At the threshold they paused, the sensitive poet quite unstrung by the
+night's adventure. From the depths of the Jack-o'-Lantern came a shrill,
+infantile cry.
+
+"Is that Ebbie," asked Mrs. Dodd, "or Rebbie?"
+
+Mrs. Holmes turned upon her with suppressed fury. "Don't you ever dare to
+allude to my children in that manner again," she commanded, hoarsely.
+
+"What is their names?" quavered Uncle Israel, lighting his candle.
+
+"Their names," returned Mrs. Holmes, with a vast accession of dignity,
+"are Gladys Gwendolen and Algernon Paul! Good night!"
+
+Just before dawn, a sheeted spectre appeared at the side of Sarah
+Smither's bed, and swore the trembling woman to secrecy. It was long past
+sunrise before the frightened handmaiden came to her senses enough to
+recall that the voice of the apparition had been strangely like Mrs.
+Dodd's.
+
+
+
+
+XVI
+
+Good Fortune
+
+
+The next morning, Harlan and Dorothy ate breakfast by themselves. There
+was suppressed excitement in the manner of Mrs. Smithers, who by this time
+had quite recovered from her fright, and, as they readily saw, not wholly
+of an unpleasant kind. From time to time she tittered audibly--a thing
+which had never happened before.
+
+"It's just as if a tombstone should giggle," remarked Harlan. His tone was
+low, but unfortunately, it carried well.
+
+"Tombstone or not, just as you like," responded Mrs. Smithers, as she came
+in with the bacon. "I'd be careful 'ow I spoke disrespectfully of
+tombstones if I was in your places, that's wot I would. Tombstones is kind
+to some and cussed to others, that's wot they are, and if you don't like
+the monument wot's at present in your kitchen, you know wot you can do."
+
+After breakfast, she beckoned Dorothy into the kitchen, and "gave
+notice."
+
+"Oh, Mrs. Smithers," cried Dorothy, almost moved to tears, "please don't
+leave me in the lurch! What should I do without you, with all these people
+on my hands? Don't think of such a thing as leaving me!"
+
+"Miss Carr," said Mrs. Smithers, solemnly, with one long bony finger laid
+alongside of her hooked nose, "'t ain't necessary for you to run no Summer
+hotel, that's what it ain't. These 'ere all be relations of your uncle's
+wife and none of his'n except by marriage. Wot's more, your uncle don't
+want 'em 'ere, that's wot 'e don't."
+
+Mrs. Smithers's tone was so confident that for the moment Dorothy was
+startled, remembering yesterday's vague allusion to "sheeted spectres of
+the dead."
+
+"What do you mean?" she demanded.
+
+"Miss Carr," returned Mrs. Smithers, with due dignity, "ever since I come
+'ere, I've been invited to shut my 'ead whenever I opened it about that
+there cat or your uncle or anythink, as you well knows. I was never one
+wot was fond of 'avin' my 'ead shut up."
+
+"Go on," said Dorothy, her curiosity fully alive, "and tell me what you
+mean."
+
+"You gives me your solemn oath, Miss, that you won't tell me to shut my
+'ead?" queried Mrs. Smithers.
+
+"Of course," returned Dorothy, trying to be practical, though the
+atmosphere was sepulchral enough.
+
+"Well, then, you knows wot I told you about that there cat. 'E was kilt by
+your uncle, that's wot 'e was, and your uncle couldn't never abide cats.
+'E was that feared of 'em 'e couldn't even bury 'em when they was kilt,
+and one of my duties, Miss, as long as I lived with 'im, was buryin' of
+cats, and until this one, I never come up with one wot couldn't stay
+buried, that's wot I 'aven't.
+
+"'E 'ated 'em like poison, that's wot 'e did. The week afore your uncle
+died, he kilt this 'ere cat wot's chasin' the chickens now, and I buried
+'im with my own hands, but could 'e stay buried? 'E could not. No sooner
+is your uncle dead and gone than this 'ere cat comes back, and it's the
+truth, Miss Carr, for where 'e was buried, there ain't no sign of a cat
+now. Wot's worse, this 'ere cat looks per-cisely like your uncle, green
+eyes, white shirt front, black tie and all. It's enough to give a body the
+shivers to see 'im a-settin' on the kitchen floor lappin' up 'is mush and
+milk, the which your uncle was so powerful fond of.
+
+"Wot's more," continued Mrs. Smithers, in tones of awe, "I'll a'most bet
+my immortal soul that if you'll dig in the cemetery where your uncle was
+buried good and proper, you won't find nothin' but the empty coffin and
+maybe 'is grave clothes. Your uncle's been livin' with us all along in
+that there cat," she added, triumphantly. "It's 'is punishment, for 'e
+couldn't never abide 'em, that's wot 'e couldn't."
+
+Mrs. Carr opened her mouth to speak, then, remembering her promise, took
+refuge in flight.
+
+"'Er's scared," muttered Mrs. Smithers, "and no wonder. Wot with cats as
+can't stay buried, writin' letters and deliverin' 'em in the dead of
+night, and a purrin' like mad while blamed fools digs for eight cents,
+most folks would be scared, I take it, that's wot they would."
+
+Dorothy was pale when she went into the library where Harlan was at work.
+He frowned at the interruption and Dorothy smiled back at him--it seemed
+so normal and sane.
+
+"What is it, Dorothy?" he asked, not unkindly.
+
+"Oh--just Mrs. Smithers's nonsense. She's upset me."
+
+"What about, dear?" Harlan put his work aside readily enough now.
+
+"Oh, the same old story about the cat and Uncle Ebeneezer. And I'm
+afraid----"
+
+"Afraid of what?"
+
+"I know it's foolish, but I'm afraid she's going to dig in the cemetery to
+see if Uncle Ebeneezer is still there. She thinks he's in the cat."
+
+For the moment, Harlan thought Dorothy had suddenly lost her reason, then
+he laughed heartily.
+
+"Don't worry," he said, "she won't do anything of the kind, and, besides,
+what if she did? It's a free country, isn't it?"
+
+"And--there's another thing, Harlan." For days she had dreaded to speak of
+it, but now it could be put off no longer.
+
+"It's--it's money," she went on, unwillingly. "I'm afraid I haven't
+managed very well, or else it's cost so much for everything, but
+we're--we're almost broke, Harlan," she concluded, bravely, trying to
+smile.
+
+Harlan put his hands in his pockets and began to walk back and forth. "If
+I can only finish the book," he said, at length, "I think we'll be all
+right, but I can't leave it now. There's only two more chapters to write,
+and then----"
+
+"And then," cried Dorothy, her beautiful belief in him transfiguring her
+face, "then we'll be rich, won't we?"
+
+"I am already rich," returned Harlan, "when you have such faith in me as
+that."
+
+For a moment the shimmering veil of estrangement which so long had hung
+between them, seemed to part, and reveal soul to soul. As swiftly the mood
+changed and Dorothy felt it first, like a chill mist in the air. Neither
+dreamed that with the writing of the first paragraph in the book, the
+spell had claimed one of them for ever--that cobweb after cobweb, of
+gossamer fineness, should make a fabric never to be broken; that on one
+side of it should stand a man who had exchanged his dreams for realities
+and his realities for dreams, and on the other, a woman, blindly hurt,
+eternally straining to see beyond the veil.
+
+"What can we do?" asked Harlan, unwontedly practical for the nonce.
+
+"I don't know," said Dorothy. "There are the diamonds, you know, that we
+found. I don't care for any diamonds, except the one you gave me. If we
+could sell those----"
+
+"Dorothy, don't. I don't believe they're ours, and if they were, they
+shouldn't be sold. You should keep them."
+
+"My engagement ring, then," suggested Dorothy, her lips trembling. "That's
+ours."
+
+"Don't be foolish," said Harlan, a little roughly. "I'll finish this and
+then we'll see what's to be done."
+
+Feeling her dismissal, Dorothy went out, and, all unknowingly, straight
+into the sunshine.
+
+Elaine was coming downstairs, fresh and sweet as the morning itself. "Am I
+too late to have any breakfast, Mrs. Carr?" she asked, gaily. "I know I
+don't deserve any."
+
+"Of course you shall have breakfast. I'll see to it."
+
+Elaine took her place at the table and Dorothy, reluctant to put further
+strain on the frail bond that anchored Mrs. Smithers to her service,
+brought in the breakfast herself.
+
+"You're so good to me," said the girl, gratefully, as Dorothy poured out a
+cup of steaming coffee. "To think how beautiful you've been to me, when I
+never saw either one of you in my whole life, till I came here ill and
+broken-hearted! See what you've made of me--see how well and strong I
+am!"
+
+Swiftly, Dorothy bent and kissed Elaine, a strange, shadowy cloud for ever
+lifted from her heart. She had not known how heavy it was nor how charged
+with foreboding, until it was gone.
+
+"I want to do something for you," Elaine went on, laughing to hide the
+mist in her eyes, "and I've just thought what I can do. My mother had some
+beautiful old mahogany furniture, just loads of it, and some wonderful
+laces, and I'm going to divide with you."
+
+"No, you're not," returned Dorothy, warmly. She felt that Elaine had
+already given her enough.
+
+"It isn't meant for payment, Mrs. Carr," the girl went on, her big blue
+eyes fixed upon Dorothy, "but you're to take it from me just as I've taken
+this lovely Summer from you. You took in a stranger, weak and helpless and
+half-crazed with grief, and you've made her into a happy woman again."
+
+Before Dorothy could answer, Dick lounged in, frankly sleepy. "Second call
+in the dining car?" he asked, taking Mrs. Dodd's place, across the table
+from Elaine.
+
+"Third call," returned Dorothy, brightly, "and, if you don't mind, I'll
+leave you two to wait on yourselves." She went upstairs, her heart light,
+not so much from reality as from prescience. "How true it is," she
+thought, "that if you only wait and do the best you can, things all work
+out straight again. I've had to learn it, but I know it now."
+
+"Bully bunch, the Carrs," remarked Dick, pushing his cup to Elaine.
+
+"They're lovely," she answered, with conviction.
+
+The sun streamed brightly into the dining-room of the Jack-o'-Lantern and
+changed its hideousness into cheer. Seeing Elaine across from him,
+gracefully pouring his coffee, affected Dick strangely. Since the day
+before, he had seen clearly something which he must do.
+
+"I say, Elaine," he began, awkwardly. "That beast of a poem I read the
+other day----"
+
+Her face paled, ever so slightly. "Yes?"
+
+"Well, Perkins didn't write it, you know," Dick went on, hastily. "I did
+it myself. Or, rather I found it, blowing around, outside, just as I said,
+and I fixed it."
+
+At length he became restless under the calm scrutiny of Elaine's clear
+eyes. "I beg your pardon," he continued.
+
+"Did you think," she asked, "that it was nice to make fun of a lady in
+that way?"
+
+"I didn't think," returned Dick, truthfully. "I never thought for a minute
+that it was making fun of you, but only of that--that pup, Perkins," he
+concluded, viciously.
+
+"Under the circumstances," said Elaine, ignoring the epithet, "the silence
+of Mr. Perkins has been very noble. I shall tell him so."
+
+"Do," answered Dick, with difficulty. "He's ambling up to the
+lunch-counter now." Mr. Chester went out by way of the window, swallowing
+hard.
+
+"I have just been told," said Miss St. Clair to the poet, "that
+the--er--poem was not written by you, and I apologise for what I said."
+
+Mr. Perkins bowed in acknowledgment. "It is a small matter," he said,
+wearily, running his fingers through his hair. It was, indeed, compared
+with deep sorrow of a penetrating kind, and a sleepless night, but Elaine
+did not relish the comment.
+
+"Were--were you restless in the night?" she asked, conventionally.
+
+"I was. I did not sleep at all until after four o'clock, and then only for
+a few moments."
+
+"I'm sorry. Did--did you write anything?"
+
+"I began an epic," answered the poet, touched, for the moment, by this
+unexpected sympathy. "An epic in blank verse, on 'Disappointment.'"
+
+"I'm sure it's beautiful," continued Elaine, coldly. "And that reminds me.
+I have hunted through my room, in every possible place, and found
+nothing."
+
+A flood of painful emotion overwhelmed the poet, and he buried his face in
+his hands. In a flash, Elaine was violently angry, though she could not
+have told why. She marched out of the dining-room and slammed the door.
+"Delicate, sensitive soul," she said to herself, scornfully. "Wants people
+to hunt for money he thinks may be hidden in his room, and yet is so far
+above sordidness that he can't hear it spoken of!"
+
+Seeing Mr. Chester pacing back and forth moodily at some distance from the
+house, Elaine rushed out to him. "Dick," she cried, "he _is_ a lobster!"
+
+Dick's clouded face brightened. "Is he?" he asked, eagerly, knowing
+instinctively whom she meant. "Elaine, you're a brick!" They shook hands
+in token of absolute agreement upon one subject at least, and the girl's
+right hand hurt her for some little time afterward.
+
+Left to himself, Mr. Perkins mused upon the dread prospect before him. For
+years he had calculated upon a generous proportion of his Uncle
+Ebeneezer's estate, and had even borrowed money upon the strength of his
+expectations. These debts now loomed up inconveniently.
+
+The vulgar, commercial people from whom Mr. Perkins had borrowed filthy
+coin were quite capable of speaking of the matter, and in an unpleasant
+manner at that. The fine soul of Mr. Perkins shrank from the ordeal. He
+had that particular disdain of commercialism which is inseparable from the
+incapable and unsuccessful, and yet, if the light of his genius were to
+illuminate a desolate world, Mr. Perkins must have money.
+
+He might even have to degrade himself by coarse toil--and hitherto, he had
+been too proud to work. The thought was terrible. Pegasus hitched to the
+plough was nothing compared with the prospect of Mr. Perkins being obliged
+to earn three or four dollars a week in some humble, common capacity.
+
+Then a bright idea came to his rescue. "Mr. Carr," he thought, "the
+gentleman who is now entertaining me--he is doing my own kind of work,
+though of course it is less fine in quality. Perhaps he would like the
+opportunity of going down to posterity as the humble Maecenas of a new
+Horace."
+
+Borne to the library in the rush of this attractive idea, Mr. Perkins
+opened the door, which Harlan had forgotten to lock, and without in any
+way announcing himself, broke in on Harlan's chapter.
+
+"What do you mean?" demanded the irate author. "What business have you
+butting in here like this? Get out!"
+
+"I--" stammered Mr. Perkins.
+
+"Get out!" thundered Harlan. It sounded strangely like the last phrase of
+"dear Uncle Ebeneezer's last communication," and, trembling, the
+disconsolate poet obeyed. He fled to his own room as a storm-tossed ship
+to its last harbour, and renewed the composition of his epic on
+"Disappointment," for which, by this time, he had additional material.
+
+Harlan went back to his work, but the mood was gone. The living, radiant
+picture had wholly vanished, and in its place was a heap of dead, dry,
+meaningless words. "Did I write it?" asked Harlan, of himself, "and if so,
+why?"
+
+Like the mocking fantasy of a dream as seen in the instant of waking,
+Elaine and her company had gone, as if to return no more. Only two
+chapters were yet to be written, and he knew, vaguely, what Elaine was
+about to do when he left her, but his pen had lost the trick of writing.
+
+Deeply troubled, Harlan went to the window, where the outer world still
+had the curious appearance of unreality. It was as though a sheet of glass
+were between him and the life of the rest of the world. He could see
+through it clearly, but the barrier was there, and must always be there.
+Upon the edge of this glass, the light of life should break and resolve
+itself into prismatic colours, of which he should see one at a time, now
+and then more, and often a clear, pitiless view of the world should give
+him no colour at all.
+
+Presently Lawyer Bradford came up the hill, dressed for a formal call. In
+a flash it brought back to Harlan the day the old man had first come to
+the Jack-o'-Lantern, when Dorothy was a happy girl with a care-free boy
+for a husband. How much had happened since, and how old and grey the world
+had grown!
+
+"I desire to see the distinguished author, Mr. Carr," the thin, piping
+voice was saying at the door, "upon a matter of immediate and personal
+importance. And Mrs. Carr also, if she is at leisure. Privacy is
+absolutely essential."
+
+"Come into the library," said Harlan, from the doorway. Another
+interruption made no difference now. Dorothy soon followed, much mystified
+by the way in which Mrs. Smithers had summoned her.
+
+Remembering the inopportune intrusion of Mr. Perkins, Harlan locked the
+door. "Now, Mr. Bradford," he said, easily, "what is it?"
+
+"I should have told you before," began the old lawyer, "had not the bonds
+of silence been laid upon me by one whom we all revere and who is now past
+carrying out his own desires. The house is yours, as my letters of an
+earlier date apprised you, and the will is to be probated at the Fall term
+of court.
+
+"Your uncle," went on Mr. Bradford, unwillingly, "was a great sufferer
+from--from relations," he added, lowering his voice to a shrill whisper,
+"and he has chosen to revenge himself for his sufferings in his own way.
+Of this I am not at liberty to speak, though no definite silence was
+required of me later than yesterday.
+
+"There is, however, a farm of two thousand acres, all improved, which is
+still to come to you, and a sum of money amounting to something over ten
+thousand dollars, in the bank to your credit. The multitudinous duties in
+connection with the practice of my profession have prevented me from
+making myself familiar with the exact amount.
+
+"And," he went on, looking at Dorothy, "there is a very beautiful diamond
+pin, the gift of my lamented friend to his lovely young wife upon the day
+of the solemnisation of their nuptials, which was to be given to the wife
+of Mr. Judson's nephew when he should marry. It is sewn in a mattress in
+the room at the end of the north wing."
+
+The earth whirled beneath Dorothy's feet. At first, she had not fully
+comprehended what Mr. Bradford was saying, but now she realised that they
+had passed from pinching poverty to affluence--at least it seemed so to
+her. Harlan was not so readily confused, but none the less, he, too, was
+dazed. Neither of them could speak.
+
+"I should be grateful," the old man was saying, "if you would ask Mr.
+Richard Chester and Mrs. Sarah Smithers to come to my office at their
+earliest convenience. I will not trespass upon their valuable time at
+present."
+
+There was a long silence, during which Mr. Bradford cleared his throat,
+and wiped his glasses several times. "The farm has always been held in my
+name," he continued, "to protect our lamented friend and benefactor from
+additional disturbance. If--if the relations had known, his life would
+have been even less peaceful than it was. A further farm, valued at twelve
+thousand dollars, and also held in my name, is my friend's last gift to
+me, as I discovered by opening a personal letter which was to be kept
+sealed until this morning. I did not open it until late in the morning,
+not wishing to show unseemly eagerness to pry into my friend's affairs. I
+am too much affected to speak of it--I feel his loss too keenly. He was my
+Colonel--I served under him in the war."
+
+A mist filled the old man's eyes and he fumbled for the door-knob. Harlan
+found it for him, turned the key, and opened the door. Mrs. Dodd, Mrs.
+Holmes, Mrs. Smithers, and the suffering poet were all in the hall, their
+attitudes plainly indicating that they had been listening at the door, but
+something in Mr. Bradford's face made them huddle back into the corner,
+ashamed.
+
+Feeling his way with his cane, he went to the parlour door, where he stood
+for a moment at the threshold, his streaming eyes fixed upon the portrait
+over the mantel. The simple dignity of his grief forbade a word from any
+one. At length he straightened himself, brought his trembling hand to his
+forehead in a feeble military salute, and, wiping his eyes, tottered off
+downhill.
+
+
+
+
+XVII
+
+The Lady Elaine knows her Heart
+
+
+_It was on a dark and stormy midnight, when the thunders boomed and the
+dread fury of the lightnings scarred the overhanging cliffs, that the Lady
+Elaine at last came to know her heart._
+
+_She was in a cave, safe from all but the noise of the storm. A cheery
+fire blazed at her door, and her bed within was made soft with pine boughs
+and skins. For weeks they had journeyed here and there, yet there had been
+no knight in whose face Elaine could find what she sought._
+
+_As she lay on her couch, she reflected upon the faithful wayfarers who
+had travelled with her, who had ever been gentle and courtly, saving her
+from all annoyance and all harm. Yet above them all, there was one who,
+from the time of their starting, had kept vigilant guard. He was the
+humblest of them all, but it was he who made her rest in shady places by
+the wayside when she herself scarce knew that she was weary; had given her
+cool spring water in a cup cunningly woven of leaves before she had
+realised her thirst; had brought her berries and strange, luscious fruits
+before she had thought of hunger; and who had cheered her, many a time,
+when no one else had guessed that she was sad._
+
+_Outside, he was guarding her now, all heedless of the rain. She could see
+him dimly in the shadow, then, all at once, more clearly in the firelight.
+His head was bowed and his arms folded, yet in the strong lines of his
+body there was no hint of weariness. Well did the Lady Elaine know that
+until Dawn spun her web of enchantment upon the mysterious loom of the
+East, he would march sleeplessly before her door, replenishing the fire,
+listening now and then for her deep breathing, and, upon the morrow, gaily
+tell her of his dreams._
+
+_Dreams they were, indeed, but not the dreams of sleep. Upon these
+midnight marchings, her sentinel gave his wandering fancy free rein. And
+because of the dumb pain in his heart, these fancies were all the merrier;
+more golden with the sun of laughter, more gemmed with the pearl of
+tears._
+
+_Proud-hearted, yet strangely homesick, the Lady Elaine was restless this
+night. "I must go back," she thought, "to the Castle of Content, where my
+dear father would fain have his child again. And yet I dread to go back
+with my errand undone, my quest unrewarded._
+
+_"What is it," thought Elaine, in sudden self-searching, "that I seek?
+What must this man be, to whom I would surrender the keeping of my heart?
+What do I ask that is so hard to find?_
+
+_"Am I seeking for a god? Nay, surely not, but only for a man. Valorous he
+must be, indeed, but not in the lists--'tis not a soldier, for I have seen
+them by the hundred since I left my home in the valley. 'Tis not a model
+for the tapestry weaver that my heart would have, for I have seen the most
+beautiful youths of my country since I came forth upon my quest._
+
+_"Some one, perchance," mused the Lady Elaine, "whose beauty my eyes alone
+should perceive, whose valour only I should guess before there was need to
+test it. Some one great of heart and clean of mind, in whose eyes there
+should never be that which makes a woman ashamed. Some one fine-fibred and
+strong-souled, not above tenderness when a maid was tired. One who should
+make a shield of his love, to keep her not only from the great hurts but
+from the little ones as well, and yet with whom she might fare onward,
+shoulder to shoulder, as God meant mates should fare._
+
+_"Surely 'tis not so unusual, this thing that I ask--only an honest man
+with human faults and human virtues, transfigured by a great love. And why
+is it that in this quest of mine, I have found him not?"_
+
+_"Princess," said a voice at her doorway, "thou art surely still awake.
+The storm is lessening and there is naught to fear. I pray thee, try to
+sleep. And if there is aught I can do for thee, thou knowest thou hast
+only to speak."_
+
+_From the warm darkness where she lay, Elaine saw his face with the
+firelight upon it, and all at once she knew._
+
+_"There is naught," she answered, with what he thought was coldness. "I
+bid thee leave me and take thine own rest."_
+
+_"As thou wilt," he responded, submissively, but though the sound was now
+faint and far away, she still could hear him walking back and forth,
+keeping his unremitting guard._
+
+_So it was that at last Love came to the Lady Elaine. She had dreamed of
+some fair stranger, into whose eyes she should look and instantly know him
+for her lord, never guessing that her lord had gone with her when she left
+the Castle of Content. There was none of those leaps of the heart of which
+one of the maids at the Castle had read from the books while the others
+worked at the tapestry frames. It was nothing new, but only a light upon
+something which had always been, and which, because of her own blindness,
+she had not seen._
+
+_All through this foolish journey, Love had ridden beside the Lady Elaine,
+asking nothing but the privilege of serving her; demanding only the right
+to give, to sacrifice, to shield. And at last she knew._
+
+_The doubting in her heart was for ever stilled and in its place was a
+great peace. There was an unspeakable tenderness and a measureless
+compassion, so wide and so deep that it sheltered all the world. For,
+strangely enough, the love of the many comes first through the love of the
+one._
+
+_The Lady Elaine did not need to ask whether he loved her, for,
+unerringly, she knew. Mated past all power of change, they two were one
+henceforward, though seas should roll between. Mated through suffering as
+well, for, in this new bond, as the Lady Elaine dimly perceived, there was
+great possibility of hurt. Yet there was no end or no beginning; it simply
+was, and at last she knew._
+
+_At length, she slept. When she awoke the morning was fair upon the
+mountains, but still he paced back and forth before her door. Rising, she
+bathed her face in the cool water he had brought her, braided her glorious
+golden hair, changed her soiled habit for a fresh robe of white satin
+traced with gold, donned her red embroidered slippers, and stepped out
+into the sunrise, shading her eyes with her hand until they grew
+accustomed to the dawn._
+
+_"Good morrow, Princess," he said. "We----"_
+
+_Of a sudden, he stopped and fled like a wild thing into the forest, for
+by her eyes, he saw what was in her heart, and his hot words, struggling
+for utterance, choked him. "At last," he breathed, with his clenched hands
+on his breast; "at last--but no, 'tis another dream of mine that I dare
+not believe."_
+
+_His senses reeled, for love comes not to a man as to a woman, but rather
+with the sound of trumpets and the glare of white light. The cloistered
+peace that fills her soul rests seldom upon him, and instead he is stirred
+with high ambition and spurred on to glorious achievement. For to her,
+love is the end of life; to him it is the means._
+
+_The knights thought it but another caprice when the Lady Elaine gave
+orders to return to the Castle of Content, at once, and by the shortest
+way--all save one of them. With his heart rioting madly through his
+breast, he knew, but he did not dare to look at Elaine. He was as one long
+blinded, who suddenly sees the sun._
+
+_So it was that though he still served her, he rode no longer by her side,
+and Elaine, hurt at first, at length understood, and smiled because of her
+understanding. All the way back, the Lady Elaine sang little songs to
+herself, and, the while she rode upon her palfrey, touched her zither into
+gentle harmonies. After many days, they came within sight of the Castle of
+Content._
+
+_As before, it was sunset, and the long light lay upon the hills, while
+the valley was in shadow. Purple were the  vineyards, heavy with their
+clustered treasure, over which the tiny weavers had made their lace, and
+purple, too, were the many-spired cliffs, behind which the sunset shone._
+
+_A courier, riding swiftly in advance, had apprised the Lord of the Castle
+of Content of the return of the Lady Elaine, and the maids from the
+tapestry room, and the keeper of the wine-cellar, and the stable-boys, and
+the candle-makers, and the light-bearers all rushed out, heedless of their
+manners, for, one and all, they loved the Lady Elaine, and were eager to
+behold their beautiful mistress again._
+
+_But the Lord of the Castle of Content, speaking somewhat sternly, ordered
+them one and all back to their places, and, shamefacedly, they obeyed. "I
+would not be selfish," he muttered to himself, "but surely, Elaine is
+mine, and the first gleam of her beauty belongs of right to these misty
+old eyes of mine, that have long strained across the dark for the first
+hint of her coming. Of a truth her quest has been long."_
+
+_So it came to pass that when the company reached the road that led down
+into the valley, the Lord of the Castle of Content was on the portico
+alone, though he could not have known that behind every shuttered window
+of the Castle, a humble servitor of Elaine's was waiting anxiously for her
+coming._
+
+_As before, Elaine rode at the head, waving her hand to her father, while
+the cymbals and the bugles crashed out a welcome. She could not see, but
+she guessed that he was there, and in return he waved a tremulous hand at
+her, though well he knew that in the fast gathering twilight, the child of
+his heart could not see the one who awaited her._
+
+_One by one, as they came in single file down the precipice, the old man
+counted them, much astonished to see that there was no new member of the
+company--that as many were coming back as had gone away. For the moment
+his heart was glad, then he reproached himself bitterly for his
+selfishness, and was truthfully most tender toward Elaine, because she had
+failed upon her quest._
+
+_The light gleamed capriciously upon the bauble of the fool, which he
+still carried, though now it hung downward from his saddle, foolishly
+enough. "A most merry fool," said the Lord of Content to himself. "I was
+wise to insist upon his accompanying this wayward child of mine."_
+
+_Wayward she might be, yet her father's eyes were dim when she came down
+into the valley, where there was no light save the evening star, a taper
+light at an upper window of the Castle, and her illumined face._
+
+_"How hast thou fared upon thy quest, Elaine?" he asked in trembling
+tones, when at last she released herself from his eager embrace. He
+dreaded to hear her make known her disappointment, yet his sorrow was all
+for her, and not in the least for himself._
+
+_"I have found him, father," she said, the gladness in her voice betraying
+itself as surely as the music in a stream when Spring sets it free again,
+"and, forsooth, he rode with me all the time."_
+
+_"Which knight hast thou chosen, Elaine?" he asked, a little sadly._
+
+_"No knight at all, dear father. I have found my knight in stranger guise
+than in armour and shield. He bears no lance, save for those who would
+injure me." And then, she beckoned to the fool._
+
+_"He is here, my father," she went on, her great love making her all
+unconscious of the shame she should feel._
+
+_"Elaine!" thundered her father, while the fool hung his head, "hast thou
+taken leave of thy senses? Of a truth, this is a sorry jest thou hast
+chosen to greet me with on thy return."_
+
+_"Father," said Elaine, made bold by the silent pressure of the hand that
+secretly clasped hers, "'tis no jest. If thou art pained, indeed I am
+sorry, but if thou choosest to banish me, then this night will I go gladly
+with him I have chosen to be my lord. The true heart which Heaven has sent
+for me beats beneath his motley, and with him I must go. Dear father,"
+cried Elaine, piteously, "do not send us away!"_
+
+_The stern eyes of the Lord of the Castle of Content were fixed upon the
+fool, and in the gathering darkness they gleamed like live coals. "And
+thou," he said, scornfully; "what hast thou to say?"_
+
+_"Only this," answered the fool; "that the Princess has spoken truly. We
+are mated by a higher law than that of thy land or mine, and 'tis this law
+that we must obey. If thou sayest the word, we will set forth to my
+country this very night, though we are both weary with much journeying."_
+
+_"Thy land," said the Lord of the Castle, with measureless contempt, "and
+what land hast thou? Even the six feet of ground thou needest for a grave
+must be given thee at the last, unless, perchance, thou hast a handful of
+stolen earth hidden somewhere among thy other jewels!"_
+
+_"Your lordship," cried the fool, with a clear ring in his voice, "thou
+shall not speak so to the man who is to wed thy daughter. I had not
+thought to tell even her till after the priests had made us one, but for
+our own protection, I am stung into speech._
+
+_"Know then, that I am no fool, but a Prince of the House of Bernard. My
+acres and my vineyards cover five times the space of this little realm of
+thine. Chests of gold and jewels I have, storehouses overflowing with
+grain and fine fabrics, three castles and a royal retinue. Of a truth,
+thou art blind since thou canst see naught but the raiment. May not a
+Prince wear motley if he chooses, thus to find a maid who will love him
+for himself alone?"_
+
+_"Prince Bernard," muttered the Lord of Content, "the son of my old
+friend, whom I have long dreamed in secret shouldst wed my dear daughter
+Elaine! Your Highness, I beg you to forgive me, and to take my hand."_
+
+_But Prince Bernard did not hear, nor see the outstretched hand, for
+Elaine was in his arms for the first time, her sweet lips close on his.
+"My Prince, oh my Prince," she murmured, when at length he set her free;
+"my eyes could not see, but my heart knew!"_
+
+_So ended the Quest of the Lady Elaine._
+
+With a sigh, Harlan wrote the last words and pushed the paper from him,
+staring blankly at the wall and seeing nothing. His labour was at an end,
+all save the final copying, and the painstaking daily revision which would
+take weeks longer. The exaltation he had expected to be conscious of was
+utterly absent; instead of it, he had a sense of loss, of change.
+
+His surroundings seemed hopelessly sordid and ugly, now that the glow was
+gone. All unknowingly, when Harlan pencilled: "The End," in fanciful
+letters at the bottom of the last page, he had had practically his last
+joy of his book. The torturing process of revision was to take all the
+life out of it. Sentences born of surging emotion would seem vapid and
+foolish when subjected to the cold, critical eye of his reason, yet he
+knew, dimly, that he must not change it too much.
+
+"I'll let it get cool," he thought, "before I do anything more to it."
+
+Yet, now, it was difficult to stop working. The rented typewriter, with
+its enticing bank of keys, was close at hand. A thousand sheets of paper
+and a box of carbon waited in the drawer of Uncle Ebeneezer's desk. His
+worn _Thesaurus of English Words and Phrases_ was at his elbow. And they
+were poor. Then Harlan laughed, for they were no longer poor, and he had
+wholly forgotten it.
+
+There was a step upon the porch outside, then Dorothy came into the hall.
+She paused outside the library door for a moment, ostensibly to tie her
+shoe, but in reality to listen. A wave of remorseful tenderness
+overwhelmed Harlan and he unlocked the door. "Come in," he said, smiling.
+"You needn't be afraid to come in any more. The book is all done."
+
+"O Harlan, is it truly done?" There was no gladness in her voice, only
+relief. Doubt was in every intonation of her sentence; incredulity in
+every line of her body.
+
+With this pitiless new insight of his, Harlan saw how she had felt for
+these last weeks and became very tenderly anxious not to hurt her; to
+shield his transformed self from her quick understanding.
+
+"Really," he answered. "Have I been a beast, Dorothy?"
+
+The question was so like the boy she used to know that her heart leaped
+wildly, then became portentously still.
+
+"Rather," she admitted, grudgingly, from the shelter of his arms.
+
+"I'm sorry. If you say so, I'll burn it. Nothing is coming between you and
+me." The words sounded hollow and meaningless, as he knew they were.
+
+She put her hand over his mouth. "You won't do any such thing," she said.
+Dorothy had learned the bitterness of the woman's part, to stand by,
+utterly lonely, and dream, and wait, while men achieve.
+
+"Can I read it now?" she asked, timidly.
+
+"You couldn't make it out, Dorothy. When it's all done, and every word is
+just as I want it, I'll read it to you. That will be better, won't it?"
+
+"Can Dick come, too?" She asked the question thoughtlessly, then flushed
+as Harlan took her face between his hands.
+
+"Dorothy, did you know Dick before we were married?"
+
+"Why, Harlan! I never saw him in all my life till the day he came here.
+Did you think I had?"
+
+Harlan only grunted, but she understood, and, in return, asked her
+question. "Did you write the book about Elaine?" she began, half ashamed.
+
+"Dear little idiot," said Harlan, softly. "I'd begun the book before she
+came or before I knew she was coming. I never saw her till she came to
+live with us. You're foolish, dearest, don't you think you are?"
+
+He was swiftly perceiving the necessity of creating a new harmony to take
+the place of that old one, now so strangely lost.
+
+"There are two of us," returned Dorothy, with conviction, wiping her
+eyes.
+
+"I wish you'd ask me things," said Harlan, a little later. "I'm no mind
+reader. And, besides, the seventh son of a seventh son, born with a caul,
+and having three trances regularly every day after meals, never could hope
+to understand a woman unless she was willing to help him out a little,
+occasionally."
+
+Which, after all, was more or less true.
+
+
+
+
+XVIII
+
+Uncle Ebeneezer's Diary
+
+
+Harlan had taken his work upstairs, that the ceaseless clatter of the
+typewriter might not add to the confusion which normally prevailed in the
+Jack-o'-Lantern. Thus it happened that Dorothy was able to begin her
+long-cherished project of dusting, rearranging, and cataloguing the
+books.
+
+There is a fine spiritual essence which exhales from the covers of a book.
+Shall one touch a copy of Shakespeare with other than reverent hands, or
+take up his Boswell without a smile? Through the worn covers and broken
+binding the master-spirit still speaks, no less than through the centuries
+which lie between. The man who had the wishing carpet, upon which he sat
+and wished and was thence immediately transported to the ends of the
+earth, was not possessed of a finer magic than one who takes his Boswell
+in his hands and then, for a golden quarter of an hour, lives in a bygone
+London with Doctor Johnson.
+
+When the book-lover enters his library, no matter what storm and tumult
+may be in his heart, he has come to the inmost chamber of Peace. The
+indescribable, musty odour which breathes from the printed page is
+fragrant incense to him who loves his books. In unseemly caskets his
+treasures may be hidden, yet, when the cover is reverently lifted, the
+jewels shine with no fading light. The old, immortal beauty is still
+there, for any one who seeks it in the right way.
+
+Dorothy had two willing assistants in Dick and Elaine. One morning,
+immediately after breakfast, the three went to the library and locked the
+door. Outside, the twins rioted unheeded and the perennially joyous Willie
+capered unceasingly. Mr. Perkins, gloomy and morose, wrote reams of poetry
+in his own room, distressed beyond measure by the rumble of the
+typewriter, but too much cast down to demand that it be stopped.
+
+Mrs. Dodd and Mrs. Holmes, closely united through misfortune, were
+well-nigh inseparable now, while Mrs. Smithers, still sepulchral, sang
+continually in a loud, cracked voice, never by any chance happening upon
+the right note. As Dorothy said, when there are only eight tones in the
+octave, it would seem that sometime, somewhere, a warbler must coincide
+for a brief interval with the tune, but as Dick further commented,
+industry and patience can do wonders when rightly exercised.
+
+Uncle Israel's midnight excursion to the orchard had given him a fresh
+attack of a familiar and distressing ailment to which he always alluded as
+"the brown kittys." Fortunately, however, the cure for asthma and
+bronchitis was contained in the same quart bottle, and needed only to be
+heated in order to work upon both diseases simultaneously.
+
+Elaine rolled up the sleeves of her white shirt-waist, and turned in her
+collar, thereby producing an effect which Dick privately considered
+distractingly pretty. Dorothy was enveloped from head to foot in a
+voluminous blue gingham apron, and a dust cap, airily poised upon her
+smooth brown hair, completed a most becoming costume. Dick, having duly
+obtained permission, took off his coat and put on his hat, after which the
+library force was ready for action.
+
+"First," said Dorothy, "we'll take down all the books." It sounded simple,
+but it took a good share of the day to do it, and the clouds of dust
+disturbed by the process produced sneezes which put Uncle Israel's feeble
+efforts to shame. When dusting the shelves, after they were empty, Elaine
+came upon a panel in the wall which slid back.
+
+"Here's a secret drawer!" she cried, in wild delight. "How perfectly
+lovely! Do you suppose there's anything in it?"
+
+Dorothy instantly thought of money and diamonds, but the concealed
+treasure proved to be merely a book. It was a respectable volume, however,
+at least as far as size was concerned, for Elaine and Dorothy together
+could scarcely lift it.
+
+It was a leather-bound ledger, of the most ponderous kind, and was
+fastened with a lock and key. The key, of course, was missing, but Dick
+soon pried open the fastening.
+
+All but the last few pages in the book were covered with fine writing, in
+ink which was brown and faded, but still legible. It was Uncle Ebeneezer's
+penmanship throughout, except for a few entries at the beginning, in a
+fine, flowing feminine hand, which Dorothy instantly knew was Aunt
+Rebecca's.
+
+"On the night of our wedding," the book began, "we begin this record of
+our lives, for until to-day we have not truly lived." This was signed by
+both. Then, in the woman's hand, was written a description of her
+wedding-gown, which was a simple white muslin, made by herself. Her
+ornaments were set down briefly--only a wreath of roses in her hair, a
+string of coral beads, and the diamond brooch which was at that moment in
+Dorothy's jewel-box.
+
+For three weeks there were alternate entries, then suddenly, without date,
+were two words so badly written as to be scarcely readable: "She died."
+For days thereafter was only this: "I cannot write." These simple words
+were the key to a world of pain, for the pages were blistered with a man's
+hot tears.
+
+Then came this: "She would want me to go on writing it, so I will, though
+I have no heart for it."
+
+From thence onward the book proceeded without interruption, a minute and
+faithful record of the man's inner life. Long extracts copied from books
+filled page after page of this strange diary, interspersed with records of
+business transactions, of letters received and answered, of wages paid,
+and of the visits of Jeremiah Bradford.
+
+"We talked long to-night upon the immortality of the soul," one entry ran.
+"Jeremiah does not believe it, but I must--or die."
+
+Dick soon lost interest in the book, and finding solitary toil at the
+shelves uncongenial, went out, whistling. Elaine and Dorothy read on
+together, scarcely noting his absence.
+
+The book had begun in the Spring. Early in June was chronicled the arrival
+of "a woman calling herself Cousin Elmira, blood relation of my Rebecca.
+Was not aware my Rebecca had a blood relation named Elmira, but there is
+much in the world that I do not know."
+
+According to the diary, Cousin Elmira had remained six weeks and had
+greatly distressed her unwilling host. "Women are peculiar," Uncle
+Ebeneezer had written, "all being possessed of the devil, except my
+sainted Rebecca, who was an angel if there ever was one.
+
+"Cousin Elmira is a curious woman. To-day she desired to know what had
+become of my Rebecca's wedding garments, her linen sheets and
+table-cloths. Answered that I did not know, and immediately put a lock
+upon the chest containing them. Have always been truthful up to now, but
+Rebecca would not desire to have any blood relation handling her sheets.
+Of this I am sure.
+
+"Aug. 9. To-day came Cousin Silas Martin and his wife to spend their
+honeymoon. Much grieved to hear of Rebecca's death. Said she had invited
+them to spend their honeymoon with her when they married. Did not know of
+this, but our happiness was of such short duration that my Rebecca did not
+have time to tell me of all her wishes. Company is very hard to bear, but
+I would do much for my Rebecca.
+
+"Aug. 10. This world can never be perfect under any circumstances, and
+trials are the common lot of humanity. We must all endeavour to bear up
+under affliction. Sarah Smithers is a good woman, most faithful, and does
+not talk a great deal, considering her sex. Not intending any reflection
+upon my Rebecca, whose sweet voice I could never hear too often.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Aug. 20. Came Uncle Israel Skiles with a bad cough. Thinks the air of
+Judson Centre must be considered healthy as they are to build a sanitarium
+here. Did not know of the sanitarium.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Aug. 22. Came Cousin Betsey Skiles to look after Uncle Israel. Uncle
+Israel not desiring to be looked after has produced some disturbance in my
+house.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Aug. 23. Cousin Betsey Skiles and Cousin Jane Wood, the latter arriving
+unexpectedly this morning, have fought, and Cousin Jane has gone away
+again. Had never met Cousin Jane Wood.
+
+"Aug. 24. Was set upon by Cousin Silas Martin, demanding to know whether
+his wife was to be insulted by Cousin Betsey Skiles. Answered that I did
+not know.
+
+"Aug. 25. Was obliged to settle a dispute between Sarah Smithers and
+Cousin Betsey Skiles. Decided in favour of S. S., thereby angering B. S.
+Uncle Israel accidentally spilled his tonic on Cousin Betsey's clean
+apron. Much disturbance in my house.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Aug. 28. Cousin Silas Martin and wife went away, telling me they could no
+longer live with Cousin Betsey Skiles. B. S. is unpleasant, but has her
+virtues.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Sept. 5. Uncle Israel thinks air of Judson Centre is now too chilly for
+his cough. Does not like his bed, considering it drafty. Says Sarah
+Smithers does not give him nourishing food.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Sept. 8. Uncle Israel has gone.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Sept. 10. Cousin Betsey Skiles has gone to continue looking after Uncle
+Israel. Sarah Smithers and myself now alone in peace.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+All that Winter, the writing was of books, interspersed with occasional
+business details. In the Spring, the influx of blood relations began again
+and continued until Fall. The diary revealed the gradual transformation of
+a sunny disposition into a dark one, of a man with gregarious instincts
+into a wild beast asking only for solitude. Additions to the house were
+chronicled from time to time, with now and then a pathetic comment upon
+the futility of the additions.
+
+Once there was this item: "Would go away for ever were it not that this
+was my Rebecca's home. Where we had hoped to be so happy, there is now a
+great emptiness and unnumbered Relations. How shall I endure Relations?
+Still they are all of her blood, though the most gentle blood does seem to
+take strange turns."
+
+Again: "Do not think my Rebecca would desire to have all her kin visit her
+at once. Still, would do anything for my Rebecca. Have ordered five more
+beds."
+
+As the years went by, the bitterness became more and more apparent. Long
+before the end, the record was frankly profane, and saddest of all was the
+evidence that under the stress of annoyance the great love for "my
+Rebecca" was slowly, but surely, becoming tainted. From simple profanity,
+Uncle Ebeneezer descended into blasphemous comment, modified at times by
+remorseful tenderness toward the dead.
+
+"To-day," he wrote, "under pressure of my questioning, Sister-in-law Fanny
+Wood admitted that Rebecca had never invited her to come and see her.
+Asked Sister-in-law why she was here. Responded that Rebecca would have
+asked her if she had lived. Perhaps others have surmised the same. Fear of
+late I may have been unjust to my Rebecca."
+
+Later on, "my Rebecca" was mentioned but rarely. She became "my dear
+companion," "my wife," or "my partner." The building of wings and the
+purchase of additional beds by this time had become a permanent feature,
+though, as the writer admitted, it was "a roundabout way."
+
+"The easiest way would be to turn all out. Forgetting my duty to the
+memory of my dear companion, and sore pressed by many annoyances, did turn
+out Cousin Betsey Skiles, who forgave me for it without being so
+requested, and remained.
+
+"Trains to Judson Centre," he wrote, at one time, "have been most
+grievously changed. One arrives just after breakfast, the other at three
+in the morning. Do not understand why this is, and anticipate new trouble
+from it."
+
+The entries farther on were full of "trouble," being minute and intimate
+portrayals of the emotions of one roused from sleep at three in the
+morning to admit undesired guests, interlarded with pardonable profanity.
+"Seems that house might be altered in some way, but do not know. Will
+consult with Jeremiah."
+
+After this came the record of an interview with the village carpenter, and
+rough sketches of proposed alterations. "Putting in new window in middle
+and making two upper windows round instead of square, with new
+porch-railing and two new narrow windows downstairs will do it. House
+fortunately planned by original architect for such alteration. Taking down
+curtains and keeping lights in windows nights should have some effect,
+though much doubt whether anything would affect Relations."
+
+Soon afterward the oppressed one chronicled with great glee how a lone
+female, arriving on the night train, was found half-dead from fright by
+the roadside in the morning. "House _is_ fearsome," wrote Uncle Ebeneezer,
+with evident relish. "Have been to Jeremiah's of an evening and,
+returning, found it wonderful to behold."
+
+Presently, Dorothy came to an intimate analysis of some of the uninvited
+ones at present under her roof. The poet was given a full page of scathing
+comment, illustrated by rude caricatures, which were so suggestive that
+even Elaine thoroughly enjoyed them.
+
+Pleased with his contribution to literature, Uncle Ebeneezer had written a
+long and keenly comprehensive essay upon each relation. These bits of
+vivid portraiture were numbered in this way: "Relation Number 8, Miss
+Betsey Skiles, Claiming to be Cousin." At the end of this series was a
+very beautiful tribute to "My Dearly Beloved Nephew, James Harlan Carr,
+Who Has Never Come to See Me."
+
+Frequently, thereafter, came pathetic references to "Dear Nephew James,"
+"Unknown Recipient of an Old Man's Gratitude," "Discerning and Admirable
+James," and so on.
+
+One entry ran as follows: "Have been approached this season by each
+Relation present in regard to disposal of my estate. Will fix surprise for
+all Relations before leaving to join my wife. Shall leave money to every
+one, though perhaps not as much as each expects. Jeremiah advises me to
+leave something to each. Laws are such, I believe, that no one remembered
+can claim more. Desire to be just, but strongly incline to dear Nephew
+James."
+
+On the last page of all was a significant paragraph. "Dreamed of seeing my
+Rebecca once more, who told me we should be together again April 7th.
+Shall make all arrangements for leaving on that day, and prepare Surprises
+spoken of. Shall be very quiet in my grave with no Relations at hand, but
+should like to hear and see effect of Surprise. Jeremiah will attend."
+
+The last lines were written on April sixth. "To-morrow I shall join my
+loved Rebecca and leave all Relations here to fight by themselves. Do not
+fear Death, but shudder at Relations. Relations keep life from being
+pleasant. Did not know my Rebecca was possessed of such numbers nor of
+such kinds, but forgive her all. Shall see her to-morrow."
+
+Then, on the line below, in a hand that did not falter, was written: "The
+End."
+
+Dorothy wiped her eyes on a corner of Elaine's apron, for Uncle Ebeneezer
+had been found dead in his bed on the morning of April seventh. "Elaine,"
+she said, "what would you do?"
+
+"Do?" repeated Elaine. "I'd strike one blow for poor old Uncle Ebeneezer!
+I'd order every single one of them out of the house to-morrow!"
+
+"To-night!" cried Dorothy, fired with high resolve. "I'll do it this very
+night! Poor old Uncle Ebeneezer! Our sufferings have been nothing,
+compared to his."
+
+"Are you going to tell Mr. Carr?" asked Elaine, wonderingly.
+
+"Tell him nothing," rejoined Dorothy, with spirit. "He's got some old fogy
+notions about your house being a sacred spot where everybody in creation
+can impose on you if they want to, just because it is your house. I
+suppose he got it by being related to poor old uncle."
+
+"Do I have to go, too?" queried Elaine, rubbing her soft cheek against
+Dorothy's.
+
+"Not much," answered Mrs. Carr, with a sisterly embrace. "You'll stay, and
+Dick 'll stay, and that old tombstone in the kitchen will stay, and so
+will Claudius Tiberius, but the rest--MOVE!"
+
+Consequently, Elaine looked forward to the dinner-hour with mixed
+anticipations. Mr. Perkins, Uncle Israel, Mrs. Dodd, and Mrs. Holmes each
+found a note under their plates when they sat down. Uncle Israel's face
+relaxed into an expression of childlike joy when he found the envelope
+addressed to him. "Valentine, I reckon," he said, "or mebbe it's sunthin'
+from Santa Claus."
+
+"Queer acting for Santa Claus," snorted Mrs. Holmes, who had swiftly torn
+open her note. "Here we are, all ordered away from what's been our home
+for years, by some upstart relations who never saw poor, dear uncle. Are
+you going to keep boarders?" she asked, insolently, turning to Dorothy.
+
+"No longer," returned that young woman, imperturbably. "I have done it
+just as long as I intend to."
+
+Harlan was gazing curiously at Dorothy, but she avoided his eyes, and
+continued to eat as though nothing had happened. Dick, guessing rightly,
+choked, and had to be excused. Elaine's cheeks were flushed and her eyes
+sparkled, the flush deepening when Mrs. Dodd inquired where _her_
+valentine was. Mr. Perkins was openly dejected, and Mrs. Dodd, receiving
+no answer to her question, compressed her thin lips into a forced
+silence.
+
+But Uncle Israel was moved to protesting speech. "'T is queer doin's for
+Santa Claus," he mumbled, pouring out a double dose of his nerve tonic.
+"'T ain't such a thing as he'd do, even if he was drunk. Turnin' a poor
+old man outdoor, what ain't got no place to go exceptin' to Betsey's, an'
+nobody can't live with Betsey. She's all the time mad at herself on
+account of bein' obliged to live with such a woman as she be. Summers I've
+allers stayed here an' never made no trouble. I've cooked my own food an'
+brought most of it, an' provided all my own medicines, an' even took my
+bed with me, goin' an' comin'. Ebeneezer's beds is all terrible drafty--I
+took two colds to once sleepin' in one of 'em--an' at my time of life 't
+ain't proper to change beds. Sleepin' in a drafty bed would undo all the
+good of bein' near the sanitarium. Most likely I'll have a fever or
+sunthin' now an' die."
+
+"Shut up, Israel," said Mrs. Dodd, abruptly. "You ain't goin' to die. It
+wouldn't surprise me none if you had to be shot on the Day of Judgment
+before you could be resurrected. Folks past ninety-five that's pickled in
+patent medicine from the inside out, ain't goin' to die of no fever."
+
+"Ninety-six, Belinda," said the old man, proudly. "I'll be ninety-six next
+week, an' I'm as young as I ever was."
+
+"Then," rejoined Mrs. Dodd, tartly, "what you want to look out for is
+measles an' chicken-pox, to say nothin' of croup."
+
+"Come, Gladys Gwendolen and Algernon Paul," interrupted Mrs. Holmes, in a
+high key; "we must go and pack now, to go away from dear uncle's. Dear
+uncle is dead, you know, and can't help his dear ones being ordered out of
+his house by upstarts."
+
+"What's a upstart, ma?" inquired Willie.
+
+"People who turn their dead uncle's relations out of his house in order to
+take boarders," returned Mrs. Holmes, clearly.
+
+"Mis' Carr," said Mrs. Dodd, sliding up into Dick's vacant place, "have I
+understood that you want me to go away to-morrow?"
+
+"Everybody is going away to-morrow," returned Dorothy, coldly.
+
+"After all I've done for you?" persisted Mrs. Dodd.
+
+"What have you done for me?" parried Dorothy, with a pleading look at
+Elaine.
+
+"Kep' the others away," returned Mrs. Dodd, significantly.
+
+"Uncle Ebeneezer does not want any of you here," said Dorothy, after a
+painful silence. The impression made by the diary was so vividly present
+with her that she felt as though she were delivering an actual message.
+
+Much to her surprise, Mrs. Dodd paled and left the room hastily. Uncle
+Israel tottered after her, leaving his predigested food untouched on his
+plate and his imitation coffee steaming malodorously in his cup. Mr.
+Perkins bowed his head upon his hands for a moment; then, with a sigh,
+lightly dropped out of the open window. The name of Uncle Ebeneezer seemed
+to be one to conjure with.
+
+"Dorothy," said Harlan, "might an obedient husband modestly inquire what
+you have done?"
+
+"Elaine and I found Uncle Ebeneezer's diary to-day," explained Dorothy,
+"and the poor old soul was nagged all his life by relatives. So, in
+gratitude for what he's done for us, I've turned 'em out. I know he'd like
+to have me do it."
+
+Harlan left his place and came to Dorothy, where, bending over her chair,
+he kissed her tenderly. "Good girl," he said, patting her shoulder. "Why
+in thunder didn't you do it months ago?"
+
+"Isn't that just like a man?" asked Dorothy, gazing after his retreating
+figure.
+
+"I don't know," answered Elaine, with a pretty blush, "but I guess it
+is."
+
+
+
+
+XIX
+
+Various Departures
+
+
+"Algernon Paul," called Mrs. Holmes, shrilly, "let the kitty alone!"
+
+Every one else on the premises heard the command, but "Algernon Paul,"
+perhaps because he was not yet fully accustomed to his new name, continued
+forcing Claudius Tiberius to walk about on his fore feet, the rest of him
+being held uncomfortably in the air by the guiding influence.
+
+"Algernon!" The voice was so close this time that the cat was freed by his
+persecutor's violent start. Seeing that it was only his mother, Algernon
+Paul attempted to recover his treasure again, and was badly scratched by
+that selfsame treasure. Whereupon Mrs. Holmes soundly cuffed Claudius
+Tiberius "for scratching dear little Ebbie, I mean Algernon Paul," and
+received a bite or two on her own account.
+
+"Come, Ebbie, dear," she continued, "we are going now. We have been driven
+away from dear uncle's. Where is sister?"
+
+"Sister" was discovered in the forbidden Paradise of the chicken-coop, and
+dragged out, howling. Willie, not desiring to leave "dear uncle's," was
+forcibly retrieved by Dick from the roof of the barn.
+
+Mr. Harold Vernon Perkins had silently disappeared in the night, but no
+one feared foul play. "He'll be waitin' at the train, I reckon," said Mrs.
+Dodd, "an' most likely composin' a poem on 'Departure' or else breathin'
+into a tube to see if he's mad."
+
+She had taken her dismissal very calmly after the first shock. "A woman
+what's been married seven times, same as I be," she explained to Dorothy,
+"gets used to bein' moved around from place to place. My sixth husband had
+the movin' habit terrible. No sooner would we get settled nice an'
+comfortable in a place, an' I got enough acquainted to borrow sugar an'
+tea an' molasses from my new neighbours, than Thomas would decide to move,
+an' more 'n likely, it'd be to some new town where there was a great
+openin' in some new business that he'd never tried his hand at yet.
+
+"My dear, I've been the wife of a undertaker, a livery-stable keeper, a
+patent medicine man, a grocer, a butcher, a farmer, an' a justice of the
+peace, all in one an' the same marriage. Seems 's if there wa'n't no
+business Thomas couldn't feel to turn his hand to, an' he knowed how they
+all ought to be run. If anybody was makin' a failure of anythin', Thomas
+knowed just why it was failin' an' I must say he ought to know, too, for I
+never see no more steady failer than Thomas.
+
+"They say a rollin' stone never gets no moss on it, but it gets worn
+terrible smooth, an' by the time I 'd moved to eight or ten different
+towns an' got as many as 'leven houses all fixed up, the corners was all
+broke off 'n me as well as off 'n the furniture. My third husband left me
+well provided with furniture, but when I went to my seventh altar, I
+didn't have nothin' left but a soap box an' half a red blanket, on account
+of havin' moved around so much.
+
+"I got so's I'd never unpack all the things in any one place, but keep 'em
+in their dry-goods boxes an' barrels nice an' handy to go on again. When
+the movin' fit come on Thomas, I was always in such light marchin' order
+that I could go on a day's notice, an' that's the way we usually went. I
+told him once it'd be easier an' cheaper to fit up a prairie schooner such
+as they used to cross the plains in, an' then when we wanted to move, all
+we'd have to do would be to put a dipper of water on the fire an' tell the
+mules to get ap, but it riled him so terrible that I never said nothin'
+about it again, though all through my sixth marriage, it seemed a dretful
+likely notion.
+
+"A woman with much marryin' experience soon learns not to rile a husband
+when 't ain't necessary. Sometimes I think the poor creeters has enough to
+contend with outside without bein' obliged to fight at home, though it
+does beat all, my dear, what a terrible exertion 't is for most men to
+earn a livin'. None of my husbands was ever obliged to fight at home an' I
+take great comfort thinkin' how peaceful they all was when they was livin'
+with me, an' how peaceful they all be now, though I think it's more 'n
+likely that Thomas is a-sufferin' because he can't move no more at
+present."
+
+Her monologue was interrupted by the arrival of the stage, which Harlan
+had gladly ordered. Mrs. Holmes and the children climbed into it without
+vouchsafing a word to anybody, but Mrs. Dodd shook hands all around and
+would have kissed both Dorothy and Elaine had they not dodged the caress.
+
+"Remember, my dear," said Mrs. Dodd to Dorothy; "I don't bear you no
+grudge, though I never was turned out of no place before. It's all in a
+lifetime, the same as marryin', and if I should ever marry again an' have
+a home of my own to invite you to, you an' your husband'll be welcome to
+come and stay with me as long as I've stayed with you, or longer, if you
+felt 'twas pleasant, an' I'd try to make it so."
+
+The kindly speech made Dorothy very much ashamed of herself, though she
+did not know exactly why, and Gladys Gwendolen, with a cherubic smile,
+leaned out of the stage window and waved a chubby hand, saying: "Bye bye!"
+Mrs. Holmes alone seemed hard and unforgiving, as she sat sternly upright,
+looking neither to the right nor the left.
+
+"Rather unusual, isn't it?" whispered Elaine, as the ponderous vehicle
+turned into the yard, "to see so many of one's friends going on the stage
+at once?"
+
+"Not at all," chuckled Dick. "Everybody goes on the stage when they leave
+the Carrs."
+
+"Good bye, Belinda," yelled Uncle Israel, putting his flannel bandaged
+head out of one of the round upper windows. He had climbed up on a chair
+to do it. "I don't reckon I'll ever hear from you again exceptin' where
+Lazarus heard from the rich man!"
+
+"Don't let that trouble you, Israel," shrieked Mrs. Dodd, piercingly. "I
+take it the rich man was diggin' for eight cents in Satan's orchard, an'
+didn't have no time to look up his friends."
+
+The rejoinder seemed not to affect Uncle Israel, but it sent Dick into a
+spasm of merriment from which he recovered only when Harlan pounded him on
+the back.
+
+"Come on," said Harlan, "it's not time to laugh yet. We've got to pack
+Uncle Israel's bed."
+
+Uncle Israel was going on the afternoon train, and in another direction.
+He sat on his trunk and issued minute instructions, occasionally having
+the whole thing taken apart to be put together in a different kind of a
+parcel. As an especial favour, Dick was allowed to crate the bath cabinet,
+though as a rule, no profane hands were permitted to touch this instrument
+of health. Uncle Israel himself arranged his bottles, and boxes, and
+powders; a hand-satchel containing his medicines for the journey and the
+night.
+
+"I reckon," he said, "if I take a double dose of my pain-killer, this
+noon, an' a double dose of my nerve tonic just before I get on the cars, I
+c'n get along with these few remedies till I get to Betsey's, where I'll
+have to take a full course of treatment to pay for all this travellin'.
+The pain-killer bottle an' the nerve tonic bottle is both dretful heavy,
+in spite of bein' only half full."
+
+"How would it do," suggested Harlan, kindly, "to pour the nerve tonic into
+the pain-killer, and then you'd have only one bottle to carry. You mix
+them inside, anyway."
+
+"You seem real intelligent, nephew," quavered Uncle Israel. "I never
+knowed I had no such smart relations. As you say, I mix 'em in my system
+anyway, an' it can't do no harm to do it in the bottle first."
+
+No sooner said than done, but, strangely enough, the mixture turned a
+vivid emerald green, and had such a peculiarly vile odour that even Uncle
+Israel refused to have anything further to do with it.
+
+"I shouldn't wonder but what you'd done me a real service, nephew,"
+continued Uncle Israel. "Here I've been takin' this, month after month,
+an' never suspectin' what it was doin' in my insides. I've suspicioned for
+some time that the pain-killer wan't doin' me no good, an' I've been goin'
+to try Doctor Jones's Squaw Remedy, anyhow. I shouldn't wonder if my whole
+insides was green instead of red as they orter be. The next time I go to
+the City, I'm goin' to take this here compound to the healin' emporium
+where I bought it, an' ask 'em what there is in it that paints folk's
+insides. 'Tain't nothin' more 'n green paint."
+
+The patient was so interested in this new development that he demanded a
+paint-brush and experimented on the porch railing, where it seemed,
+indeed, to be "green paint." In getting a nearer view, he touched his nose
+to it and acquired a bright green spot on the tip of that highly useful
+organ. Desiring to test it by every sense, he next put his ear down to the
+railing, as though he expected to hear the elements of the compound
+rushing together explosively.
+
+"My hearin' is bad," he explained. "I wish you'd listen to this here a
+minute or two, nephew, an' see if you don't hear sunthin'." But Harlan,
+with his handkerchief pressed tightly to his nose, politely declined.
+
+"I don't feel," continued Uncle Israel, tottering into the house, "as
+though a poor, sick man with green insides instead of red orter be turned
+out. Judson Centre is a terrible healthy place, or the sanitarium wouldn't
+have been built here, an' travellin' on the cars would shake me up
+considerable. I feel as though I was goin' to be took bad, an' as if I
+ought not to go. If somebody'll set up my bed, I'll just lay down on it
+an' die now. Ebeneezer would be willin' for me to die in his house, I
+know, for he's often said it'd be a reel pleasure to him to pay my funeral
+expenses if I c'd only make up my mind to claim 'em, an'," went on the old
+man pitifully, "I feel to claim 'em now. Set up my bed," he wheezed, "an'
+let me die. I'm bein' took bad."
+
+He was swiftly reasoning himself into abject helplessness when Dick came
+valiantly to the rescue. "I'll tell you what, Uncle Israel," he said, "if
+you're going to be sick, and of course you know whether you are or not,
+we'll just get a carriage and take you over to the sanitarium. I'll pay
+your board there for a week, myself, and by that time we'll know just
+what's the matter with you."
+
+The patient brightened amazingly at the mention of the sanitarium, and was
+more than willing to go. "I've took all kinds of treatment," he creaked,
+"but I ain't never been to no sanitarium, an' I misdoubt whether they've
+ever had anybody with green insides.
+
+"I reckon," he added, proudly, "that that wanderin' pain in my spine'll
+stump 'em some to know what it is. Even in the big store where they keep
+all kinds of medicines, there couldn't nobody tell me. I know what disease
+'tis, but I won't tell nobody. A man knows his own system best an' I
+reckon them smart doctors up at the sanitarium 'll be scratchin' their
+heads over such a complicated case as I be. Send my bed on to Betsey's but
+write on it that it ain't to be set up till I come. 'Twouldn't be worth
+while settin' it up at the sanitarium for a week, an' I'm minded to try a
+medical bed, anyways. I ain't never had none. Get the carriage, quick, for
+I feel an ailment comin' on me powerful hard every minute."
+
+"Suppose," said Harlan, in a swift aside, "that they refuse to take the
+patient? What shall we do then?"
+
+"We won't discuss that," answered Dick, in a low tone. "My plan is to
+leave the patient, drive away swiftly, and, an hour or so later, walk back
+and settle with the head of the repair shop for a week's mending in
+advance."
+
+Harlan laughed gleefully, at which Uncle Israel pricked up his ears. "I'm
+in on the bill," he continued; "we'll go halves on the mending."
+
+"Laughin'" said Uncle Israel, scornfully, "at your poor old uncle what
+ain't goin' to live much longer. If your insides was all turned green, you
+wouldn't be laughin'--you'd be thinkin' about your immortal souls."
+
+It was late afternoon when the bed was finally dumped on the side track to
+await the arrival of the freight train, being securely covered with a
+canvas tarpaulin to keep it from the night dew and stray, malicious germs,
+seeking that which they might devour. Uncle Israel insisted upon
+overseeing this job himself, so that he did not reach the sanitarium until
+almost nightfall. Dick and Harlan were driving, and they shamelessly left
+the patient at the door of the Temple of Healing, with his crated bath
+cabinet, his few personal belongings, and his medicines.
+
+Turning back at the foot of the hill, they saw that the wanderer had been
+taken in, though the bath cabinet still remained outside.
+
+"Mean trick to play on a respectable institution," observed Dick, lashing
+the horses into a gallop, "but I'll go over in the morning and square it
+with 'em."
+
+"I'll go with you," volunteered Harlan. "It's just as well to have two of
+us, for we won't be popular. The survivor can take back the farewell
+message to the wife and family of the other."
+
+He meant it for a jest, but even in the gathering darkness, he could see
+the dull red mounting to Dick's temples. "I'll be darned," thought Harlan,
+seeing the whole situation instantly. Then, moved by a brotherly impulse,
+he said, cheerfully: "Go in and win, old man. Good luck to you!"
+
+"Thanks," muttered Dick, huskily, "but it's no use. She won't look at me.
+She wants a nice lady-like poet, that's what she wants."
+
+"No, she doesn't," returned Harlan, with deep conviction. "I don't claim
+to be a specialist, but when a man and a poet are entered for the
+matrimonial handicap, I'll put my money on the man, every time."
+
+Dick swiftly changed the subject, and began to speculate on probable
+happenings at the sanitarium. They left the conveyance in the village,
+from whence it had been taken, and walked uphill.
+
+Lights gleamed from every window of the Jack-o'-Lantern, but the eccentric
+face of the house had, for the first time, a friendly aspect. Warmth and
+cheer were in the blinking eyes and the grinning mouth, though, as Dick
+said, it seemed impossible that "no pumpkin seeds were left inside."
+
+Those who do not believe in personal influence should go into a house
+which uninvited and undesired guests have regretfully left. Every alien
+element had gone from the house on the hill, yet the very walls were still
+vocal with discord. One expected, every moment, to hear Uncle Israel's
+wheeze, the shrill, spiteful comment of Mrs. Holmes, or a howl from one of
+the twins.
+
+"What shall we do," asked Harlan, "to celebrate the day of emancipation?"
+
+"I know," answered Dorothy, with a little laugh. "We'll burn a bed."
+
+"Whose bed?" queried Dick.
+
+"Mr. Perkins's bed," responded Elaine, readily. The tone of her voice sent
+a warm glow to Dick's heart, and he went to work at the heavy walnut
+structure with more gladness than exercise of that particular kind had
+ever given him before.
+
+Harlan rummaged through the cellar and found a bottle of Uncle Ebeneezer's
+old port, which, for some occult reason, had hitherto escaped. Mrs.
+Smithers, moved to joyful song, did herself proud in the matter of fried
+chicken and flaky biscuit. Dorothy had taken all the leaves out of the
+table, so that now it was cosily set for four, and placed a battered old
+brass candlestick, with a tallow candle in it, in the centre.
+
+"Seems like living, doesn't it?" asked Harlan. Until now, he had not known
+how surely though secretly distressed he had been by Aunt Rebecca's
+persistent kin. Claudius Tiberius apparently felt the prevailing
+cheerfulness, and purred vigorously, in Elaine's lap.
+
+Afterward, they made a fire in the parlour, even though the night was so
+warm that they were obliged to have all the windows open, and, inspired by
+the portrait of Uncle Ebeneezer, discussed the peculiarities of his
+self-invited guests.
+
+The sacrificial flame arising from the poet's bed directed the
+conversation to Mr. Perkins and his gift of song. Dick, though feeling
+more deeply upon the subject than any of the rest, was wise enough not to
+say too much.
+
+"I found something under his mattress," remarked Dick, when the
+conversation flagged, "while I was taking his blooming crib apart to chop
+it up. I guess it must be a poem."
+
+He drew a sorely flattened roll from his pocket, and slipped off the
+crumpled blue ribbon. It was, indeed, a poem, entitled "Farewell."
+
+"I thought he might have been polite enough to say good bye," said
+Dorothy. "Perhaps it was easier to write it."
+
+"Read it," cried Elaine, her eyes dancing. "Please do!"
+
+So Dick read as follows:
+
+                All happy times must reach an end
+                  Sometime, someday, somewhere,
+                A great soul seldom has a friend
+                  Anyway or anywhere.
+                But one devoted to the Ideal
+                  Must pass these things all by,
+                His eyes fixed ever on his Art,
+                  Which lives, though he must die.
+
+                Amid the tide of cruel greed
+                  Which laps upon our shore,
+                No one takes thought of the poet's need
+                  Nor how his griefs may pour
+                Upon his poor, devoted head
+                  And his sad, troubled heart;
+                But all these things each one must take,
+                  Who gives his life to Art.
+
+                His crust of bread, his tick of straw
+                  His enemies deny,
+                And at the last his patron saint
+                  Will even pass him by;
+                The wide world is his resting place,
+                  All o'er it he may roam,
+                And none will take the poet in,
+                  Or offer him a home.
+
+                The tears of sorrow blind him now,
+                  Misunderstood is he,
+                But thus great souls have always been,
+                  And always they will be;
+                His eyes fixed ever on the Ideal
+                  Will be there till he die,
+                To-night he goes, but leaves a poem
+                  To say good bye, good bye!
+
+"Poor Mr. Perkins," commented Dorothy, softly.
+
+"Yes," mimicked Harlan, "poor Mr. Perkins. I don't see but what he'll have
+to work now, like any plain, ordinary mortal, with no 'gift'."
+
+"What is the Ideal, anyway?" queried Elaine, looking thoughtfully into the
+embers of the poet's bedstead.
+
+"That's easy," answered Dick, not without evident feeling. "It's whatever
+Mr. Perkins happens to be doing, or trying to do. He fixes it for the rest
+of us."
+
+"I think," suggested Dorothy, after a momentary silence, "that the Ideal
+consists in minding your own business and gently, but firmly, assisting
+others to mind theirs."
+
+All unknowingly, Dorothy had expressed the dominant idea of the dead
+master of the house. She fancied that the pictured face over the mantel
+was about to smile at her. Dorothy and Uncle Ebeneezer understood each
+other now, and she no longer wished to have the portrait moved.
+
+Before they separated for the night, Dick told them all about the midnight
+gathering in the orchard, which he had witnessed from afar, and which the
+others enjoyed beyond his expectations.
+
+"That's what uncle meant," said Elaine, "by 'fixing a surprise for
+relations.'" "I don't blame him," observed Harlan, "not a blooming bit. I
+wish the poor old duck could have been here to see it. Why wasn't I in on
+it?" he demanded of Dick, somewhat resentfully. "When anything like that
+was going on, why didn't you take me in?"
+
+"It wasn't for me to interfere with his doings," protested Dick, "but I do
+wish you could have seen Uncle Israel."
+
+At the recollection he went off into a spasm of merriment which bid fair
+to prove fatal. The rest laughed with him, not knowing just what it was
+about, such was the infectious quality of Dick's mirth.
+
+"They've all gone," laughed Elaine, happily, taking her bedroom candle
+from Dorothy's hand, "they've all gone, every single one, and now we're
+going to have some good times."
+
+Dick watched her as she went upstairs, the candlelight shining tenderly
+upon her sweet face, and thus betrayed himself to Dorothy, who had
+suspected for some time that he loved Elaine.
+
+"Oh Lord!" grumbled Dick to himself, when he was safely in his own room.
+"Everybody knows it now, except her. I'll bet even Sis Smithers and the
+cat are dead next to me. I might as well tell her to-morrow as any time,
+the result will be just the same. Better do it and have it over with. The
+cat'll tell her if nobody else does."
+
+But that night, strangely enough, Claudius Tiberius disappeared, to be
+seen or heard of no more.
+
+
+
+
+XX
+
+The Love of Another Elaine
+
+
+When Dick and Harlan ventured up to the sanitarium, they were confronted
+by the astonishing fact that Uncle Israel was, indeed, ill. Later
+developements proved that he was in a measure personally responsible for
+his condition, since he had, surreptitiously, in the night, mixed two or
+three medicines of his own brewing with the liberal dose of a different
+drug which the night nurse gave him, in accordance with her instructions.
+
+Far from being unconscious, however, Uncle Israel was even now raging
+violently against further restraint, and demanding to be sent home before
+he was "murdered."
+
+"He's being killed with kindness," whispered Dick, "like the man who was
+run over by an ambulance."
+
+Harlan arranged for Uncle Israel to stay until he was quite healed of this
+last complication, and then wrote out the address of Cousin Betsey Skiles,
+with which Dick was fortunately familiar. "And," added Dick, "if he's
+troublesome, crate him and send him by freight. We don't want to see him
+again."
+
+Less than a week later, Uncle Israel and his bed were safely installed at
+Cousin Betsey's, and he was able to write twelve pages of foolscap, fully
+expressing his opinion of Harlan and Dick and the sanitarium staff, and
+Uncle Ebeneezer, and the rest of the world in general, conveying it by
+registered mail to "J. H. Car & Familey." The composition revealed an
+astonishing command of English, particularly in the way of vituperation.
+Had Uncle Israel known more profanity, he undoubtedly would have
+incorporated it in the text.
+
+"It reminds me," said Elaine, who was permitted to read it, "of a little
+coloured boy we used to know. A playmate quarrelled with him and began to
+call him names, using all the big words he had ever heard, regardless of
+their meaning. When his vocabulary was exhausted, our little friend asked,
+quietly: 'Is you froo?' 'Yes,' returned the other, 'I's froo.' 'Well
+then,' said the master of the situation, calmly, turning on his heel, 'all
+those things what you called me, you is.'"
+
+"That's right," laughed Dick. "All those things Uncle Israel has called
+us, he is, but it makes him a pretty tough old customer."
+
+A blessed peace had descended upon the house and its occupants. Harlan's
+work was swiftly nearing completion, and in another day or two, he would
+be ready to read the neatly typed pages to the members of his household.
+Dorothy could scarcely wait to hear it, and stole many a secret glance at
+the manuscript when Harlan was out of the house. Lover-like, she expected
+great things from it, and she saw the world of readers, literally, at her
+husband's feet. So great was her faith in him that she never for an
+instant suspected that there might possibly be difficulty at the
+start--that any publisher could be wary of this masterpiece by an
+unknown.
+
+The Carrs had planned to remain where they were until the book was
+finished, then to take the precious manuscript, and go forth to conquer
+the City. Afterward, perhaps, a second honeymoon journey, for both were
+sorely in need of rest and recreation.
+
+Elaine was going with them, and Dorothy was to interview the Personage
+whose private secretary she had once been, and see if that position or one
+fully as desirable could not be found for her friend. Also, Elaine was to
+make her home with the Carrs. "I won't let you live in a New York boarding
+house," said Dorothy warmly, "as long as we've any kind of a roof over our
+heads."
+
+Dick had discovered that, as he expressed it, he must "quit fooling and
+get a job." Hitherto, Mr. Chester had preferred care-free idleness to any
+kind of toil, and a modest sum, carefully hoarded, represented to Dick
+only freedom to do as he pleased until it gave out. Then he began to
+consider work again, but as he seldom did the same kind of work twice, he
+was not particularly proficient in any one line.
+
+Still, Dick had no false ideas about labour. At college he had canvassed
+for subscription books, solicited life and fire insurance, swept walks,
+shovelled snow, carried out ashes, and even handled trunks for the express
+company, all with the same cheerful equanimity. His small but certain
+income sufficed for his tuition and other necessary expenses, but for
+board at Uncle Ebeneezer's and a few small luxuries, he was obliged to
+work.
+
+Just now, unwonted ambition fired his soul. "It's funny," he mused,
+"what's come over me. I never hankered to work, even in my wildest
+moments, and yet I pine for it this minute--even street-sweeping would be
+welcome, though that sort of thing isn't going to be much in my line from
+now on. With the start uncle's given me, I can surely get along all right,
+and, anyhow, I've got two hands, two feet, and one head, all good of their
+kind, so there's no call to worry."
+
+Worrying had never been among Dick's accomplishments, but he was restless,
+and eager for something to do. He plunged into furniture-making with
+renewed energy, inspired by the presence of Elaine, who with her book or
+embroidery sat in her low rocker under the apple tree and watched him at
+his work.
+
+Quite often she read aloud, sometimes a paragraph, now and then an entire
+chapter, to which Dick submitted pleasantly. He loved the smooth, soft
+cadence of Elaine's low voice, whether she read or spoke, so, in a way, it
+did not matter. But, one day, when she had read uninterruptedly for over
+an hour, Dick was seized with a violent fit of coughing.
+
+"I say," he began, when the paroxysm had ceased; "you like books, don't
+you?"
+
+"Indeed I do--don't you?"
+
+"Er--yes, of course, but say--aren't you tired of reading?"
+
+"Not at all. You needn't worry about me. When I'm tired, I'll stop."
+
+She was pleased with his kindly thought for her comfort, and thereafter
+read a great deal by way of reward. As for Dick, he burned the midnight
+candle over many a book which he found inexpressibly dull, and skilfully
+led the conversation to it the next day. Soon, even Harlan was impressed
+by his wide knowledge of literature, though no one noted that about books
+not in Uncle Ebeneezer's library, Dick knew nothing at all.
+
+Dorothy spent much of her time in her own room, thus forcing Dick and
+Elaine to depend upon each other for society. Quite often she was lonely,
+and longed for their cheery chatter, but sternly reminded herself that she
+was being sacrificed in a good cause. She built many an air castle for
+them as well as for herself, furnishing both, impartially, with Elaine's
+old mahogany and the simple furniture Dick was making out of Uncle
+Ebeneezer's relics.
+
+By this time the Jack-o'-Lantern was nearly stripped of everything which
+might prove useful, and they were burning the rest of it in the fireplace
+at night. "Varnished hardwood," as Dick said, "makes a peach of a blaze."
+
+Meanwhile Harlan was labouring steadfastly at his manuscript. The glowing
+fancy from which the book had sprung was quite gone. Still, as he cut,
+rearranged, changed, interlined, reconstructed and polished, he was not
+wholly unsatisfied with his work. "It may not be very good," he said to
+himself, "but it's the best I can do--now. The next will be better, I'm
+sure." He knew, even then, that there would be a "next one," for the
+eternal thirst which knows no quenching had seized upon his inmost soul.
+
+Hereafter, by an inexplicably swift reversion, he should see all life as
+literature, and literature as life. Friends and acquaintances should all
+be, in his inmost consciousness, ephemeral. And Dorothy--dearly as he
+loved her, was separated from him as by a veil.
+
+Still, as he worked, he came gradually to a better adjustment, and was
+very tenderly anxious that Dorothy should see no change in him. He had not
+yet reached the point, however, where he would give it all up for the sake
+of finding things real again, if only for an hour.
+
+Day after day, his work went on. Sometimes he would spend an hour
+searching for a single word, rightly to express his meaning. Page after
+page was re-copied upon the typewriter, for, with the nice conscience of a
+good workman, Harlan desired a perfect manuscript, at least in mechanical
+details.
+
+Finally, he came to the last page and printed "The End" in capitals with
+deep satisfaction. "When it's sandpapered," he said to himself, "and the
+dust blown off, I suppose it will be done."
+
+The "sandpapering" took a week longer. At the end of that time, Harlan
+concluded that any manuscript was done when the writer had read it
+carefully a dozen times without making a single change in it. On a
+Saturday night, just as the hall clock was booming eleven, he pushed it
+aside, and sat staring blankly at the wall for a long time.
+
+"I don't know what I've got," he thought, "but I've certainly got two
+hundred and fifty pages of typed manuscript. It should be good for
+something--even at space rates."
+
+After dinner, Sunday, he told them that the book was ready, and they all
+went out into the orchard. Dick was resigned, Elaine pleasantly excited,
+Dorothy eager and aflame with triumphant pride, Harlan self-conscious,
+and, in a way, ashamed.
+
+As he read, however, he forgot everything else. The mere sound of the
+words came with caressing music to his ears. At times his voice wavered
+and his hands trembled, but he kept on, until it grew so dark that he
+could no longer see.
+
+They went into the house silently, and Dick touched a match to the fire
+already laid in the fireplace, while Dorothy lighted the candles and the
+reading lamp. The afterglow faded and the moon rose, yet still they rode
+with Elaine and her company, through mountain passes and over blossoming
+fields, past many dangers and strange happenings, and ever away from the
+Castle of Content.
+
+Harlan's deep, vibrant voice, now stern, now tender, gave new meaning to
+his work. His secret belief in it gave it a beauty which no one else would
+ever see. Dorothy, listening so intently that it was almost pain, never
+took her eyes from his face. In that hour, if Harlan could have known it,
+her woman's soul was kneeling before his, naked and unashamed.
+
+Dick privately considered the whole thing more or less of a nuisance, but
+the candlelight touched Elaine's golden hair lovingly, and the glow from
+the fire seemed to rest caressingly upon her face. All along, he saw a
+clear resemblance between his Elaine and the lady of the book, also, more
+keenly, a closer likeness between himself and the fool who rode at her
+side.
+
+When Harlan came to the song which the fool had written, and which he had
+so shamelessly revised and read aloud at the table, Dick seriously
+considered a private and permanent departure, like the nocturnal vanishing
+of Mr. Perkins, without even a poem for farewell.
+
+Elaine, lost in the story, was heedless of her surroundings. It was only
+at the last chapter that she became conscious of self at all. Then,
+suddenly, in her turn, she perceived a parallel, and quivered painfully
+with a new emotion.
+
+_"Some one, perchance," mused the Lady Elaine, "whose beauty my eyes alone
+should perceive, whose valour only I should guess before there was need to
+test it. Some one great of heart and clean of mind, in whose eyes there
+should never be that which makes a woman ashamed. Some one fine-fibred and
+strong-souled, not above tenderness when a maid was tired. One who should
+make a shield of his love, to keep her not only from the great hurts but
+from the little ones as well, and yet with whom she might fare onward,
+shoulder to shoulder, as God meant mates should fare."_
+
+Like the other Elaine, she saw who had served her secretly, asking for no
+recognition; who had always kept watch over her so unobtrusively and
+quietly that she never guessed it till now. Like many another woman,
+Elaine had dreamed of her Prince as a paragon of beauty and perfection,
+with unconscious vanity deeming such an one her true mate. Now her
+story-book lover had gone for ever, and in his place was Dick;
+sunny-hearted, mischievous, whistling, clear-eyed Dick, who had laughed
+and joked with her all Summer, and now--must never know.
+
+In a fierce agony of shame, she wondered if he had already guessed her
+secret--if she had betrayed it to him before she was conscious of it
+herself; if that was why he had been so kind. Harlan was reading the last
+page, and Elaine shaded her face with her hand, determined, at all costs,
+to avoid Dick, and to go away to-morrow, somewhere, anywhere.
+
+_But Prince Bernard did not hear_, read Harlan, _nor see the outstretched
+hand, for Elaine was in his arms for the first time, her sweet lips close
+on his. "My Prince, Oh, my Prince," she murmured, when at length he set
+her free; "my eyes did not see but my heart knew!"_
+
+_So ended the Quest of the Lady Elaine._
+
+The last page of the manuscript fluttered, face downward, upon the table,
+and Dorothy wiped her eyes. Elaine's mouth was parched, but she staggered
+to her feet, knowing that she must say some conventional words of
+congratulation to Harlan, then go to her own room.
+
+Blindly, she put out her hand, trying to speak; then, for a single
+illuminating instant, her eyes looked into Dick's.
+
+With a little cry, Elaine fled from the room, overwhelmed with shame. In a
+twinkling, she was out of the house, and flying toward the orchard as fast
+as her light feet would carry her, her heart beating wildly in her
+breast.
+
+By the sure instinct of a lover, Dick knew that his hour had come. He
+dropped out of the window and overtook her just as she reached her little
+rocking-chair, which, damp with the Autumn dew, was still under the apple
+tree.
+
+"Elaine!" cried Dick, crushing her into his arms, all the joy of youth and
+love in his voice. "Elaine! My Elaine!"
+
+"The audience," remarked Harlan, in an unnatural tone, "appears to have
+gone. Only my faithful wife stands by me."
+
+"Oh, Harlan," answered Dorothy, with a swift rush of feeling, "you'll
+never know till your dying day how proud and happy I am. It's the very
+beautifullest book that anybody ever wrote, and I'm so glad! Mrs.
+Shakespeare could never have been half as pleased as I am! I----," but the
+rest was lost, for Dorothy was in his arms, crying her heart out for sheer
+joy.
+
+"There, there," said Harlan, patting her shoulders awkwardly, and rubbing
+his rough cheek against her tear-wet face; "it wasn't meant to make
+anybody cry."
+
+"Why can't I cry if I want to?" demanded Dorothy, resentfully, between
+sobs. Harlan's voice was far from even and his own eyes were misty as he
+answered: "Because you are my own darling girl and I love you, that's
+why."
+
+They sat hand in hand for a long time, looking into the embers of the
+dying fire, in the depths of that wedded silence which has no need of
+words. The portraits of Uncle Ebeneezer and Aunt Rebecca seemed fully in
+accord, and, though mute, eloquent with understanding.
+
+"He'd be so proud," whispered Dorothy, looking up at the stern face over
+the mantel, "if he knew what you had done here in his house. He loved
+books, and now, because of his kindness, you can always write them. You'll
+never have to go back on the paper again."
+
+Harlan smiled reminiscently, for the hurrying, ceaseless grind of the
+newspaper office was, indeed, a thing of the past. The dim, quiet room was
+his, not the battle-ground of the street. Still, as he knew, the smell of
+printer's ink in his nostrils would be like the sound of a bugle to an old
+cavalry horse, and even now, he would not quite trust himself to walk down
+Newspaper Row.
+
+"I love Uncle Ebeneezer and Aunt Rebecca," went on Dorothy, happily. "I
+love everybody. I've love enough to-night to spare some for the whole
+world."
+
+"Dear little saint," said Harlan, softly, "I believe you have."
+
+The clock struck ten and the fire died down. A candle flickered in its
+socket, then went out. The chill Autumn mist was rising, and through it
+the new moon gleamed faintly, like veiled pearl.
+
+"I wonder," said Harlan, "where the rest of the audience is? If everybody
+who reads the book is going to disappear suddenly and mysteriously, I
+won't be the popular author that I pine to be."
+
+"Hush," responded Dorothy; "I think they are coming now. I'll go and let
+them in."
+
+Only a single candle was burning in the hall, and when Dorothy opened the
+door, it went out suddenly, but in that brief instant, she had seen their
+glorified faces and understood it all. The library door was open, and the
+dimly lighted room seemed like a haven of refuge to Elaine, radiantly
+self-conscious, and blushing with sweet shame.
+
+"Hello," said Dick, awkwardly, with a tremendous effort to appear natural,
+"we've just been out to get a breath of fresh air."
+
+It had taken them two hours, but Dorothy was too wise to say anything. She
+only laughed--a happy, tender, musical little laugh. Then she impulsively
+kissed them both, pushed Elaine gently into the library, and went back
+into the parlour to tell Harlan.
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's At the Sign of the Jack O'Lantern, by Myrtle Reed
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