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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Portygee, by Joseph Crosby Lincoln
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Portygee
+
+Author: Joseph Crosby Lincoln
+
+Release Date: May 30, 2006 [EBook #3263]
+Last Updated: March 5, 2018
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PORTYGEE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Donald Lainson
+
+
+
+
+
+THE PORTYGEE
+
+
+By Joseph Crosby Lincoln
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+Overhead the clouds cloaked the sky; a ragged cloak it was, and, here
+and there, a star shone through a hole, to be obscured almost instantly
+as more cloud tatters were hurled across the rent. The pines threshed on
+the hill tops. The bare branches of the wild-cherry and silverleaf trees
+scraped and rattled and tossed. And the wind, the raw, chilling December
+wind, driven in, wet and salty, from the sea, tore over the dunes and
+brown uplands and across the frozen salt-meadows, screamed through
+the telegraph wires, and made the platform of the dismal South Harniss
+railway station the lonesomest, coldest, darkest and most miserable spot
+on the face of the earth.
+
+At least that was the opinion of the seventeen-year-old boy whom the
+down train--on time for once and a wonder--had just deposited upon that
+platform. He would not have discounted the statement one iota. The South
+Harniss station platform WAS the most miserable spot on earth and he was
+the most miserable human being upon it. And this last was probably true,
+for there were but three other humans upon that platform and, judging by
+externals, they seemed happy enough. One was the station agent, who was
+just entering the building preparatory to locking up for the night,
+and the others were Jim Young, driver of the “depot wagon,” and Doctor
+Holliday, the South Harniss “homeopath,” who had been up to a Boston
+hospital with a patient and was returning home. Jim was whistling
+“Silver Bells,” a tune much in vogue the previous summer, and Doctor
+Holliday was puffing at a cigar and knocking his feet together to keep
+them warm while waiting to get into the depot wagon. These were the only
+people in sight and they were paying no attention whatever to the lonely
+figure at the other end of the platform.
+
+The boy looked about him. The station, with its sickly yellow gleam
+of kerosene lamp behind its dingy windowpane, was apparently the only
+inhabited spot in a barren wilderness. At the edge of the platform
+civilization seemed to end and beyond was nothing but a black earth
+and a black sky, tossing trees and howling wind, and cold--raw, damp,
+penetrating cold. Compared with this even the stuffy plush seats and
+smelly warmth of the car he had just left appeared temptingly homelike
+and luxurious. All the way down from the city he had sneered inwardly at
+a one-horse railroad which ran no Pullmans on its Cape branch in winter
+time. Now he forgot his longing for mahogany veneer and individual
+chairs and would gladly have boarded a freight car, provided there were
+in it a lamp and a stove.
+
+The light in the station was extinguished and the agent came out with
+a jingling bunch of keys and locked the door. “Good-night, Jim,”
+ he shouted, and walked off into the blackness. Jim responded with a
+“good-night” of his own and climbed aboard the wagon, into the dark
+interior of which the doctor had preceded him. The boy at the other end
+of the platform began to be really alarmed. It looked as if all living
+things were abandoning him and he was to be left marooned, to starve or
+freeze, provided he was not blown away first.
+
+He picked up the suitcase--an expensive suitcase it was, elaborately
+strapped and buckled, with a telescope back and gold fittings--and
+hastened toward the wagon. Mr. Young had just picked up the reins.
+
+“Oh,--oh, I say!” faltered the boy. We have called him “the boy” all
+this time, but he did not consider himself a boy, he esteemed himself
+a man, if not full-grown physically, certainly so mentally. A man,
+with all a man's wisdom, and more besides--the great, the all-embracing
+wisdom of his age, or youth.
+
+“Here, I say! Just a minute!” he repeated. Jim Young put his head around
+the edge of the wagon curtain. “Eh?” he queried. “Eh? Who's talkin'? Oh,
+was it you, young feller? Did you want me?”
+
+The young fellow replied that he did. “This is South Harniss, isn't it?”
+ he asked.
+
+Mr. Young chuckled. “Darn sure thing,” he drawled. “I give in that it
+looks consider'ble like Boston, or Providence, R. I., or some of them
+capitols, but it ain't, it's South Harniss, Cape Cod.”
+
+Doctor Holliday, on the back seat of the depot wagon, chuckled. Jim
+did not; he never laughed at his own jokes. And his questioner did not
+chuckle, either.
+
+“Does a--does a Mr. Snow live here?” he asked.
+
+The answer was prompt, if rather indefinite. “Um-hm,” said the driver.
+“No less'n fourteen of him lives here. Which one do you want?”
+
+“A Mr. Z. Snow.”
+
+“Mr. Z. Snow, eh? Humph! I don't seem to recollect any Mr. Z. Snow
+around nowadays. There used to be a Ziba Snow, but he's dead. 'Twan't
+him you wanted, was it?”
+
+“No. The one I want is--is a Captain Snow. Captain--” he paused before
+uttering the name which to his critical metropolitan ear had seemed
+so dreadfully countrified and humiliating; “Captain Zelotes Snow,” he
+blurted, desperately.
+
+Jim Young laughed aloud. “Good land, Doc!” he cried, turning toward his
+passenger; “I swan I clean forgot that Cap'n Lote's name begun with a
+Z. Cap'n Lote Snow? Why, darn sure! I . . . Eh?” He stopped short,
+evidently struck by a new idea. “Sho!” he drawled, slowly. “Why,
+I declare I believe you're . . . Yes, of course! I heard they was
+expectin' you. Doc, you know who 'tis, don't you? Cap'n Lote's grandson;
+Janie's boy.”
+
+He took the lighted lantern from under the wagon seat and held it up so
+that its glow shone upon the face of the youth standing by the wheel.
+
+“Hum,” he mused. “Don't seem to favor Janie much, does he, Doc. Kind of
+got her mouth and chin, though. Remember that sort of good-lookin' set
+to her mouth she had? And SHE got it from old Cap'n Lo himself. This
+boy's face must be more like his pa's, I cal'late. Don't you cal'late
+so, Doc?”
+
+Whether Doctor Holliday cal'lated so or not he did not say. It may be
+that he thought this cool inspection of and discussion concerning a
+stranger, even a juvenile stranger, somewhat embarrassing to its object.
+Or the lantern light may have shown him an ominous pucker between the
+boy's black brows and a flash of temper in the big black eyes beneath
+them. At any rate, instead of replying to Mr. Young, he said, kindly:
+
+“Yes, Captain Snow lives in the village. If you are going to his house
+get right in here. I live close by, myself.”
+
+“Darned sure!” agreed Mr. Young, with enthusiasm. “Hop right in, sonny.”
+
+But the boy hesitated. Then, haughtily ignoring the driver, he said: “I
+thought Captain Snow would be here to meet me. He wrote that he would.”
+
+The irrepressible Jim had no idea of remaining ignored. “Did Cap'n Lote
+write you that he'd be here to the depot?” he demanded. “All right, then
+he'll be here, don't you fret. I presume likely that everlastin' mare
+of his has eat herself sick again; eh, Doc? By godfreys domino, the way
+they pet and stuff that fool horse is a sin and a shame. It ain't Lote's
+fault so much as 'tis his wife's--she's responsible. Don't you fret,
+Bub, the cap'n'll be here for you some time to-night. If he said he'll
+come he'll come, even if he has to hire one of them limmysines. He, he,
+he! All you've got to do is wait, and . . . Hey! . . . Hold on a minute!
+. . . Bub!”
+
+The boy was walking away. And to hail him as “Bub” was, although Jim
+Young did not know it, the one way least likely to bring him back.
+
+“Bub!” shouted Jim again. Receiving no reply he added what he had
+intended saying. “If I run afoul of Cap'n Lote anywheres on the road,”
+ he called, “I'll tell him you're here a-waitin'. So long, Bub. Git dap,
+Chain Lightnin'.”
+
+The horse, thus complimented, pricked up one ear, lifted a foot, and
+jogged off. The depot wagon became merely a shadowy smudge against the
+darkness of the night. For a few minutes the “chock, chock” of the hoofs
+upon the frozen road and the rattle of wheels gave audible evidence of
+its progress. Then these died away and upon the windswept platform of
+the South Harniss station descended the black gloom of lonesomeness
+so complete as to make that which had been before seem, by comparison,
+almost cheerful.
+
+The youth upon that platform turned up his coat collar, thrust his
+gloved hands into his pockets, and shivered. Then, still shivering,
+he took a brisk walk up and down beside the suitcase and, finally,
+circumnavigated the little station. The voyage of discovery was
+unprofitable; there was nothing to discover. So far as he could
+see--which was by no means far--upon each side of the building was
+nothing but bare fields and tossing pines, and wind and cold and
+blackness. He came to anchor once more by the suitcase and drew a long,
+hopeless breath.
+
+He thought of the cheery dining room at the school he had left the day
+before. Dinner would be nearly over by now. The fellows were having
+dessert, or, probably, were filing out into the corridors, the younger
+chaps to go to the study hall and the older ones--the lordly seniors, of
+whom he had been one--on the way to their rooms. The picture of his own
+cheerful, gay room in the senior corridor was before his mind; of that
+room as it was before the telegram came, before the lawyer came with
+the letter, before the end of everything as he knew it and the beginning
+of--this. He had not always loved and longed for that school as he loved
+and longed for it now. There had been times when he referred to it as
+“the old jail,” and professed to hate it. But it had been the only real
+home he had known since he was eight years old and now he looked back
+upon it as a fallen angel might have looked back upon Paradise. He
+sighed again, choked and hastily drew his gloved hand across his eyes.
+At the age of seventeen it is very unmanly to cry, but, at that age
+also, manhood and boyhood are closely intermingled. He choked again
+and then, squaring his shoulders, reached into his coat pocket for the
+silver cigarette case which, as a recent acquisition, was the pride of
+his soul. He had just succeeded in lighting a cigarette when, borne upon
+the wind, he heard once more the sound of hoofs and wheels and saw in
+the distance a speck of light advancing toward the station.
+
+The sounds drew nearer, so did the light. Then an old-fashioned buggy,
+drawn by a plump little sorrel, pulled up by the platform and a hand
+held a lantern aloft.
+
+“Hello!” hailed a voice. “Where are you?”
+
+The hail did not have to be repeated. Before the vehicle reached the
+station the boy had tossed away the cigarette, picked up the suitcase,
+and was waiting. Now he strode into the lantern light.
+
+“Here I am,” he answered, trying hard not to appear too eager. “Were you
+looking for me?”
+
+The holder of the lantern tucked the reins between the whip-socket and
+the dash and climbed out of the buggy. He was a little man, perhaps
+about forty-eight or fifty, with a smooth-shaven face wrinkled at the
+corners of the mouth and eyes. His voice was the most curious thing
+about him; it was high and piping, more like a woman's than a man's. Yet
+his words and manner were masculine enough, and he moved and spoke with
+a nervous, jerky quickness.
+
+He answered the question promptly. “Guess I be, guess I be,” he said
+briskly. “Anyhow, I'm lookin' for a boy name of--name of--My soul to
+heavens, I've forgot it again, I do believe! What did you say your name
+was?”
+
+“Speranza. Albert Speranza.”
+
+“Sartin, sartin! Sper--er--um--yes, yes. Knew it just as well as I did
+my own. Well, well, well! Ye-es, yes, yes. Get right aboard, Alfred. Let
+me take your satchel.”
+
+He picked up the suitcase. The boy, his foot upon the buggy step, still
+hesitated. “Then you're--you're not my grandfather?” he faltered.
+
+“Eh? Who? Your grandfather? Me? He, he, he!” He chuckled shrilly. “No,
+no! No such luck. If I was Cap'n Lote Snow, I'd be some older'n I be now
+and a dum sight richer. Yes, yes. No, I'm Cap'n Lote's bookkeeper over
+at the lumber consarn. He's got a cold, and Olive--that's his wife--she
+said he shouldn't come out to-night. He said he should, and while they
+was Katy-didin' back and forth about it, Rachel--Mrs. Ellis--she's the
+hired housekeeper there--she telephoned me to harness up and come meet
+you up here to the depot. Er--er--little mite late, wan't I?”
+
+“Why, yes, just a little. The other man, the one who drives the mail
+cart--I think that was what it was--said perhaps the horse was sick, or
+something like that.”
+
+“No-o, no, that wan't it this time. I--er--All tucked in and warm
+enough, be you? Ye-es, yes, yes. No, I'm to blame, I shouldn't wonder. I
+stopped at the--at the store a minute and met one or two of the fellers,
+and that kind of held me up. All right now? Ye-es, yes, yes. G'long,
+gal.”
+
+The buggy moved away from the platform. Its passenger, his chilly feet
+and legs tightly wrapped in the robes, drew a breath of relief between
+his chattering teeth. He was actually going somewhere at last; whatever
+happened, morning would not find him propped frozen stiff against the
+scarred and mangy clapboards of the South Harniss station.
+
+“Warm enough, be you?” inquired his driver cheerfully.
+
+“Yes, thank you.”
+
+“That's good, that's good, that's good. Ye-es, yes, yes.
+Well--er--Frederick, how do you think you're goin' to like South
+Harniss?”
+
+The answer was rather non-committal. The boy replied that he had not
+seen very much of it as yet. His companion seemed to find the statement
+highly amusing. He chuckled and slapped his knee.
+
+“Ain't seen much of it, eh? No-o, no, no. I guess you ain't, guess you
+ain't. He, he, he . . . Um . . . Let's see, what was I talkin' about?”
+
+“Why, nothing in particular, I think, Mr.--Mr.--”
+
+“Didn't I tell you my name? Sho, sho! That's funny. My name's
+Keeler--Laban B. Keeler. That's my name and bookkeeper is my station.
+South Harniss is my dwellin' place--and I guess likely you'll have to
+see the minister about the rest of it. He, he, he!”
+
+His passenger, to whom the old schoolbook quatrain was entirely unknown,
+wondered what on earth the man was talking about. However, he smiled
+politely and sniffed with a dawning suspicion. It seemed to him there
+was an unusual scent in the air, a spirituous scent, a--
+
+“Have a peppermint lozenger,” suggested Mr. Keeler, with sudden
+enthusiasm. “Peppermint is good for what ails you, so they tell me.
+Ye-es, yes, yes. Have one. Have two, have a lot.”
+
+He proceeded to have a lot himself, and the buggy was straightway
+reflavored, so to speak. The boy, his suspicions by no means dispelled,
+leaned back in the corner behind the curtains and awaited developments.
+He was warmer, that was a real physical and consequently a slight mental
+comfort, but the feeling of lonesomeness was still acute. So far his
+acquaintanceship with the citizens of South Harniss had not filled him
+with enthusiasm. They were what he, in his former and very recent state
+of existence, would have called “Rubes.” Were the grandparents whom he
+had never met this sort of people? It seemed probable. What sort of
+a place was this to which Fate had consigned him? The sense of utter
+helplessness which had had him in its clutches since the day when he
+received the news of his father's death was as dreadfully real as ever.
+He had not been consulted at all. No one had asked him what he wished to
+do, or where he wished to go. The letter had come from these people, the
+Cape Cod grandparents of whom, up to that time, he had never even
+heard, and he had been shipped to them as though he were a piece of
+merchandise. And what was to become of him now, after he reached his
+destination? What would they expect him to do? Or be? How would he be
+treated?
+
+In his extensive reading--he had been an omnivorous reader--there were
+numerous examples of youths left, like him, to the care of distant
+relatives, or step-parents, or utter strangers. Their experiences,
+generally speaking, had not been cheerful ones. Most of them had run
+away. He might run away; but somehow the idea of running away, with no
+money, to face hardship and poverty and all the rest, did not make an
+alluring appeal. He had been used to comfort and luxury ever since he
+could remember, and his imagination, an unusually active one, visualized
+much more keenly than the average the tribulations and struggles of a
+runaway. David Copperfield, he remembered, had run away, but he did it
+when a kid, not a man like himself. Nicholas Nickleby--no, Nicholas had
+not run away exactly, but his father had died and he had been left to an
+uncle. It would be dreadful if his grandfather should turn out to be a
+man like Ralph Nickleby. Yet Nicholas had gotten on well in spite of his
+wicked relative. Yes, and how gloriously he had defied the old
+rascal, too! He wondered if he would ever be called upon to defy his
+grandfather. He saw himself doing it--quietly, a perfect gentleman
+always, but with the noble determination of one performing a
+disagreeable duty. His chin lifted and his shoulders squared against the
+back of the buggy.
+
+Mr. Keeler, who had apparently forgotten his passenger altogether, broke
+into song,
+
+
+     “She's my darlin' hanky-panky
+        And she wears a number two,
+      Her father keeps a barber shop
+        Way out in Kalamazoo.”
+
+
+He sang the foregoing twice over and then added a chorus, plainly
+improvised, made up of “Di doos” and “Di dums” ad lib. And the buggy
+rolled up and over the slope of a little hill and, in the face of a
+screaming sea wind, descended a long, gentle slope to where, scattered
+along a two-mile water frontage, the lights of South Harniss twinkled
+sparsely.
+
+
+     “Did doo dum, dee dum, doo dum
+       Di doo dum, doo dum dee.”
+
+
+So sang Mr. Keeler. Then he broke off his solo as the little mare turned
+in between a pair of high wooden posts bordering a drive, jogged along
+that drive for perhaps fifty feet, and stopped beside the stone step
+of a white front door. Through the arched window above that door shone
+lamplight warm and yellow.
+
+“Whoa!” commanded Mr. Keeler, most unnecessarily. Then, as if himself a
+bit uncertain as to his exact whereabouts, he peered out at the door and
+the house of which it was a part, afterward settling back to announce
+triumphantly: “And here we be! Yes, sir, here we be!”
+
+Then the door opened. A flood of lamplight poured upon the buggy and its
+occupants. And the boy saw two people standing in the doorway, a man and
+a woman.
+
+It was the woman who spoke first. It was she who had opened the door.
+The man was standing behind her looking over her shoulder--over her head
+really, for he was tall and broad and she short and slender.
+
+“Is it--?” she faltered.
+
+Mr. Keeler answered. “Yes, ma'am,” he declared emphatically, “that's who
+'tis. Here we be--er--er--what's-your-name--Edward. Jump right out.”
+
+His passenger alighted from the buggy. The woman bent forward to look at
+him, her hands clasped.
+
+“It--it's Albert, isn't it?” she asked.
+
+The boy nodded. “Yes,” he said.
+
+The hands unclasped and she held them out toward him. “Oh, Albert,” she
+cried, “I'm your grandmother. I--”
+
+The man interrupted. “Wait till we get him inside, Olive,” he said.
+“Come in, son.” Then, addressing the driver, he ordered: “Labe, take the
+horse and team out to the barn and unharness for me, will you?”
+
+“Ye-es, yes, yes,” replied Mr. Keeler. “Yes indeed, Cap'n. Take her
+right along--right off. Yes indeedy. Git dap!”
+
+He drove off toward the end of the yard, where a large building,
+presumably a barn, loomed black against the dark sky. He sang as
+he drove and the big man on the step looked after him and sniffed
+suspiciously.
+
+Meanwhile the boy had followed the little woman into the house through
+a small front hall, from which a narrow flight of stairs shot aloft with
+almost unbelievable steepness, and into a large room. Albert had a
+swift impression of big windows full of plants, of pictures of ships and
+schooners on the walls, of a table set for four.
+
+“Take your things right off,” cried his grandmother. “Here, I'll take
+'em. There! now turn 'round and let me look at you. Don't move till I
+get a good look.”
+
+He stood perfectly still while she inspected him from head to foot.
+
+“You've got her mouth,” she said slowly. “Yes, you've got her mouth. Her
+hair and eyes were brown and yours are black, but--but I THINK you look
+like her. Oh, I did so want you to! May I kiss you, Albert? I'm your
+grandmother, you know.”
+
+With embarrassed shyness he leaned forward while she put her arms about
+his neck and kissed him on the cheek. As he straightened again he
+became aware that the big man had entered the room and was regarding him
+intently beneath a pair of shaggy gray eyebrows. Mrs. Snow turned.
+
+“Oh, Zelotes,” she cried, “he's got Janie's mouth, don't you think so?
+And he DOES look like her, doesn't he?”
+
+Her husband shook his head. “Maybe so, Mother,” he said, with a half
+smile. “I ain't a great hand for locatin' who folks look like. How are
+you, boy? Glad to see you. I'm your grandfather, you know.”
+
+They shook hands, while each inspected and made a mental estimate of the
+other. Albert saw a square, bearded jaw, a firm mouth, gray eyes with
+many wrinkles at the corners, and a shock of thick gray hair. The eyes
+had a way of looking straight at you, through you, as if reading your
+thoughts, divining your motives and making a general appraisal of you
+and them.
+
+Captain Zelotes Snow, for his part, saw a tall young fellow, slim and
+straight, with black curly hair, large black eyes and regular features.
+A good-looking boy, a handsome boy--almost too handsome, perhaps, or
+with just a touch of the effeminate in the good looks. The captain's
+glance took in the well-fitting suit of clothes, the expensive tie, the
+gold watch chain.
+
+“Humph!” grunted Captain Zelotes. “Well, your grandma and I are glad
+to have you with us. Let me see, Albert--that's your right name, ain't
+it--Albert?”
+
+Something in his grandfather's looks or tone aroused a curious feeling
+in the youth. It was not a feeling of antagonism, exactly, but more of
+defiance, of obstinacy. He felt as if this big man, regarding him so
+keenly from under the heavy brows, was looking for faults, was expecting
+to find something wrong, might almost be disappointed if he did not find
+it. He met the gaze for a moment, the color rising to his cheeks.
+
+“My name,” he said deliberately, “is Alberto Miguel Carlos Speranza.”
+
+Mrs. Snow uttered a little exclamation. “Oh!” she ejaculated. And then
+added: “Why--why, I thought--we--we understood 'twas 'Albert.' We didn't
+know there was--we didn't know there was any more to it. What did you
+say it was?”
+
+Her grandson squared his shoulders. “Alberto Miguel Carlos Speranza,”
+ he repeated. “My father”--there was pride in his voice now--“my father's
+name was Miguel Carlos. Of course you knew that.”
+
+He spoke as if all creation must have known it. Mrs. Snow looked
+helplessly at her husband. Captain Zelotes rubbed his chin.
+
+“We--ll,” he drawled dryly, “I guess likely we'll get along with
+'Albert' for a spell. I cal'late 'twill come more handy to us Cape
+folks. We're kind of plain and everyday 'round here. Sapper's ready,
+ain't it, Mother? Al must be hungry. I'm plaguey sure _I_ am.”
+
+“But, Zelotes, maybe he'd like to go up to his bedroom first. He's been
+ridin' a long ways in the cars and maybe he'd like to wash up or change
+his clothes?”
+
+“Change his clothes! Lord sakes, Olive, what would he want to change his
+clothes this time of night for? You don't want to change your clothes,
+do you, boy?”
+
+“No, sir, I guess not.”
+
+“Sartin sure you don't. Want to wash? There's a basin and soap and towel
+right out there in the kitchen.”
+
+He pointed to the kitchen door. At that moment the door was partially
+opened and a brisk feminine voice from behind it inquired: “How about
+eatin'? Are you all ready in there?”
+
+It was Captain Snow who answered.
+
+“You bet we are, Rachel!” he declared. “All ready and then some. Trot
+her out. Sit down, Mother. Sit down, Al. Now then, Rachel, all aboard.”
+
+Rachel, it appeared, was the owner of the brisk feminine voice just
+mentioned. She was brisk herself, as to age about forty, plump, rosy and
+very business-like. She whisked the platter of fried mackerel and the
+dishes of baked potatoes, stewed corn, hot biscuits and all the rest,
+to the table is no time, and then, to Albert's astonishment, sat down at
+that table herself. Mrs. Snow did the honors.
+
+“Albert,” she said, “this is Mrs. Ellis, who helps me keep house.
+Rachel, this is my grandson, Albert--er--Speranza.”
+
+She pronounced the surname in a tone almost apologetic. Mrs. Ellis did
+not attempt to pronounce it. She extended a plump hand and observed: “Is
+that so? Real glad to know you, Albert. How do you think you're goin' to
+like South Harniss?”
+
+Considering that his acquaintance with the village had been so decidedly
+limited, Albert was somewhat puzzled how to reply. His grandfather saved
+him the trouble.
+
+“Lord sakes, Rachel,” he declared, “he ain't seen more'n three square
+foot of it yet. It's darker'n the inside of a nigger's undershirt
+outdoors to-night. Well, Al--Albert, I mean, how are you on mackerel?
+Pretty good stowage room below decks? About so much, eh?”
+
+Mrs. Snow interrupted.
+
+“Zelotes,” she said reprovingly, “ain't you forgettin' somethin'?”
+
+“Eh? Forgettin'? Heavens to Betsy, so I am! Lord, we thank thee for
+these and all other gifts, Amen. What did I do with the fork; swallow
+it?”
+
+As long as he lives Albert Speranza will not forget that first meal in
+the home of his grandparents. It was so strange, so different from
+any other meal he had ever eaten. The food was good and there was an
+abundance of it, but the surroundings were so queer. Instead of the
+well-ordered and sedate school meal, here all the eatables from fish
+to pie were put upon the table at the same time and the servant--or
+housekeeper, which to his mind were one and the same--sat down, not
+only to eat with the family, but to take at least an equal part in the
+conversation. And the conversation itself was so different. Beginning
+with questions concerning his own journey from the New York town where
+the school was located, it at length reached South Harniss and there
+centered about the diminutive person of Laban Keeler, his loquacious and
+tuneful rescuer from the platform of the railway station.
+
+“Where are your things, Albert?” asked Mrs. Snow. “Your trunk or
+travelin' bag, or whatever you had, I mean?”
+
+“My trunks are coming by express,” began the boy. Captain Zelotes
+interrupted him.
+
+“Your trunks?” he repeated. “Got more'n one, have you?”
+
+“Why--why, yes, there are three. Mr. Holden--he is the headmaster, you
+know--”
+
+“Eh? Headmaster? Oh, you mean the boss teacher up there at the school?
+Yes, yes. Um-hm.”
+
+“Yes, sir. Mr. Holden says the trunks should get here in a few days.”
+
+Mrs. Ellis, the housekeeper, made the next remark. “Did I understand you
+to say you had THREE trunks?” she demanded.
+
+“Why, yes.”
+
+“Three trunks for one boy! For mercy sakes, what have you got in 'em?”
+
+“Why--why, my things. My clothes and--and--everything.”
+
+“Everything, or just about, I should say. Goodness gracious me, when
+I go up to Boston I have all I can do to fill up one trunk. And I'm
+bigger'n you are--bigger 'round, anyway.”
+
+There was no doubt about that. Captain Zelotes laughed shortly.
+
+“That statement ain't what I'd call exaggerated, Rachel,” he declared.
+“Every time I see you and Laban out walkin' together he has to keep on
+the sunny side or be in a total eclipse. And, by the way, speakin'
+of Laban--Say, son, how did you and he get along comin' down from the
+depot?”
+
+“All right. It was pretty dark.”
+
+“I'll bet you! Laban wasn't very talkative, was he?”
+
+“Why, yes, sir, he talked a good deal but he sang most of the time.”
+
+This simple statement appeared to cause a most surprising sensation. The
+Snows and their housekeeper looked at each other. Captain Zelotes leaned
+back in his chair and whistled.
+
+“Whew!” he observed. “Hum! Sho! Thunderation!”
+
+“Oh, dear!” exclaimed his wife.
+
+Mrs. Ellis, the housekeeper, drew a long breath. “I might have expected
+it,” she said tartly. “It's past time. He's pretty nigh a month overdue,
+as 'tis.”
+
+Captain Snow rose to his feet. “I was kind of suspicious when he started
+for the barn,” he declared. “Seemed to me he was singin' then. WHAT did
+he sing, boy?” he asked, turning suddenly upon his grandson.
+
+“Why--why, I don't know. I didn't notice particularly. You see, it was
+pretty cold and--”
+
+Mrs. Ellis interrupted. “Did he sing anything about somebody's bein' his
+darlin' hanky-panky and wearin' a number two?” she demanded sharply.
+
+“Why--why, yes, he did.”
+
+Apparently that settled it. Mrs. Snow said, “Oh, dear!” again and the
+housekeeper also rose from the table.
+
+“You'd better go right out to the barn this minute, Cap'n Lote,” she
+said, “and I guess likely I'd better go with you.”
+
+The captain already had his cap on his head.
+
+“No, Rachel,” he said, “I don't need you. Cal'late I can take care
+of 'most anything that's liable to have happened. If he ain't put the
+bridle to bed in the stall and hung the mare up on the harness pegs I
+judge I can handle the job. Wonder how fur along he'd got. Didn't hear
+him singin' anything about 'Hyannis on the Cape,' did you, boy?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“That's some comfort. Now, don't you worry, Mother. I'll be back in a
+few minutes.”
+
+Mrs. Snow clasped her hands. “Oh, I HOPE he hasn't set the barn afire,”
+ she wailed.
+
+“No danger of that, I guess. No, Rachel, you 'tend to your supper. I
+don't need you.”
+
+He tramped out into the hall and the door closed behind him. Mrs. Snow
+turned apologetically to her puzzled grandson, who was entirely at a
+loss to know what the trouble was about.
+
+“You see, Albert,” she hesitatingly explained, “Laban--Mr. Keeler--the
+man who drove you down from the depot--he--he's an awful nice man and
+your grandfather thinks the world and all of him, but--but every once in
+a while he--Oh, dear, I don't know how to say it to you, but--”
+
+Evidently Mrs. Ellis knew how to say it, for she broke into the
+conversation and said it then and there.
+
+“Every once in a while he gets tipsy,” she snapped. “And I only wish I
+had my fingers this minute in the hair of the scamp that gave him the
+liquor.”
+
+A light broke upon Albert's mind. “Oh! Oh, yes!” he exclaimed. “I
+thought he acted a little queer, and once I thought I smelt--Oh, that
+was why he was eating the peppermints!”
+
+Mrs. Snow nodded. There was a moment of silence. Suddenly the
+housekeeper, who had resumed her seat in compliance with Captain
+Zelotes' order, slammed back her chair and stood up.
+
+“I've hated the smell of peppermint for twenty-two year,” she declared,
+and went out into the kitchen. Albert, looking after her, felt his
+grandmother's touch upon his sleeve.
+
+“I wouldn't say any more about it before her,” she whispered. “She's
+awful sensitive.”
+
+Why in the world the housekeeper should be particularly sensitive
+because the man who had driven him from the station ate peppermint was
+quite beyond the boy's comprehension. Nor could he thoroughly understand
+why the suspicion of Mr. Keeler's slight inebriety should cause such a
+sensation in the Snow household. He was inclined to think the tipsiness
+rather funny. Of course alcohol was lectured against often enough
+at school and on one occasion a member of the senior class--a
+twenty-year-old “hold-over” who should have graduated the fall
+before--had been expelled for having beer in his room; but during his
+long summer vacations, spent precariously at hotels or in short visits
+to his father's friends, young Speranza had learned to be tolerant.
+Tolerance was a necessary virtue in the circle surrounding Speranza
+Senior, in his later years. The popping of corks at all hours of the
+night and bottles full, half full or empty, were sounds and sights to
+which Albert had been well accustomed. When one has more than once seen
+his own father overcome by conviviality and the affair treated as a huge
+joke, one is not inclined to be too censorious when others slip. What
+if the queer old Keeler guy was tight? Was that anything to raise such a
+row about?
+
+Plainly, he decided, this was a strange place, this household of his
+grandparents. His premonition that they might be “Rubes” seemed
+likely to have been well founded. What would his father--his great,
+world-famous father--have thought of them? “Bah! these Yankee
+bourgeoisie!” He could almost hear him say it. Miguel Carlos Speranza
+detested--in private--the Yankee bourgeoisie. He took their money and
+he married one of their daughters, but he detested them. During his last
+years, when the money had not flowed his way as copiously, the detest
+grew.
+
+“You won't say anything about Laban before Mrs. Ellis, will you,
+Albert?” persisted Mrs. Snow. “She's dreadful sensitive. I'll explain by
+and by.”
+
+He promised, repressing a condescending smile.
+
+Both the housekeeper and Captain Snow returned in a few minutes. The
+latter reported that the mare was safe and sound in her stall.
+
+“The harness was mostly on the floor, but Jess was all right, thank the
+Lord,” observed the captain.
+
+“Jess is our horse's name, Albert,” explained Mrs. Snow. “That is, her
+name's Jessamine, but Zelotes can't ever seem to say the whole of any
+name. When we first bought Jessamine I named her Magnolia, but he
+called her 'Mag' all the time and I COULDN'T stand that. Have some more
+preserves, Albert, do.”
+
+All through the meal Albert was uneasily conscious that his grandfather
+was looking at him from under the shaggy brows, measuring him,
+estimating him, reading him through and through. He resented the
+scrutiny and the twinkle of sardonic humor which, it seemed to him,
+accompanied it. His way of handling his knife and fork, his clothes, his
+tie, his manner of eating and drinking and speaking, all these Captain
+Zelotes seemed to note and appraise. But whatever the results of his
+scrutiny and appraisal might be he kept them entirely to himself. When
+he addressed his grandson directly, which was not often, his remarks
+were trivial commonplaces and, although pleasant enough, were terse and
+to the point.
+
+Several times Mrs. Snow would have questioned Albert concerning the life
+at school, but each time her husband interfered.
+
+“Not now, not now, Mother,” he said. “The boy ain't goin' to run away
+to-night. He'll be here to-morrow and a good many to-morrows,
+if”--and here again Albert seemed to detect the slight sarcasm and
+the twinkle--“if we old-fashioned 'down easters' ain't too common and
+every-day for a high-toned young chap like him to put up with. No, no,
+don't make him talk to-night. Can't you see he's so sleepy that it's
+only the exercise of openin' his mouth to eat that keeps his eyes from
+shuttin'? How about that, son?”
+
+It was perfectly true. The long train ride, the excitement, the cold
+wait on the station platform and the subsequent warmth of the room, the
+hearty meal, all these combined to make for sleepiness so overpowering
+that several times the boy had caught his nose descending toward his
+plate in a most inelegant nod. But it hurt his pride to think his
+grandfather had noticed his condition.
+
+“Oh, I'm all right,” he said, with dignity.
+
+Somehow the dignity seemed to have little effect upon Captain Zelotes.
+
+“Um--yes, I know,” observed the latter dryly, “but I guess likely you'll
+be more all right in bed. Mother, you'll show Albert where to turn in,
+won't you? There's your suitcase out there in the hall, son. I fetched
+it in from the barn just now.”
+
+Mrs. Snow ventured a protest.
+
+“Oh, Zelotes,” she cried, “ain't we goin' to talk with him at ALL? Why,
+there is so much to say!”
+
+“'Twill say just as well to-morrow mornin', Mother; better, because
+we'll have all day to say it in. Get the lamp.”
+
+Albert looked at his watch.
+
+“Why, it's only half-past nine,” he said.
+
+Captain Zelotes, who also had been looking at the watch, which was a
+very fine and very expensive one, smiled slightly. “Half-past nine some
+nights,” he said, “is equal to half-past twelve others. This is one of
+the some. There, there, son, you're so sleepy this minute that you've
+got a list to starboard. When you and I have that talk that's comin'
+to us we want to be shipshape and on an even keel. Rachel, light that
+lamp.”
+
+The housekeeper brought in and lighted a small hand lamp. Mrs. Snow
+took it and led the way to the hall and the narrow, breakneck flight of
+stairs. Captain Zelotes laid a hand on his grandson's shoulder.
+
+“Good-night, son,” he said quietly.
+
+Albert looked into the gray eyes. Their expression was not unkindly,
+but there was, or he imagined there was, the same quizzical, sardonic
+twinkle. He resented that twinkle more than ever; it made him feel very
+young indeed, and correspondingly obstinate. Something of that obstinacy
+showed in his own eyes as he returned his grandfather's look.
+
+“Good-night--sir,” he said, and for the life of him he could not resist
+hesitating before adding the “sir.” As he climbed the steep stairs
+he fancied he heard a short sniff or chuckle--he was not certain
+which--from the big man in the dining-room.
+
+His bedroom was a good-sized room; that is, it would have been of good
+size if the person who designed it had known what the term “square”
+ meant. Apparently he did not, and had built the apartment on the
+hit-or-miss, higglety-pigglety pattern, with unexpected alcoves cut into
+the walls and closets and chimneys built out from them. There were
+three windows, a big bed, an old-fashioned bureau, a chest of drawers, a
+washstand, and several old-fashioned chairs. Mrs. Snow put the lamp upon
+the bureau. She watched him anxiously as he looked about the room.
+
+“Do--do you like it?” she asked.
+
+Albert replied that he guessed he did. Perhaps there was not too much
+certainty in his tone. He had never before seen a room like it.
+
+“Oh, I hope you will like it! It was your mother's room, Albert. She
+slept here from the time she was seven until--until she went away.”
+
+The boy looked about him with a new interest, an odd thrill. His
+mother's room. His mother. He could just remember her, but that was all.
+The memories were childish and unsatisfactory, but they were memories.
+And she had slept there; this had been her room when she was a girl,
+before she married, before--long before such a person as Alberto Miguel
+Carlos Speranza had been even dreamed of. That was strange, it was queer
+to think about. Long before he was born, when she was years younger than
+he as he stood there now, she had stood there, had looked from those
+windows, had--
+
+His grandmother threw her arms about his neck and kissed him. Her cheek
+was wet.
+
+“Good-night, Albert,” she said chokingly, and hurried out of the room.
+
+He undressed quickly, for the room was very cold. He opened the window,
+after a desperate struggle, and climbed into bed. The wind, whistling
+in, obligingly blew out the lamp for him. It shrieked and howled about
+the eaves and the old house squeaked and groaned. Albert pulled the
+comforter up about his neck and concentrated upon the business of going
+to sleep. He, who could scarcely remember when he had had a real home,
+was desperately homesick.
+
+Downstairs in the dining-room Captain Zelotes stood, his hands in his
+pockets, looking through the mica panes of the stove door at the fire
+within. His wife came up behind him and laid a hand on his sleeve.
+
+“What are you thinkin' about, Father?” she asked.
+
+Her husband shook his head. “I was wonderin',” he said, “what my
+granddad, the original Cap'n Lote Snow that built this house, would have
+said if he'd known that he'd have a great-great-grandson come to live in
+it who was,” scornfully, “a half-breed.”
+
+Olive's grip tightened on his arm.
+
+“Oh, DON'T talk so, Zelotes,” she begged. “He's our Janie's boy.”
+
+The captain opened the stove door, regarded the red-hot coals for an
+instant, and then slammed the door shut again.
+
+“I know, Mother,” he said grimly. “It's for the sake of Janie's half
+that I'm takin' in the other.”
+
+“But--but, Zelotes, don't you think he seems like a nice boy?”
+
+The twinkle reappeared in Captain Lote's eyes.
+
+“I think HE thinks he's a nice boy, Mother,” he said. “There, there,
+let's go to bed.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+The story of the events which led up to the coming, on this December
+night, of a “half-breed” grandson to the Snow homestead, was an old
+story in South Harniss. The date of its beginning was as far back as the
+year 1892.
+
+In the fall of that year Captain Zelotes Snow was in Savannah. He was in
+command of the coasting schooner Olive S. and the said schooner was then
+discharging a general cargo, preparatory to loading with rice and cotton
+for Philadelphia. With the captain in Savannah was his only daughter,
+Jane Olivia, age a scant eighteen, pretty, charming, romantic and
+head over heels in love with a handsome baritone then singing in a
+popular-priced grand opera company. It was because of this handsome
+baritone, who, by the way, was a Spaniard named Miguel Carlos Speranza,
+that Jane Snow was then aboard her father's vessel. Captain Lote was not
+in the habit of taking his women-folks on his voyages with him. “Skirts
+clutter up the deck too much,” was his opinion.
+
+He had taken Jane, however, not only on this voyage, but on that
+preceding it, which had been to Rio. It was Captain Lote's belief,
+and his wife's hope, that a succession of sea winds might blow away
+recollections of Senor Speranza--“fan the garlic out of her head,” as
+the captain inelegantly expressed it. Jane had spent her sixteenth and
+seventeenth years at a school for girls near Boston. The opera company
+of which Speranza was a member was performing at one of the
+minor theaters. A party of the school girls, duly chaperoned and
+faculty-guarded, of course, attended a series of matinees. At these
+matinees Jane first saw her hero, brave in doublet and hose, and braver
+still in melody and romance. She and her mates looked and listened
+and worshiped from afar, as is the habit of maidenly youth under such
+circumstances. There is no particular danger in such worship provided
+the worshiper remains always at a safely remote distance from the idol.
+But in Jane's case this safety-bar was removed by Fate. The wife of a
+friend of her father's, the friend being a Boston merchant named Cole
+with whom Captain Zelotes had had business dealings for many years, was
+a music lover. She was in the habit of giving what she was pleased to
+call “musical teas” at her home. Jane, to whom Mr. and Mrs. Cole had
+taken a marked fancy, was often invited to those teas and, because the
+Coles were “among our nicest people,” she was permitted by the school
+authorities to attend.
+
+At one of those teas Senor Miguel Carlos Speranza was the brightest
+star. The Senor, then in his twenty-ninth year, handsome, talented and
+picturesque, shone refulgent. Other and far more experienced feminine
+hearts than Jane Snow's were flutteringly disturbed by the glory of
+his rays. Jane and he met, they shook hands, they conversed. And at
+subsequent teas they met again, for Speranza, on his part, was strongly
+attracted to the simple, unaffected Cape Cod schoolgirl. It was not
+her beauty alone--though beauty she had and of an unusual type--it
+was something else, a personality which attracted all who met her.
+The handsome Spaniard had had many love affairs of a more or less
+perfunctory kind, but here was something different, something he had
+not known. He began by exerting his powers of fascination in a lazy,
+careless way. To his astonishment the said powers were not overwhelming.
+If Jane was fascinated she was not conquered. She remained sweet,
+simple, direct, charmingly aloof.
+
+And Speranza was at first puzzled, then piqued, then himself madly
+fascinated. He wrote fervid letters, he begged for interviews, he
+haunted each one of Mrs. Cole's “teas.” And, at last, he wrung from Jane
+a confession of her love, her promise to marry him. And that very week
+Miss Donaldson, the head of the school, discovered and read a package of
+the Senor's letters to her pupil.
+
+Captain Zelotes happened to be at home from a voyage. Being summoned
+from South Harniss, he came to Boston and heard the tale from Miss
+Donaldson's agitated lips. Jane was his joy, his pride; her future was
+the great hope and dream of his life. WHEN she married--which was not
+to be thought of for an indefinite number of years to come--she would of
+course marry a--well, not a President of the United States, perhaps--but
+an admiral possibly, or a millionaire, or the owner of a fleet of
+steamships, or something like that. The idea that she should even
+think of marrying a play-actor was unbelievable. The captain had never
+attended the performance of an opera; what was more, he never expected
+to attend one. He had been given to understand that a “parcel of
+play-actin' men and women hollered and screamed to music for a couple
+of hours.” Olive, his wife, had attended an opera once and, according
+to her, it was more like a cat fight than anything else. Nobody but
+foreigners ever had anything to do with operas. And for foreigners of
+all kinds--but the Latin variety of foreigner in particular--Captain
+Zelotes Snow cherished a detest which was almost fanatic.
+
+And now his daughter, his own Janie, was receiving ardent love
+letters from a play-acting foreigner, a Spaniard, a “Portygee,” a
+“macaroni-eater”! When finally convinced that it was true, that the
+letters had really been written to Jane, which took some time, he
+demanded first of all to be shown the “Portygee.” Miss Donaldson could
+not, of course, produce the latter forthwith, but she directed her irate
+visitor to the theater where the opera company was then performing. To
+the theater Captain Zelotes went. He did not find Speranza there, but
+from a frightened attendant he browbeat the information that the singer
+was staying at a certain hotel. So the captain went to the hotel. It was
+eleven o'clock in the morning, Senor Speranza was in bed and could not
+be disturbed. Couldn't, eh? By the great and everlasting et cetera and
+continued he was going to be disturbed then and there. And unless some
+of the hotel's “hired help” set about the disturbing it would be done
+for them. So, rather than summon the police, the hotel management
+summoned its guest, and the first, and only, interview between the
+father and lover of Jane Snow took place.
+
+It was not a long interview, but it was spirited. Captain Zelotes began
+by being what he considered diplomatic. Having assured his wife before
+leaving home, and the alarmed Miss Donaldson subsequently, that there
+was to be no trouble whatever--everything would be settled as smooth
+and easy as slidin' downhill; “that feller won't make any fuss, you'll
+see”--having thus prophesied, the captain felt it incumbent upon himself
+to see to the fulfillment. So he began by condescendingly explaining
+that of course he was kind of sorry for the young man before him, young
+folks were young folks and of course he presumed likely 'twas natural
+enough, and the like of that, you understand. But of course also Mr.
+Speranza must realize that the thing could not go on any further. Jane
+was his daughter and her people were nice people, and naturally, that
+being the case, her mother and he would be pretty particular as to who
+she kept company with, to say nothing of marrying, which event was
+not to be thought of for ten years, anyway. Now he didn't want to
+be--er--personal or anything like that, and of course he wouldn't think
+of saying that Mr. Speranza wasn't a nice enough man for--well, for--for
+. . . You see, everybody wasn't as particular as he and Mrs. Snow were.
+But--
+
+Here Senor Speranza interrupted. He politely desired to know if the
+person speaking was endeavoring to convey the idea that he, Miguel
+Carlos Speranza, was not of sufficient poseetion, goodness, standing,
+what it is? to be considered as suitor for that person's daughter's
+hand. Did Meester Snow comprehend to whom he addressed himself?
+
+The interview terminated not long after. The captain's parting remark
+was in the nature of an ultimatum. It was to the effect that if
+Speranza, or any other condemned undesirable like him, dared to so
+much as look in the direction of Jane Olivia Snow, his daughter, he
+personally would see that the return for that look was a charge of
+buckshot. Speranza, white-faced and furiously gesticulative, commanded
+the astonished bellboy to put that “Bah! pig-idiot!” out into the hall
+and air the room immediately afterward.
+
+Having, as he considered, satisfactorily attended to the presumptuous
+lover, Captain Zelotes returned to the school and to what he believed
+would be the comparatively easy task, the bringing of his daughter to
+reason. Jane had always been an obedient girl, she was devoted to her
+parents. Of course, although she might feel rather disappointed at
+first, she would soon get over it. The idea that she might flatly
+refuse to get over it, that she might have a will of her own, and a
+determination equal to that of the father from whom she inherited it,
+did not occur to the captain at all.
+
+But his enlightenment was prompt and complete. Jane did not rage or
+become hysterical, she did not even weep in his presence. But, quietly,
+with a set of her square little chin, she informed Captain Zelotes that
+she loved Speranza, that she meant to marry him and that she should
+marry him, some day or other. The captain raged, commanded, pleaded,
+begged. What was the matter with her? What had come over her? Didn't she
+love her father and mother any more that she should set out to act this
+way? Yes, she declared that she loved them as much as ever, but that
+she loved her lover more than all the world, and no one--not even her
+parents--should separate them.
+
+Captain Zelotes gave it up at last. That is, he gave up the appeal to
+reason and the pleadings. But he did not give up the idea of having his
+own way in the matter; being Zelotes Snow, he certainly did not give
+that up. Instead he took his daughter home with him to South Harniss,
+where a tearful and heart-broken Olive added her persuasions to his.
+But, when she found Jane obdurate, Mrs. Snow might have surrendered.
+Not her husband, however. Instead he conceived a brilliant idea. He was
+about to start on a voyage to Rio Janeiro; he would take his wife and
+daughter with him. Under their immediate observation and far removed
+from the influence of “that Portygee,” Jane would be in no danger and
+might forget.
+
+Jane made no remonstrance. She went to Rio and returned. She was always
+calm, outwardly pleasant and quiet, never mentioned her lover unless in
+answer to a question; but she never once varied from her determination
+not to give him up. The Snows remained at home for a month. Then
+Zelotes, Jane accompanying him, sailed from Boston to Savannah. Olive
+did not go with them; she hated the sea and by this time both she and
+her husband were somewhat reassured. So far as they could learn by
+watchful observation of their daughter, the latter had not communicated
+with Speranza nor received communications from him. If she had not
+forgotten him it seemed likely that he had forgotten her. The thought
+made the captain furiously angry, but it comforted him, too.
+
+During the voyage to Savannah this sense of comfort became stronger.
+Jane seemed in better spirits. She was always obedient, but now she
+began to seem almost cheerful, to speak, and even laugh occasionally
+just as she used to. Captain Zelotes patted himself on the back,
+figuratively. His scheme had been a good one.
+
+And in Savannah, one afternoon, Jane managed to elude her father's
+observation, to leave the schooner and to disappear completely. And
+that night came a letter. She and Miguel Carlos Speranza had been
+in correspondence all the time, how or through whose connivance is a
+mystery never disclosed. He had come to Savannah, in accordance with
+mutual arrangement; they had met, were married, and had gone away
+together.
+
+“I love you, Father,” Jane wrote in the letter. “I love you and Mother
+so very, VERY much. Oh, PLEASE believe that! But I love him, too. And I
+could not give him up. You will see why when you know him, really know
+him. If it were not for you I should be SO happy. I know you can't
+forgive me now, but some day I am sure you will forgive us both.”
+
+Captain Zelotes was far, far from forgiveness as he read that letter.
+His first mate, who was beside him when he opened and read it, was
+actually frightened when he saw the look on the skipper's face. “He went
+white,” said the mate; “not pale, but white, same as a dead man, or--or
+the underside of a flatfish, or somethin'. 'For the Lord sakes, Cap'n,'
+says I, 'what's the matter?' He never answered me, stood starin' at
+the letter. Then he looked up, not at me, but as if somebody else was
+standin' there on t'other side of the cabin table. 'Forgive him!' he
+says, kind of slow and under his breath. 'I won't forgive his black soul
+in hell.' When I heard him say it I give you my word my hair riz under
+my cap. If ever there was killin' in a man's voice and in his looks
+'twas in Cap'n Lote's that night. When I asked him again what was the
+matter he didn't answer any more than he had the first time. A few
+minutes afterwards he went into his stateroom and shut the door. I
+didn't see him again until the next mornin'.”
+
+Captain Zelotes made no attempt to follow the runaway couple. He did
+take pains to ascertain that they were legally married, but that
+was all. He left his schooner in charge of the mate at Savannah and
+journeyed north to South Harniss and his wife. A week he remained at
+home with her, then returned to the Olive S. and took up his command and
+its duties as if nothing had happened. But what had happened changed his
+whole life. He became more taciturn, a trifle less charitable, a little
+harder and more worldly. Before the catastrophe he had been interested
+in business success and the making of money chiefly because of his plans
+for his daughter's future. Now he worked even harder because it helped
+him to forget. He became sole owner of the Olive S., then of other
+schooners. People spoke of him as one destined to become a wealthy man.
+
+Jane lived only a few years after her marriage. She died at the birth of
+her second child, who died with her. Her first, a boy, was born a year
+after the elopement. She wrote her mother to tell that news and Olive
+answered the letter. She begged permission of her husband to invite Jane
+and the baby to visit the old home. At first Zelotes said no, flatly;
+the girl had made her bed, let her lie in it. But a year later he had
+so far relented as to give reluctant consent for Jane and the child to
+come, provided her condemned husband did not accompany them. “If that
+low-lived Portygee sets foot on my premises, so help me God, I'll
+kill him!” declared the captain. In his vernacular all foreigners were
+“Portygees.”
+
+But Jane was as proud and stubborn as he. Where her husband was not
+welcome she would not go. And a little later she had gone on the longest
+of all journeys. Speranza did not notify her parents except to send a
+clipped newspaper account of her death and burial, which arrived a week
+after the latter had taken place. The news prostrated Olive, who was ill
+for a month. Captain Zelotes bore it, as he had borne the other great
+shock, with outward calm and quiet. Yet a year afterward he suddenly
+announced his determination of giving up the sea and his prosperous and
+growing shipping business and of spending the rest of his days on the
+Cape.
+
+Olive was delighted, of course. Riches--that is, more than a comfortable
+competency--had no temptations for her. The old house, home of three
+generations of Snows, was painted, repaired and, to some extent,
+modernized. For another year Captain Zelotes “loafed,” as he called it,
+although others might have considered his activities about the place
+anything but that. At the end of that year he surprised every one by
+buying from the heirs of the estate the business equipment of the late
+Eben Raymond, hardware dealer and lumber merchant of South Harniss,
+said equipment comprising an office, a store and lumber yards near
+the railway station. “Got to have somethin' to keep me from gettin'
+barnacled,” declared Captain Lote. “There's enough old hulks rottin' at
+their moorin's down here as 'tis. I don't know anything about lumber and
+half as much about hardware, but I cal'late I can learn.” As an aid in
+the learning process he retained as bookkeeper Laban Keeler, who had
+acted in that capacity for the former proprietor.
+
+The years slipped away, a dozen of them, as smoothly and lazily as South
+Harniss years have always slipped. Captain Zelotes was past sixty
+now, but as vigorous as when forty, stubborn as ever, fond of using
+quarter-deck methods on shore and especially in town-meeting, and
+very often in trouble in consequence. He was a member of the Board of
+Selectmen and was in the habit of characterizing those whose opinions
+differed from his as “narrow-minded.” They retorted by accusing him of
+being “pig-headed.” There was some truth on both sides. His detest of
+foreigners had not abated in the least.
+
+And then, in this December of the year 1910, fell as from a clear sky
+the legacy of a grandson. From Senor Miguel Carlos Speranza the Snows
+had had no direct word, had received nothing save the newspaper clipping
+already mentioned. Olive had never seen him; her husband had seen him
+only on the occasion of the memorable interview in the hotel room. They
+never spoke of him, never mentioned him to each other. Occasionally,
+in the Boston newspapers, his likeness in costume had appeared amid the
+music notes or theatrical jottings. But these had not been as numerous
+of late. Of his son, their own daughter's child, they knew nothing;
+he might be alive or he might be dead. Sometimes Olive found herself
+speculating concerning him, wondering if he was alive, and if he
+resembled Jane. But she put the speculation from her thoughts; she
+could not bear to bring back memories of the old hopes and their bitter
+ending. Sometimes Captain Lote at his desk in the office of “Z. Snow
+& Co., Lumber and Builders' Hardware,” caught himself dreaming of his
+idolized daughter and thinking how different the future might have been
+for him had she married a “white man,” the kind of man he had meant for
+her to marry. There might be grandchildren growing up now, fine boys
+and girls, to visit the old home at South Harniss. “Ah hum! Well! . . .
+Labe, how long has this bill of Abner Parker's been hangin' on?
+For thunder sakes, why don't he pay up? He must think we're runnin' a
+meetin'-house Christmas tree.”
+
+The letter from the lawyer had come first. It was written in New York,
+was addressed to “Captain Lotus Snow,” and began by taking for granted
+the fact that the recipient knew all about matters of which he knew
+nothing. Speranza was dead, so much was plain, and the inference was
+that he had been fatally injured in an automobile accident, “particulars
+of which you have of course read in the papers.” Neither Captain Lote
+nor his wife had read anything of the kind in the papers. The captain
+had been very busy of late and had read little except political news,
+and Mrs. Snow never read of murders and accidents, their details at
+least. She looked up from the letter, which her husband had hastened
+home from the office to bring her, with a startled face.
+
+“Oh, Zelotes,” she cried, “he's dead!”
+
+The captain nodded.
+
+“Seems so,” he said. “That part's plain enough, but go on. The rest of
+it is what I can't get a hand-hold on. See what you make of the rest of
+it, Olive.”
+
+The rest of it was to the effect that the writer, being Mr. Speranza's
+business adviser, “that is to say, as much or more so than any one
+else,” had been called in at the time of the accident, had conferred
+with the injured man, and had learned his last wishes. “He expressed
+himself coherently concerning his son,” went on the letter, “and it is
+in regard to that son that I am asking an interview with you. I should
+have written sooner, but have been engaged with matters pertaining to
+Mr. Speranza's estate and personal debts. The latter seem to be large--”
+
+“I'LL bet you!” observed Captain Zelotes, sententiously, interrupting
+his wife's reading by pointing to this sentence with a big forefinger.
+
+“'And the estate's affairs much tangled,'” went on Olive, reading aloud.
+“'It seems best that I should see you concerning the boy at once. I
+don't know whether or not you are aware that he is at school in ----,
+New York. I am inclined to think that the estate itself will scarcely
+warrant the expense of his remaining there. Could you make it convenient
+to come to New York and see me at once? Or, if not, I shall be in
+Boston on Friday of next week and can you meet me there? It seems almost
+impossible for me to come to you just now, and, of course, you will
+understand that I am acting as a sort of temporary executor merely
+because Mr. Speranza was formerly my friend and not because I have any
+pecuniary interest in the settlement of his affairs.
+
+“'Very truly yours,
+
+“'MARCUS W. WEISSMANN.'”
+
+
+“Weissman! Another Portygee!” snorted Captain Lote.
+
+“But--but what does it MEAN?” begged Mrs. Snow. “Why--why should he want
+to see you, Zelotes? And the boy--why--why, that's HER boy. It's Janie's
+boy he must mean, Zelotes.”
+
+Her husband nodded.
+
+“Hers and that blasted furriner's,” he muttered. “I suppose so.”
+
+“Oh, DON'T speak that way, Zelotes! Don't! He's dead.”
+
+Captain Lote's lips tightened. “If he'd died twenty years ago 'twould
+have been better for all hands,” he growled.
+
+“Janie's boy!” repeated Olive slowly. “Why--why, he must be a big boy
+now. Almost grown up.”
+
+Her husband did not speak. He was pacing the floor, his hands in his
+pockets.
+
+“And this man wants to see you about him,” said Olive. Then, after a
+moment, she added timidly: “Are you goin', Zelotes?”
+
+“Goin'? Where?”
+
+“To New York? To see this lawyer man?”
+
+“I? Not by a jugful! What in blazes should I go to see him for?”
+
+“Well--well, he wants you to, you know. He wants to talk with you about
+the--the boy.”
+
+“Humph!”
+
+“It's her boy, Zelotes.”
+
+“Humph! Young Portygee!”
+
+“Don't, Zelotes! Please! . . . I know you can't forgive that--that man.
+We can't either of us forgive him; but--”
+
+The captain stopped in his stride. “Forgive him!” he repeated. “Mother,
+don't talk like a fool. Didn't he take away the one thing that I was
+workin' for, that I was plannin' for, that I was LIVIN' for? I--”
+
+She interrupted, putting a hand on his sleeve.
+
+“Not the only thing, dear,” she said. “You had me, you know.”
+
+His expression changed. He looked down at her and smiled.
+
+“That's right, old lady,” he admitted. “I had you, and thank the
+Almighty for it. Yes, I had you . . . But,” his anger returning, “when
+I think how that damned scamp stole our girl from us and then neglected
+her and killed her--”
+
+“ZELOTES! How you talk! He DIDN'T kill her. How can you!”
+
+“Oh, I don't mean he murdered her, of course. But I'll bet all I've got
+that he made her miserable. Look here, Mother, you and she used to write
+back and forth once in a while. In any one of those letters did she ever
+say she was happy?”
+
+Mrs. Snow's answer was somewhat equivocal. “She never said she was
+unhappy,” she replied. Her husband sniffed and resumed his pacing up and
+down.
+
+After a little Olive spoke again.
+
+“New York IS a good ways,” she said. “Maybe 'twould be better for you to
+meet this lawyer man in Boston. Don't you think so?”
+
+“Bah!”
+
+Another interval. Then: “Zelotes?”
+
+“Yes,” impatiently. “What is it?”
+
+“It's her boy, after all, isn't it? Our grandson, yours and mine. Don't
+you think--don't you think it's your duty to go, Zelotes?”
+
+Captain Lote stamped his foot.
+
+“For thunderation sakes, Olive, let up!” he commanded. “You ought to
+know by this time that there's one thing I hate worse than doin' my
+duty, that's bein' preached to about it. Let up! Don't you say another
+word.”
+
+She did not, having learned much by years of experience. He said the
+next word on the subject himself. At noon, when he came home for dinner,
+he said, as they rose from the table: “Where's my suitcase, up attic?”
+
+“Why, yes, I guess likely 'tis. Why?”
+
+Instead of answering he turned to the housekeeper, Mrs. Ellis.
+
+“Rachel,” he said, “go up and get that case and fetch it down to the
+bedroom, will you? Hurry up! Train leaves at half-past two and it's
+'most one now.”
+
+Both women stared at him. Mrs. Ellis spoke first.
+
+“Why, Cap'n Lote,” she cried; “be you goin' away?”
+
+Her employer's answer was crisp and very much to the point. “I am if
+I can get that case time enough to pack it and make the train,” he
+observed. “If you stand here askin' questions I probably shall stay to
+home.”
+
+The housekeeper made a hasty exit by way of the back stairs. Mrs. Snow
+still gazed wonderingly at her husband.
+
+“Zelotes,” she faltered, “are you--are you--”
+
+“I'm goin' to New York on to-night's boat. I've telegraphed that--that
+Weiss--Weiss--what-do-you-call-it--that Portygee lawyer--that I'll be to
+his office to-morrow mornin'.”
+
+“But, Zelotes, we haven't scarcely talked about it, you and I, at all.
+You might have waited till he came to Boston. Why do you go so SOON?”
+
+The captain's heavy brows drew together.
+
+“You went to the dentist's last Friday,” he said. “Why didn't you wait
+till next week?”
+
+“Why--why, what a question! My tooth ached and I wanted to have it fixed
+quick as possible.”
+
+“Um-m, yes. Well, this tooth aches and I want it fixed or hauled out,
+one or t'other. I want the thing off my mind. . . . Don't TALK to me?”
+ he added, irritably. “I know I'm a fool. And,” with a peremptory wave of
+the hand, “don't you DARE say anything about DUTY!”
+
+He was back again two days later. His wife did not question him, but
+waited for him to speak. Those years of experience already mentioned had
+taught her diplomacy. He looked at her and pulled his beard. “Well,” he
+observed, when they were alone together, “I saw him.”
+
+“The--the boy?” eagerly.
+
+“No, no! Course not! The boy's at school somewhere up in New York State;
+how could I see him! I saw that lawyer and I found out about--about the
+other scamp. He was killed in an auto accident, drunk at the time, I
+cal'late. Nigh's I can gather he's been drinkin' pretty heavy for the
+last six or seven years. Always lived high, same as his kind generally
+does, and spent money like water, I judge--but goin' down hill fast
+lately. His voice was givin' out on him and he realized it, I presume
+likely. Now he's dead and left nothin' but trunks full of stage clothes
+and photographs and,” contemptuously, “letters from fool women, and
+debts--Lord, yes! debts enough.”
+
+“But the boy, Zelotes. Janie's boy?”
+
+“He's been at this school place for pretty nigh ten years, so the lawyer
+feller said. That lawyer was a pretty decent chap, too, for a furriner.
+Seems he used to know this--Speranza rascal--when Speranza was younger
+and more decent--if he ever was really decent, which I doubt. But this
+lawyer man was his friend then and about the only one he really had when
+he was hurt. There was plenty of make-believe friends hangin' on, like
+pilot-fish to a shark, for what they could get by spongin' on him, but
+real friends were scarce.”
+
+“And the boy--”
+
+“For the Lord sakes, Mother, don't keep sayin' 'The boy,' 'the boy,'
+over and over again like a talkin' machine! Let me finish about the
+father first. This Weis--er--thingamajig--the lawyer, had quite a talk
+with Speranza afore he died, or while he was dyin'; he only lived a few
+hours after the accident and was out of his head part of that. But
+he said enough to let Weiss--er--er--Oh, why CAN'T I remember that
+Portygee's name?--to let him know that he'd like to have him settle up
+what was left of his affairs, and to send word to us about--about the
+boy. There! I hope you feel easier, Mother; I've got 'round to 'the boy'
+at last.”
+
+“But why did he want word sent to us, Zelotes? He never wrote a line to
+us in his life.”
+
+“You bet he didn't!” bitterly; “he knew better. Why did he want word
+sent now? The answer to that's easy enough. 'Cause he wanted to get
+somethin' out of us, that's the reason. From what that lawyer could
+gather, and from what he's found out since, there ain't money enough
+for the boy to stay another six weeks at that school, or anywhere else,
+unless the young feller earns it himself. And, leavin' us out of the
+count, there isn't a relation this side of the salt pond. There's
+probably a million or so over there in Portygee-land,” with a derisive
+sniff; “those foreigners breed like flies. But THEY don't count.”
+
+“But did he want word sent to us about the--”
+
+“Sshh! I'm tellin' you, Olive, I'm tellin' you. He wanted word sent
+because he was in hopes that we--you and I, Mother--would take that son
+of his in at our house here and give him a home. The cheek of it! After
+what he'd done to you and me, blast him! The solid brass nerve of it!”
+
+He stormed up and down the room. His wife did not seem nearly so much
+disturbed as he at the thought of the Speranza presumption. She looked
+anxious--yes, but she looked eager, too, and her gaze was fixed upon her
+husband's face.
+
+“Oh!” she said, softly. “Oh! . . . And--and what did you say, Zelotes?”
+
+“What did I say? What do you suppose I said? I said no, and I said it
+good and loud, too.”
+
+Olive made no comment. She turned away her head, and the captain,
+who now in his turn was watching her, saw a suspicious gleam, as of
+moisture, on her cheek. He stopped his pacing and laid a hand on her
+shoulder.
+
+“There, there, Mother,” he said, gently. “Don't cry. He's comin'.”
+
+“Comin'?” She turned pale. “Comin'?” she repeated. “Who?”
+
+“That boy! . . . Sshh! shh!” impatiently. “Now don't go askin' me
+questions or tellin' me what I just said I said. I SAID the right thing,
+but--Well, hang it all, what else could I DO? I wrote the boy--Albert--a
+letter and I wrote the boss of the school another one. I sent a check
+along for expenses and--Well, he'll be here 'most any day now, I
+shouldn't wonder. And WHAT in the devil are we goin' to do with him?”
+
+His wife did not reply to this outburst. She was trembling with
+excitement.
+
+“Is--is his name Albert?” she faltered.
+
+“Um-hm. Seems so.”
+
+“Why, that's your middle name! Do you--do you s'pose Janie could have
+named him for--for you?”
+
+“I don't know.”
+
+“Of course,” with some hesitation, “it may be she didn't. If she'd named
+him Zelotes--”
+
+“Good heavens, woman! Isn't one name like that enough in the family?
+Thank the Lord we're spared two of 'em! But there! he's comin'. And when
+he gets here--then what?”
+
+Olive put her arm about her big husband.
+
+“I hope--yes, I'm sure you did right, Zelotes, and that all's goin' to
+turn out to be for the best.”
+
+“Are you? Well, _I_ ain't sure, not by a thousand fathom.”
+
+“He's Janie's boy.”
+
+“Yes. And he's that play-actor's boy, too. One Speranza pretty nigh
+ruined your life and mine, Olive. What'll this one do? . . . Well, God
+knows, I suppose likely, but He won't tell. All we can do is wait and
+see. I tell you honest I ain't very hopeful.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+A brisk rap on the door; then a man's voice.
+
+“Hello, there! Wake up.”
+
+Albert rolled over, opened one eye, then the other and raised himself on
+his elbow.
+
+“Eh? Wh-what?” he stammered.
+
+“Seven o'clock! Time to turn out.”
+
+The voice was his grandfather's. “Oh--oh, all right!” he answered.
+
+“Understand me, do you?”
+
+“Yes--yes, sir. I'll be right down.”
+
+The stairs creaked as Captain Zelotes descended them. Albert yawned
+cavernously, stretched and slid one foot out of bed. He drew it back
+instantly, however, for the sensation was that of having thrust it into
+a bucket of cold water. The room had been cold the previous evening;
+plainly it was colder still now. The temptation was to turn back and go
+to sleep again, but he fought against it. Somehow he had a feeling that
+to disregard his grandfather's summons would be poor diplomacy.
+
+He set his teeth and, tossing back the bed clothes, jumped to the floor.
+Then he jumped again, for the floor was like ice. The window was wide
+open and he closed it, but there was no warm radiator to cuddle against
+while dressing. He missed his compulsory morning shower, a miss which
+did not distress him greatly. He shook himself into his clothes, soused
+his head and neck in a basin of ice water poured from a pitcher, and,
+before brushing his hair, looked out of the window.
+
+It was a sharp winter morning. The wind had gone down, but before
+subsiding it had blown every trace of mist or haze from the air, and
+from his window-sill to the horizon every detail was clean cut and
+distinct. He was looking out, it seemed, from the back of the house. The
+roof of the kitchen extension was below him and, to the right, the high
+roof of the barn. Over the kitchen roof and to the left he saw little
+rolling hills, valleys, cranberry swamps, a pond. A road wound in
+and out and, scattered along it, were houses, mostly white with green
+blinds, but occasionally varied by the gray of unpainted, weathered
+shingles. A long, low-spreading building a half mile off looked as if
+it might be a summer hotel, now closed and shuttered. Beyond it was a
+cluster of gray shanties and a gleam of water, evidently a wharf and a
+miniature harbor. And, beyond that, the deep, brilliant blue of the sea.
+Brown and blue were the prevailing colors, but, here and there, clumps
+and groves of pines gave splashes of green.
+
+There was an exhilaration in the crisp air. He felt an unwonted
+liveliness and a desire to be active which would have surprised some of
+his teachers at the school he had just left. The depression of spirits
+of which he had been conscious the previous night had disappeared
+along with his premonitions of unpleasantness. He felt optimistic this
+morning. After giving his curls a rake with the comb, he opened the door
+and descended the steep stairs to the lower floor.
+
+His grandmother was setting the breakfast table. He was a little
+surprised to see her doing it. What was the use of having servants if
+one did the work oneself? But perhaps the housekeeper was ill.
+
+“Good morning,” he said.
+
+Mrs. Snow, who had not heard him enter, turned and saw him. When he
+crossed the room, she kissed him on the cheek.
+
+“Good morning, Albert,” she said. “I hope you slept well.”
+
+Albert replied that he had slept very well indeed. He was a trifle
+disappointed that she made no comment on his promptness in answering his
+grandfather's summons. He felt such promptness deserved commendation. At
+school they rang two bells at ten minute intervals, thus giving a fellow
+a second chance. It had been a point of senior etiquette to accept
+nothing but that second chance. Here, apparently, he was expected to
+jump at the first. There was a matter of course about his grandmother's
+attitude which was disturbing.
+
+She went on setting the table, talking as she did so.
+
+“I'm real glad you did sleep,” she said. “Some folks can hardly
+ever sleep the first night in a strange room. Zelotes--I mean your
+grandpa--'s gone out to see to the horse and feed the hens and the pig.
+He'll be in pretty soon. Then we'll have breakfast. I suppose you're
+awful hungry.”
+
+As a matter of fact he was not very hungry. Breakfast was always a
+more or less perfunctory meal with him. But he was surprised to see
+the variety of eatables upon that table. There were cookies there, and
+doughnuts, and even half an apple pie. Pie for breakfast! It had been a
+newspaper joke at which he had laughed many times. But it seemed not to
+be a joke here, rather a solemn reality.
+
+The kitchen door opened and Mrs. Ellis put in her head. To Albert's
+astonishment the upper part of the head, beginning just above the brows,
+was swathed in a huge bandage. The lower part was a picture of hopeless
+misery.
+
+“Has Cap'n Lote come in yet?” inquired the housekeeper, faintly.
+
+“Not yet, Rachel,” replied Mrs. Snow. “He'll be here in a minute,
+though. Albert's down, so you can begin takin' up the things.”
+
+The head disappeared. A sigh of complete wretchedness drifted in as the
+door closed. Albert looked at his grandmother in alarm.
+
+“Is she sick?” he faltered.
+
+“Who? Rachel? No, she ain't exactly sick . . . Dear me! Where did I put
+that clean napkin?”
+
+The boy stared at the kitchen door. If his grandmother had said the
+housekeeper was not exactly dead he might have understood. But to say
+she was not exactly sick--
+
+“But--but what makes her look so?” he stammered. “And--and what's she
+got that on her head for? And she groaned! Why, she MUST be sick!”
+
+Mrs. Snow, having found the clean napkin, laid it beside her husband's
+plate.
+
+“No,” she said calmly. “It's one of her sympathetic attacks; that's what
+she calls 'em, sympathetic attacks. She has 'em every time Laban
+Keeler starts in on one of his periodics. It's nerves, I suppose. Cap'n
+Zelotes--your grandfather--says it's everlastin' foolishness. Whatever
+'tis, it's a nuisance. And she's so sensible other times, too.”
+
+Albert was more puzzled than ever. Why in the world Mrs. Ellis should
+tie up her head and groan because the little Keeler person had gone on a
+spree was beyond his comprehension.
+
+His grandmother enlightened him a trifle.
+
+“You see,” she went on, “she and Laban have been engaged to be married
+ever since they were young folks. It's Laban's weakness for liquor
+that's kept 'em apart so long. She won't marry him while he drinks and
+he keeps swearin' off and then breaking down. He's a good man, too; an
+awful good man and capable as all get-out when he's sober. Lately that
+is, for the last seven or eight years, beginnin' with the time when that
+lecturer on mesmerism and telegraphy--no, telepathy--thought-transfers
+and such--was at the town hall--Rachel has been havin' these sympathetic
+attacks of hers. She declares that alcohol-takin' is a disease and
+that Laban suffers when he's tipsy and that she and he are so bound up
+together that she suffers just the same as he does. I must say I never
+noticed him sufferin' very much, not at the beginnin,' anyhow--acts
+more as he was havin' a good time--but she seems to. I don't wonder you
+smile,” she added. “'Tis funny, in a way, and it's queer that such a
+practical, common-sense woman as Rachel Ellis is, should have such a
+notion. It's hard on us, though. Don't say anything to her about it, and
+don't laugh at her, whatever you do.”
+
+Albert wanted to laugh very much. “But, Mrs. Snow--” he began.
+
+“Mercy sakes alive! You ain't goin' to call me 'Mrs. Snow,' I hope.”
+
+“No, of course not. But, Grandmother why do you and Captain--you and
+Grandfather keep her and Keeler if they are so much trouble? Why don't
+you let them go and get someone else?”
+
+“Let 'em go? Get someone else! Why, we COULDN'T get anybody else, anyone
+who would be like them. They're almost a part of our family; that is,
+Rachel is, she's been here since goodness knows when. And, when he's
+sober Laban almost runs the lumber business. Besides, they're nice
+folks--almost always.”
+
+Plainly the ways of South Harniss were not the ways of the world he had
+known. Certainly these people were “Rubes” and queer Rubes, too. Then he
+remembered that two of them were his grandparents and that his immediate
+future was, so to speak, in their hands. The thought was not entirely
+comforting or delightful. He was still pondering upon it when his
+grandfather came in from the barn.
+
+The captain said good morning in the same way he had said good night,
+that is, he and Albert shook hands and the boy was again conscious of
+the gaze which took him in from head to foot and of the quiet twinkle in
+the gray eyes.
+
+“Sleep well, son?” inquired Captain Zelotes.
+
+“Yes . . . Yes, sir.”
+
+“That's good. I judged you was makin' a pretty good try at it when I
+thumped on your door this mornin'. Somethin' new for you to be turned
+out at seven, eh?”
+
+“No, sir.”
+
+“Eh? It wasn't?”
+
+“No, sir. The rising bell rang at seven up at school. We were supposed
+to be down at breakfast at a quarter past.”
+
+“Humph! You were, eh? Supposed to be? Does that mean that you were
+there?”
+
+“Yes, sir.”
+
+There was a surprised look in the gray eyes now, a fact which Albert
+noticed with inward delight. He had taken one “rise” out of his
+grandfather, at any rate. He waited, hoping for another opportunity, but
+it did not come. Instead they sat down to breakfast.
+
+Breakfast, in spite of the morning sunshine at the windows, was somewhat
+gloomy. The homesickness, although not as acute as on the previous
+night, was still in evidence. Albert felt lost, out of his element,
+lonely. And, to add a touch of real miserableness, the housekeeper
+served and ate like a near relative of the deceased at a funeral feast.
+She moved slowly, she sighed heavily, and the bandage upon her forehead
+loomed large and portentous. When spoken to she seldom replied before
+the third attempt. Captain Zelotes lost patience.
+
+“Have another egg?” he roared, brandishing the spoon containing it at
+arm's length and almost under her nose. “Egg! Egg! EGG! If you can't
+hear it, smell it. Only answer, for heaven sakes!”
+
+The effect of this outburst was obviously not what he had hoped. Mrs.
+Ellis stared first at the egg quivering before her face, then at the
+captain. Then she rose and marched majestically to the kitchen. The door
+closed, but a heartrending sniff drifted in through the crack. Olive
+laid down her knife and fork.
+
+“There!” she exclaimed, despairingly. “Now see what you've done. Oh,
+Zelotes, how many times have I told you you've got to treat her tactful
+when she's this way?”
+
+Captain Lote put the egg back in the bowl.
+
+“DAMN!” he observed, with intense enthusiasm.
+
+His wife shook her head.
+
+“Swearin' don't help it a mite, either,” she declared. “Besides I
+don't know what Albert here must think of you.” Albert, who, between
+astonishment and a wild desire to laugh, was in a critical condition,
+appeared rather embarrassed. His grandfather looked at him and smiled
+grimly.
+
+“I cal'late one damn won't scare him to death,” he observed. “Maybe he's
+heard somethin' like it afore. Or do they say, 'Oh, sugar!' up at that
+school you come from?” he added.
+
+Albert, not knowing how to reply, looked more embarrassed than ever.
+Olive seemed on the point of weeping.
+
+“Oh, Zelotes, how CAN you!” she wailed. “And to-day, of all days! His
+very first mornin'!”
+
+Captain Lote relented.
+
+“There, there, Mother!” he said. “I'm sorry. Forget it. Sorry if I
+shocked you, Albert. There's times when salt-water language is the only
+thing that seems to help me out . . . Well, Mother, what next? What'll
+we do now?”
+
+“You know just as well as I do, Zelotes. There's only one thing you can
+do. That's go out and beg her pardon this minute. There's a dozen places
+she could get right here in South Harniss without turnin' her hand over.
+And if she should leave I don't know WHAT I'd do.”
+
+“Leave! She ain't goin' to leave any more'n than the ship's cat's goin'
+to jump overboard. She's been here so long she wouldn't know how to
+leave if she wanted to.”
+
+“That don't make any difference. The pitcher that goes to the
+well--er--er--”
+
+She had evidently forgotten the rest of the proverb. Her husband helped
+her out.
+
+“Flocks together or gathers no moss, or somethin', eh? All right,
+Mother, don't fret. There ain't really any occasion to, considerin'
+we've been through somethin' like this at least once every six months
+for ten years.”
+
+“Zelotes, won't you PLEASE go and ask her pardon?”
+
+The captain pushed back his chair. “I'll be hanged if it ain't a healthy
+note,” he grumbled, “when the skipper has to go and apologize to the
+cook because the cook's made a fool of herself! I'd like to know what
+kind of rum Labe drinks. I never saw any but his kind that would go
+to somebody else's head. Two people gettin' tight and only one of 'em
+drinkin' is somethin'--”
+
+He disappeared into the kitchen, still muttering. Mrs. Snow smiled
+feebly at her grandson.
+
+“I guess you think we're funny folks, Albert,” she said. “But Rachel is
+one hired help in a thousand and she has to be treated just so.”
+
+Five minutes later Cap'n 'Lote returned. He shrugged his shoulders and
+sat down at his place.
+
+“All right, Mother, all right,” he observed. “I've been heavin' ile on
+the troubled waters and the sea's smoothin' down. She'll be kind and
+condescendin' enough to eat with us in a minute or so.”
+
+She was. She came into the dining-room with the air of a saint going to
+martyrdom and the remainder of the meal was eaten by the quartet almost
+in silence. When it was over the captain said:
+
+“Well, Al, feel like walkin', do you?”
+
+“Why, why, yes, sir, I guess so.”
+
+“Humph! You don't seem very wild at the prospect. Walkin' ain't much in
+your line, maybe. More used to autoin', perhaps?”
+
+Mrs. Snow put in a word. “Don't talk so, Zelotes,” she said. “He'll
+think you're makin' fun of him.”
+
+“Who? Me? Not a bit of it. Well, Al, do you want to walk down to the
+lumber yard with me?”
+
+The boy hesitated. The quiet note of sarcasm in his grandfather's voice
+was making him furiously angry once more, just as it had done on the
+previous night.
+
+“Do you want me to?” he asked, shortly.
+
+“Why, yes, I cal'late I do.”
+
+Albert, without another word, walked to the hat-rack in the hall and
+began putting on his coat. Captain Lote watched him for a moment and
+then put on his own.
+
+“We'll be back to dinner, Mother,” he said. “Heave ahead, Al, if you're
+ready.”
+
+There was little conversation between the pair during the half mile
+walk to the office and yards of “Z. Snow and Co., Lumber and Builders'
+Hardware.” Only once did the captain offer a remark. That was just as
+they came out by the big posts at the entrance to the driveway. Then he
+said:
+
+“Al, I don't want you to get the idea from what happened at the table
+just now--that foolishness about Rachel Ellis--that your grandmother
+ain't a sensible woman. She is, and there's no better one on earth.
+Don't let that fact slip your mind.”
+
+Albert, somewhat startled by the abruptness of the observation, looked
+up in surprise. He found the gray eyes looking down at him.
+
+“I noticed you lookin' at her,” went on his grandfather, “as if you was
+kind of wonderin' whether to laugh at her or pity her. You needn't
+do either. She's kind-hearted and that makes her put up with Rachel's
+silliness. Then, besides, Rachel herself is common sense and practical
+nine-tenths of the time. It's always a good idea, son, to sail one
+v'yage along with a person before you decide whether to class 'em as A.
+B. or just roustabout.”
+
+The blood rushed to the boy's face. He felt guilty and the feeling made
+him angrier than ever.
+
+“I don't see why,” he burst out, indignantly, “you should say I was
+laughing at--at Mrs. Snow--”
+
+“At your grandmother.”
+
+“Well--yes--at my grandmother. I don't see why you should say that. I
+wasn't.”
+
+“Wasn't you? Good! I'm glad of it. I wouldn't, anyhow. She's liable to
+be about the best friend you'll have in this world.”
+
+To Albert's mind flashed the addition: “Better than you, that means,”
+ but he kept it to himself.
+
+The lumber yards were on a spur track not very far from the railway
+station where he had spent that miserable half hour the previous
+evening. The darkness then had prevented his seeing them. Not that he
+would have been greatly interested if he had seen them, nor was he
+more interested now, although his grandfather took him on a personally
+conducted tour between the piles of spruce and pine and hemlock and
+pointed out which was which and added further details. “Those are two by
+fours,” he said. Or, “Those are larger joist, different sizes.” “This is
+good, clear stock, as good a lot of white pine as we've got hold of for
+a long spell.” He gave particulars concerning the “handiest way to drive
+a team” to one or the other of the piles. Albert found it rather boring.
+He longed to speak concerning enormous lumber yards he had seen in New
+York or Chicago or elsewhere. He felt almost a pitying condescension
+toward this provincial grandparent who seemed to think his little piles
+of “two by fours” so important.
+
+It was much the same, perhaps a little worse, when they entered the
+hardware shop and the office. The rows and rows of little drawers and
+boxes, each with samples of its contents--screws, or bolts, or hooks,
+or knobs--affixed to its front, were even more boring than the lumber
+piles. There was a countryfied, middle-aged person in overalls sweeping
+out the shop and Captain Zelotes introduced him.
+
+“Albert,” he said, “this is Mr. Issachar Price, who works around the
+place here. Issy, let me make you acquainted with my grandson, Albert.”
+
+Mr. Price, looking over his spectacles, extended a horny hand and
+observed: “Yus, yus. Pleased to meet you, Albert. I've heard tell of
+you.”
+
+Albert's private appraisal of “Issy” was that the latter was another
+funny Rube. Whatever Issy's estimate of his employer's grandson might
+have been, he, also, kept it to himself.
+
+Captain Zelotes looked about the shop and glanced into the office.
+
+“Humph!” he grunted. “No sign or symptoms of Laban this mornin', I
+presume likely?”
+
+Issachar went on with his sweeping.
+
+“Nary one,” was his laconic reply.
+
+“Humph! Heard anything about him?”
+
+Mr. Price moistened his broom in a bucket of water. “I see Tim Kelley
+on my way down street,” he said. “Tim said he run afoul of Laban along
+about ten last night. Said he cal'lated Labe was on his way. He was
+singin' 'Hyannis on the Cape' and so Tim figgered he'd got a pretty fair
+start already.”
+
+The captain shook his head. “Tut, tut, tut!” he muttered. “Well, that
+means I'll have to do office work for the next week or so. Humph! I
+declare it's too bad just now when I was countin' on him to--” He did
+not finish the sentence, but instead turned to his grandson and said:
+“Al, why don't you look around the hardware store here while I open
+the mail and the safe. If there's anything you see you don't understand
+Issy'll tell you about it.”
+
+He went into the office. Albert sauntered listlessly to the window
+and looked out. So far as not understanding anything in the shop was
+concerned he was quite willing to remain in ignorance. It did not
+interest him in the least. A moment later he felt a touch on his elbow.
+He turned, to find Mr. Price standing beside him.
+
+“I'm all ready to tell you about it now,” volunteered the unsmiling
+Issy. “Sweepin's all finished up.”
+
+Albert was amused. “I guess I can get along,” he said.
+
+“Don't worry.”
+
+“_I_ ain't worried none. I don't believe in worryin'; worryin' don't do
+folks no good, the way I look at it. But long's Cap'n Lote wants me to
+tell you about the hardware I'd ruther do it now, than any time. Henry
+Cahoon's team'll be here for a load of lath in about ten minutes or so,
+and then I'll have to leave you. This here's the shelf where we keep
+the butts--hinges, you understand. Brass along here, and iron here. Got
+quite a stock, ain't we.”
+
+He took the visitor's arm in his mighty paw and led him from shelves
+to drawers and from drawers to boxes, talking all the time, so the boy
+thought, “like a catalogue.” Albert tried gently to break away several
+times and yawned often, but yawns and hints were quite lost on his
+guide, who was intent only upon the business--and victim--in hand. At
+the window looking across toward the main road Albert paused longest.
+There was a girl in sight--she looked, at that distance, as if she might
+be a rather pretty girl--and the young man was languidly interested.
+He had recently made the discovery that pretty girls may be quite
+interesting; and, moreover, one or two of them whom he had met at the
+school dances--when the young ladies from the Misses Bradshaws' seminary
+had come over, duly guarded and chaperoned, to one-step and fox-trot
+with the young gentlemen of the school--one or two of these young ladies
+had intimated a certain interest in him. So the feminine possibility
+across the road attracted his notice--only slightly, of course; the
+sophisticated metropolitan notice is not easily aroused--but still,
+slightly.
+
+“Come on, come on,” urged Issachar Price. “I ain't begun to show ye the
+whole of it yet . . . Eh? Oh, Lord, there comes Cahoon's team now! Well,
+I got to go. Show you the rest some other time. So long . . . Eh? Cap'n
+Lote's callin' you, ain't he?”
+
+Albert went into the office in response to his grandfather's call to
+find the latter seated at an old-fashioned roll-top desk, piled with
+papers.
+
+“I've got to go down to the bank, Al,” he said. “Some business about
+a note that Laban ought to be here to see to, but ain't. I'll be back
+pretty soon. You just stay here and wait for me. You might be lookin'
+over the books, if you want to. I took 'em out of the safe and they're
+on Labe's desk there,” pointing to the high standing desk by the window.
+“They're worth lookin' at, if only to see how neat they're kept. A set
+of books like that is an example to any young man. You might be lookin'
+'em over.”
+
+He hurried out. Albert smiled condescendingly and, instead of looking
+over Mr. Keeler's books, walked over to the window and looked out of
+that. The girl was not in sight now, but she might be soon. At any rate
+watching for her was as exciting as any amusement he could think of
+about that dull hole. Ah hum! he wondered how the fellows were at
+school.
+
+The girl did not reappear. Signs of animation along the main road were
+limited. One or two men went by, then a group of children obviously on
+their way to school. Albert yawned again, took the silver cigarette case
+from his pocket and looked longingly at its contents. He wondered
+what his grandfather's ideas might be on the tobacco question. But his
+grandfather was not there then . . . and he might not return for some
+time . . . and . . . He took a cigarette from the case, tapped, with
+careful carelessness, its end upon the case--he would not have dreamed
+of smoking without first going through the tapping process--lighted the
+cigarette and blew a large and satisfying cloud. Between puffs he sang:
+
+
+      “To you, beautiful lady,
+       I raise my eyes.
+     My heart, beautiful lady,
+       To your heart cries:
+     Come, come, beautiful lady,
+       To Par-a-dise,
+     As the sweet, sweet--'”
+
+
+Some one behind him said: “Excuse me.” The appeal to the beautiful lady
+broke off in the middle, and he whirled about to find the girl whom he
+had seen across the road and for whose reappearance he had been watching
+at the window, standing in the office doorway. He looked at her and she
+looked at him. He was embarrassed. She did not seem to be.
+
+“Excuse me,” she said: “Is Mr. Keeler here?”
+
+She was a pretty girl, so his hasty estimate made when he had first
+sighted her was correct. Her hair was dark, so were her eyes, and her
+cheeks were becomingly colored by the chill of the winter air. She was
+a country girl, her hat and coat proved that; not that they were in bad
+taste or unbecoming, but they were simple and their style perhaps nearer
+to that which the young ladies of the Misses Bradshaws' seminary had
+worn the previous winter. All this Albert noticed in detail later on.
+Just then the particular point which attracted his embarrassed attention
+was the look in the dark eyes. They seemed to have almost the same
+disturbing quality which he had noticed in his grandfather's gray ones.
+Her mouth was very proper and grave, but her eyes looked as if she were
+laughing at him.
+
+Now to be laughed at by an attractive young lady is disturbing and
+unpleasant. It is particularly so when the laughter is from the
+provinces and the laughee--so to speak--a dignified and sophisticated
+city man. Albert summoned the said dignity and sophistication to his
+rescue, knocked the ashes from his cigarette and said, haughtily:
+
+“I beg your pardon?”
+
+“Is Mr. Keeler here?” repeated the girl.
+
+“No, he is out.”
+
+“Will he be back soon, do you think?”
+
+Recollections of Mr. Price's recent remark concerning the missing
+bookkeeper's “good start” came to Albert's mind and he smiled, slightly.
+“I should say not,” he observed, with delicate irony.
+
+“Is Issy--I mean Mr. Price, busy?”
+
+“He's out in the yard there somewhere, I believe. Would you like to have
+me call him?”
+
+“Why, yes--if you please--sir.”
+
+The “sir” was flattering, if it was sincere. He glanced at her. The
+expression of the mouth was as grave as ever, but he was still uncertain
+about those eyes. However, he was disposed to give her the benefit of
+the doubt, so, stepping to the side door of the office--that leading to
+the yards--he opened it and shouted: “Price! . . . Hey, Price!”
+
+There was no answer, although he could hear Issachar's voice and another
+above the rattle of lath bundles.
+
+“Price!” he shouted, again. “Pri-i-ce!”
+
+The rattling ceased. Then, in the middle distance, above a pile of
+“two by fours,” appeared Issachar's head, the features agitated and the
+forehead bedewed with the moisture of honest toil.
+
+“Huh?” yelled Issy. “What's the matter? Be you hollerin' to me?”
+
+“Yes. There's some one here wants to see you.”
+
+“Hey?”
+
+“I say there's some one here who wants to see you.”
+
+“What for?”
+
+“I don't know.”
+
+“Well, find out, can't ye? I'm busy.”
+
+Was that a laugh which Albert heard behind him? He turned around, but
+the young lady's face wore the same grave, even demure, expression.
+
+“What do you want to see him for?” he asked.
+
+“I wanted to buy something.”
+
+“She wants to buy something,” repeated Albert, shouting.
+
+“Hey?”
+
+“She wants to--BUY--something.” It was humiliating to have to scream in
+this way.
+
+“Buy? Buy what?”
+
+“What do you want to buy?”
+
+“A hook, that's all. A hook for our kitchen door. Would you mind asking
+him to hurry? I haven't much time.”
+
+“She wants a hook.”
+
+“Eh? We don't keep books. What kind of a book?”
+
+“Not book--HOOK. H-O-O-K! Oh, great Scott! Hook! HOOK! Hook for a door!
+And she wants you to hurry.”
+
+“Eh? Well, I can't hurry now for nobody. I got to load these laths
+and that's all there is to it. Can't you wait on him?” Evidently the
+customer's sex had not yet been made clear to the Price understanding.
+“You can get a hook for him, can't ye? You know where they be, I showed
+ye. Ain't forgot so soon, 'tain't likely.”
+
+The head disappeared behind the “two by fours.” Its face was red, but no
+redder than Mr. Speranza's at that moment.
+
+“Fool rube!” he snorted, disgustedly.
+
+“Excuse me, but you've dropped your cigarette,” observed the young lady.
+
+Albert savagely slammed down the window and turned away. The dropped
+cigarette stump lay where it had fallen, smudging and smelling.
+
+His caller looked at it and then at him.
+
+“I'd pick it up, if I were you,” she said. “Cap'n Snow HATES
+cigarettes.”
+
+Albert, his dignity and indignation forgotten, returned her look with
+one of anxiety.
+
+“Does he, honest?” he asked.
+
+“Yes. He hates them worse than anything.”
+
+The cigarette stump was hastily picked up by its owner.
+
+“Where'll I put it?” he asked, hurriedly.
+
+“Why don't you--Oh, don't put it in your pocket! It will set you on
+fire. Put it in the stove, quick.”
+
+Into the stove it went, all but its fragrance, which lingered.
+
+“Do you think you COULD find me that hook?” asked the girl.
+
+“I'll try. _I_ don't know anything about the confounded things.”
+
+“Oh!” innocently. “Don't you?”
+
+“No, of course I don't. Why should I?”
+
+“Aren't you working here?”
+
+“Here? Work HERE? ME? Well, I--should--say--NOT!”
+
+“Oh, excuse me. I thought you must be a new bookkeeper, or--or a new
+partner, or something.”
+
+Albert regarded her intently and suspiciously for some seconds before
+making another remark. She was as demurely grave as ever, but his
+suspicions were again aroused. However, she WAS pretty, there could be
+no doubt about that.
+
+“Maybe I can find the hook for you,” he said. “I can try, anyway.”
+
+“Oh, thank you ever so much,” gratefully. “It's VERY kind of you to take
+so much trouble.”
+
+“Oh,” airily, “that's all right. Come on; perhaps we can find it
+together.”
+
+They were still looking when Mr. Price came panting in.
+
+“Whew!” he observed, with emphasis. “If anybody tells you heavin'
+bundles of laths aboard a truck-wagon ain't hard work you tell him for
+me he's a liar, will ye. Whew! And I had to do the heft of everything,
+'cause Cahoon sent that one-armed nephew of his to drive the team. A
+healthy lot of good a one-armed man is to help heave lumber! I says to
+him, says I: 'What in time did--' Eh? Why, hello, Helen! Good mornin'.
+Land sakes! you're out airly, ain't ye?”
+
+The young lady nodded. “Good morning, Issachar,” she said. “Yes, I am
+pretty early and I'm in a dreadful hurry. The wind blew our kitchen door
+back against the house last night and broke the hook. I promised Father
+I would run over here and get him a new one and bring it back to him
+before I went to school. And it's quarter to nine now.”
+
+“Land sakes, so 'tis! Ain't--er--er--what's-his-name--Albert here, found
+it for you yet? He ain't no kind of a hand to find things, is he? We'll
+have to larn him better'n that. Yes indeed!”
+
+Albert laughed, sarcastically. He was about to make a satisfyingly
+crushing reproof to this piece of impertinence when Mr. Price began to
+sniff the air.
+
+“What in tunket?” he demanded. “Sn'f! Sn'f! Who's been smokin' in here?
+And cigarettes, too, by crimus! Sn'f! Sn'f! Yes, sir, cigarettes, by
+crimustee! Who's been smokin' cigarettes in here? If Cap'n Lote knew
+anybody'd smoked a cigarette in here I don't know's he wouldn't kill
+'em. Who done it?”
+
+Albert shivered. The girl with the dark blue eyes flashed a quick glance
+at him. “I think perhaps someone went by the window when it was open
+just now,” she suggested. “Perhaps they were smoking and the smoke blew
+in.”
+
+“Eh? Well, maybe so. Must have been a mighty rank cigarette to smell up
+the whole premises like this just goin' past a window. Whew! Gosh!
+no wonder they say them things are rank pison. I'd sooner smoke
+skunk-cabbage myself; 'twouldn't smell no worse and 'twould be a dum
+sight safer. Whew! . . . Well, Helen, there's about the kind of hook I
+cal'late you need. Fifteen cents 'll let you out on that. Cheap enough
+for half the money, eh? Give my respects to your pa, will ye. Tell him
+that sermon he preached last Sunday was fine, but I'd like it better if
+he'd laid it on to the Univer'lists a little harder. Folks that don't
+believe in hell don't deserve no consideration, 'cordin' to my notion.
+So long, Helen . . . Oh say,” he added, as an afterthought, “I guess
+you and Albert ain't been introduced, have ye? Albert, this is Helen
+Kendall, she's our Orthodox minister's daughter. Helen, this young
+feller is Albert--er--er--Consarn it, I've asked Cap'n Lote that name a
+dozen times if I have once! What is it, anyway?”
+
+“Speranza,” replied the owner of the name.
+
+“That's it, Sperandy. This is Albert Sperandy, Cap'n Lote's grandson.”
+
+Albert and Miss Kendall shook hands.
+
+“Thanks,” said the former, gratefully and significantly.
+
+The young lady smiled.
+
+“Oh, you're welcome,” she said. “I knew who you were all the time--or I
+guessed who you must be. Cap'n Snow told me you were coming.”
+
+She went out. Issachar, staring after her, chuckled admiringly.
+“Smartest girl in THIS town,” he observed, with emphasis. “Head of her
+class up to high school and only sixteen and three-quarters at that.”
+
+Captain Zelotes came bustling in a few minutes later. He went to his
+desk, paying little attention to his grandson. The latter loitered idly
+up and down the office and hardware shop, watching Issachar wait on
+customers or rush shouting into the yard to attend to the wants of
+others there. Plainly this was Issachar's busy day.
+
+“Crimus!” he exclaimed, returning from one such excursion and mopping
+his forehead. “This doin' two men's work ain't no fun. Every time Labe
+goes on a time seem's if trade was brisker'n it's been for a month.
+Seems as if all creation and part of East Harniss had been hangin' back
+waitin' till he had a shade on 'fore they come to trade. Makes a feller
+feel like votin' the Prohibition ticket. I WOULD vote it, by crimustee,
+if I thought 'twould do any good. 'Twouldn't though; Labe would take
+to drinkin' bay rum or Florida water or somethin', same as Hoppy Rogers
+done when he was alive. Jim Young says he went into Hoppy's barber-shop
+once and there was Hoppy with a bottle of a new kind of hair-tonic in
+his hand. 'Drummer that was here left it for a sample,' says Hoppy.
+'Wanted me to try it and, if I liked it, he cal'lated maybe I'd buy
+some. I don't think I shall, though,' he says; 'don't taste right to
+me.' Yes, sir, Jim Young swears that's true. Wan't enough snake-killer
+in that hair tonic to suit Hoppy. I--Yes, Cap'n Lote, what is it? Want
+me, do ye?”
+
+But the captain did not, as it happened, want Mr. Price at that time.
+It was Albert whose name he had called. The boy went into the office and
+his grandfather rose and shut the door.
+
+“Sit down, Al,” he said, motioning toward a chair. When his grandson had
+seated himself Captain Zelotes tilted back his own desk chair upon its
+springs and looked at him.
+
+“Well, son,” he said, after a moment, “what do you think of it?”
+
+“Think of it? I don't know exactly what--”
+
+“Of the place here. Shop, yards, the whole business. Z. Snow and
+Company--what do you think of it?”
+
+Privately Albert was inclined to classify the entire outfit as one-horse
+and countrified, but he deemed it wiser not to express this opinion. So
+he compromised and replied that it “seemed to be all right.”
+
+His grandfather nodded. “Thanks,” he observed, dryly. “Glad you find it
+that way. Well, then, changin' the subject for a minute or two, what do
+you think about yourself?”
+
+“About myself? About me? I don't understand?”
+
+“No, I don't suppose you do. That's what I got you over here this
+mornin' for, so as we could understand--you and me. Al, have you given
+any thought to what you're goin' to do from this on? How you're goin' to
+live?”
+
+Albert looked at him uncomprehendingly.
+
+“How I'm going to live?” he repeated. “Why--why, I thought--I supposed I
+was going to live with you--with you and Grandmother.”
+
+“Um-hm, I see.”
+
+“I just kind of took that for granted, I guess. You sent for me to come
+here. You took me away from school, you know.”
+
+“Yes, so I did. You know why I took you from school?”
+
+“No, I--I guess I DON'T, exactly. I thought--I supposed it was because
+you didn't want me to go there any more.”
+
+“'Twasn't that. I don't know whether I would have wanted you to go there
+or not if things had been different. From what I hear it was a pretty
+extravagant place, and lookin' at it from the outside without knowin'
+too much about it, I should say it was liable to put a lot of foolish
+and expensive notions into a boy's head. I may be wrong, of course; I
+have been wrong at least a few times in my life.”
+
+It was evident that he considered the chances of his being wrong in this
+instance very remote. His tone again aroused in the youth the feeling of
+obstinacy, of rebellion, of desire to take the other side.
+
+“It is one of the best schools in this country,” he declared. “My father
+said so.”
+
+Captain Zelotes picked up a pencil on his desk and tapped his chin
+lightly with the blunt end. “Um,” he mused. “Well, I presume likely he
+knew all about it.”
+
+“He knew as much as--most people,” with a slight but significant
+hesitation before the “most.”
+
+“Um-hm. Naturally, havin' been schooled there himself, I suppose.”
+
+“He wasn't schooled there. My father was a Spaniard.”
+
+“So I've heard. . . . Well, we're kind of off the subject, ain't we?
+Let's leave your father's nationality out of it for a while. And we'll
+leave the school, too, because no matter if it was the best one on earth
+you couldn't go there. I shouldn't feel 'twas right to spend as much
+money as that at any school, and you--well, son, you ain't got it to
+spend. Did you have any idea what your father left you, in the way of
+tangible assets?”
+
+“No. I knew he had plenty of money always. He was one of the most famous
+singers in this country.”
+
+“Maybe so.”
+
+“It WAS so,” hotly. “And he was paid enough in one week to buy this
+whole town--or almost. Why, my father--”
+
+“Sshh! Sssh!”
+
+“No, I'm not going to hush. I'm proud of my father. He was a--a great
+man. And--and I'm not going to stand here and have you--”
+
+Between indignation and emotion he choked and could not finish the
+sentence. The tears came to his eyes.
+
+“I'm not going to have you or anyone else talk about him that way,” he
+concluded, fiercely.
+
+His grandfather regarded him with a steady, but not at all unkindly,
+gaze.
+
+“I ain't runnin' down your father, Albert,” he said.
+
+“Yes, you are. You hated him. Anybody could see you hated him.”
+
+The captain slowly rapped the desk with the pencil. He did not answer at
+once.
+
+“Well,” he said, after a moment, “I don't know as I ought to deny that.
+I don't know as I can deny it and be honest. Years ago he took away from
+me what amounted to three-quarters of everything that made my life worth
+while. Some day you'll know more about it than you do now, and maybe
+you'll understand my p'int of view better. No, I didn't like your
+father--Eh? What was you sayin'?”
+
+Albert, who had muttered something, was rather confused. However, he
+did not attempt to equivocate. “I said I guessed that didn't make much
+difference to Father,” he answered, sullenly.
+
+“I presume likely it didn't. But we won't go into that question now.
+What I'm tryin' to get at in this talk we're having is you and your
+future. Now you can't go back to school because you can't afford it. All
+your father left when he died was--this is the honest truth I'm tellin'
+you now, and if I'm puttin' it pretty blunt it's because I always think
+it's best to get a bad mess out of the way in a hurry--all your father
+left was debts. He didn't leave money enough to bury him, hardly.”
+
+The boy stared at him aghast. His grandfather, leaning a little toward
+him, would have put a hand on his knee, but the knee was jerked out of
+the way.
+
+“There, that's over, Al,” went on Captain Zelotes. “You know the worst
+now and you can say, 'What of it?' I mean just that: What of it? Bein'
+left without a cent, but with your health and a fair chance to make
+good--that, at seventeen or eighteen ain't a bad lookout, by any manner
+of means. It's the outlook _I_ had at fifteen--exceptin' the chance--and
+I ain't asked many favors of anybody since. At your age, or a month or
+two older, do you know where I was? I was first mate of a three-masted
+schooner. At twenty I was skipper; and at twenty-five, by the Almighty,
+I owned a share in her. Al, all you need now is a chance to go to work.
+And I'm goin' to give you that chance.”
+
+Albert gasped. “Do you mean--do you mean I've got to be a--a sailor?” he
+stammered.
+
+Captain Zelotes put back his head and laughed, laughed aloud.
+
+“A sailor!” he repeated. “Ho, ho! No wonder you looked scared. No,
+I wan't cal'latin' to make a sailor out of you, son. For one reason,
+sailorin' ain't what it used to be; and, for another, I have my doubts
+whether a young feller of your bringin' up would make much of a go
+handlin' a bunch of fo'mast hands the first day out. No, I wasn't
+figgerin' to send you to sea . . . What do you suppose I brought you
+down to this place for this mornin'?”
+
+And then Albert understood. He knew why he had been conducted through
+the lumber yards, about the hardware shop, why his grandfather and Mr.
+Price had taken so much pains to exhibit and explain. His heart sank.
+
+“I brought you down here,” continued the captain, “because it's a
+first-rate idea to look a vessel over afore you ship aboard her. It's
+kind of late to back out after you have shipped. Ever since I made up my
+mind to send for you and have you live along with your grandmother and
+me I've been plannin' what to do with you. I knew, if you was a decent,
+ambitious young chap, you'd want to do somethin' towards makin' a start
+in life. We can use--that is, this business can use that kind of a chap
+right now. He could larn to keep books and know lumber and hardware
+and how to sell and how to buy. He can larn the whole thing. There's
+a chance here, son. It's your chance; I'm givin' it to you. How big a
+chance it turns out to be 'll depend on you, yourself.”
+
+He stopped. Albert was silent. His thoughts were confused, but out of
+their dismayed confusion two or three fixed ideas reared themselves like
+crags from a whirlpool. He was to live in South Hamiss always--always;
+he was to keep books--Heavens, how he hated mathematics, detail work of
+any kind!--for drunken old Keeler; he was to “heave lumber” with
+Issy Price. He--Oh, it was dreadful! It was horrible. He couldn't! He
+wouldn't! He--
+
+Captain Zelotes had been watching him, his heavy brows drawing closer
+together as the boy delayed answering.
+
+“Well?” he asked, for another minute. “Did you hear what I said?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Understood, did you?”
+
+“Yes--sir.”
+
+“Well?”
+
+Albert was clutching at straws. “I--I don't know how to keep books,” he
+faltered.
+
+“I didn't suppose you did. Don't imagine they teach anything as
+practical as bookkeepin' up at that school of yours. But you can larn,
+can't you?”
+
+“I--I guess so.”
+
+“I guess so, too. Good Lord, I HOPE so! Humph! You don't seem to be
+jumpin' for joy over the prospect. There's a half dozen smart young
+fellers here in South Harniss that would, I tell you that.”
+
+Albert devoutly wished they had jumped--and landed--before his arrival.
+His grandfather's tone grew more brusque.
+
+“Don't you want to work?” he demanded.
+
+“Why, yes, I--I suppose I do. I--I hadn't thought much about it.”
+
+“Humph! Then I think it's time you begun. Hadn't you had ANY notion of
+what you wanted to do when you got out of that school of yours?”
+
+“I was going to college.”
+
+“Humph! . . . Yes, I presume likely. Well, after you got out of college,
+what was you plannin' to do then?”
+
+“I wasn't sure. I thought I might do something with my music. I can
+play a little. I can't sing--that is, not well enough. If I could,”
+ wistfully, “I should have liked to be in opera, as father was, of
+course.”
+
+Captain Zelotes' only comment was a sniff or snort, or combination of
+both. Albert went on.
+
+“I had thought of writing--writing books and poems, you know. I've
+written quite a good deal for the school magazine. And I think I should
+like to be an actor, perhaps. I--”
+
+“Good God!” His grandfather's fist came down upon the desk before him.
+Slowly he shook his head.
+
+“A--a poetry writer and an actor!” he repeated. “Whew! . . . Well,
+there! Perhaps maybe we hadn't better talk any more just now. You can
+have the rest of the day to run around town and sort of get acquainted,
+if you want to. Then to-morrow mornin' you and I'll come over here
+together and we'll begin to break you in. I shouldn't wonder,” he added,
+dryly, “if you found it kind of dull at first--compared to that school
+and poetry makin' and such--but it'll be respectable and it'll pay for
+board and clothes and somethin' to eat once in a while, which may
+not seem so important to you now as 'twill later on. And some day I
+cal'late--anyhow we'll hope--you'll be mighty glad you did it.”
+
+Poor Albert looked and felt anything but glad just then. Captain
+Zelotes, his hands in his pockets, stood regarding him. He, too, did not
+look particularly happy.
+
+“You'll remember,” he observed, “or perhaps you don't know, that when
+your father asked us to look out for you--”
+
+Albert interrupted. “Did--did father ask you to take care of me?” he
+cried, in surprise.
+
+“Um-hm. He asked somebody who was with him to ask us to do just that.”
+
+The boy drew a long breath. “Well, then,” he said, hopelessly,
+“I'll--I'll try.”
+
+“Thanks. Now you run around town and see the sights. Dinner's at half
+past twelve prompt, so be on hand for that.”
+
+After his grandson had gone, the captain, hands still in his pockets,
+stood for some time looking out of the window. At length he spoke aloud.
+
+“A play actor or a poetry writer!” he exclaimed. “Tut, tut, tut! No use
+talkin', blood will tell!”
+
+Issachar, who was putting coal on the office fire, turned his head.
+
+“Eh?” he queried.
+
+“Nothin',” said Captain Lote.
+
+He would have been surprised if he could have seen his grandson just at
+that moment. Albert, on the beach whither he had strayed in his desire
+to be alone, safely hidden from observation behind a sand dune, was
+lying with his head upon his arms and sobbing bitterly.
+
+A disinterested person might have decided that the interview which had
+just taken place and which Captain Zelotes hopefully told his wife that
+morning would probably result in “a clear, comf'table understandin'
+between the boy and me”--such a disinterested person might have decided
+that it had resulted in exactly the opposite. In calculating the results
+to be obtained from that interview the captain had not taken into
+consideration two elements, one his own and the other his grandson's.
+These elements were prejudice and temperament.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+The next morning, with much the same feeling that a convict must
+experience when he enters upon a life imprisonment, Albert entered the
+employ of “Z. Snow and Co., Lumber and Builders' Hardware.” The day,
+he would have sworn it, was at least a year long. The interval between
+breakfast and dinner was quite six months, yet the dinner hour itself
+was the shortest sixty minutes he had ever known. Mr. Keeler had not yet
+returned to his labors, so there was no instruction in bookkeeping;
+but his grandfather gave him letters to file and long dreary columns of
+invoice figures to add. Twice Captain Zelotes went out and then, just
+as Albert settled back for a rest and breathing spell, Issachar Price
+appeared, warned apparently by some sort of devilish intuition, and
+invented “checking up stock” and similar menial and tiresome tasks to
+keep him uncomfortable till the captain returned. The customers who came
+in asked questions concerning him and he was introduced to at least
+a dozen citizens of South Harniss, who observed “Sho!” and “I want to
+know!” when told his identity and, in some instances, addressed him as
+“Bub,” which was of itself a crime deserving capital punishment.
+
+That night, as he lay in bed in the back bedroom, he fell asleep facing
+the dreary prospect of another monotonous imprisonment the following
+day, and the next day, and the day after that, and after that--and
+after that--and so on--and on--and on--forever and ever, as long as
+life should last. This, then, was to be the end of all his dreams, this
+drudgery in a country town among these commonplace country people. This
+was the end of his dreams of some day writing deathless odes and sonnets
+or thrilling romances; of treading the boards as the hero of romantic
+drama while star-eyed daughters of multi-millionaires gazed from the
+boxes in spellbound rapture. This . . . The thought of the star-eyed
+ones reminded him of the girl who had come into the office the afternoon
+of his first visit to that torture chamber. He had thought of her many
+times since their meeting and always with humiliation and resentment. It
+was his own foolish tongue which had brought the humiliation upon him.
+When she had suggested that he might be employed by Z. Snow and Co. he
+had replied: “Me? Work HERE! Well, I should say NOT!” And all the time
+she, knowing who he was, must have known he was doomed to work there. He
+resented that superior knowledge of hers. He had made a fool of himself
+but she was to blame for it. Well, by George, he would NOT work there!
+He would run away, he would show her, and his grandfather and all the
+rest what was what. Night after night he fell asleep vowing to run away,
+to do all sorts of desperate deeds, and morning after morning he went
+back to that office.
+
+On the fourth morning the prodigal came home, the stray lamb returned
+to the fold--Mr. Keeler returned to his desk and his duties. There was
+a premonition of his return at the Snow breakfast table. For three days
+Mrs. Ellis had swathed her head in white and her soul in black. For
+three days her favorite accompaniment to conversation had been a groan
+or a sigh. Now, on this fourth morning, she appeared without the bandage
+on her brow or the crape upon her spirit. She was not hilarious but
+she did not groan once, and twice during the meal she actually smiled.
+Captain Lote commented upon the change, she being absent from table
+momentarily.
+
+“Whew!” he observed, in an undertone, addressing his wife. “If it ain't
+a comfort to see the wrinkles on Rachel's face curvin' up instead of
+down. I'm scared to death that she'll go out some time in a cold spell
+when she's havin' one of them sympathetics of hers, and her face'll
+freeze that way. Well, Albert,” turning to his grandson, “the colors'll
+be h'isted to the truck now instead of half-mast and life'll be
+somethin' besides one everlastin' 'last look at the remains.' Now we can
+take off the mournin' till the next funeral.”
+
+“Yes,” said Olive, “and Laban'll be back, too. I'm sure you must have
+missed him awfully, Zelotes.”
+
+“Missed him! I should say so. For one thing, I miss havin' him between
+me and Issy. When Labe's there Is talks to him and Labe keeps on
+thinkin' of somethin' else and so it don't worry him any. I can't do
+that, and my eardrums get to wearin' thin and that makes me nervous.
+Maybe you've noticed that Issy's flow of conversation ain't what you'd
+call a trickle,” he added, turning to Albert.
+
+Albert had noticed it. “But,” he asked, “what makes Rachel--Mrs.
+Ellis--so cheerful this morning? Does she know that Mr. Keeler will be
+back at work? How does she know? She hasn't seen him, has she?”
+
+“No,” replied the captain. “She ain't seen him. Nobody sees him, far's
+that goes. He generally clears out somewheres and locks himself up in
+a room, I judge, till his vacation's over. I suppose that's one way to
+have fun, but it ain't what I'd call hilarious.”
+
+“Don't, Zelotes,” said Mrs. Snow. “I do wish you wouldn't call it fun.”
+
+“I don't, but Laban seems to. If he don't do it for fun I don't know
+what he does it for. Maybe it's from a sense of duty. It ain't to oblige
+me, I know that.”
+
+Albert repeated his question. “But how does she know he will be back
+to-day?” he asked.
+
+His grandmother shook her head. “That's the mysterious part about it,”
+ she whispered. “It makes a person think there may be somethin' in the
+sympathetic notion she talks so much about. She don't see him at all and
+yet we can always tell when he's comin' back to work by her spirits. If
+he ain't back to-day he will be to-morrow, you'll see. She never misses
+by more than a day. _I_ think it's real sort of mysterious, but Zelotes
+laughs at me.”
+
+Captain Lote's lip twitched. “Yes, Mother,” he said, “it's about as
+mysterious as the clock's strikin' twelve when it's noon. _I_ know it's
+morally sartin that Labe'll be back aboard to-day or to-morrow because
+his sprees don't ever last more than five days. I can't swear to how
+she knows, but that's how _I_ know--and I'm darned sure there's no
+'sympathy' about my part.” Then, as if realizing that he had talked more
+than usual, he called, brusquely: “Come on, Al, come on. Time we were on
+the job, boy.”
+
+Sure enough, as they passed the window of the office, there, seated on
+the stool behind the tall desk, Albert saw the diminutive figure of the
+man who had been his driver on the night of his arrival. He was curious
+to see how the delinquent would apologize for or explain his absence.
+But Mr. Keeler did neither, nor did Captain Snow ask a question. Instead
+the pair greeted each other as if they had parted in that office at the
+close of business on the previous day.
+
+“Mornin', Cap'n Lote,” said Laban, quietly.
+
+“Mornin', Labe,” replied the captain, just as calmly.
+
+He went on and opened his own desk, leaving his grandson standing by
+the door, not knowing whether to speak or offer to shake hands. The
+situation was a little difficult, particularly as Mr. Keeler gave no
+sign of recognition, but, after a glance at his employer's companion,
+went on making entries in the ledger.
+
+Captain Zelotes looked up a moment later. His gray eyes inspected
+the pair and the expression on Albert's face caused them to twinkle
+slightly. “Labe,” he said, “this is my grandson, Albert, the one I told
+you was comin' to live with us.”
+
+Laban turned on the stool, regarded Albert over his spectacles, and
+extended a hand.
+
+“Pleased to meet you,” he said. “Yes, yes . . . Yes, yes, yes. . .
+Pleased to meet you. Cap'n Lote said you was comin'--er--er--Alfred.
+Howdy do.”
+
+They shook hands. Mr. Keeler's hand trembled a little, but that was
+the only symptom of his recent “vacation” which the youth could notice.
+Certain vivid remembrances of his father's bad humor on mornings
+following convivial evenings recurred to him. Was it possible that this
+odd, precise, dried-up little man had been on a spree for four days? It
+did not seem possible. He looked more as if he might be expected to rap
+on the desk and ask the school to come to order.
+
+“Albert's goin' to take hold here with us in the office,” went on
+Captain Lote. “You'll remember I spoke to you about that when we talked
+about his comin'. Al, Labe--Mr. Keeler here--will start you in larnin'
+to bookkeep. He'll be your first mate from now on. Don't forget you're
+a fo'mast hand yet awhile and the way for a fo'mast hand to get ahead
+is to obey orders. And don't,” he added, with a quiet chuckle, “do any
+play-actin' or poetry-makin' when it's your watch on deck. Laban nor I
+ain't very strong for play-actin', are we, Labe?”
+
+Laban, to whom the reference was anything but clear, replied rather
+vaguely that he didn't know as he was, very. Albert's temper flared
+up again. His grandfather was sneering at him once more; he was always
+sneering at him. All right, let him sneer--now. Some day he would be
+shown. He scowled and turned away. And Captain Zelotes, noticing the
+scowl, was reminded of a scowl he had seen upon the face of a Spanish
+opera singer some twenty years before. He did not like to be reminded of
+that man.
+
+He went out soon afterward and then Laban, turning to Albert, asked a
+few questions.
+
+“How do you think you're goin' to like South Harniss, Ansel?” he asked.
+
+Albert was tempted to reply that he, Keeler, had asked him that very
+question before, but he thought it best not to do so.
+
+“I don't know yet,” he answered, carelessly. “Well enough, I guess.”
+
+“You'll like it fust-rate bimeby. Everybody does when they get used
+to it. Takes some time to get used to a place, don't you know it does,
+Ansel?”
+
+“My name is Albert.”
+
+“Eh? Yes, yes, so 'tis. Yes, yes, yes. I don't know why I called you
+Ansel, 'less 'twas on account of my knowin' an Ansel Olsen once . . .
+Hum . . . Yes, yes. Well, you'll like South Harniss when you get used to
+it.”
+
+The boy did not answer. He was of the opinion that he should die long
+before the getting used process was completed. Mr. Keeler continued.
+
+“Come on yesterday's train, did you?” he asked.
+
+Albert looked at him. Was the fellow joking? He did not look as if he
+was.
+
+“Why no,” he replied. “I came last Monday night. Don't you remember?”
+
+“Eh? Oh, yes . . . Yes, yes, yes . . . Last Monday night you come, eh?
+On the night train, eh?” He hesitated a moment and then asked. “Cap'n
+Lote fetch you down from the depot?”
+
+Albert stared at him open-mouthed.
+
+“Why, no!” he retorted. “You drove me down yourself.”
+
+For the first time a slight shade of embarrassment crossed the
+bookkeeper's features. He drew a long breath.
+
+“Yes,” he mused. “Yes, yes, yes. I kind of thought I--yes, yes,--I--I
+thought likely I did . . . Yes, yes, course I did, course I did. Well,
+now maybe we'd better be startin' you in to work--er--Augustus. Know
+anything about double-entry, do you?”
+
+Albert did not, nor had he the slightest desire to learn. But before
+the first hour was over he foresaw that he was destined to learn, if he
+remained in that office, whether he wanted to or not. Laban Keeler might
+be, and evidently was, peculiar in his ways, but as a bookkeeper he was
+thoroughness personified. And as a teacher of his profession he was just
+as thorough. All that forenoon Albert practiced the first principles
+of “double entry” and, after the blessed hour for dinner, came back to
+practice the remainder of the working day.
+
+And so for many days. Little by little he learned to invoice and
+journalize and “post in the ledger” and all the rest of the detail of
+bookkeeping. Not that his instructor permitted him to do a great deal
+of actual work upon the books of Z. Snow and Co. Those books were too
+spotless and precious for that. Looking over them Albert was surprised
+and obliged to admit a grudging admiration at the manner in which, for
+the most part, they had been kept. Page after page of the neatest of
+minute figures, not a blot, not a blur, not an erasure. So for months;
+then, in the minor books, like the day-book or journal, would suddenly
+break out an eruption of smudges and scrawls in the rugged handwriting
+of Captain Zelotes. When he first happened upon one of these Albert
+unthinkingly spoke to Mr. Keeler about it. He asked the latter what it
+meant.
+
+Laban slowly stroked his nose with his thumb and finger, a habit he had.
+
+“I cal'late I was away for a spell then,” he said, gravely. “Yes,
+yes . . . Yes, yes, yes. I was away for a little spell.”
+
+He went soberly back to his desk. His new assistant, catching a glimpse
+of his face, felt a pang of real pity for the little man. Of course the
+reason for the hiatus in the books was plain enough. He knew about those
+“little spells.” Oddly enough Laban seemed to feel sorry for them. He
+remembered how funny the bookkeeper had appeared at their first meeting,
+when one “spell” was just developing, and the contrast between the
+singing, chirruping clown and the precise, grave little person at the
+desk struck even his youthful mind as peculiar. He had read “Doctor
+Jekyll and Mr. Hyde,” and now here was an example of something similar.
+He was beginning to like Laban Keeler, although he was perfectly sure
+that he should never like bookkeeping.
+
+He did not slave at the books all the time, of course. For stretches,
+sometimes lasting whole days, his slavery was of another sort. Then he
+was working in the lumber yard with Issachar, or waiting on customers in
+the hardware shop. The cold of winter set in in earnest now and handling
+“two by fours” and other timber out where the raw winds swept piercingly
+through one's overcoat and garments and flesh to the very bone was a
+trying experience. His hands were chapped and cracked, even though his
+grandmother had knit him a pair of enormous red mittens. He appreciated
+the warmth of the mittens, but he hated the color. Why in the name of
+all that was inartistic did she choose red; not a deep, rich crimson,
+but a screeching vermilion, like a fireman's shirt?
+
+Issachar, when he had the opportunity, was a hard boss. It suited Mr.
+Price to display his superior knowledge and to find fault with his
+helper's lack of skill. Albert's hot temper was at the boiling point
+many times, but he fought it down. Occasionally he retorted in kind, but
+his usual and most effective weapon was a more or less delicate sarcasm.
+Issachar did not understand sarcasm and under rapid fire he was inclined
+to lose his head.
+
+“Consarn it!” he snapped, irritably, on one occasion. “Consarn it,
+Al, why don't you h'ist up on t'other end of that j'ist? What do you
+cal'late you're out here along of me for; to look harnsome?”
+
+Albert shook his head. “No, Is,” he answered, gravely. “No, that
+wouldn't be any use. With you around nobody else has a look-in at the
+'handsome' game. Issy, what do you do to your face?”
+
+“Do to it? What do you mean by do to it?”
+
+“What do you do to it to make it look the way it does? Don't tell me it
+grew that way naturally.”
+
+“Grew! Course it grew! What kind of talk's that?”
+
+“Issy, with a face like yours how do you keep the birds away?”
+
+“Eh? Keep the birds away! Now look here, just--”
+
+“Excuse me. Did I say 'birds,' Issy? I didn't mean birds like--like
+crows. Of course a face like yours would keep the crows away all right
+enough. I meant girls. How do you keep the girls away? I should think
+they would be making love all the time.”
+
+“Aw, you shut up! Just 'cause you're Cap'n Lote's grandson I presume
+likely you think you can talk any kind of talk, don't ye?”
+
+“Not any kind, Is. I can't talk like you. Will you teach me?”
+
+“Shut up! Now, by Crimus, you--you furriner--you Speranzy--”
+
+Mr. Keeler appeared at the office window. His shrill voice rose pipingly
+in the wintry air as he demanded to know what was the trouble out there.
+
+Mr. Price, still foaming, strode toward the window; Albert laughingly
+followed him.
+
+“What's the matter?” repeated Laban. “There's enough noise for a sewin'
+circle. Be still, Is, can't you, for a minute. Al, what's the trouble?”
+
+“Issy's been talking about his face,” explained Albert, soberly.
+
+“I ain't neither. I was h'istin' up my end of a j'ist, same as I'm
+paid to do, and, 'stead of helpin' he stands there and heaves out talk
+about--about--”
+
+“Well, about what?”
+
+“Aw, about--about me and--and girls--and all sorts of dum foolishness.
+I tell ye, I've got somethin' else to do beside listen to that kind of
+cheap talk.”
+
+“Um. Yes, yes. I see. Well, Al, what have you got to say?”
+
+“Nothing. I'm sure I don't know what it is all about. I was working as
+hard as I could and all at once he began pitching into me.”
+
+“Pitchin' into you? How?”
+
+“Oh, I don't know. Something about my looks he didn't like, I guess.
+Wanted to know if I thought I was as handsome as he was, or something
+like that.”
+
+“Eh? I never neither! All I said was--”
+
+Mr. Keeler raised his hand. “Seems to be a case for an umpire,” he
+observed. “Um. Seem's if 'twas, seems so, seems so. Well, Captain Lote's
+just comin' across the road and, if you say the word, I'll call him in
+to referee. What do you say?”
+
+They said nothing relevant to the subject in hand. Issachar made the
+only remark. “Crimus-TEE!” he ejaculated. “Come on, Al, come on.”
+
+The pair hurried away to resume lumber piling. Laban smiled slightly and
+closed the window. It may be gathered from this incident that when the
+captain was in charge of the deck there was little idle persiflage among
+the “fo'mast hands.” They, like others in South Harniss, did not presume
+to trifle with Captain Lote Snow.
+
+So the business education of Alberto Miguel Carlos Speranza progressed.
+At the end of the first six weeks in South Harniss he had learned a
+little about bookkeeping, a little about selling hardware, a little
+about measuring and marking lumber. And it must be admitted that that
+little had been acquired, not because of vigorous application on the
+part of the pupil, but because, being naturally quick and intelligent,
+he could not help learning something. He liked the work just as little
+as he had in the beginning of his apprenticeship. And, although he was
+forgetting his thoughts of running away, of attempting fortune on his
+own hook, he was just as rebellious as ever against a future to be spent
+in that office and at that work.
+
+Outside the office and the hateful bookkeeping he was beginning to find
+several real interests. At the old house which had for generations been
+called “the Snow place,” he was beginning to feel almost at home. He
+and his grandmother were becoming close friends. She was not looking for
+trouble, she never sat for long intervals gazing at him as if she were
+guessing, guessing, guessing concerning him. Captain Zelotes did that,
+but Olive did not. She had taken the boy, her “Janie's boy,” to her
+heart from the moment she saw him and she mothered him and loved him in
+a way which--so long as it was not done in public--comforted his lonely
+soul. They had not yet reached the stage where he confided in her to
+any great extent, but that was certain to come later. It was his
+grandmother's love and the affection he was already beginning to feel
+for her which, during these first lonesome, miserable weeks, kept him
+from, perhaps, turning the running away fantasy into a reality.
+
+Another inmate of the Snow household with whom Albert was
+becoming better acquainted with was Mrs. Rachel Ellis. Their real
+acquaintanceship began one Sunday forenoon when Captain Zelotes and
+Olive had gone to church. Ordinarily he would have accompanied them,
+to sit in the straight-backed old pew on a cushion which felt lumpy and
+smelt ancient and musty, and pretend to listen while old Mr. Kendall
+preached a sermon which was ancient and musty likewise.
+
+But this Sunday morning he awoke with a headache and his grandmother had
+pleaded for him, declaring that he ought to “lay to bed” a while and get
+over it. He got over it with surprising quickness after the church bell
+ceased ringing, and came downstairs to read Ivanhoe in the sitting room.
+He had read it several times before, but he wanted to read something and
+the choice of volumes in the Snow bookcase was limited. He was stretched
+out on the sofa with the book in his hand when the housekeeper entered,
+armed with a dust-cloth. She went to church only “every other” Sunday.
+This was one of the others without an every, and she was at home.
+
+“What are you readin', Albert?” she asked, after a few' minutes vigorous
+wielding of the dust-cloth. “It must be awful interestin', you stick at
+it so close.”
+
+The Black Knight was just then hammering with his battle-axe at the gate
+of Front de Buef's castle, not minding the stones and beams cast
+down upon him from above “no more than if they were thistle-down or
+feathers.” Albert absently admitted that the story was interesting. The
+housekeeper repeated her request to be told its name.
+
+“Ivanhoe,” replied the boy; adding, as the name did not seem to convey
+any definite idea to his interrogator's mind: “It's by Walter Scott, you
+know.”
+
+Mrs. Ellis made no remark immediately. When she did it was to the effect
+that she used to know a colored man named Scott who worked at the hotel
+once. “He swept out and carried trunks and such things,” she explained.
+“He seemed to be a real nice sort of colored man, far as ever I heard.”
+
+Albert was more interested in the Black Knight of Ivanhoe than the black
+man of the hotel, so he went on reading. Rachel sat down in a chair by
+the window and looked out, twisting and untwisting the dust-cloth in her
+lap.
+
+“I presume likely lots and lots of folks have read that book, ain't
+they?” she asked, after another interval.
+
+“What? Oh, yes, almost everybody. It's a classic, I suppose.”
+
+“What's that?”
+
+“What's what?”
+
+“What you said the book was. A class-somethin' or other?”
+
+“Oh, a classic. Why, it's--it's something everybody knows about,
+or--or ought to know about. One of the big things, you know. Like--like
+Shakespeare or--or Robinson Crusoe or Paradise Lost or--lots of them.
+It's a book everybody reads and always will.”
+
+“I see. Humph! Well, I never read it. . . . I presume likely you think
+that's pretty funny, don't you?”
+
+Albert tore himself away from the fight at the gate.
+
+“Why, I don't know,” he replied.
+
+“Yes, you do. You think it's awful funny. Well, you wouldn't if you knew
+more about how busy I've been all my life. I ain't had time to read the
+way I'd ought to. I read a book once though that I'll never forget. Did
+you ever read a book called Foul Play?”
+
+“No. . . . Why, hold on, though; I think I have. By Charles Reade,
+wasn't it?”
+
+“Yes, that's who wrote it, a man named Charles Reade. Laban told me that
+part of it; he reads a lot, Laban does. I never noticed who wrote it,
+myself. I was too interested in it to notice little extry things like
+that. But ain't that a WONDERFUL book? Ain't that the best book you ever
+read in all your LIFE?”
+
+She dropped the dust-cloth and was too excited and enthusiastic to pick
+it up. Albert did his best to recall something definite concerning Foul
+Play. The book had been in the school library and he, who read almost
+everything, had read it along with the others.
+
+“Let me see,” he said musingly. “About a shipwreck--something about a
+shipwreck in it, wasn't there?”
+
+“I should say there was! My stars above! Not the common kind of
+shipwreck, neither, the kind they have down to Setuckit P'int on the
+shoals. No sir-ee! This one was sunk on purpose. That Joe Wylie bored
+holes right down through her with a gimlet, the wicked thing! And that
+set 'em afloat right out on the sea in a boat, and there wan't anything
+to eat till Robert Penfold--oh, HE was the smart one; he'd find
+anything, that man!--he found the barnacles on the bottom of the boat,
+just the same as he found out how to diffuse intelligence tied onto a
+duck's leg over land knows how many legs--leagues, I mean--of ocean. But
+that come later. Don't you remember THAT?”
+
+Albert laughed. The story was beginning to come back to him.
+
+“Oh, sure!” he exclaimed. “I remember now. He--the Penfold fellow--and
+the girl landed on this island and had all sorts of adventures, and fell
+in love and all that sort of stuff, and then her dad came and took her
+back to England and she--she did something or other there to--to get the
+Penfold guy out of trouble.”
+
+“Did somethin'! I should say she did! Why, she found out all about who
+forged the letter--the note, I mean--that's what she done. 'Twas Arthur
+Wardlaw, that's who 'twas. And he was tryin' to get Helen all the time
+for himself, the skinner! Don't talk to me about that Arthur Wardlaw! I
+never could bear HIM.”
+
+She spoke as if she had known the detested Wardlaw intimately from
+childhood. Young Speranza was hugely amused. Ivanhoe was quite
+forgotten.
+
+“Foul Play was great stuff,” he observed. “When did you read it?”
+
+“Eh? When? Oh, ever and ever so long ago. When I was about twenty, I
+guess, and laid up with the measles. That's the only time I ever was
+real what you might call down sick in my life, and I commenced with
+measles. That's the way a good many folks commence, I know, but they
+don't generally wait till they're out of their 'teens afore they start.
+I was workin' for Mrs. Philander Bassett at the time, and she says to
+me: 'Rachel,' she says, 'you're on the mendin' hand now, wouldn't you
+like a book to read?' I says, 'Why, maybe I would.' And she fetched
+up three of 'em. I can see 'em now, all three, plain as day. One was
+Barriers Burned Away. She said that was somethin' about a big fire.
+Well, I'm awful nervous about fires, have been from a child, so I didn't
+read that. And another had the queerest kind of a name, if you'd call it
+a name at all; 'twas She.”
+
+Albert nodded.
+
+“Yes,” he said. “I've read that.”
+
+“Have you? Well, I begun to, but my stars, THAT wasn't any book to give
+to a person with nerve symptoms. I got as far as where those Indians or
+whatever they was started to put red-hot kettles on folks's heads, and
+that was enough for ME. 'Give me somethin' civilized,' says I, 'or not
+at all.' So I commenced Foul Play, and I tell you I kept right on to the
+end.
+
+“I don't suppose,” she went on, “that there ever was a much better book
+than that wrote, was there?”
+
+Albert temporized. “It is a good one,” he admitted.
+
+“Don't seem to me there could be much better. Laban says it's good,
+though he won't go so far as to say it's the very best. He's read lots
+and lots of books, Laban has. Reads an awful lot in his spare time. He's
+what you'd call an educated person, which is what I ain't. And I guess
+you'll say that last is plain enough without bein' told,” she added.
+
+Her companion, not exactly knowing how to answer, was silent for a
+moment. Rachel, who had picked up and was again twisting the dust-cloth,
+returned to the subject she so delighted in.
+
+“But that Foul Play book,” she continued, “I've read till I've pretty
+nigh wore the covers off. When Mrs. Bassett saw how much I liked it
+she gave it to me for a present. I read a little bit in it every little
+while. I kind of fit the folks in that book to folks in real life, sort
+of compare 'em, you know. Do you ever do that?”
+
+Albert, repressing a chuckle, said, “Sure!” again. She nodded.
+
+“Now there's General Rolleson in that book,” she said. “Do you know who
+he makes me think of? Cap'n Lote, your grandpa, that's who.”
+
+General Rolleson, as Albert remembered him, was an extremely dignified,
+cultured and precise old gentleman. Just what resemblance there might
+be between him and Captain Zelotes Snow, ex-skipper of the Olive S.,
+he could not imagine. He could not repress a grin, and the housekeeper
+noticed it.
+
+“Seems funny to you, I presume likely,” she said. “Well, now you think
+about it. This General Rolleson man was kind of proud and sot in his
+ways just as your grandpa is, Albert. He had a daughter he thought all
+the world of; so did Cap'n Lote. Along come a person that wanted to
+marry the daughter. In the book 'twas Robert Penfold, who had been
+a convict. In your grandpa's case, 'twas your pa, who had been a
+play-actor. So you see--”
+
+Albert sat up on the sofa. “Hold on!” he interrupted indignantly. “Do
+you mean to compare my father with a--with a CONVICT? I want you to
+understand--”
+
+Mrs. Ellis held up the dust-cloth. “Now, now, now,” she protested.
+“Don't go puttin' words in my mouth that I didn't say. I don't doubt
+your pa was a nice man, in his way, though I never met him. But 'twan't
+Cap'n Lote's way any more than Robert Penfold's was General Rolleson's.”
+
+“My father was famous,” declared the youth hotly. “He was one of the
+most famous singers in this country. Everybody knows that--that is,
+everybody but Grandfather and the gang down here,” he added, in disgust.
+
+“I don't say you're wrong. Laban tells me that some of those singin'
+folks get awful high wages, more than the cap'n of a steamboat, he says,
+though that seems like stretchin' it to me. But, as I say, Cap'n Lote
+was proud, and nobody but the best would satisfy him for Janie, your
+mother. Well, in that way, you see, he reminds me of General Rolleson in
+the book.”
+
+“Look here, Mrs. Ellis. Tell me about this business of Dad's marrying my
+mother. I never knew much of anything about it.”
+
+“You didn't? Did your pa never tell you?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“Humph! That's funny. Still, I don't know's as 'twas, after all,
+considerin' you was only a boy. Probably he'd have told you some day.
+Well, I don't suppose there's any secret about it. 'Twas town talk down
+here when it happened.”
+
+She told him the story of the runaway marriage. Albert listened with
+interest and the almost incredulous amazement with which the young
+always receive tales of their parents' love affairs. Love, for people of
+his age or a trifle older, was a natural and understandable thing, but
+for his father, as he remembered him, to have behaved in this way was
+incomprehensible.
+
+“So,” said Rachel, in conclusion, “that's how it happened. That's why
+Cap'n Lote couldn't ever forgive your father.”
+
+He tossed his head. “Well, he ought to have forgiven him,” he declared.
+“He was dead lucky to get such a man for a son-in-law, if you ask me.”
+
+“He didn't think so. And he wouldn't ever mention your pa's name.”
+
+“Oh, I don't doubt that. Anybody can see how he hated Father. And he
+hates me the same way,” he added moodily.
+
+Mrs. Ellis was much disturbed. “Oh, no, he don't,” she cried. “You
+mustn't think that, Albert. He don't hate you, I'm sure of it. He's
+just kind of doubtful about you, that's all. He remembers how your pa
+acted--or how he thinks he acted--and so he can't help bein' the least
+mite afraid the same thing may crop out in you. If you just stick to
+your job over there at the lumber yards and keep on tryin' to please
+him, he'll get all over that suspicion, see if he don't. Cap'n Lote
+Snow is stubborn sometimes and hard to turn, but he's square as a brick.
+There's some that don't like him, and a good many that don't agree with
+him--but everybody respects him.”
+
+Albert did not answer. The housekeeper rose from her chair.
+
+“There!” she exclaimed. “I don't know when I've set down for so long.
+Goodness knows I've got work enough to do without settin' around
+talkin'. I can't think what possessed me to do it this time, unless
+'twas seein' you readin' that book.” She paused a moment and then said:
+“Albert, I--I don't want you and your grandpa to have any quarrels. You
+see--well, you see, I used to know your mother real well, and--and I
+thought an awful sight of her. I wish--I do wish when you and the cap'n
+have any trouble or anything, or when you think you're liable to have
+any, you'd come and talk it over with me. I'm like the feller that Laban
+tells about in his dog-fight yarn. This feller was watchin' the fight
+and when they asked him to stop it afore one or t'other of the dogs
+was killed, he just shook his head. 'No-o,' he says, kind of slow and
+moderate, 'I guess I shan't interfere. One of 'em's been stealin' my
+chickens and the other one bit me. I'm a friend to both parties,' he
+says. Course I don't mean it exactly that way,” she added, with a smile,
+“but you know what I do mean, I guess. WILL you talk things over with me
+sometimes, Albert?”
+
+His answer was not very enthusiastic, but he said he guessed so, and
+Rachel seemed satisfied with that. She went on with her dusting, and he
+with his reading, but the conversation was the first of many between the
+pair. The housekeeper appeared to consider his having read her beloved
+Foul Play a sort of password admitting him to her lodge and that
+thereafter they were, in consequence, to be confidants and comrades. She
+never hesitated to ask him the most personal questions concerning his
+work, his plans, the friends or acquaintances he was making in the
+village. Some of those questions he answered honestly and fully, some he
+dodged, some he did not answer at all. Mrs. Ellis never resented his not
+answering. “I presume likely that ain't any of my business, is it?” she
+would say, and ask about something else.
+
+On the other hand, she was perfectly outspoken concerning her own
+affairs. He was nearly overcome with hilarious joy when, one day, she
+admitted that, in her mind, Robert Penfold, the hero of Foul Play, lived
+again in the person of Laban Keeler.
+
+“Why, Mrs. Ellis,” he cried, as soon as he could trust himself to speak
+at all, “I don't see THAT. Penfold was a six-footer, wasn't he?
+And--and athletic, you know, and--and a minister, and young--younger, I
+mean--and--”
+
+Rachel interrupted. “Yes, yes, I know,” she said. “And Laban is little,
+and not very young, and, whatever else he is, he ain't a minister. I
+know all that. I know the outside of him don't look like Robert Penfold
+at all. But,” somewhat apologetically, “you see I've been acquainted
+with him so many years I've got into the habit of seein' his INSIDE.
+Now that sounds kind of ridiculous, I know,” she added. “Sounds as if
+I--I--well, as if I was in the habit of takin' him apart, like a watch
+or somethin'. What I mean is that I know him all through. I've known him
+for a long, long while. He ain't much to look at, bein' so little and
+sort of dried up, but he's got a big, fine heart and big brains. He can
+do 'most anything he sets his hand to. When I used to know him, when I
+was a girl, folks was always prophesyin' that Laban Keeler would turn
+out to be a whole lot more'n the average. He would, too, only for one
+thing, and you know what that is. It's what has kept me from marryin'
+him all this time. I swore I'd never marry a man that drinks, and I
+never will. Why, if it wasn't for liquor Labe would have been runnin'
+his own business and gettin' rich long ago. He all but runs Cap'n Lote's
+place as 'tis. The cap'n and a good many other folks don't realize that,
+but it's so.”
+
+It was plain that she worshiped the little bookkeeper and, except during
+the periods of “vacation” and “sympathetics,” was tremendously proud
+of him. Albert soon discovered that Mr. Keeler's feeling for her was
+equally strong. In his case, though, there was also a strong strain of
+gratitude.
+
+“She's a fine woman, Al,” he confided to his assistant on one occasion.
+“A fine woman. . . . Yes, yes, yes. They don't make 'em any finer. Ah
+hum! And not so long ago I read about a passel of darn fools arguin'
+that the angels in heaven was all he-ones. . . . Umph! . . . Sho, sho!
+If men was as good as women, Ansel--Alfred--Albert, I mean--we could
+start an opposition heaven down here most any time. 'Most any time--yes,
+yes.”
+
+It was considerable for him to say. Except when on a vacation, Laban was
+not loquacious.
+
+Each Sunday afternoon, when the weather was pleasant, he came, dressed
+in his best black cutaway, shiny at elbows and the under part of the
+sleeves, striped trousers and a pearl gray soft hat with a black band,
+a hat which looked as much out of place above his round, withered little
+face as a red roof might have looked on a family vault, and he and the
+housekeeper went for a walk.
+
+Rachel, in her Sunday black, bulked large beside him. As Captain Zelotes
+said, the pair looked like “a tug takin' a liner out to sea.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+Outside of the gates of the Snow place Albert was making many
+acquaintances and a few friends. After church on Sundays his grandmother
+had a distressful habit of suddenly seizing his arm or his coat-tail as
+he was hurrying toward the vestibule and the sunshine of outdoors, and
+saying: “Oh, Albert, just a minute! Here's somebody you haven't met
+yet, I guess. Elsie”--or Nellie or Mabel or Henry or Charlie or George,
+whichever it happened to be--“this is my grandson, Albert Speranza.” And
+the young person to whom he was thus introduced would, if a male, extend
+a hesitating hand, give his own an embarrassed shake, smile uncertainly
+and say, “Yes--er--yes. Pleased to meet you.” Or, if of the other sex,
+would blush a little and venture the observation that it was a lovely
+morning, and wasn't the sermon splendid.
+
+These Sabbath introductions led to week-day, or rather week-evening,
+meetings. The principal excitement in South Harniss was “going for the
+mail.” At noon and after supper fully one-half of the village population
+journeyed to the post office. Albert's labors for Z. Snow and Co.
+prevented his attending the noon gatherings--his grandfather usually
+got the morning mail--but he early formed the habit of sauntering “down
+street” in the evening if the weather was not too cold or disagreeable.
+There he was certain to find groups of South Harniss youth of both
+sexes, talking, giggling, skylarking and flirting. Sometimes he joined
+one or the other of these groups; quite as often he did not, but kept
+aloof and by himself, for it may as well be acknowledged now, if it is
+not already plain, that the son of Miguel Carlos Speranza had inherited
+a share of his father's temperament and self-esteem. The whim of the
+moment might lead him to favor these young people with his society, but
+he was far from considering himself under obligation to do so. He had
+not the least idea that he was in any way a snob, he would have hotly
+resented being called one, but he accepted his estimate of his own worth
+as something absolute and certain, to be taken for granted.
+
+Now this attitude of mind had its dangers. Coupled with its possessor's
+extraordinary good looks, it was fascinating to a large percentage of
+the village girls. The Speranza eyes and the Speranza curls and nose
+and chin were, when joined with the easy condescension of the Speranza
+manner, a combination fatal to the susceptible. The South Harniss
+“flappers,” most of them, enthused over the new bookkeeper in the lumber
+office. They ogled and giggled and gushed in his presence, and he was
+tolerant or bored, just as he happened to be feeling at the moment. But
+he never displayed a marked interest in any one of them, for the very
+good reason that he had no such interest. To him they were merely girls,
+nice enough in their way, perhaps, but that way not his. Most of the
+town young fellows of his age he found had a “girl” and almost every
+girl had a “fellow”; there was calf love in abundance, but he was a
+different brand of veal.
+
+However, a great man must amuse himself, and so he accepted invitations
+to church socials and suppers and to an occasional dance or party. His
+style of dancing was not that of South Harniss in the winter. It was
+common enough at the hotel or the “tea house” in July and August when
+the summer people were there, but not at the town hall at the Red Men's
+Annual Ball in February. A fellow who could foxtrot as he could swept
+all before him. Sam Thatcher, of last year's class in the high school,
+but now clerking in the drug store, who had hitherto reigned as the best
+“two-stepper” in town, suddenly became conscious of his feet. Then, too,
+the contents of the three trunks which had been sent on from school were
+now in evidence. No Boston or Brockton “Advanced Styles” held a candle
+to those suits which the tailor of the late Miguel Carlos had turned out
+for his patron's only son. No other eighteen-year-older among the town's
+year-around residents possessed a suit of evening clothes. Albert wore
+his “Tux” at the Red Men's Ball and hearts palpitated beneath new muslin
+gowns and bitter envy stirred beneath the Brockton “Advanced Styles.”
+
+In consequence, by spring the social status of Albert Speranza among
+those of his own age in the village had become something like this: He
+was in high favor with most of the girls and in corresponding disfavor
+with most of the young fellows. The girls, although they agreed that he
+was “stand-offish and kind of queer,” voted him “just lovely, all the
+same.” Their envious beaux referred to him sneeringly among themselves
+as a “stuck-up dude.” Some one of them remembered having been told that
+Captain Zelotes, years before, had been accustomed to speak of his hated
+son-in-law as “the Portygee.” Behind his back they formed the habit
+of referring to their new rival in the same way. The first time Albert
+heard himself called a “Portygee” was after prayer meeting on Friday
+evening, when, obeying a whim, he had walked home with Gertie Kendrick,
+quite forgetful of the fact that Sam Thatcher, who aspired to be
+Gertie's “steady,” was himself waiting on the church steps for that
+privilege.
+
+Even then nothing might have come of it had he and Sam not met in the
+path as he was sauntering back across lots to the main road and home. It
+was a brilliant moonlight night and the pair came together, literally,
+at the bend where the path turns sharply around the corner of Elijah
+Doane's cranberry shanty. Sam, plowing along, head down and hands in his
+pockets, swung around that corner and bumped violently into Albert,
+who, a cigarette between his lips--out here in the fields, away from
+civilization and Captain Zelotes, was a satisfyingly comfortable place
+to smoke a cigarette--was dreaming dreams of a future far away from
+South Harniss. Sam had been thinking of Gertie. Albert had not. She had
+been a mere incident of the evening; he had walked home with her because
+he happened to be in the mood for companionship and she was rather
+pretty and always talkative. His dreams during the stroll back alone
+in the moonlight had been of lofty things, of poetry and fame and
+high emprise; giggling Gerties had no place in them. It was distinctly
+different with Sam Thatcher.
+
+They crashed together, gasped and recoiled.
+
+“Oh, I'm sorry!” exclaimed Albert.
+
+“Can't you see where you're goin', you darned Portygee half-breed?”
+ demanded Sam.
+
+Albert, who had stepped past him, turned and came back.
+
+“What did you say?” he asked.
+
+“I said you was a darned half-breed, and you are. You're a no-good
+Portygee, like your father.”
+
+It was all he had time to say. For the next few minutes he was too busy
+to talk. The Speranzas, father and son, possessed temperament; also they
+possessed temper. Sam's face, usually placid and good-natured, for Sam
+was by no means a bad fellow in his way, was fiery red. Albert's, on the
+contrary, went perfectly white. He seemed to settle back on his heels
+and from there almost to fly at his insulter. Five minutes or so later
+they were both dusty and dirty and dishevelled and bruised, but Sam was
+pretty thoroughly licked. For one thing, he had been taken by surprise
+by his adversary's quickness; for another, Albert's compulsory training
+in athletics at school gave him an advantage. He was by no means an
+unscarred victor, but victor he was. Sam was defeated, and very much
+astonished. He leaned against the cranberry house and held on to his
+nose. It had been a large nose in the beginning, it was larger now.
+
+Albert stood before him, his face--where it was not a pleasing
+combination of black and blue--still white.
+
+“If you--if you speak of my father or me again like that,” he panted,
+“I'll--I'll kill you!”
+
+Then he strode off, a bit wobbly on his legs, but with dignity.
+
+Oddly enough, no one except the two most interested ever knew of this
+encounter. Albert, of course, did not tell. He was rather ashamed of it.
+For the son of Miguel Carlos Speranza to conquer dragons was a worthy
+and heroic business, but there seemed to be mighty little heroism in
+licking Sam Thatcher behind 'Lije Doane's cranberry shack. And Sam did
+not tell. Gertie next day confided that she didn't care two cents for
+that stuck-up Al Speranza, anyway; she had let him see her home only
+because Sam had danced so many times with Elsie Wixon at the ball
+that night. So Sam said nothing concerning the fight, explaining the
+condition of his nose by saying that he had run into something in the
+dark. And he did not appear to hold a grudge against his conqueror; on
+the contrary when others spoke of the latter as a “sissy,” Sam defended
+him. “He may be a dude,” said Sam; “I don't say he ain't. But he ain't
+no sissy.”
+
+When pressed to tell why he was so certain, his answer was: “Because he
+don't act like one.” It was not a convincing answer, the general opinion
+being that that was exactly how Al Speranza did act.
+
+There was one young person in the village toward whom Albert found
+himself making exceptions in his attitude of serenely impersonal
+tolerance. That person was Helen Kendall, the girl who had come into his
+grandfather's office the first morning of his stay in South Harniss. He
+was forced to make these exceptions by the young lady herself. When he
+met her the second time--which was after church on his first Sunday--his
+manner was even more loftily reserved than usual. He had distinct
+recollections of their first conversation. His own part in it had not
+been brilliant, and in it he had made the absurd statement--absurd in
+the light of what came after--that he was certainly NOT employed by Z.
+Snow and Co.
+
+So he was cool and superior when his grandmother brought them together
+after the meeting was over. If Helen noticed the superiority, she was
+certainly not over-awed by it, for she was so simple and natural and
+pleasant that he was obliged to unbend and be natural too. In fact,
+at their third meeting he himself spoke of the interview in the
+lumber office and again expressed his thanks for warning him of his
+grandfather's detestation of cigarettes.
+
+“Gee!” he exclaimed, “I'm certainly glad that you put me on to the old
+boy's feelings. I think he'd have murdered me if he had come back and
+found me puffing a Pall Mall in there.”
+
+She smiled. “He does hate them, doesn't he?” she said.
+
+“Hate them! I should say he did. Hating cigarettes is about the only
+point where he and Issy get along without an argument. If a traveler for
+a hardware house comes into the office smoking a cig, Issy opens all the
+windows to let the smell out, and Grandfather opens the door to throw
+the salesman out. Well, not exactly to throw him out, of course, but he
+never buys a single cent's worth of a cigarette smoker.”
+
+Helen glanced at him. “You must be awfully glad you're not a traveling
+salesman,” she said demurely.
+
+Albert did not know exactly what to make of that remark. He, in his
+turn, looked at her, but she was grave and quite unconcerned.
+
+“Why?” he asked, after a moment.
+
+“Why--what?”
+
+“Why ought I to be glad I'm not a traveling salesman?”
+
+“Oh, I don't know. It just seemed to me that you ought, that's all.”
+
+“But why?”
+
+“Well, if you were you wouldn't make a great hit with your grandfather,
+would you?”
+
+“Eh? . . . Oh, you mean because I smoke. Say, YOU'RE not silly enough to
+be down on cigarettes the way grandfather is, are you?”
+
+“No-o, I'm not down on them, especially. I'm not very well acquainted
+with them.”
+
+“Neither is he. He never smoked one in his life. It's just country
+prejudice, that's all.”
+
+“Well, I live in the country, too, you know.”
+
+“Yes, but you're different.”
+
+“How do you know I am?”
+
+“Oh, because any one can see you are.” The manner in which this remark
+was made, a manner implying a wide knowledge of humanity and a hint of
+personal interest and discriminating appreciation, had been found quite
+effective by the precocious young gentleman uttering it. With variations
+to suit the case and the individual it had been pleasantly received by
+several of the Misses Bradshaw's pupils. He followed it with another
+equally tried and trustworthy.
+
+“Say,” he added, “would YOU rather I didn't smoke?”
+
+The obvious reply should have been, “Oh, would you stop if I asked you
+to?” But Helen Kendall was a most disconcerting girl. Instead of purring
+a pleased recognition of the implied flattery, she laughed merrily. The
+Speranza dignity was hurt.
+
+“What is there to laugh at?” he demanded. “Are you laughing at me?”
+
+The answer was as truthful as truth itself.
+
+“Why, of course I am,” she replied; and then completed his discomfiture
+by adding, “Why should I care whether you smoke or not? You had better
+ask your grandfather that question, I should think.”
+
+Now Alberto Miguel Carlos Speranza had not been accustomed to this sort
+of treatment from young persons of the other sex, and he walked away in
+a huff. But the unusual is always attractive, and the next time he and
+Miss Kendall met he was as gracious and cordial as ever. But it was
+not long before he learned that the graciousness was, in her case, a
+mistake. Whenever he grew lofty, she took him down, laughed at him with
+complete frankness, and refused to treat him as anything but a boy. So
+they gradually grew friendly, and when they met at parties or church
+socials he spent most of the time in her company, or, rather, he would
+have so spent it had she permitted. But she was provokingly impartial
+and was quite as likely to refuse a dance with him to sit out one
+with Sam Thatcher or Ben Hammond or any other village youth of her
+acquaintance. However, although she piqued and irritated him, he was
+obliged to admit to his inner consciousness that she was the most
+interesting person he had yet discovered in South Harniss, also that
+even in the eyes of such connoisseurs as his fellow members of the
+senior class at school she would have been judged a “good looker,” in
+spite of her country clothes.
+
+He met her father, of course. The Reverend Mr. Kendall was a dreamy
+little old gentleman with white hair and the stooped shoulders of a
+student. Everybody liked him, and it was for that reason principally
+that he was still the occupant of the Congregational pulpit, for to
+quote Captain Zelotes, his sermons were inclined to be like the sandy
+road down to Setuckit Point, “ten mile long and dry all the way.” He was
+a widower and his daughter was his companion and managing housekeeper.
+There was a half-grown girl, one of the numerous Price family, a cousin
+of Issachar's, who helped out with the sweeping, dish-washing and
+cooking, but Helen was the real head of the household.
+
+“And she's a capable one, too,” declared Mrs. Snow, when at supper one
+evening Helen's name had come into the conversation. “I declare when I
+was there yesterday to see the minister about readin' poetry to us at
+sewin'-circle next Monday that parlor was as neat as wax. And 'twas all
+Helen's work that kept it so, that was plain enough. You could see her
+way of settin' a vase or puttin' on a table cloth wherever you looked.
+Nobody else has just that way. And she does it after school or before
+school or 'most any odd time. And whatever 'tis is done right.”
+
+The housekeeper put in a word. “There's no doubt about that,” she said,
+“and there ain't any more doubt that she don't get much help from her pa
+or that Maria B.” There were so many Prices within the township limits
+that individuals were usually distinguished by their middle initial. “As
+for Mr. Kendall,” went on Rachel, “he moves with his head in the clouds
+and his feet cruisin' with nobody at the wheel two-thirds of the time.
+Emma Smith says to me yesterday, says she, 'Mr. Kendall is a saint on
+earth, ain't he,' says she. 'Yes,' says I, 'and he'll be one in heaven
+any minute if he goes stumblin' acrost the road in front of Doctor
+Holliday's automobile the way I see him yesterday.' The doctor put on
+the brakes with a slam and a yell. The minister stopped right there in
+the middle of the road with the front wheels of that auto not MORE'N two
+foot from his old baggy trousers' knees, and says he, 'Eh? Did you want
+me, Doctor?' The doctor fetched a long breath. 'Why, no, Mr. Kendall,'
+he says, 'I didn't, but I come darn nigh gettin' you.' I don't know what
+WOULD become of him if he didn't have Helen to look out for him.”
+
+As they came to know each other better their conversation dealt with
+matters more personal. They sometimes spoke of plans for the future.
+Albert's plans and ambitions were lofty, but rather vague. Helen's
+were practical and definite. She was to graduate from high school that
+spring. Then she was hoping to teach in the primary school there in the
+village; the selectmen had promised her the opportunity.
+
+“But, of course,” she said, “I don't mean to stay here always. When I
+can, after I have saved some money and if Father doesn't need me
+too badly, I shall go away somewhere, to Bridgewater, or perhaps to
+Radcliffe, and study. I want to specialize in my teaching, you know.”
+
+Albert regarded her with amused superiority.
+
+“I don't see why on earth you are so anxious to be a school-marm,” he
+said. “That's the last job I'd want.”
+
+Her answer was given promptly, but without the least trace of temper.
+That was one of the most provoking things about this girl, she would not
+lose her temper. He usually lost his trying to make her. She spoke now,
+pleasantly, and deliberately, but as if she were stating an undesirable
+fact.
+
+“I think it would be the last one you would get,” she said.
+
+“Why? Great Scott! I guess I could teach school if I wanted to. But you
+bet I wouldn't want to! . . . NOW what are you laughing at?”
+
+“I'm not laughing.”
+
+“Yes, you are. I can always tell when you're laughing; you get that look
+in your eyes, that sort of--of--Oh, I can't tell you what kind of look
+it is, but it makes me mad. It's the same kind of look my grandfather
+has, and I could punch him for it sometimes. Why should you and he think
+I'm not going to amount to anything?”
+
+“I don't think so. And I'm sure he doesn't either. And I wasn't laughing
+at you. Or, if I was, it--it was only because--”
+
+“Well, because what?”
+
+“Oh, because you are so AWFULLY sure you know--well, know more than most
+people.”
+
+“Meaning I'm stuck on myself, I suppose. Well, now I tell you I'm
+not going to hang around in this one-horse town all my life to please
+grandfather or any one else.”
+
+When he mentioned his determination to win literary glory she was always
+greatly interested. Dreams of histrionic achievement were more coldly
+received. The daughter of a New England country clergyman, even in these
+days of broadening horizons, could scarcely be expected to look with
+favor upon an actor's career.
+
+June came and with it the first of the summer visitors. For the next
+three months Albert was happy with a new set of acquaintances. They were
+HIS kind, these young folks from the city, and his spare moments were
+for the most part spent in their society. He was popular with them, too.
+Some of them thought it queer that he should be living all the year in
+the village and keeping books for a concern like Z. Snow and Co., but
+juvenile society is tolerant and a youth who could sing passably, dance
+wonderfully and, above all, was as beautifully picturesque as Albert
+Speranza, was welcomed, especially by the girls. So the Saturdays and
+Sundays and evenings of that summer were pleasant for him. He saw little
+of Helen or Gertie Kendrick while the hotel or the cottages remained
+open.
+
+Then came the fall and another long, dreary winter. Albert plodded on at
+his desk or in the yard, following Mr. Keeler's suggestions, obeying his
+grandfather's orders, tormenting Issy, doing his daily stint because he
+had to, not because he liked it. For amusement he read a good deal, went
+to the usual number of sociables and entertainments, and once took part
+in amateur theatricals, a play given by the church society in the
+town hall. There was where he shone. As the dashing young hero he was
+resplendent. Gertie Kendrick gazed upon him from the third settee
+center with shining eyes. When he returned home after it was over his
+grandmother and Mrs. Ellis overwhelmed him with praises.
+
+“I declare you was perfectly splendid, Albert!” exclaimed Olive. “I was
+so proud of you I didn't know what to do.”
+
+Rachel looked upon him as one might look upon a god from Olympus.
+
+“All I could think of was Robert Penfold,” she said. “I says so to
+Laban: 'Laban,' says I, ain't he Robert Penfold and nobody else?' There
+you was, tellin' that Hannibal Ellis that you was innocent and some day
+the world would know you was, just the way Robert Penfold done in the
+book. I never did like that Hannie Ellis!”
+
+Mrs. Snow smiled. “Mercy, Rachel,” she said, “I hope you're not blamin'
+Hannie because of what he did in that play. That was his part, he had to
+do it.”
+
+But Rachel was not convinced. “He didn't have to be so everlastin' mean
+and spiteful about it, anyhow,” she declared. “But there, that family
+of Ellises never did amount to nothin' much. But, as I said to Laban,
+Albert, you was Robert Penfold all over.”
+
+“What did Labe say to that?” asked Albert, laughing.
+
+“He never had a chance to say nothin'. Afore he could answer, that Maria
+B. Price--she was settin' right back of me and eatin' molasses candy out
+of a rattly paper bag till I thought I SHOULD die--she leaned forward
+and she whispered: 'He looks more to me like that Stevie D. that used to
+work for Cap'n Crowell over to the Center. Stevie D. had curly hair like
+that and HE was part Portygee, you remember; though there was a little
+nigger blood in him, too,' she says. I could have shook her! And then
+she went to rattlin' that bag again.”
+
+Even Mr. Keeler congratulated him at the office next morning. “You done
+well, Al,” he said. “Yes--yes--yes. You done fust-rate, fust-rate.”
+
+His grandfather was the only one who refused to enthuse.
+
+“Well,” inquired Captain Zelotes, sitting down at his desk and glancing
+at his grandson over his spectacles, “do you cal'late to be able to get
+down to earth this mornin' far enough to figger up the payroll? You can
+put what you made from play-actin' on a separate sheet. It's about as
+much as the average person makes at that job,” he added.
+
+Albert's face flushed. There were times when he hated his grandfather.
+Mr. Keeler, a moment later, put a hand on his shoulder.
+
+“You mustn't mind the old man, Al,” he whispered. “I expect that seein'
+you last night brought your dad's job back to him strong. He can't bear
+play-actin', you know, on your dad's account. Yes--yes. That was it.
+Yes--yes--yes.”
+
+It may have been a truthful explanation, but as an apology it was a
+limited success.
+
+“My father was a gentleman, at any rate,” snapped Albert. Laban opened
+his mouth to reply, but closed it again and walked back to his books.
+
+In May, which was an unusually balmy month, the Congregational Sunday
+School gave an automobile excursion and box-luncheon party at High Point
+Light down at Trumet. As Rachel Ellis said, it was pretty early for
+picnickin', but if the Almighty's season was ahead of time there didn't
+seem to be any real good reason why one of his Sunday schools shouldn't
+be. And, which was the principal excuse for the hurry, the hotel busses
+could be secured, which would not be the case after the season opened.
+
+Albert went to the picnic. He was not very keen on going, but his
+grandfather had offered him a holiday for the purpose, and it was one
+of his principles never to refuse a chance to get away from that office.
+Besides, a number of the young people of his age were going, and Gertie
+Kendrick had been particularly insistent.
+
+“You just MUST come, Al,” she said. “It won't be any fun at all if you
+don't come.”
+
+It is possible that Gertie found it almost as little fun when he
+did come. He happened to be in one of his moods that day; “Portygee
+streaks,” his grandfather termed these moods, and told Olive that they
+were “that play-actor breakin' out in him.” He talked but little during
+the ride down in the bus, refused to sing when called upon, and, after
+dinner, when the dancing in the pavilion was going on, stepped quietly
+out of the side door and went tramping along the edge of the bluff,
+looking out over the sea or down to the beach, where, one hundred and
+fifty feet below, the big waves were curling over to crash into a creamy
+mass of froth and edge the strand with lacy ripples.
+
+The high clay bluffs of Trumet are unique. No other part of the Cape
+shows anything just like them. High Point Light crowns their highest
+and steepest point and is the flashing beacon the rays of which spell
+“America” to the incoming liner Boston bound.
+
+Along the path skirting the edge of the bluff Albert strolled, his hands
+in his pockets and his thoughts almost anywhere except on the picnic
+and the picnickers of the South Harniss Congregational Church. His
+particular mood on this day was one of discontent and rebellion against
+the fate which had sentenced him to the assistant bookkeeper's position
+in the office of Z. Snow and Co. At no time had he reconciled himself to
+the idea of that position as a permanent one; some day, somehow he was
+going to break away and do--marvelous things. But occasionally, and
+usually after a disagreeable happening in the office, he awoke from his
+youthful day dreams of glorious futures to a realization of the dismal
+to-day.
+
+The happening which had brought about realization in this instance was
+humorous in the eyes of two-thirds of South Harniss's population. They
+were chuckling over it yet. The majority of the remaining third were
+shocked. Albert, who was primarily responsible for the whole affair, was
+neither amused nor shocked; he was angry and humiliated.
+
+The Reverend Seabury Calvin, of Providence, R. I., had arrived in town
+and opened his summer cottage unusually early in the season. What
+was quite as important, Mrs. Seabury Calvin had arrived with him. The
+Reverend Calvin, whose stay was in this case merely temporary, was
+planning to build an addition to his cottage porch. Mrs. Calvin, who was
+the head of the summer “Welfare Workers,” whatever they were, had called
+a meeting at the Calvin house to make Welfare plans for the season.
+
+The lumber for the new porch was ordered of Z. Snow and Co. The Reverend
+Calvin ordered it himself in person. Albert received the order.
+
+“I wish this delivered to-morrow without fail,” said Mr. Calvin. Albert
+promised.
+
+But promises are not always easy to keep. One of Z. Snow and Co.'s teams
+was busy hauling lumber for the new schoolhouse at Bayport. The other
+Issachar had commandeered for deliveries at Harniss Center and refused
+to give up his claim. And Laban Keeler, as it happened, was absent
+on one of his “vacations.” Captain Zelotes was attending a directors'
+meeting at Osham and from there was going to Boston for a day's stay.
+
+“The ship's in your hands, Al,” he had said to his grandson. “Let me see
+how you handle her.”
+
+So, in spite of Albert's promise, the Calvin lumber was not delivered on
+time. The Reverend gentleman called to ask why. His manner was anything
+but receptive so far as excuses were concerned.
+
+“Young man,” he said loftily, “I am accustomed to do business with
+business people. Did you or did you not promise to deliver my order
+yesterday?”
+
+“Why, yes sir, I promised, but we couldn't do it. We--”
+
+“I don't care to know why you didn't do it. The fact that you did not is
+sufficient. Will that order of mine be delivered to-day?”
+
+“If it is a possible thing, Mr. Calvin, it--”
+
+“Pardon me. Will it be delivered?”
+
+The Speranza temper was rising. “Yes,” said the owner of that temper,
+succinctly.
+
+“Does yes mean yes, in this case; or does it mean what it meant before?”
+
+“I have told you why--”
+
+“Never mind. Young man, if that lumber is not delivered to-day I shall
+cancel the order. Do you understand?”
+
+Albert swallowed hard. “I tell you, Mr. Calvin, that it shall be
+delivered,” he said. “And it will be.”
+
+But delivering it was not so easy. The team simply could NOT be taken
+off the schoolhouse job, fulfillment of a contract was involved there.
+And the other horse had gone lame and Issachar swore by all that was
+solemn that the animal must not be used.
+
+“Let old Calvin wait till to-morrow,” said Issy. “You can use the big
+team then. And Cap'n Lote'll be home, besides.”
+
+But Albert was not going to let “old Calvin” wait. That lumber was going
+to be delivered, if he had to carry it himself, stick by stick. He asked
+Mr. Price if an extra team might not be hired.
+
+“Ain't none,” said Issy. “Besides, where'd your granddad's profits be
+if you spent money hirin' extry teams to haul that little mite of stuff?
+I've been in this business a good long spell, and I tell you--”
+
+He did not get a chance to tell it, for Albert walked off and left him.
+At half-past twelve that afternoon he engaged “Vessie” Young--christened
+Sylvester Young and a brother to the driver of the depot wagon--to
+haul the Calvin lumber in his rickety, fragrant old wagon. Simpson
+Mullen--commonly called “Simp”--was to help in the delivery.
+
+Against violent protests from Issy, who declared that Ves Young's
+rattle-trap wan't fit to do nothin' but haul fish heads to the
+fertilizer factory, the Calvin beams and boards were piled high on
+the wagon and with Ves on the driver's seat and Simp perched, like a
+disreputable carrion crow on top of the load, the equipage started.
+
+“There!” exclaimed Albert, with satisfaction. “He can't say it wasn't
+delivered this time according to promise.”
+
+“Godfreys!” snorted Issy, gazing after the departing wagon. “He won't be
+able to say nothin' when he sees that git-up--and smells it. Ves carts
+everything in that cart from dead cows to gurry barrels. Whew! I'd
+hate to have to set on that porch when 'twas built of that lumber. And,
+unless I'm mistook, Ves and Simp had been havin' a little somethin'
+strong to take, too.”
+
+Mr. Price, as it happened, was not “mistook.” Mr. Young had, as the
+South Harniss saying used to be, “had a jug come down” on the train from
+Boston that very morning. The jug was under the seat of his wagon and
+its contents had already been sampled by him and by Simp. The journey to
+the Calvin cottage was enlivened by frequent stops for refreshment.
+
+Consequently it happened that, just as Mrs. Calvin's gathering of
+Welfare Workers had reached the cake and chocolate stage in their
+proceedings and just as the Reverend Mr. Calvin had risen by invitation
+to say a few words of encouragement, the westerly wind blowing in at
+the open windows bore to the noses and ears of the assembled faithful a
+perfume and a sound neither of which was sweet.
+
+Above the rattle and squeak of the Young wagon turning in at the Calvin
+gate arose the voices of Vessie and Simp uplifted in song.
+
+“'Here's to the good old whiskey, drink 'er daown,'” sang Mr. Young.
+
+
+     “'Here's to the good old whiskey,
+         Drink 'er daown!
+       Here's to the good old whiskey,
+       It makes you feel so frisky,
+         Drink 'er--'
+
+
+Git up there, blank blank ye! What the blankety blank you stoppin' here
+for? Git up!”
+
+The horse was not the only creature that got up. Mrs. Calvin rose from
+her chair and gazed in horror at the window. Her husband, being already
+on his feet, could not rise but he broke off short the opening sentence
+of his “few words” and stared and listened. Each Welfare Worker stared
+and listened also.
+
+“Git up, you blankety blank blank,” repeated Ves Young, with cheerful
+enthusiasm. Mr. Mullen, from the top of the load of lumber, caroled
+dreamily on:
+
+
+     “'Here's to the good old rum,
+         Drink 'er daown!
+       Here's to the good old rum,
+         Drink 'er daown!
+       Here's to the good old rum,
+       Ain't you glad that you've got some?
+       Drink 'er daown!  Drink 'er daown!
+         Drink 'er daown!'”
+
+
+And floating, as it were, upon the waves of melody came the odor of the
+Young wagon, an odor combining deceased fish and late lamented cow and
+goodness knows what beside.
+
+The dissipated vehicle stopped beneath the parlor windows of the Calvin
+cottage. Mr. Young called to his assistant.
+
+“Here we be, Simp!” he yelled. “A-a-ll ashore that's goin' ashore! Wake
+up there, you unmentionably described old rum barrel and help unload
+this everlastingly condemned lumber.”
+
+Mr. Calvin rushed to the window. “What does this mean?” he demanded, in
+frothing indignation.
+
+Vessie waved at him reassuringly. “'Sall right, Mr. Calvin,” he shouted.
+“Here's your lumber from Ze-lotes Snow and Co., South Harniss, Mass., U.
+S. A. 'Sall right. Let 'er go, Simp! Let 'er blankety-blank go!”
+
+Mr. Mullen responded with alacrity and a whoop. A half dozen boards
+crashed to the ground beneath the parlor windows. Mrs. Calvin rushed to
+her husband's side.
+
+“This is DREADFUL, Seabury!” she cried. “Send those creatures and--and
+that horrible wagon away at once.”
+
+The Reverend Calvin tried to obey orders. He commanded Mr. Young to go
+away from there that very moment. Vessie was surprised.
+
+“Ain't this your lumber?” he demanded.
+
+“It doesn't make any difference whether it is or not, I--”
+
+“Didn't you tell Z. Snow and Co. that this lumber'd got to be delivered
+to-day or you'd cancel the order?”
+
+“Never mind. That is my business, sir. You--”
+
+“Hold on! Ho-o-ld on! _I_ got a business, too. My business is deliverin'
+what I'm paid to deliver. Al Speranzy he says to me: 'Ves,' he says, 'if
+you don't deliver that lumber to old man Calvin to-day you don't get no
+money, see. Will you deliver it?' Says I, 'You bet your crashety-blank
+life I'll (hic) d'liver it! What I say I'll do, I'll do!' And I'm
+deliverin' it, ain't I? Hey? Ain't I? Well, then, what the--” And so
+forth and at length, while Mrs. Calvin collapsed half fainting in an
+easy-chair, and horrified Welfare Workers covered their ears--and longed
+to cover their noses.
+
+The lumber was delivered that day. Its delivery was, from the viewpoint
+of Messrs. Young and Mullen, a success. The spring meeting of the
+Welfare Workers was not a success.
+
+The following day Mr. Calvin called at the office of Z. Snow and Co. He
+had things to say and said them. Captain Zelotes, who had returned from
+Boston, listened. Then he called his grandson.
+
+“Tell him what you've just told me, Mr. Calvin,” he said.
+
+The reverend gentleman told it, with added details.
+
+“And in my opinion, if you'll excuse me, Captain Snow,” he said, in
+conclusion, “this young man knew what he was doing when he sent those
+drunken scoundrels to my house. He did it purposely, I am convinced.”
+
+Captain Zelotes looked at him.
+
+“Why?” he asked.
+
+“Why, because--because of--of what I said to him--er--er--when I called
+here yesterday morning. He--I presume he took offense and--and this
+outrage is the result. I am convinced that--”
+
+“Wait a minute. What did you say for him to take offense at?”
+
+“I demanded that order should be delivered as promised. I am accustomed
+to do business with business men and--”
+
+“Hold on just a minute more, Mr. Calvin. We don't seem to be gettin' at
+the clam in this shell as fast as we'd ought to. Al, what have you got
+to say about all this business?”
+
+Albert was white, almost as white as when he fought Sam Thatcher, but as
+he stood up to Sam so also did he face the irate clergyman. He told
+of the latter's visit to the office, of the threat to cancel the order
+unless delivery was promised that day, of how his promise to deliver was
+exacted, of his effort to keep that promise.
+
+“I HAD to deliver it, Grandfather,” he said hotly. “He had all but
+called me a liar and--and by George, I wasn't going to--”
+
+His grandfather held up a warning hand.
+
+“Sshh! Ssh!” he said. “Go on with your yarn, boy.”
+
+Albert told of the lame horse, of his effort to hire another team, and
+finally how in desperation he had engaged Ves Young as a last resort.
+The captain's face was serious but there was the twinkle under his heavy
+brows. He pulled at his beard.
+
+“Humph!” he grunted. “Did you know Ves and Simp had been drinkin' when
+you hired 'em?”
+
+“Of course I didn't. After they had gone Issy said he suspected that
+they had been drinking a little, but _I_ didn't know it. All I wanted
+was to prove to HIM,” with a motion toward Mr. Calvin, “that I kept my
+word.”
+
+Captain Zelotes pulled at his beard. “All right, Al,” he said, after a
+moment; “you can go.”
+
+Albert went out of the private office. After he had gone the captain
+turned to his irate customer.
+
+“I'm sorry this happened, Mr. Calvin,” he said, “and if Keeler or I had
+been here it probably wouldn't. But,” he added, “as far as I can see,
+the boy did what he thought was the best thing to do. And,” the twinkle
+reappeared in the gray eyes, “you sartinly did get your lumber when
+'twas promised.”
+
+Mr. Calvin stiffened. He had his good points, but he suffered from what
+Laban Keeler once called “ingrowin' importance,” and this ailment often
+affected his judgment. Also he had to face Mrs. Calvin upon his return
+home.
+
+“Do I understand,” he demanded, “that you are excusing that young man
+for putting that outrage upon me?”
+
+“We-ll, as I say, I'm sorry it happened. But, honest, Mr. Calvin, I
+don't know's the boy's to blame so very much, after all. He delivered
+your lumber, and that's somethin'.”
+
+“Is that all you have to say, Captain Snow? Is that--that impudent young
+clerk of yours to go unpunished?”
+
+“Why, yes, I guess likely he is.”
+
+“Then I shall NEVER buy another dollar's worth of your house again,
+sir.”
+
+Captain Zelotes bowed. “I'm sorry to lose your trade, Mr. Calvin,” he
+said. “Good mornin'.”
+
+Albert, at his desk in the outer office, was waiting rebelliously to be
+called before his grandfather and upbraided. And when so called he was
+in a mood to speak his mind. He would say a few things, no matter what
+happened in consequence. But he had no chance to say them. Captain
+Zelotes did not mention the Calvin affair to him, either that day or
+afterward. Albert waited and waited, expecting trouble, but the trouble,
+so far as his grandfather was concerned, did not materialize. He could
+not understand it.
+
+But if in that office there was silence concerning the unusual delivery
+of the lumber for the Calvin porch, outside there was talk enough and
+to spare. Each Welfare Worker talked when she reached home and the story
+spread. Small boys shouted after Albert when he walked down the main
+street, demanding to know how Ves Young's cart was smellin' these days.
+When he entered the post office some one in the crowd was almost sure to
+hum, “Here's to the good old whiskey, drink her down.” On the train
+on the way to the picnic, girls and young fellows had slyly nagged him
+about it. The affair and its consequence were the principal causes of
+his mood that day; this particular “Portygee streak” was due to it.
+
+The path along the edge of the high bluff entered a grove of scraggy
+pitch pines about a mile from the lighthouse and the picnic ground.
+Albert stalked gloomily through the shadows of the little grove and
+emerged on the other side. There he saw another person ahead of him on
+the path. This other person was a girl. He recognized her even at this
+distance. She was Helen Kendall.
+
+She and he had not been quite as friendly of late. Not that there was
+any unfriendliness between them, but she was teaching in the primary
+school and, as her father had not been well, spent most of her evenings
+at home. During the early part of the winter he had called occasionally
+but, somehow, it had seemed to him that she was not quite as cordial, or
+as interested in his society and conversation as she used to be. It was
+but a slight indifference on her part, perhaps, but Albert Speranza
+was not accustomed to indifference on the part of his feminine
+acquaintances. So he did not call again. He had seen her at the picnic
+ground and they had spoken, but not at any length.
+
+And he did not care to speak with her now. He had left the pavilion
+because of his desire to be alone, and that desire still persisted.
+However, she was some little distance ahead of him and he waited in the
+edge of the grove until she should go over the crest of the little hill
+at the next point.
+
+But she did not go over the crest. Instead, when she reached it, she
+walked to the very edge of the bluff and stood there looking off at the
+ocean. The sea breeze ruffled her hair and blew her skirts about her and
+she made a pretty picture. But to Albert it seemed that she was standing
+much too near the edge. She could not see it, of course, but from where
+he stood he could see that the bank at that point was much undercut by
+the winter rains and winds, and although the sod looked firm enough from
+above, in reality there was little to support it. Her standing there
+made him a trifle uneasy and he had a mind to shout and warn her.
+He hesitated, however, and as he watched she stepped back of her own
+accord. He turned, re-entered the grove and started to walk back to the
+pavilion.
+
+He had scarcely done so when he heard a short scream followed by a
+thump and a rumbling, rattling sound. He turned like a flash, his heart
+pounding violently.
+
+The bluff edge was untenanted. A semi-circular section of the sod where
+Helen had stood was missing. From the torn opening where it had been
+rose a yellow cloud of dust.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+
+A goodly number of the South Harniss “natives,” those who had not seen
+him play tennis, would have been willing to swear that running was, for
+Albert Speranza, an impossibility. His usual gait was a rather languid
+saunter. They would have changed their minds had they seen him now.
+
+He ran along that path as he had run in school at the last track meet,
+where he had been second in the hundred-yard dash. He reached the spot
+where the sod had broken and, dropping on his knees, looked fearfully
+over. The dust was still rising, the sand and pebbles were still
+rattling in a diminishing shower down to the beach so far below. But he
+did not see what he had so feared to see.
+
+What he did see, however, was neither pleasant nor altogether
+reassuring. The bluff below the sod at its top dropped sheer and
+undercut for perhaps ten feet. Then the sand and clay sloped outward and
+the slope extended down for another fifty feet, its surface broken by
+occasional clinging chunks of beach grass. Then it broke sharply again,
+a straight drop of eighty feet to the mounds and dunes bordering the
+beach.
+
+Helen had of course fallen straight to the upper edge of the slope,
+where she had struck feet first, and from there had slid and rolled to
+the very edge of the long drop to the beach. Her skirt had caught in
+the branches of an enterprising bayberry bush which had managed to find
+roothold there, and to this bush and a clump of beach grass she was
+clinging, her hands outstretched and her body extended along the edge of
+the clay precipice.
+
+Albert gasped.
+
+“Helen!” he called breathlessly.
+
+She turned her head and looked up at him. Her face was white, but she
+did not scream.
+
+“Helen!” cried Albert, again. “Helen, do you hear me?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Are you badly hurt?”
+
+“No. No, I don't think so.”
+
+“Can you hold on just as you are for a few minutes?”
+
+“Yes, I--I think so.”
+
+“You've got to, you know. Here! You're not going to faint, are you?”
+
+“No, I--I don't think I am.”
+
+“You can't! You mustn't! Here! Don't you do it! Stop!”
+
+There was just a trace of his grandfather in the way he shouted the
+order. Whether or not the vigor of the command produced the result is a
+question, but at any rate she did not faint.
+
+“Now you stay right where you are,” he ordered again. “And hang on as
+tight as you can. I'm coming down.”
+
+Come down he did, swinging over the brink with his face to the bank,
+dropping on his toes to the upper edge of the slope and digging boots
+and fingers into the clay to prevent sliding further.
+
+“Hang on!” he cautioned, over his shoulder. “I'll be there in a second.
+There! Now wait until I get my feet braced. Now give me your hand--your
+left hand. Hold on with your right.”
+
+Slowly and cautiously, clinging to his hand, he pulled her away from the
+edge of the precipice and helped her to scramble up to where he clung.
+There she lay and panted. He looked at her apprehensively.
+
+“Don't go and faint now, or any foolishness like that,” he ordered
+sharply.
+
+“No, no, I won't. I'll try not to. But how are we ever going to climb
+up--up there?”
+
+Above them and at least four feet out of reach, even if they stood up,
+and that would be a frightfully risky proceeding, the sod projected over
+their heads like the eaves of a house.
+
+Helen glanced up at it and shuddered.
+
+“Oh, how CAN we?” she gasped.
+
+“We can't. And we won't try.”
+
+“Shall we call for help?”
+
+“Not much use. Nobody to hear us. Besides, we can always do that if
+we have to. I think I see a way out of the mess. If we can't get up,
+perhaps we can get down.”
+
+“Get DOWN?”
+
+“Yes, it isn't all as steep as it is here. I believe we might sort of
+zig-zag down if we were careful. You hold on here just as you are; I'm
+going to see what it looks like around this next point.”
+
+The “point” was merely a projection of the bluff about twenty feet away.
+He crawfished along the face of the slope, until he could see beyond it.
+Helen kept urging him to be careful--oh, be careful!
+
+“Of course I'll be careful,” he said curtly. “I don't want to break my
+neck. Yes--yes, by George, it IS easier around there! We could get down
+a good way. Here, here; don't start until you take my hand. And be sure
+your feet are braced before you move. Come on, now.”
+
+“I--I don't believe I can.”
+
+“Of course you can. You've GOT to. Come on. Don't look down. Look at the
+sand right in front of you.”
+
+Getting around that point was a decidedly ticklish operation, but they
+managed it, he leading the way, making sure of his foothold before
+moving and then setting her foot in the print his own had made. On the
+other side of the projection the slope was less abrupt and extended much
+nearer to the ground below. They zigzagged down until nearly to the edge
+of the steep drop. Then Albert looked about for a new path to safety. He
+found it still farther on.
+
+“It takes us down farther,” he said, “and there are bushes to hold on to
+after we get there. Come on, Helen! Brace up now, be a sport!”
+
+She was trying her best to obey orders, but being a sport was no slight
+undertaking under the circumstances. When they reached the clump of
+bushes her guide ordered her to rest.
+
+“Just stop and catch your breath,” he said. “The rest is going to be
+easier, I think. And we haven't so very far to go.”
+
+He was too optimistic. It was anything but easy; in fact, the last
+thirty feet was almost a tumble, owing to the clay giving way beneath
+their feet. But there was soft sand to tumble into and they reached the
+beach safe, though in a dishevelled, scratched and thoroughly smeared
+condition. Then Helen sat down and covered her face with her hands.
+Her rescuer gazed triumphantly up at the distant rim of broken sod and
+grinned.
+
+“There, by George!” he exclaimed. “We did it, didn't we? Say, that was
+fun!”
+
+She removed her hands and looked at him.
+
+“WHAT did you say it was?” she faltered.
+
+“I said it was fun. It was great! Like something out of a book, eh?”
+
+She began to laugh hysterically. He turned to her in indignant surprise.
+“What are you laughing at?” he demanded.
+
+“Oh--oh, don't, please! Just let me laugh. If I don't laugh I shall cry,
+and I don't want to do that. Just don't talk to me for a few minutes,
+that's all.”
+
+When the few minutes were over she rose to her feet.
+
+“Now we must get back to the pavilion, I suppose,” she said. “My, but
+we are sights, though! Do let's see if we can't make ourselves a little
+more presentable.”
+
+She did her best to wipe off the thickest of the clay smears with her
+handkerchief, but the experiment was rather a failure. As they started
+to walk back along the beach she suddenly turned to him and said:
+
+“I haven't told you how--how much obliged I am for--for what you did. If
+you hadn't come, I don't know what would have happened to me.”
+
+“Oh, that's all right,” he answered lightly. He was reveling in the
+dramatic qualities of the situation. She did not speak again for some
+time and he, too, walked on in silence enjoying his day dream. Suddenly
+he became aware that she was looking at him steadily and with an odd
+expression on her face.
+
+“What is it?” he asked. “Why do you look at me that way?”
+
+Her answer was, as usual, direct and frank.
+
+“I was thinking about you,” she said. “I was thinking that I must have
+been mistaken, partly mistaken, at least.”
+
+“Mistaken? About me, do you mean?”
+
+“Yes; I had made up my mind that you were--well, one sort of fellow, and
+now I see that you are an entirely different sort. That is, you've shown
+that you can be different.”
+
+“What on earth do you mean by that?”
+
+“Why, I mean--I mean--Oh, I'm sure I had better not say it. You won't
+like it, and will think I had better mind my own affairs--which I should
+do, of course.”
+
+“Go on; say it.”
+
+She looked at him again, evidently deliberating whether or not to speak
+her thought. Then she said:
+
+“Well, I will say it. Not that it is really my business, but because in
+a way it is begging your pardon, and I ought to do that. You see, I had
+begun to believe that you were--that you were--well, that you were not
+very--very active, you know.”
+
+“Active? Say, look here, Helen! What--”
+
+“Oh, I don't wonder you don't understand. I mean that you were
+rather--rather fond of not doing much--of--of--”
+
+“Eh? Not doing much? That I was lazy, do you mean?”
+
+“Why, not exactly lazy, perhaps, but--but--Oh, how CAN I say just what
+I mean! I mean that you were always saying that you didn't like the work
+in your grandfather's office.”
+
+“Which I don't.”
+
+“And that some day you were going to do something else.”
+
+“Which I am.”
+
+“Write or act or do something--”
+
+“Yes, and that's true, too.”
+
+“But you don't, you know. You don't do anything. You've been talking
+that way ever since I knew you, calling this a one-horse town and saying
+how you hated it, and that you weren't going to waste your life here,
+and all that, but you keep staying here and doing just the same things.
+The last long talk we had together you told me you knew you could write
+poems and plays and all sorts of things, you just felt that you could.
+You were going to begin right away. You said that some months ago, and
+you haven't done any writing at all. Now, have you?”
+
+“No-o. No, but that doesn't mean I shan't by and by.”
+
+“But you didn't begin as you said you would. That was last spring, more
+than a year ago, and I don't believe you have tried to write a single
+poem. Have you?”
+
+He was beginning to be ruffled. It was quite unusual for any one, most
+of all for a girl, to talk to him in this way.
+
+“I don't know that I have,” he said loftily. “And, anyway, I don't see
+that it is--is--”
+
+“My business whether you have or not. I know it isn't. I'm sorry I
+spoke. But, you see, I--Oh, well, never mind. And I do want you to know
+how much I appreciate your helping me as you did just now. I don't know
+how to thank you for that.”
+
+But thanks were not exactly what he wanted at that moment.
+
+“Go ahead and say the rest,” he ordered, after a short pause. “You've
+said so much that you had better finish it, seems to me. I'm lazy, you
+think. What else am I?”
+
+“You're brave, awfully brave, and you are so strong and quick--yes,
+and--and--masterful; I think that is the right word. You ordered me
+about as if I were a little girl. I didn't want to keep still, as you
+told me to; I wanted to scream. And I wanted to faint, too, but you
+wouldn't let me. I had never seen you that way before. I didn't know you
+could be like that. That is what surprises me so. That is why I said you
+were so different.”
+
+Here was balm for wounded pride. Albert's chin lifted. “Oh, that was
+nothing,” he said. “Whatever had to be done must be done right off, I
+could see that. You couldn't hang on where you were very long.”
+
+She shuddered. “No,” she replied, “I could not. But _I_ couldn't think
+WHAT to do, and you could. Yes, and did it, and made me do it.”
+
+The chin lifted still more and the Speranza chest began to expand.
+Helen's next remark was in the natures of a reducer for the said
+expansion.
+
+“If you could be so prompt and strong and--and energetic then,” she
+said, “I can't help wondering why you aren't like that all the time. I
+had begun to think you were just--just--”
+
+“Lazy, eh?” he suggested.
+
+“Why--why, no-o, but careless and indifferent and with not much
+ambition, certainly. You had talked so much about writing and yet you
+never tried to write anything, that--that--”
+
+“That you thought I was all bluff. Thanks! Any more compliments?”
+
+She turned on him impulsively. “Oh, don't!” she exclaimed. “Please
+don't! I know what I am saying sounds perfectly horrid, and especially
+now when you have just saved me from being badly hurt, if not killed.
+But don't you see that--that I am saying it because I am interested in
+you and sure you COULD do so much if you only would? If you would only
+try.”
+
+This speech was a compound of sweet and bitter. Albert
+characteristically selected the sweet.
+
+“Helen,” he asked, in his most confidential tone, “would you like to
+have me try and write something? Say, would you?”
+
+“Of course I would. Oh, will you?”
+
+“Well, if YOU asked me I might. For your sake, you know.”
+
+She stopped and stamped her foot impatiently.
+
+“Oh, DON'T be silly!” she exclaimed. “I don't want you to do it for
+my sake. I want you to do it for your own sake. Yes, and for your
+grandfather's sake.”
+
+“My grandfather's sake! Great Scott, why do you drag him in? HE doesn't
+want me to write poetry.”
+
+“He wants you to do something, to succeed. I know that.”
+
+“He wants me to stay here and help Labe Keeler and Issy Price. He wants
+me to spend all my life in that office of his; that's what HE wants.
+Now hold on, Helen! I'm not saying anything against the old fellow. He
+doesn't like me, I know, but--”
+
+“You DON'T know. He does like you. Or he wants to like you very much
+indeed. He would like to have you carry on the Snow Company's business
+after he has gone, but if you can't--or won't--do that, I know he would
+be very happy to see you succeed at anything--anything.”
+
+Albert laughed scornfully. “Even at writing poetry?” he asked.
+
+“Why, yes, at writing; although of course he doesn't know a thing about
+it and can't understand how any one can possibly earn a living that way.
+He has read or heard about poets and authors starving in garrets and he
+thinks they're all like that. But if you could only show him and prove
+to him that you could succeed by writing, he would be prouder of you
+than any one else would be. I know it.”
+
+He regarded her curiously. “You seem to know a lot about my
+grandfather,” he observed.
+
+“I do know something about him. He and I have been friends ever since
+I was a little girl, and I like him very much indeed. If he were my
+grandfather I should be proud of him. And I think you ought to be.”
+
+She flashed the last sentence at him in a sudden heat of enthusiasm. He
+was surprised at her manner.
+
+“Gee! You ARE strong for the old chap, aren't you?” he said. “Well,
+admitting that he is all right, just why should I be proud of him? I AM
+proud of my father, of course; he was somebody in the world.”
+
+“You mean he was somebody just because he was celebrated and lots of
+people knew about him. Celebrated people aren't the only ones who do
+worth while things. If I were you, I should be proud of Captain Zelotes
+because he is what he has made himself. Nobody helped him; he did it
+all. He was a sea captain and a good one. He has been a business man and
+a good one, even if the business isn't so very big. Everybody here
+in South Harniss--yes, and all up and down the Cape--knows of him and
+respects him. My father says in all the years he has preached in his
+church he has never heard a single person as much as hint that Captain
+Snow wasn't absolutely honest, absolutely brave, and the same to
+everybody, rich or poor. And all his life he has worked and worked hard.
+What HE has belongs to him; he has earned it. That's why I should be
+proud of him if he were my grandfather.”
+
+Her enthusiasm had continued all through this long speech. Albert
+whistled.
+
+“Whew!” he exclaimed. “Regular cheer for Zelotes, fellows! One--two--!
+Grandfather's got one person to stand up for him, I'll say that. But why
+this sudden outbreak about him, anyhow? It was me you were talking about
+in the beginning--though I didn't notice any loud calls for cheers in
+that direction,” he added.
+
+She ignored the last part of the speech. “I think you yourself made me
+think of him,” she replied. “Sometimes you remind me of him. Not often,
+but once in a while. Just now, when we were climbing down that awful
+place you seemed almost exactly like him. The way you knew just what to
+do all the time, and your not hesitating a minute, and the way you took
+command of the situation and,” with a sudden laugh, “bossed me around;
+every bit of that was like him, and not like you at all. Oh, I don't
+mean that,” she added hurriedly. “I mean it wasn't like you as you
+usually are. It was different.”
+
+“Humph! Well, I must say--See here, Helen Kendall, what is it you expect
+me to do; sail in and write two or three sonnets and a 'Come Into
+the Garden, Maud,' some time next week? You're terribly keen about
+Grandfather, but he has rather got the edge on me so far as age goes.
+He's in the sixties, and I'm just about nineteen.”
+
+“When he was nineteen he was first mate of a ship.”
+
+“Yes, so I've heard him say. Maybe first-mating is a little bit easier
+than writing poetry.”
+
+“And maybe it isn't. At any rate, he didn't know whether it was easy or
+not until he tried. Oh, THAT'S what I would like to see you do--TRY
+to do something. You could do it, too, almost anything you tried, I do
+believe. I am confident you could. But--Oh, well, as you said at the
+beginning, it isn't my business at all, and I've said ever and ever so
+much more than I meant to. Please forgive me, if you can. I think my
+tumble and all the rest must have made me silly. I'm sorry, Albert.
+There are the steps up to the pavilion. See them!”
+
+He was tramping on beside her, his hands in his pockets. He did not look
+at the long flight of steps which had suddenly come into view around the
+curve of the bluff. When he did look up and speak it was in a different
+tone, some such tone as she had heard him use during her rescue.
+
+“All right,” he said, with decision, “I'll show you whether I can try
+or not. I know you think I won't, but I will. I'm going up to my room
+to-night and I'm going to try to write something or other. It may be the
+rottenest poem that ever was ground out, but I'll grind it if it kills
+me.”
+
+She was pleased, that was plain, but she shook her head.
+
+“Not to-night, Albert,” she said. “To-night, after the picnic, is
+Father's reception at the church. Of course you'll come to that.”
+
+“Of course I won't. Look here, you've called me lazy and indifferent and
+a hundred other pet names this afternoon. Well, this evening I'll make
+you take some of 'em back. Reception be hanged! I'm going to write
+to-night.”
+
+That evening both Mrs. Snow and Rachel Ellis were much disturbed because
+Albert, pleading a headache, begged off from attendance at the reception
+to the Reverend Mr. Kendall. Either, or both ladies would have been only
+too willing to remain at home and nurse the sufferer through his attack,
+but he refused to permit the sacrifice on their part. After they had
+gone his headache disappeared and, supplied with an abundance of paper,
+pens and ink, he sat down at the table in his room to invoke the Muse.
+The invocation lasted until three A. M. At that hour, with a genuine
+headache, but a sense of triumph which conquered pain, Albert climbed
+into bed. Upon the table lay a poem, a six stanza poem, having these
+words at its head:
+
+
+        TO MY LADY'S SPRING HAT
+           By A. M. Speranza.
+
+
+The following forenoon he posted that poem to the editor of The Cape Cod
+Item. And three weeks later it appeared in the pages of that journal.
+Of course there was no pecuniary recompense for its author, and the fact
+was indisputable that the Item was generally only too glad to publish
+contributions which helped to fill its columns. But, nevertheless,
+Albert Speranza had written a poem and that poem had been published.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+
+It was Rachel who first discovered “To My Lady's Spring Hat” in the Item
+three weeks later. She came rushing into the sitting room brandishing
+the paper.
+
+“My soul! My soul! My soul!” she cried.
+
+Olive, sitting sewing by the window, was, naturally, somewhat startled.
+“Mercy on us, Rachel!” she exclaimed. “What IS it?”
+
+“Look!” cried the housekeeper, pointing to the contribution in the
+“Poets' Corner” as Queen Isabella may have pointed at the evidence of
+her proteges discovery of a new world. “LOOK!”
+
+Mrs. Snow looked, read the verses to herself, and then aloud.
+
+“Why, I declare, they're real sort of pretty, ain't they?” she
+exclaimed, in astonished admiration.
+
+“Pretty! They're perfectly elegant! And right here in the paper for all
+hands to see. Ain't you PROUD of him, Mrs. Snow?”
+
+Olive had been growing more and more proud of her handsome grandson ever
+since his arrival. She was prouder still now and said so. Rachel nodded,
+triumphantly.
+
+“He'll be a Robert Penfold afore he dies, or I miss MY guess!” she
+declared.
+
+She showed it to feminine acquaintances all over town, and Olive, when
+callers came, took pains to see that a copy of the Item, folded with the
+“Poets' Corner” uppermost, lay on the center table. Customers, dropping
+in at the office, occasionally mentioned the poem to its author.
+
+“See you had a piece in the Item, Al,” was their usual way of referring
+to it. “Pretty cute piece 'twas, too, seemed to me. Say, that girl of
+yours must have SOME spring bunnit. Ho, ho!”
+
+Issachar deigned to express approval, approval qualified with discerning
+criticism of course, but approval nevertheless.
+
+“Pretty good piece, Al,” he observed. “Pretty good. Glad to see you done
+so well. Course you made one little mistake, but 'twan't a very big one.
+That part where you said--What was it, now? Where'd I put that piece of
+poetry? Oh, yes, here 'tis! Where you said--er--er--
+
+
+     'It floats upon her golden curls
+      As froth upon the wave.'
+
+
+Now of course nothin'--a hat or nothin' else--is goin' to float on top
+of a person's head. Froth floatin', that's all right, you understand;
+but even if you took froth right out of the water and slapped it up onto
+anybody's hair 'twouldn't FLOAT up there. If you'd said,
+
+
+     'It SETS up onto her golden curls,
+      Same as froth sets on top of a wave.'
+
+
+that would have been all right and true. But there, don't feel bad about
+it. It's only a little mistake, same as anybody's liable to make. Nine
+persons out of ten wouldn't have noticed it. I'm extry partic'lar, I
+presume likely. I'm findin' mistakes like that all the time.”
+
+Laban's comment was less critical, perhaps, but more reserved.
+
+“It's pretty good, Al,” he said. “Yes--er--yes, sir, it's pretty good.
+It ain't all new, there's some of it that's been written before, but I
+rather guess that might have been said about Shakespeare's poetry when
+he fust commenced. It's pretty good, Al. Yes--yes, yes. It is so.”
+
+Albert was inclined to resent the qualified strain in the bookkeeper's
+praise. He was tempted to be sarcastic.
+
+“Well,” he observed, “of course you've read so much real poetry that you
+ought to know.”
+
+Laban nodded, slowly. “I've read a good deal,” he said quietly. “Readin'
+is one of the few things I ain't made a failure of in this life. Um-hm.
+One of the few. Yes yes--yes.”
+
+He dipped his pen in the inkwell and carefully made an entry in the
+ledger. His assistant felt a sudden pang of compunction.
+
+“I beg your pardon, Mr. Keeler,” he said. “That was pretty fresh of me.
+I'm sorry.”
+
+Laban looked up in mild surprise. “Sorry?” he repeated. “What for? . . .
+Oh, that's all right, Al, that's all right. Lord knows I'm the last one
+on earth who'd ought to criticize anybody. All I had in mind in sayin'
+what I did was to--well, to kind of keep you from bein' too well
+satisfied and not try harder on the next one. It don't pay to be too
+well satisfied. . . . Years ago, I can remember, _I_ was pretty well
+satisfied--with myself and my work. Sounds like a joke, I know, but
+'twas so. . . . Well, I've had a nice long chance to get over it. Um-hm.
+Yes--yes. So I have, so I have.”
+
+Only Captain Zelotes at first said nothing about the poem. He read it,
+his wife saw to that, but his comment even to her was a non-committal
+grunt.
+
+“But don't you think it's real sort of pretty, Zelotes?” she asked.
+
+The captain grunted again. “Why, I guess likely 'tis if you say so,
+Mother. I don't know much about such things.”
+
+“But everybody says it is.”
+
+“Want to know! Well, then 'twon't make much difference whether I say it
+or not.”
+
+“But ain't you goin' to say a word to Albert about it, Zelotes?”
+
+“Humph! I don't know's I know what to say.”
+
+“Why, say you like it.”
+
+“Ye-es, and if I do he'll keep on writin' more. That's exactly what I
+don't want him to do. Come now, Mother, be sensible. This piece of his
+may be good or it may not, _I_ wouldn't undertake to say. But this I do
+know: I don't want the boy to spend his time writin' poetry slush for
+that 'Poets' Corner.' Letitia Makepeace did that--she had a piece in
+there about every week--and she died in the Taunton asylum.”
+
+“But, Zelotes, it wasn't her poetry got her into the asylum.”
+
+“Wan't it? Well, she was in the poorhouse afore that. I don't know
+whether 'twas her poetryin' that got her in there, but I know darned
+well it didn't get her out.”
+
+“But ain't you goin' to say one word? 'Twould encourage him so.”
+
+“Good Lord! We don't want to encourage him, do we? If he was takin' to
+thievin' you wouldn't encourage him in that, would you?”
+
+“Thievin'! Zelotes Snow, you don't mean to say you compare a poet to a
+THIEF!”
+
+The captain grinned. “No-o, Mother,” he observed drily. “Sometimes a
+thief can manage to earn a livin' at his job. But there, there, don't
+feel bad. I'll say somethin' to Al, long's you think I ought to.”
+
+The something was not much, and yet Captain Zelotes really meant it to
+be kindly and to sound like praise. But praising a thing of which you
+have precious little understanding and with which you have absolutely no
+sympathy is a hard job.
+
+“See you had a piece in the Item this week, Al,” observed the captain.
+
+“Why--yes, sir,” said Albert.
+
+“Um-hm. I read it. I don't know much about such things, but they tell me
+it is pretty good.”
+
+“Thank you, sir.”
+
+“Eh? Oh, you're welcome.”
+
+That was all. Perhaps considering its source it was a good deal, but
+Albert was not of the age where such considerations are likely to be
+made.
+
+Helen's praise was warm and enthusiastic. “I knew you could do it if you
+only would,” she declared. “And oh, I'm SO glad you did! Now you must
+keep on trying.”
+
+That bit of advice was quite superfluous. Young Speranza having sampled
+the sublime intoxication of seeing himself in print, was not ready to
+sober off yet a while. He continued to bombard the Item with verses.
+They were invariably accepted, but when he sent to a New York magazine
+a poem which he considered a gem, the promptness with which it was
+returned staggered his conceit and was in that respect a good thing for
+him.
+
+However, he kept on trying. Helen would not have permitted him to
+give up even if he had wished. She was quite as much interested in his
+literary aspirations as he was himself and her encouragement was a great
+help to him. After months of repeated trial and repeated rejection he
+opened an envelope bearing the name of a fairly well-known periodical to
+find therein a kindly note stating that his poem, “Sea Spaces” had been
+accepted. And a week later came a check for ten dollars. That was a day
+of days. Incidentally it was the day of a trial balance in the office
+and the assistant bookkeeper's additions and multiplications contained
+no less than four ghastly errors.
+
+The next afternoon there was an interview in the back office. Captain
+Zelotes and his grandson were the participants. The subject discussed
+was “Business versus Poetry,” and there was a marked difference of
+opinion. Albert had proclaimed his triumph at home, of course, had
+exhibited his check, had been the recipient of hugs and praises from his
+grandmother and had listened to paeans and hallelujahs from Mrs. Ellis.
+When he hurried around to the parsonage after supper, Helen had been
+excited and delighted at the good news. Albert had been patted on the
+back quite as much as was good for a young man whose bump of self-esteem
+was not inclined toward under-development. When he entered the private
+office of Z. Snow and Co. in answer to his grandfather's summons, he did
+so light-heartedly, triumphantly, with self-approval written large upon
+him.
+
+But though he came like a conquering hero, he was not received like one.
+Captain Zelotes sat at his desk, the copy of the Boston morning paper
+which he had been reading sticking out of the waste basket into which
+it had been savagely jammed a half hour before. The news had not been to
+the captain's liking. These were the September days of 1914; the German
+Kaiser was marching forward “mit Gott” through Belgium, and it began to
+look as if he could not be stopped short of Paris. Consequently, Captain
+Zelotes, his sympathies from the first with England and the Allies, was
+not happy in his newspaper reading.
+
+Albert entered, head erect and eyes shining. If Gertie Kendrick could
+have seen him then she would have fallen down and worshiped. His
+grandfather looked at him in silence for a moment, tapping his desk with
+the stump of a pencil. Albert, too, was silent; he was already thinking
+of another poem with which to dazzle the world, and his head was among
+the rosy clouds.
+
+“Sit down, Al,” said Captain Zelotes shortly.
+
+Albert reluctantly descended to earth and took the battered armchair
+standing beside the desk. The captain tapped with his pencil upon the
+figure-covered sheet of paper before him. Then he said:
+
+“Al, you've been here three years come next December, ain't you?”
+
+“Why--yes, sir, I believe I have.”
+
+“Um-hm, you have. And for the heft of that time you've been in this
+office.”
+
+“Yes, sir.”
+
+“Yes. And Labe Keeler and I have been doin' our best to make a business
+man out of you. You understand we have, don't you?”
+
+Albert looked puzzled and a little uneasy. Into his roseate dreams was
+just beginning to filter the idea that his grandfather's tone and manner
+were peculiar.
+
+“Why, yes, sir, of course I understand it,” he replied.
+
+“Well, I asked you because I wasn't quite sure whether you did or not.
+Can you guess what this is I've got on my desk here?”
+
+He tapped the figure-covered sheet of paper once more. Before Albert
+could speak the captain answered his own question.
+
+“I'll tell you what it is,” he went on. “It's one of the latest samples
+of your smartness as a business man. I presume likely you know that
+Laban worked here in this office until three o'clock this mornin',
+didn't you?”
+
+Albert did not know it. Mr. Keeler had told him nothing of the sort.
+
+“Why, no,” he replied. “Did he? What for?”
+
+“Ye-es, he did. And what for? Why, just to find out what was the matter
+with his trial balance, that's all. When one of Labe's trial balances
+starts out for snug harbor and ends up on a reef with six foot of water
+in her hold, naturally Labe wants to get her afloat and pumped dry as
+quick as possible. He ain't used to it, for one thing, and it makes him
+nervous.”
+
+Albert's uneasiness grew. When his grandfather's speech became sarcastic
+and nautical, the young man had usually found that there was trouble
+coming for somebody.
+
+“I--I'm sorry Laban had to stay so late,” he stammered. “I should have
+been glad to stay and help him, but he didn't ask me.”
+
+“No-o. Well, it may possibly be that he cal'lated he was carryin' about
+all your help that the craft would stand, as 'twas. Any more might sink
+her. See here, young feller--” Captain Zelotes dropped his quiet sarcasm
+and spoke sharp and brisk: “See here,” he said, “do you realize that
+this sheet of paper I've got here is what stands for a day's work done
+by you yesterday? And on this sheet there was no less than four silly
+mistakes that a child ten years old hadn't ought to make, that an
+able-bodied idiot hadn't ought to make. But YOU made 'em, and they kept
+Labe Keeler here till three o'clock this mornin'. Now what have you got
+to say for yourself?”
+
+As a matter of fact, Albert had very little to say, except that he was
+sorry, and that his grandfather evidently did not consider worth the
+saying. He waved the protestation aside.
+
+“Sorry!” he repeated impatiently. “Of course you're sorry, though even
+at that I ain't sure you're sorry enough. Labe was sorry, too, I don't
+doubt, when his bedtime went by and he kept runnin' afoul of one of your
+mistakes after another. I'm sorry, darned sorry, to find out that
+you can make such blunders after three years on board here under such
+teachin' as you've had. But bein' sorry don't help any to speak of. Any
+fool can be sorry for his foolishness, but if that's all, it don't help
+a whole lot. Is bein' sorry the best excuse you've got to offer? What
+made you make the mistakes in the first place?”
+
+Albert's face was darkly red under the lash of his grandfather's tongue.
+Captain Zelotes and he had had disagreements and verbal encounters
+before, but never since they had been together had the captain spoken
+like this. And the young fellow was no longer seventeen, he was twenty.
+The flush began to fade from his cheeks and the pallor which meant the
+rise of the Speranza temper took its place.
+
+“What made you make such fool blunders?” repeated the captain. “You knew
+better, didn't you?”
+
+“Yes,” sullenly, “I suppose I did.”
+
+“You know mighty well you did. And as nigh as I can larn from what I
+got out of Laban--which wasn't much; I had to pump it out of him word
+by word--this ain't the first set of mistakes you've made. You make 'em
+right along. If it wasn't for him helpin' you out and coverin' up your
+mistakes, this firm would be in hot water with its customers two-thirds
+of the time and the books would be fust-rate as a puzzle, somethin' to
+use for a guessin' match, but plaguey little good as straight accounts
+of a goin' concern. Now what makes you act this way? Eh? What makes
+you?”
+
+“Oh, I don't know. See here, Grandfather--”
+
+“Hold on a minute. You don't know, eh? Well, I know. It ain't because
+you ain't smart enough to keep a set of books and keep 'em well. I don't
+expect you to be a Labe Keeler; there ain't many bookkeepers like him on
+this earth. But I do know you're smart enough to keep my books and keep
+'em as they'd ought to be, if you want to keep 'em. The trouble with
+you is that you don't want to. You've got too much of your
+good-for-nothin--” Captain Lote pulled up short, cleared his throat,
+and went on: “You've got too much 'poet' in you,” he declared, “that's
+what's the matter.”
+
+Albert leaned forward. “That wasn't what you were going to say,” he said
+quickly. “You were going to say that I had too much of my father in me.”
+
+It was the captain's turn to redden. “Eh?” he stammered. “Why, I--I--How
+do you know what I was goin' to say?”
+
+“Because I do. You say it all the time. Or, if you don't say it, you
+look it. There is hardly a day that I don't catch you looking at me as
+if you were expecting me to commit murder or do some outrageous thing
+or other. And I know, too, that it is all because I'm my father's son.
+Well, that's all right; feel that way about me if you want to, I can't
+help it.”
+
+“Here, here, Al! Hold on! Don't--”
+
+“I won't hold on. And I tell you this: I hate this work here. You say
+I don't want to keep books. Well, I don't. I'm sorry I made the errors
+yesterday and put Keeler to so much trouble, but I'll probably make
+more. No,” with a sudden outburst of determination, “I won't make
+any more. I won't, because I'm not going to keep books any more. I'm
+through.”
+
+Captain Zelotes leaned back in his chair.
+
+“You're what?” he asked slowly.
+
+“I'm through. I'll never work in this office another day. I'm through.”
+
+The captain's brows drew together as he stared steadily at his grandson.
+He slowly tugged at his beard.
+
+“Humph!” he grunted, after a moment. “So you're through, eh? Goin' to
+quit and go somewheres else, you mean?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Um-hm. I see. Where are you goin' to go?”
+
+“I don't know. But I'm not going to make a fool of myself at this job
+any longer. I can't keep books, and I won't keep them. I hate business.
+I'm no good at it. And I won't stay here.”
+
+“I see. I see. Well, if you won't keep on in business, what will you do
+for a livin'? Write poetry?”
+
+“Perhaps.”
+
+“Um-m. Be kind of slim livin', won't it? You've been writin' poetry
+for about a year and a half, as I recollect, and so far you've made ten
+dollars.”
+
+“That's all right. If I don't make it I may starve, as you are always
+saying that writers do. But, starve or not, I shan't ask YOU to take
+care of me.”
+
+“I've taken care of you for three years or so.”
+
+“Yes. But you did it because--because--Well, I don't know why you did,
+exactly, but you won't have to do it any longer. I'm through.”
+
+The captain still stared steadily, and what he saw in the dark eyes
+which flashed defiance back at him seemed to trouble him a little. His
+tugs at his beard became more strenuous.
+
+“Humph!” he muttered. “Humph! . . . Well, Al, of course I can't make you
+stay by main force. Perhaps I could--you ain't of age yet--but I shan't.
+And you want to quit the ship altogether, do you?”
+
+“If you mean this office--yes, I do.”
+
+“I see, I see. Want to quit South Harniss and your grandmother--and
+Rachel--and Labe--and Helen--and all the rest of 'em?”
+
+“Not particularly. But I shall have to, of course.”
+
+“Yes. . . . Um-hm. . . . Yes. Have you thought how your grandmother's
+liable to feel when she hears you are goin' to clear out and leave her?”
+
+Albert had not thought in that way, but he did now. His tone was a
+trifle less combative as he answered.
+
+“She'll be sorry at first, I suppose,” he said, “but she'll get over
+it.”
+
+“Um-hm. Maybe she will. You can get over 'most anything in time--'MOST
+anything. Well, and how about me? How do you think I'll feel?”
+
+Albert's chin lifted. “You!” he exclaimed. “Why, you'll be mighty glad
+of it.”
+
+Captain Zelotes picked up the pencil stump and twirled it in his
+fingers. “Shall I?” he asked. “You think I will, do you?”
+
+“Of course you will. You don't like me, and never did.”
+
+“So I've heard you say. Well, boy, don't you cal'late I like you at
+least as much as you like me?”
+
+“No. What do you mean? I like you well enough. That is, I should if
+you gave me half a chance. But you don't do it. You hate me because my
+father--”
+
+The captain interrupted. His big palm struck the desk.
+
+“DON'T say that again!” he commanded. “Look here, if I hated you do you
+suppose I'd be talkin' to you like this? If I hated you do you cal'late
+I'd argue when you gave me notice? Not by a jugful! No man ever came to
+me and said he was goin' to quit and had me beg him to stay. If we was
+at sea he stayed until we made port; then he WENT, and he didn't hang
+around waitin' for a boat to take him ashore neither. I don't hate you,
+son. I'd ask nothin' better than a chance to like you, but you won't
+give it to me.”
+
+Albert's eyes and mouth opened.
+
+“_I_ won't give YOU a chance?” he repeated.
+
+“Sartin. DO you give me one? I ask you to keep these books of mine.
+You could keep 'em A Number One. You're smart enough to do it. But you
+won't. You let 'em go to thunder and waste your time makin' up fool
+poetry and such stuff.”
+
+“But I like writing, and I don't like keeping books.”
+
+“Keepin' books is a part of l'arnin' the business, and business is the
+way you're goin' to get your livin' by and by.”
+
+“No, it isn't. I am going to be a writer.”
+
+“Now DON'T say that silly thing again! I don't want to hear it.”
+
+“I shall say it because it is true.”
+
+“Look here, boy: When I tell you or anybody else in this office to do
+or not to do a thing, I expect 'em to obey orders. And I tell you not
+to talk any more of that foolishness about bein' a writer. D'you
+understand?”
+
+“Yes, of course I understand.”
+
+“All right, then, that much is settled. . . . Here! Where are you
+goin'?”
+
+Albert had turned and was on his way out of the office. He stopped and
+answered over his shoulder, “I'm going home,” he said.
+
+“Goin' HOME? Why, you came from home not more than an hour and a half
+ago! What are you goin' there again now for?”
+
+“To pack up my things.”
+
+“To pack up your things! To pack up--Humph! So you really mean it!
+You're really goin' to quit me like this? And your grandma, too!”
+
+The young man felt a sudden pang of compunction, a twinge of conscience.
+
+“Grandfather,” he said, “I'm sorry. I--”
+
+But the change in his attitude and tone came too late. Captain Lote's
+temper was boiling now, contradiction was its worst provocative.
+
+“Goin' to quit!” he sneered. “Goin' to quit because you don't like to
+work. All right, quit then! Go ahead! I've done all I can to make a man
+of you. Go to the devil in your own way.”
+
+“Grandfather, I--”
+
+“Go ahead! _I_ can't stop you. It's in your breed, I cal'late.”
+
+That was sufficient. Albert strode out of the private office, head
+erect. Captain Zelotes rose and slammed the door after his departing
+grandson.
+
+At ten that evening Albert was in his room, sitting in a chair by the
+window, gloomily looking out. The packing, most of it, had been done. He
+had not, as he told his grandfather he intended doing, left the office
+immediately and come straight home to pack. As he emerged from the inner
+office after the stormy interview with the captain he found Laban Keeler
+hard at work upon the books. The sight of the little man, so patiently
+and cheerfully pegging away, brought another twinge of conscience to
+the assistant bookkeeper. Laban had been such a brick in all their
+relationships. It must have been a sore trial to his particular,
+business-like soul, those errors in the trial balance. Yet he had not
+found fault nor complained. Captain Zelotes himself had said that every
+item concerning his grandson's mistakes and blunders had been dragged
+from Mr. Keeler much against the latter's will. Somehow Albert could not
+bear to go off and leave him at once. He would stay and finish his day's
+work, for Labe Keeler's sake.
+
+So stay he did and when Captain Zelotes later came out of his private
+office and found him there neither of them spoke. At home, during
+supper, nothing was said concerning the quarrel of the afternoon. Yet
+Albert was as determined to leave as ever, and the Captain, judging by
+the expression of his face, was just as determined to do nothing more to
+prevent him. After supper the young man went to his room and began the
+packing. His grandfather went out, an unusual proceeding for him, saying
+that he guessed he would go down street for a spell.
+
+Now Albert, as he sat there by the window, was gloomy enough. The wind,
+howling and wailing about the gables of the old house, was not an aid
+to cheerfulness and he needed every aid. He had sworn to go away, he was
+going away--but where should he go? He had a little money put by, not
+much but a little, which he had been saving for quite another purpose.
+This would take him a little way, would pay his bills for a short time,
+but after that--Well, after that he could earn more. With the optimism
+of youth and the serene self-confidence which was natural to him he was
+sure of succeeding sooner or later. It was not the dread of failure and
+privation which troubled him. The weight which was pressing upon his
+spirit was not the fear of what might happen to him.
+
+There was a rap upon the door. Then a voice, the housekeeper's voice,
+whispered through the crack.
+
+“It's me, Al,” whispered Mrs. Ellis. “You ain't in bed yet, are you? I'd
+like to talk with you a minute or two, if I might.”
+
+He was not anxious to talk to her or anyone else just then, but he told
+her to come in. She entered on tiptoe, with the mysterious air of a
+conspirator, and shut the door carefully after her.
+
+“May I set down just a minute?” she asked. “I can generally talk better
+settin'.”
+
+He pulled forward the ancient rocker with the rush seat. The
+cross-stitch “tidy” on the back was his mother's handiwork, she had made
+it when she was fifteen. Rachel sat down in the rocker.
+
+“Al” she began, still in the same mysterious whisper, “I know all about
+it.”
+
+He looked at her. “All about what?” he asked.
+
+“About the trouble you and Cap'n Lote had this afternoon. I know you're
+plannin' to leave us all and go away somewheres and that he told you to
+go, and all that. I know what you've been doin' up here to-night. Fur's
+that goes,” she added, with a little catch in her breath and a wave of
+her hand toward the open trunk and suitcase upon the floor, “I wouldn't
+need to know, I could SEE.”
+
+Albert was surprised and confused. He had supposed the whole affair to
+be, so far, a secret between himself and his grandfather.
+
+“You know?” he stammered. “You--How did you know?”
+
+“Laban told me. Labe came hurryin' over here just after supper and
+told me the whole thing. He's awful upset about it, Laban is. He thinks
+almost as much of you as he does of Cap'n Lote or--or me,” with an
+apologetic little smile.
+
+Albert was astonished and troubled. “How did Labe know about it?” he
+demanded.
+
+“He heard it all. He couldn't help hearin'.”
+
+“But he couldn't have heard. The door to the private office was shut.”
+
+“Yes, but the window at the top--the transom one, you know--was wide
+open. You and your grandpa never thought of that, I guess, and Laban
+couldn't hop up off his stool and shut it without givin' it away that
+he'd been hearin'. So he had to just set and listen and I know how he
+hated doin' that. Laban Keeler ain't the listenin' kind. One thing about
+it all is a mercy,” she added, fervently. “It's the Lord's own mercy
+that that Issy Price wasn't where HE could hear it, too. If Issy heard
+it you might as well paint it up on the town-hall fence; all creation
+and his wife wouldn't larn it any sooner.”
+
+Albert drew a long breath. “Well,” he said, after a moment, “I'm sorry
+Labe heard, but I don't suppose it makes much difference. Everyone will
+know all about it in a day or two . . . I'm going.”
+
+Rachel leaned forward.
+
+“No, you ain't, Al,” she said.
+
+“I'm not? Indeed I am! Why, what do you mean?”
+
+“I mean just what I say. You ain't goin'. You're goin' to stay right
+here. At least I hope you are, and I THINK you are. . . . Oh, I know,”
+ she added, quickly, “what you are goin' to say. You're goin' to tell me
+that your grandpa is down on you on account of your father, and that you
+don't like bookkeepin', and that you want to write poetry and--and such.
+You'll say all that, and maybe it's all true, but whether 'tis or not
+ain't the point at all just now. The real point is that you're Janie
+Snow's son and your grandpa's Cap'n Lote Snow and your grandma's Olive
+Snow and there ain't goin' to be another smash-up in this family if I
+can help it. I've been through one and one's enough. Albert, didn't you
+promise me that Sunday forenoon three years ago when I came into the
+settin'-room and we got talkin' about books and Robert Penfold and
+everything--didn't you promise me then that when things between you and
+your grandpa got kind of--of snarled up and full of knots you'd come
+to me with 'em and we'd see if we couldn't straighten 'em out together?
+Didn't you promise me that, Albert?”
+
+Albert remembered the conversation to which she referred. As he
+remembered it, however, he had not made any definite promise.
+
+“You asked me to talk them over with you, Rachel,” he admitted. “I think
+that's about as far as it went.”
+
+“Well, maybe so, but now I ask you again. Will you talk this over with
+me, Albert? Will you tell me every bit all about it, for my sake? And
+for your grandma's sake. . . . Yes, more'n that, for your mother's sake,
+Albert; she was pretty nigh like my own sister, Jane Snow was. Different
+as night from day of course, she was pretty and educated and all that
+and I was just the same then as I am now, but we did think a lot of each
+other, Albert. Tell me the whole story, won't you, please. Just what
+Cap'n Lote said and what you said and what you plan to do--and all?
+Please, Albert.”
+
+There were tears in her eyes. He had always liked her, but it was
+a liking with a trace of condescension in it. She was peculiar, her
+“sympathetic attacks” were funny, and she and Laban together were an odd
+pair. Now he saw her in a new light and he felt a sudden rush of real
+affection for her. And with this feeling, and inspired also by his
+loneliness, came the impulse to comply with her request, to tell her all
+his troubles.
+
+He began slowly at first, but as he went on the words came quicker. She
+listened eagerly, nodding occasionally, but saying nothing. When he had
+finished she nodded again.
+
+“I see,” she said. “'Twas almost what Laban said and about what he and
+I expected. Well, Albert, I ain't goin' to be the one to blame you, not
+very much anyhow. I don't see as you are to blame; you can't help the
+way you're made. But your grandfather can't help bein' made his way,
+either. He can't see with your spectacles and you can't see with his.”
+
+He stirred rebelliously. “Then we had better go our own ways, I should
+say,” he muttered.
+
+“No, you hadn't. That's just what you mustn't do, not now, anyhow. As
+I said before, there's been enough of all hands goin' their own ways in
+this family and look what came of it.”
+
+“But what do you expect me to do? I will not give up every plan I've
+made and my chance in the world just because he is too stubborn and
+cranky to understand them. I will NOT do it.”
+
+“I don't want you to. But I don't want you to upset the whole kettle
+just because the steam has scalded your fingers. I don't want you to
+go off and leave your grandma to break her heart a second time and your
+grandpa to give up all his plans and hopes that he's been makin' about
+you.”
+
+“Plans about me? He making plans about me? What sort of plans?”
+
+“All sorts. Oh, he don't say much about 'em, of course; that ain't his
+way. But from things he's let drop I know he has hoped to take you in
+with him as a partner one of these days, and to leave you the business
+after he's gone.”
+
+“Nonsense, Rachel!”
+
+“No, it ain't nonsense. It's the one big dream of Cap'n Lote's life.
+That Z. Snow and Co. business is his pet child, as you might say. He
+built it up, he and Labe together, and when he figgered to take you
+aboard with him 'twas SOME chance for you, 'cordin' to his lookout. Now
+you can't hardly blame him for bein' disappointed when you chuck that
+chance away and take to writin' poetry pieces, can you?”
+
+“But--but--why, confound it, Rachel, you don't understand!”
+
+“Yes, I do, but your grandpa don't. And you don't understand him. . . .
+Oh, Albert, DON'T be as stubborn as he is, as your mother was--the Lord
+and she forgive me for sayin' it. She was partly right about marryin'
+your pa and Cap'n Lote was partly right, too. If they had met half way
+and put the two 'partlys' together the whole thing might have been right
+in the end. As 'twas, 'twas all wrong. Don't, don't, DON'T, Albert, be
+as stubborn as that. For their sakes, Al,--yes, and for my sake, for I'm
+one of your family, too, or seems as if I was--don't.”
+
+She hastily wiped her eyes with her apron. He, too was greatly moved.
+
+“Don't cry, Rachel,” he muttered, hurriedly. “Please don't. . . . I
+didn't know you felt this way. I didn't know anybody did. I don't want
+to make trouble in the family--any more trouble. Grandmother has been
+awfully good to me; so, too, has Grandfather, I suppose, in his way.
+But--oh, what am I going to do? I can't stay in that office all my life.
+I'm not good at business. I don't like it. I can't give up--”
+
+“No, no, course you mustn't. I don't want you to give up.”
+
+“Then what do you want me to do?”
+
+“I want you to go to your grandpa and talk to him once more. Not givin'
+up your plans altogether but not forcin' him to give up his either, not
+right away. Tell him you realize he wants you to go on with Z. Snow and
+Company and that you will--for a while--”
+
+“But--”
+
+“For a while, I said; three or four years, say. You won't be so dreadful
+old then, not exactly what you'd call a Methusalem. Tell him you'll
+do that and on his side he must let you write as much as you please,
+provided you don't let the writin' interfere with the Z. Snow and Co.
+work. Then, at the end of the three or four years, if you still feel
+the same as you do now, you can tackle your poetry for keeps and he and
+you'll still be friends. Tell him that, Albert, and see what he says.
+. . . Will you?”
+
+Albert took some moments to consider. At length he said: “If I did I
+doubt if he would listen.”
+
+“Oh, yes he would. He'd more than listen, I'm pretty sartin. I think
+he'd agree.”
+
+“You do?”
+
+“Yes, I do. You see,” with a smile, “while I've been talkin' to you
+there's been somebody else talkin' to him. . . . There, there! don't you
+ask any questions. I promised not to tell anybody and if I ain't exactly
+broke that promise, I've sprained its ankle, I'm afraid. Good night,
+Albert, and thank you ever and ever so much for listenin' so long
+without once tellin' me to mind my own business.”
+
+“Good night, Rachel. . . . And thank you for taking so much interest in
+my affairs. You're an awfully good friend, I can see that.”
+
+“Don't--don't talk that way. And you WILL have that talk with your
+grandpa?”
+
+“Yes, I will.”
+
+“Oh, I'm SO glad! There! Good night. I come pretty nigh kissin' you
+then and for a woman that's been engaged to be married for upwards of
+eighteen years that's a nice way to act, ain't it! Good night, good
+night.”
+
+She hurried out of the room. Albert sat down again in his chair by the
+window. He had promised to go to his grandfather and talk to him. As he
+sat there, thinking of the coming interview, he realized more and more
+that the keeping of that promise was likely to be no easy matter. He
+must begin the talk, he must break the ice--and how should he break
+it? Timid and roundabout approaches would be of little use; unless his
+grandfather's state of mind had changed remarkably since their
+parting in the Z. Snow and Co. office they and their motive would be
+misunderstood. No, the only way to break the ice was to break it, to
+plunge immediately into the deepest part of the subject. It promised to
+be a chilly plunge. He shivered at the prospect.
+
+A half hour later he heard the door of the hall open and shut and knew
+that Captain Zelotes had returned. Rising, he descended the stairs.
+He descended slowly. Just as he reached the foot of the narrow flight
+Captain Zelotes entered the hall from the dining-room and turned toward
+him. Both were surprised at the meeting. Albert spoke first.
+
+“Good evening, Grandfather,” he stammered. “I--I was just coming down to
+see you. Were you going to bed?”
+
+Captain Lote shook his head. “No-o,” he said, slowly, “not exactly.”
+
+“Do you mind waiting a minute? I have a few things--I have something to
+say to you and--and I guess I shall sleep better if I say it to-night.
+I--I won't keep you long.”
+
+The captain regarded him intently for an instant, then he turned and led
+the way to the dining-room.
+
+“Go ahead,” he ordered, laconically. Albert squared his shoulders,
+preparatory to the plunge.
+
+“Grandfather,” he began, “first of all I want to tell you I am sorry
+for--for some of the things I said this afternoon.”
+
+He had rehearsed this opening speech over and over again, but in spite
+of the rehearsals it was dreadfully hard to make. If his grandfather
+had helped him even a little it might have been easier, but the captain
+merely stood there, expressionless, saying nothing, waiting for him to
+continue.
+
+Albert swallowed, clenched his fists, and took a new start.
+
+“Of course,” he began, “I am sorry for the mistakes I made in my
+bookkeeping, but that I have told you before. Now--now I want to say
+I am sorry for being so--well, so pig-headed about the rest of it. I
+realize that you have been mighty kind to me and that I owe you about
+everything that I've got in this world.”
+
+He paused again. It had seemed to him that Captain Zelotes was about to
+speak. However, he did not, so the young man stumbled on.
+
+“And--and I realize, too,” he said, “that you have, I guess, been trying
+to give me a real start in business, the start you think I ought to
+have.”
+
+The captain nodded slowly. “That was my idea in startin' you,” he said.
+
+“Yes--and fact that I haven't done more with the chance is because I'm
+made that way, I guess. But I do want to--yes, and I MEAN to try to
+succeed at writing poetry or stories or plays or something. I like
+that and I mean to give it a trial. And so--and so, you see, I've been
+thinking our talk over and I've concluded that perhaps you may be right,
+maybe I'm not old enough to know what I really am fitted for, and yet
+perhaps _I_ may be partly right, too. I--I've been thinking that perhaps
+some sort of--of--”
+
+“Of what?”
+
+“Well, of half-way arrangement--some sort of--of compromise, you know,
+might be arranged. I might agree to stay in the office and do my very
+best with bookkeeping and business for--well, say, three years or so.
+During that time I should be trying to write of course, but I would
+only do that sort of writing evenings or on Saturdays and holidays. It
+shouldn't interfere with your work nor be done in the time you pay me
+for. And at the end of the three or four years--”
+
+He paused again. This time the pause was longer than ever. Captain
+Lote broke the silence. His big right hand had wandered upward and was
+tugging at his beard.
+
+“Well? . . . And then?” he asked.
+
+“Why, then--if--if--Well, then we could see. If business seemed to be
+where I was most likely to succeed we'd call it settled and I would stay
+with Z. Snow and Co. If poetry-making or--or--literature seemed more
+likely to be the job I was fitted for, that would be the job I'd take.
+You--you see, don't you, Grandfather?”
+
+The captain's beard-pulling continued. He was no longer looking his
+grandson straight in the eye. His gaze was fixed upon the braided mat at
+his feet and he answered without looking up.
+
+“Ye-es,” he drawled, “I cal'late I see. Well, was that all you had to
+say?”
+
+“No-o, not quite. I--I wanted to say that which ever way it turned
+out, I--I hoped we--you and I, you know--would agree to be--to be
+good-natured about it and--and friends just the same. I--I--Well, there!
+That's all, I guess. I haven't put it very well, I'm afraid, but--but
+what do you think about it, Grandfather?”
+
+And now Captain Zelotes did look up. The old twinkle was in his eye. His
+first remark was a question and that question was rather surprising.
+
+“Al,” he asked, “Al, who's been talkin' to you?”
+
+The blood rushed to his grandson's face. “Talking to me?” he stammered.
+“Why--why, what do you mean?”
+
+“I mean just that. You didn't think out this scheme all by yourself.
+Somebody's been talkin' to you and puttin' you up to it. Haven't they?”
+
+“Why--why, Grandfather, I--”
+
+“Haven't they?”
+
+“Why--Well, yes, someone has been talking to me, but the whole idea
+isn't theirs. I WAS sorry for speaking to you as I did and sorry to
+think of leaving you and grandmother. I--I was sitting up there in my
+room and feeling blue and mean enough and--and--”
+
+“And then Rachel came aboard and gave you your sailin' orders; eh?”
+
+Albert gasped. “For heaven's sake how did you know that?” he demanded.
+“She--Why, she must have told you, after all! But she said--”
+
+“Hold on, boy, hold on!” Captain Lote chuckled quietly. “No,” he said,
+“Rachel didn't tell me; I guessed she was the one. And it didn't take
+a Solomon in all his glory to guess it, neither. Labe Keeler's been
+talkin' to ME, and when you come down here and began proposin' the same
+scheme that I was just about headin' up to your room with to propose
+to you, then--well, then the average whole-witted person wouldn't need
+more'n one guess. It couldn't be Labe, 'cause he'd been whisperin' in MY
+ear, so it must have been the other partner in the firm. That's all the
+miracle there is to it.”
+
+Albert's brain struggled with the situation. “I see,” he said, after a
+moment. “She hinted that someone had been talking to you along the same
+line. Yes, and she was so sure you would agree. I might have known it
+was Laban.”
+
+“Um-hm, so you might. . . . Well, there have been times when if a man
+had talked to me as Labe did to-night I'd have knocked him down, or told
+him to go to--um--well, the tropics--told him to mind his own business,
+at least. But Labe is Labe, and besides MY conscience was plaguin' me a
+little mite, maybe . . . maybe.”
+
+The young man shook his head. “They must have talked it over, those two,
+and agreed that one should talk to you and the other to me. By George, I
+wonder they had the nerve. It wasn't their business, really.”
+
+“Not a darn bit.”
+
+“Yet--yet I--I'm awfully glad she said it to me. I--I needed it, I
+guess.”
+
+“Maybe you did, son. . . . And--humph--well, maybe I needed it, too.
+. . . Yes, I know that's consider'ble for me to say,” he added dryly.
+
+Albert was still thinking of Laban and Rachel.
+
+“They're queer people,” he mused. “When I first met them I thought
+they were about the funniest pair I ever saw. But--but now I can't
+help liking them and--and--Say, Grandfather, they must think a lot of
+your--of our family.”
+
+“Cal'late they do, son. . . . Well, boy, we've had our sermon, you and
+me, what shall we do? Willin' to sign for the five years trial cruise if
+I will, are you?”
+
+Albert couldn't help smiling. “It was three years Rachel proposed, not
+five,” he said.
+
+“Was, eh? Suppose we split the difference and make it four? Willin' to
+try that?”
+
+“Yes, sir.”
+
+“Agreement bein' that you shall stick close to Z. Snow and Co. durin'
+work hours and write as much poetry as you darned please other times,
+neither side to interfere with those arrangements? That right?”
+
+“Yes, sir.”
+
+“Good! Shall we shake hands on it?”
+
+They shook, solemnly. Captain Lote was the first to speak after
+ratification of the contract.
+
+“There, now I cal'late I'll go aloft and turn in,” he observed. Then he
+added, with a little hesitation, “Say, Al, maybe we'd better not trouble
+your grandma about all this fool business--the row this afternoon
+and all. 'Twould only worry her and--” he paused, looked embarrassed,
+cleared his throat, and said, “to tell you the truth, I'm kind of
+ashamed of my part---er--er--that is, some of it.”
+
+His grandson was very much astonished. It was not often that Captain
+Zelotes Snow admitted having been in the wrong. He blurted out the
+question he had been dying to ask.
+
+“Grandfather,” he queried, “had you--did you really mean what you
+said about starting to come to my room and--and propose this scheme of
+ours--I mean of Rachel's and Labe's--to me?”
+
+“Eh? . . . Ye-es--yes. I was on my way up there when I met you just
+now.”
+
+“Well, Grandfather, I--I--”
+
+“That's all right, boy, that's all right. Don't let's talk any more
+about it.”
+
+“We won't. And--and--But, Grandfather, I just want you to know that I
+guess I understand things a little better than I did, and--and when my
+father--”
+
+The captain's heavy hand descended upon his shoulder.
+
+“Heave short, Al!” he commanded. “I've been doin' consider'ble thinkin'
+since Labe finished his--er--discourse and pronounced the benediction,
+and I've come to a pretty definite conclusion on one matter. I've
+concluded that you and I had better cut out all the bygones from this
+new arrangement of ours. We won't have fathers or--or--elopements--or
+past-and-done-with disapp'intments in it. This new deal--this four year
+trial v'yage of ours--will be just for Albert Speranza and Zelotes Snow,
+and no others need apply. . . . Eh? . . . Well, good night, Al.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+
+So the game under the “new deal” began. At first it was much easier than
+the old. And, as a matter of fact, it was never as hard as before. The
+heart to heart talk between Captain Zelotes and his grandson had given
+each a glimpse of the other's inner self, a look from the other's
+point of view, and thereafter it was easier to make allowances. But the
+necessity for the making of those allowances was still there and would
+continue to be there. At first Albert made almost no mistakes in his
+bookkeeping, was almost painfully careful. Then the carefulness relaxed,
+as it was bound to do, and some mistakes occurred. Captain Lote
+found little fault, but at times he could not help showing some
+disappointment. Then his grandson would set his teeth and buckle down to
+painstaking effort again. He was resolved to live up to the very letter
+of the agreement.
+
+In his spare time he continued to write and occasionally he sold
+something. Whenever he did so there was great rejoicing among the
+feminine members of the Snow household; his grandmother and Rachel Ellis
+were enraptured. It was amusing to see Captain Zelotes attempt to join
+the chorus. He evidently felt that he ought to praise, or at least that
+praise was expected from him, but it was also evident that he did not
+approve of what he was praising.
+
+“Your grandma says you got rid of another one of your poetry pieces,
+Al,” he would say. “Pay you for it, did they?”
+
+“Not yet, but they will, I suppose.”
+
+“I see, I see. How much, think likely?”
+
+“Oh, I don't know. Ten dollars, perhaps.”
+
+“Um-hm . . . I see. . . . Well, that's pretty good, considerin', I
+suppose. . . . We did first-rate on that Hyannis school-house contract,
+didn't we. Nigh's I can figger it we cleared over fourteen hundred and
+eighty dollars on that.”
+
+He invariably followed any reference to the profit from the sale of
+verses by the casual mention of a much larger sum derived from the sale
+of lumber or hardware. This was so noticeable that Laban Keeler was
+impelled to speak of it.
+
+“The old man don't want you to forget that you can get more for hard
+pine than you can for soft sonnets, sellin' 'em both by the foot,”
+ observed Labe, peering over his spectacles. “More money in shingles
+than there is in jingles, he cal'lates. . . . Um. . . . Yes, yes. . . .
+Consider'ble more, consider'ble.”
+
+Albert smiled, but it astonished him to find that Mr. Keeler knew what a
+sonnet was. The little bookkeeper occasionally surprised him by breaking
+out unexpectedly in that way.
+
+From the indiscriminate praise at home, or the reluctant praise of his
+grandfather, he found relief when he discussed his verses with Helen
+Kendall. Her praise was not indiscriminate, in fact sometimes she
+did not praise at all, but expressed disapproval. They had some
+disagreements, marked disagreements, but it did not affect their
+friendship. Albert was a trifle surprised to find that it did not.
+
+So as the months passed he ground away at the books of Z. Snow and
+Company during office hours and at the poetry mill between times. The
+seeing of his name in print was no longer a novelty and he poetized not
+quite as steadily. Occasionally he attempted prose, but the two or three
+short stories of his composition failed to sell. Helen, however, urged
+him to try again and keep trying. “I know you can write a good story and
+some day you are going to,” she said.
+
+His first real literary success, that which temporarily lifted him into
+the outer circle of the limelight of fame, was a poem written the day
+following that upon which came the news of the sinking of the Lusitania.
+Captain Zelotes came back from the post-office that morning, a crumpled
+newspaper in his hand, and upon his face the look which mutinous
+foremast hands had seen there just before the mutiny ended. Laban Keeler
+was the first to notice the look. “For the land sakes, Cap'n, what's
+gone wrong?” he asked. The captain flung the paper upon the desk. “Read
+that,” he grunted. Labe slowly spread open the paper; the big black
+headlines shrieked the crime aloud.
+
+“Good God Almighty!” exclaimed the little bookkeeper. Captain Zelotes
+snorted. “He didn't have anything to do with it,” he declared. “The
+bunch that pulled that off was handled from the other end of the line.
+And I wish to thunder I was young enough to help send 'em back there,”
+ he added, savagely.
+
+That evening Albert wrote his poem. The next day he sent it to a Boston
+paper. It was published the following morning, spread across two columns
+on the front page, and before the month was over had been copied widely
+over the country. Within the fortnight its author received his first
+request, a bona fida request for verse from a magazine. Even Captain
+Lote's praise of the Lusitania poem was whole-hearted and ungrudging.
+
+That summer was a busy one in South Harniss. There was the usual amount
+of summer gaiety, but in addition there were the gatherings of the
+various committees for war relief work. Helen belonged to many of
+these committees. There were dances and theatrical performances for the
+financial benefit of the various causes and here Albert shone. But
+he did not shine alone. Helen Kendall was very popular at the social
+gatherings, popular not only with the permanent residents but with the
+summer youth as well. Albert noticed this, but he did not notice it so
+particularly until Issy Price called his attention to it.
+
+“Say, Al,” observed Issy, one afternoon in late August of that year,
+“how do YOU like that Raymond young feller?”
+
+Albert looked up absently from the page of the daybook.
+
+“Eh? What?” he asked.
+
+“I say how do YOU like that Eddie Raymond, the Down-at-the-Neck one?”
+
+“Down at the neck? There's nothing the matter with his neck that I know
+of.”
+
+“Who said there was? He LIVES down to the Neck, don't he? I mean that
+young Raymond, son of the New York bank man, the ones that's had the
+Cahoon house all summer. How do you like him?”
+
+Albert's attention was still divided between the day-book and Mr. Price.
+“Oh, I guess he's all right,” he answered, carelessly. “I don't know him
+very well. Don't bother me, Issy, I'm busy.”
+
+Issachar chuckled. “He's busy, too,” he observed. “He, he, he! He's
+busy trottin' after Helen Kendall. Don't seem to have time for much else
+these days. Noticed that, ain't you, Al? He, he!”
+
+Albert had not noticed it. His attention left the day-book altogether.
+Issachar chuckled again.
+
+“Noticed it, ain't you, Al?” he repeated. “If you ain't you're the only
+one. Everybody's cal'latin' you'll be cut out if you ain't careful.
+Folks used to figger you was Helen's steady comp'ny, but it don't look
+as much so as it did. He, he! That's why I asked you how you liked the
+Raymond one. Eh? How do you, Al? Helen, SHE seems to like him fust-rate.
+He, he, he!”
+
+Albert was conscious of a peculiar feeling, partly of irritation at
+Issachar, partly something else. Mr. Price crowed delightedly.
+
+“Hi!” he chortled. “Why, Al, your face is gettin' all redded up. Haw,
+haw! Blushin', ain't you, Al? Haw, haw, haw! Blushin', by crimustee!”
+
+Albert laid down his pen. He had learned by experience that, in Issy's
+case, the maxim of the best defensive being a strong offensive was
+absolutely true. He looked with concern about the office.
+
+“There's a window open somewhere, isn't there, Is?” he inquired.
+“There's a dreadful draught anyhow.”
+
+“Eh? Draught? I don't feel no draught. Course the window's open; it's
+generally open in summer time, ain't it. Haw, haw!”
+
+“There it is again! Where--Oh, _I_ see! It's your mouth that's open,
+Issy. That explains the draught, of course. Yes, yes, of course.”
+
+“Eh? My mouth! Never you mind my mouth. What you've got to think about
+is that Eddie Raymond. Yes sir-ee! Haw, haw!”
+
+“Issy, what makes you make that noise?”
+
+“What noise?”
+
+“That awful cawing. If you're trying to make me believe you're a crow
+you're wasting your time.”
+
+“Say, look here, Al Speranzy, be you crazy?”
+
+“No-o, I'M not. But in your case--well, I'll leave it to any fair-minded
+person--”
+
+And so on until Mr. Price stamped disgustedly out of the office. It was
+easy enough, and required nothing brilliant in the way of strategy or
+repartee, to turn Issachar's attack into retreat. But all the rest
+of that afternoon Albert was conscious of that peculiar feeling of
+uneasiness. After supper that night he did not go down town at once but
+sat in his room thinking deeply. The subjects of his thoughts were Edwin
+Raymond, the young chap from New York, Yale, and “The Neck”--and Helen
+Kendall. He succeeded only in thinking himself into an even more
+uneasy and unpleasant state of mind. Then he walked moodily down to
+the post-office. He was a little late for the mail and the laughing and
+chatting groups were already coming back after its distribution. One
+such group he met was made up of half a dozen young people on their way
+to the drug store for ices and sodas. Helen was among them and with her
+was young Raymond. They called to him to join them, but he pretended not
+to hear.
+
+Now, in all the years of their acquaintance it had not once occurred
+to Albert Speranza that his interest in Helen Kendall was anything
+more than that of a friend and comrade. He liked her, had enjoyed her
+society--when he happened to be in the mood to wish society--and it
+pleased him to feel that she was interested in his literary efforts
+and his career. She was the only girl in South Harniss who would have
+“talked turkey” to him as she had on the day of their adventure at High
+Point Light and he rather admired her for it. But in all his dreams of
+romantic attachments and sentimental adventure, and he had such dreams
+of course, she had never played a part. The heroines of these dreams
+were beautiful and mysterious strangers, not daughters of Cape Cod
+clergymen.
+
+But now, thanks to Issy's mischievous hints, his feelings were in a
+puzzled and uncomfortable state. He was astonished to find that he
+did not relish the idea of Helen's being particularly interested in Ed
+Raymond. He, himself, had not seen her as frequently of late, she having
+been busy with her war work and he with his own interests. But that,
+according to his view, was no reason why she should permit Raymond to
+become friendly to the point of causing people to talk. He was not ready
+to admit that he himself cared, in a sentimental way, for Helen, but
+he resented any other fellow's daring to do so. And she should not
+have permitted it, either. As a matter of fact, Alberto Miguel Carlos
+Speranza, hitherto reigning undisputed king of hearts in South Harniss,
+was for the first time in his imperial life feeling the pangs of
+jealousy.
+
+He stalked gloomily on to the post-office. Gertie Kendrick, on the
+arm of Sam Thatcher, passed him and he did not even notice her. Gertie
+whispered to Sam that he, Albert, was a big stuck-up nothing, but
+she looked back over Sam's shoulder, nevertheless. Albert climbed the
+post-office steps and walked over to the rack of letter boxes. The Snow
+box contained little of interest to him, and he was turning away when he
+heard his name spoken.
+
+“Good evening, Mr. Speranza,” said a feminine voice.
+
+Albert turned again, to find Jane Kelsey and another young lady, a
+stranger, standing beside him. Miss Kelsey was one of South Harniss's
+summer residents. The Kelsey “cottage,” which was larger by considerable
+than the Snow house, was situated on the Bay Road, the most exclusive
+section of the village. Once, and not so many years before, the Bay Road
+was contemptuously referred to as “Poverty Lane” and dwellers along its
+winding, weed-grown track vied with one another in shiftless shabbiness.
+But now all shabbiness had disappeared and many-gabled “cottages”
+ proudly stood where the shanties of the Poverty Laners once humbly
+leaned.
+
+Albert had known Jane Kelsey for some time. They had met at one of the
+hotel tea-dances during his second summer in South Harniss. He and she
+were not intimate friends exactly, her mother saw to that, but they were
+well acquainted. She was short and piquant, had a nose which freckled in
+the Cape Cod sunshine, and she talked and laughed easily.
+
+“Good evening, Mr. Speranza,” she said, again. “You looked so very
+forlorn I couldn't resist speaking. Do tell us why you are so sad; we're
+dying to know.”
+
+Albert, taken by surprise, stammered that he didn't know that he was
+sad. Miss Kelsey laughed merrily and declared that everyone who saw him
+knew it at once. “Oh, excuse me, Madeline,” she added. “I forgot that
+you and Mr. Speranza had not met. Of course as you're going to live
+in South Harniss you must know him without waiting another minute.
+Everybody knows everybody down here. He is Albert Speranza--and we
+sometimes call him Albert because here everybody calls everyone else
+by their first names. There, now you know each other and it's all very
+proper and formal.”
+
+The young lady who was her companion smiled. The smile was distinctly
+worth looking at, as was the young lady herself, for that matter.
+
+“I doubt if Mr. Speranza knows me very well, Jane,” she observed.
+
+“Doesn't know you! Why, you silly thing, haven't I just introduced you?”
+
+“Well, I don't know much about South Harniss introductions, but isn't it
+customary to mention names? You haven't told him mine.”
+
+Miss Kelsey laughed in high delight. “Oh, how perfectly ridiculous!”
+ she exclaimed. “Albert--Mr. Speranza, I mean--this is my friend Miss
+Madeline Fosdick. She is from New York and she has decided to spend her
+summers in South Harniss--which _I_ consider very good judgment. Her
+father is going to build a cottage for her to spend them in down on the
+Bay Road on the hill at the corner above the Inlet. But of course you've
+heard of THAT!”
+
+Of course he had. The purchase of the Inlet Hill land by Fletcher
+Fosdick, the New York banker, and the price paid Solomon Dadgett for
+that land, had been the principal topics of conversation around South
+Harniss supper tables for the past ten days. Captain Lote Snow had
+summed up local opinion of the transaction when he said: “We-ll, Sol
+Dadgett's been talkin' in prayer-meetin' ever since I can remember about
+the comin' of Paradise on earth. Judgin' by the price he got for the
+Inlet Hill sand heap he must have cal'lated Paradise had got here and he
+was sellin' the golden streets by the runnin' foot.” Or, as Laban Keeler
+put it: “They say King Soloman was a wise man, but I guess likely 'twas
+a good thing for him that Sol Dadgett wasn't alive in his time. King Sol
+would have needed all his wisdom to keep Dadgett from talkin' him into
+buying the Jerusalem salt-ma'sh to build the temple on. . . . Um. . . .
+Yes--yes--yes.”
+
+So Albert, as he shook hands with Miss Fosdick, regarded her with
+unusual interest. And, judging by the way in which she looked at him,
+she too was interested. After some minutes of the usual conventional
+summer-time chat the young gentleman suggested that they adjourn to the
+drug store for refreshments. The invitation was accepted, the vivacious
+Miss Kelsey acting as spokesman--or spokeswoman--in the matter.
+
+“I think you must be a mind-reader, Mr. Speranza,” she declared. “I am
+dying for a sundae and I have just discovered that I haven't my purse
+or a penny with me. I should have been reduced to the humiliation of
+borrowing from Madeline here, or asking that deaf old Burgess man to
+trust me until to-morrow. And he is so frightfully deaf,” she added in
+explanation, “that when I asked him the last time he made me repeat it
+until I thought I should die of shame, or exhaustion, one or the other.
+Every time I shouted he would say 'Hey?' and I was obliged to shout
+again. Of course, the place was crowded, and--Oh, well, I don't like
+to even think about it. Bless you, bless you, Albert Speranza! And do
+please let's hurry!”
+
+When they entered the drug store--it also sold, according to its sign,
+“Cigars, soda, ice-cream, patent medicines, candy, knick-knacks, chewing
+gum, souvenirs and notions”--the sextette of which Helen Kendall made
+one was just leaving. She nodded pleasantly to Albert and he nodded in
+return, but Ed Raymond's careless bow he did not choose to see. He had
+hitherto rather liked that young gentleman; now he felt a sudden but
+violent detestation for him.
+
+Sundaes pleasant to the palate and disastrous to all but youthful
+digestions were ordered. Albert's had a slight flavor of gall and
+wormwood, but he endeavored to counterbalance this by the sweetness
+derived from the society of Jane Kelsey and her friend. His conversation
+was particularly brilliant and sparkling that evening. Jane laughed much
+and chatted more. Miss Fosdick was quieter, but she, too, appeared to be
+enjoying herself. Jane demanded to know how the poems were developing.
+She begged him to have an inspiration now--“Do, PLEASE, so that Madeline
+and I can see you.” It seemed to be her idea that having an inspiration
+was similar to having a fit. Miss Fosdick laughed at this, but she
+declared that she adored poetry and specified certain poems which were
+objects of her especial adoration. The conversation thereafter became
+what Miss Kelsey described as “high brow,” and took the form of a
+dialogue between Miss Fosdick and Albert. It was interrupted by the
+arrival of the Kelsey limousine, which rolled majestically up to the
+drug store steps. Jane spied it first.
+
+“Oh, mercy me, here's mother!” she exclaimed. “And your mother, too,
+Madeline. We are tracked to our lair. . . . No, no, Mr. Speranza, you
+mustn't go out. No, really, we had rather you wouldn't. Thanks, ever so
+much, for the sundaes. Come, Madeline.”
+
+Miss Fosdick held out her hand.
+
+“Thank you, Mr. Speranza,” she said. “I have enjoyed our poetry talk SO
+much. It must be wonderful to write as you do. Good night.”
+
+She looked admiringly into his eyes as she said it. In spite of the gall
+and wormwood Albert found it not at all unpleasant to be looked at in
+that way by a girl like Madeline Fosdick. His reflections on that point
+were interrupted by a voice from the car.
+
+“Come, Madeline, come,” it said, fussily. “What ARE you waiting for?”
+
+Albert caught a glimpse of a majestic figure which, seated beside Mrs.
+Kelsey on the rear seat of the limousine, towered above that short,
+plump lady as a dreadnaught towers above a coal barge. He surmised this
+figure to be that of the maternal Fosdick. Madeline climbed in beside
+her parent and the limousine rolled away.
+
+Albert's going-to-bed reflections that evening were divided in flavor,
+like a fruit sundae, a combination of sweet and sour. The sour was
+furnished by thoughts of Edwin Raymond and Helen Kendall, the former's
+presumption in daring to seek her society as he did, and Helen's
+amazing silliness in permitting such a thing. The sweet, of course, was
+furnished by a voice which repeated to his memory the words, “It must be
+wonderful to write as you do.” Also the tone of that voice and the look
+in the eyes.
+
+Could he have been privileged to hear the closing bits of a conversation
+which was taking place at that moment his reflections might have been
+still further saccharined. Miss Jane Kelsey was saying: “And NOW what
+do you think of our Cape Cod poet? Didn't I promise you to show you
+something you couldn't find on Fifth Avenue?” And to this Miss Madeline
+Fosdick made reply: “I think he is the handsomest creature I ever saw.
+And so clever! Why, he is wonderful, Jane! How in the world does he
+happen to be living here--all the time?”
+
+It is perhaps, on the whole, a good thing that Albert Speranza could not
+hear this. It is certainly a good thing that Captain Zelotes Snow did
+not hear it.
+
+And although the balance of sweet and sour in Albert's mind that
+night was almost even, the sour predominated next day and continued to
+predominate. Issachar Price had sowed the seed of jealousy in the mind
+of the assistant bookkeeper of Z. Snow and Company, and that seed took
+root and grew as it is only too likely to do under such circumstances.
+That evening Albert walked again to the post-office. Helen was not
+there, neither was Miss Kelsey or Miss Fosdick. He waited for a time and
+then determined to call at the Kendall home, something he had not done
+for some time. As he came up to the front walk, between the arbor-vitae
+hedges, he saw that the parlor windows were alight. The window shade was
+but partially drawn and beneath it he could see into the room. Helen was
+seated at the piano and Edwin Raymond was standing beside her, ready to
+turn the page of her music.
+
+Albert whirled on his heel and walked out of the yard and down the
+street toward his own home. His attitude of mind was a curious one.
+He had a mind to wait until Raymond left and then go into the Kendall
+parlor and demand of Helen to know what she meant by letting that fellow
+make such a fool of himself. What right had he--Raymond--to call upon
+her, and turn her music and--and set the whole town talking? Why--Oh,
+he could think of many things to ask and say. The trouble was that the
+saying of them would, he felt sure, be distinctly bad diplomacy on his
+part. No one--not even he--could talk to Helen Kendall in that fashion;
+not unless he wished it to be their final conversation.
+
+So he went home, to fret and toss angrily and miserably half the night.
+He had never before considered himself in the slightest degree in love
+with Helen, but he had taken for granted the thought that she liked him
+better than anyone else. Now he was beginning to fear that perhaps
+she did not, and, with his temperament, wounded vanity and poetic
+imagination supplied the rest. Within a fortnight he considered himself
+desperately in love with her.
+
+During this fortnight he called at the parsonage, the Kendall home,
+several times. On the first of these occasions the Reverend Mr. Kendall,
+having just completed a sermon dealing with the war and, being full of
+his subject, read the said sermon to his daughter and to Albert. The
+reading itself lasted for three-quarters of an hour and Mr. Kendall's
+post-argument and general dissertation on German perfidy another hour
+after that. By that time it was late and Albert went home. The second
+call was even worse, for Ed Raymond called also and the two young men
+glowered at each other until ten o'clock. They might have continued to
+glower indefinitely, for neither meant to leave before the other, but
+Helen announced that she had some home-study papers to look over and she
+knew they would excuse her under the circumstances. On that hint
+they departed simultaneously, separating at the gate and walking with
+deliberate dignity in opposite directions.
+
+At his third attempt, however, Albert was successful to the extent
+that Helen was alone when he called and there was no school work to
+interrupt. But in no other respect was the interview satisfactory.
+All that week he had been boiling with the indignation of the landed
+proprietor who discovers a trespasser on his estate, and before this
+call was fifteen minutes old his feelings had boiled over.
+
+“What IS the matter with you, Al?” asked Helen. “Do tell me and let's
+see if I can't help you out of your trouble.”
+
+Her visitor flushed. “Trouble?” he repeated, stiffly. “I don't know what
+you mean.”
+
+“Oh yes, do. You must. What IS the matter?”
+
+“There is nothing the matter with me.”
+
+“Nonsense! Of course there is. You have scarcely spoken a word of
+your own accord since you came, and you have been scowling like a
+thundercloud all the time. Now what is it? Have I done something you
+don't like?”
+
+“There is nothing the matter, I tell you.”
+
+“Please don't be so silly. Of course there is. I thought there must
+be something wrong the last time you were here, that evening, when Ed
+called, too. It seemed to me that you were rather queer then. Now you
+are queerer still. What is it?”
+
+This straightforward attack, although absolutely characteristic of
+Helen, was disconcerting. Albert met it by an attack of his own.
+
+“Helen,” he demanded, “what does that Raymond fellow mean by coming to
+see you as he does?”
+
+Now whether or not Helen was entirely in the dark as to the cause of her
+visitor's “queerness” is a question not to be answered here. She was far
+from being a stupid young person and it is at least probable that she
+may have guessed a little of the truth. But, being feminine, she did not
+permit Albert to guess that she had guessed. If her astonishment at the
+question was not entirely sincere, it certainly appeared to be so.
+
+“What does he mean?” she repeated. “What does he mean by coming to see
+me? Why, what do YOU mean? I should think that was the question. Why
+shouldn't he come to see me, pray?”
+
+Now Albert has a dozen reasons in his mind, each of which was to him
+sufficiently convincing. But expressing those reasons to Helen Kendall
+he found singularly difficult. He grew confused and stammered.
+
+“Well--well, because he has no business to come here so much,” was the
+best he could do. Helen, strange to say, was not satisfied.
+
+“Has no business to?” she repeated. “Why, of course he has. I asked him
+to come.”
+
+“You did? Good heavens, you don't LIKE him, do you?”
+
+“Of course I like him. I think he is a very nice fellow. Don't you?”
+
+“No, I don't.”
+
+“Why not?”
+
+“Well--well, because I don't, that's all. He has no business to
+monopolize you all the time. Why, he is here about every night in the
+week, or you're out with him, down town, or--or somewhere. Everybody is
+talking about it and--”
+
+“Wait a minute, please. You say everybody is talking about Ed Raymond
+and me. What do you mean by that? What are they saying?”
+
+“They're saying. . . . Oh, they're saying you and he are--are--”
+
+“Are what?”
+
+“Are--are--Oh, they're saying all sorts of things. Look here, Helen,
+I--”
+
+“Wait! I want to know more about this. What have you heard said about
+me?”
+
+“Oh, a lot of things. . . . That is--er--well, nothing in particular,
+perhaps, but--”
+
+“Wait! Who have you heard saying it?”
+
+“Oh, never mind! Helen--”
+
+“But I do mind. Who have you heard saying this 'lot of things' about
+me?”
+
+“Nobody, I tell you. . . . Oh, well, if you must know, Issy Price
+said--well, he said you and this Raymond fellow were what he called
+'keeping company' and--and that the whole town was talking about it.”
+
+She slowly shook her head.
+
+“Issy Price!” she repeated. “And you listened to what Issy Price said.
+Issy Price, of all people!”
+
+“Well--well, he said everyone else said the same thing.”
+
+“Did he say more than that?”
+
+“No, but that was enough, wasn't it. Besides, the rest was plain. I
+could see it myself. He is calling here about every night in the week,
+and--and being around everywhere with you and--and--Oh, anyone can see!”
+
+Helen's usually placid temper was beginning to ruffle.
+
+“Very well,” she said, “then they may see. Why shouldn't he call here if
+he wishes--and I wish? Why shouldn't I be 'around with him,' as you say?
+Why not?”
+
+“Well, because I don't like it. It isn't the right thing for you to do.
+You ought to be more careful of--of what people say.”
+
+He realized, almost as soon as this last sentence was blurted out, the
+absolute tactlessness of it. The quiet gleam of humor he had so often
+noticed in Helen's eyes was succeeded now by a look he had never before
+seen there.
+
+“Oh, I'm sorry,” he added, hastily. “I beg your pardon, Helen. I didn't
+mean to say that. Forgive me, will you?”
+
+She did not answer immediately. Then she said, “I don't know whether I
+shall or not. I think I shall have to think it over. And perhaps you had
+better go now.”
+
+“But I'M sorry, Helen. It was a fool thing to say. I don't know why I
+was such an idiot. Do forgive me; come!”
+
+She slowly shook her head. “I can't--yet,” she said. “And this you must
+understand: If Ed Raymond, or anyone else, calls on me and I choose to
+permit it, or if I choose to go out with him anywhere at any time, that
+is my affair and not 'everyone else's'--which includes Issachar Price.
+And my FRIENDS--my real friends--will not listen to mean, ridiculous
+gossip. Good night.”
+
+So that was the end of that attempt at asserting the Divine Right by
+the South Harniss king of hearts. Albert was more miserable than ever,
+angrier than ever--not only at Raymond and Helen, but at himself--and
+his newly-discovered jealousy burned with a brighter and greener flame.
+The idea of throwing everything overboard, going to Canada and enlisting
+in the Canadian Army--an idea which had had a strong and alluring appeal
+ever since the war broke out--came back with redoubled force. But there
+was the agreement with his grandfather. He had given his word; how could
+he break it? Besides, to go away and leave his rival with a clear field
+did not appeal to him, either.
+
+On a Wednesday evening in the middle of September the final social event
+of the South Harniss summer season was to take place. The Society for
+the Relief of the French Wounded was to give a dance in the ballroom of
+the hotel, the proceeds from the sale of tickets to be devoted to the
+purpose defined by the name of this organization. Every last member
+of the summer colony was to attend, of course, and all those of the
+permanent residents who aspired to social distinction and cared to pay
+the high price of admission.
+
+Albert was going, naturally. That is, he had at first planned to go,
+then--after the disastrous call at the parsonage--decided that he would
+go under no circumstances, and at the last changed his mind once more
+to the affirmative. Miss Madeline Fosdick, Jane Kelsey's friend, was
+responsible for the final change. She it was who had sold him his ticket
+and urged him to be present. He and she had met several times since
+the first meeting at the post-office. Usually when they met they talked
+concerning poetry and kindred lofty topics. Albert liked Miss Fosdick.
+It is hard not to like a pretty, attractive young lady who takes such a
+flattering interest in one's aspirations and literary efforts. The “high
+brow chit-chats”--quoting Miss Kelsey again--were pleasant in many
+ways; for instance, they were in the nature of a tonic for weakened
+self-esteem, and the Speranza self-esteem was suffering just at this
+time, from shock.
+
+Albert had, when he first heard that the dance was to take place,
+intended inviting Helen to accompany him. He had taken her acceptance
+for granted, he having acted as her escort to so many dances and
+social affairs. So he neglected inviting her and then came Issy's
+mischief-making remarks and the trouble which followed. So, as inviting
+her was out of the question, he resolved not to attend, himself. But
+Miss Fosdick urged so prettily that he bought his ticket and promised to
+be among those present.
+
+“Provided, of course,” he ventured, being in a reckless mood, “that you
+save me at least four dances.” She raised her brows in mock dismay.
+
+“Oh, my goodness!” she exclaimed. “I'm afraid I couldn't do that. Four
+is much too many. One I will promise, but no more.”
+
+However, as he persisted, she yielded another. He was to have two dances
+and, possibly an “extra.”
+
+“And you are a lucky young man,” declared Jane Kelsey, who had also
+promised two. “If you knew how many fellows have begged for just one.
+But, of course,” she added, “THEY were not poets, second editions of
+Tennyson and Keats and all that. It is Keats who was the poet, isn't it,
+Madeline?” she added, turning to her friend. “Oh, I'm so glad I got it
+right the first time. I'm always mixing him up with Watts, the man who
+invented the hymns and wrote the steam-engine--or something.”
+
+The Wednesday evening in the middle of September was a beautiful one
+and the hotel was crowded. The Item, in its account the following week,
+enumerating those present, spoke of “Our new residents, Mrs. Fletcher
+Story Fosdick and Miss Madeline Fosdick, who are to occupy the
+magnificent residence now about being built on the Inlet Hill by their
+husband and father, respectively, Fletcher Story Fosdick, Esquire, the
+well-known New York banker.” The phrasing of this news note caused
+much joy in South Harniss, and the Item gained several new and hopeful
+subscribers.
+
+But when the gushing reporter responsible for this added that “Miss
+Fosdick was a dream of loveliness on this occasion” he was stating only
+the truth. She was very beautiful indeed and a certain young man who
+stepped up to claim his first dance realized the fact. The said young
+man was outwardly cool, but red-hot within, the internal rise in
+temperature being caused by the sight of Helen Kendall crossing the
+floor arm in arm with Edwin Raymond. Albert's face was white with anger,
+except for two red spots on his cheeks, and his black eyes flashed.
+Consequently he, too, was considered quite worth the looking at and
+feminine glances followed him.
+
+“Who is that handsome, foreign-looking fellow your friend is dancing
+with?” whispered one young lady, a guest at the hotel, to Miss Kelsey.
+Jane told her.
+
+“But he isn't a foreigner,” she added. “He lives here in South Harniss
+all the year. He is a poet, I believe, and Madeline, who knows about
+such things--inherits it from her mother, I suppose--says his poetry is
+beautiful.”
+
+Her companion watched the subject of their conversation as, with Miss
+Fosdick, he moved lightly and surely through the crowd on the floor.
+
+“He LOOKS like a poet,” she said, slowly. “He is wonderfully handsome,
+so distinguished, and SUCH a dancer! But why should a poet live
+here--all the year? Is that all he does for a living--write poetry?”
+
+Jane pretended not to hear her and, a masculine friend coming to claim
+his dance, seized the opportunity to escape. However, another “sitter
+out” supplied the information.
+
+“He is a sort of assistant bookkeeper at the lumber yard by the railroad
+station,” said this person. “His grandfather owns the place, I believe.
+One would never guess it to look at him now. . . . Humph! I wonder if
+Mrs. Fosdick knows. They say she is--well, not democratically inclined,
+to say the least.”
+
+Albert had his two promised dances with Madeline Fosdick, but the
+“extra” he did not obtain. Mrs. Fosdick, the ever watchful, had seen
+and made inquiries. Then she called her daughter to her and issued an
+ultimatum.
+
+“I am SO sorry,” said the young lady, in refusing the plea for the
+“extra.” “I should like to, but I--but Mother has asked me to dance with
+a friend of ours from home. I--I AM sorry, really.”
+
+She looked as if she meant it. Albert was sorry, too. This had been
+a strange evening, another combination of sweet and sour. He glanced
+across the floor and saw Helen and the inevitable Raymond emerge
+together from the room where the refreshments were served. Raging
+jealousy seized him at the sight. Helen had not been near him, had
+scarcely spoken to him since his arrival. He forgot that he had not been
+near nor spoken to her.
+
+He danced twice or thrice more with acquaintances, “summer” or
+permanent, and then decided to go home. Madeline Fosdick he saw at the
+other end of the room surrounded by a group of young masculinity.
+Helen he could not see at the moment. He moved in the direction of the
+coatroom. Just as he reached the door he was surprised to see Ed Raymond
+stride by him, head down and looking anything but joyful. He watched and
+was still more astonished to see the young man get his coat and hat from
+the attendant and walk out of the hotel. He saw him stride away
+along the drive and down the moonlit road. He was, apparently, going
+home--going home alone.
+
+He got his own coat and hat and, before putting them on, stepped back
+for a final look at the ballroom. As he stood by the cloakroom door
+someone touched his arm. Turning he saw Helen.
+
+“Why--why, Helen!” he exclaimed, in surprise.
+
+“Are you going home?” she asked, in a low tone.
+
+“Yes, I--”
+
+“And you are going alone?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Would you mind--would it trouble you too much to walk with me as far as
+our house?”
+
+“Why--why of course not. I shall be delighted. But I thought you--I
+thought Ed Raymond--”
+
+“No, I'm alone. Wait here; I will be ready in just a minute.”
+
+She hurried away. He gazed after her in bewilderment. She and he had
+scarcely exchanged a word during the evening, and now, when the evening
+was almost over, she came and asked him to be her escort. What in the
+wide world--?
+
+The minute she had specified had hardly elapsed when she reappeared,
+ready for out of doors. She took his arm and they walked down the steps
+of the hotel, past the group of lights at the head of the drive and
+along the road, with the moon shining down upon it and the damp, salt
+breeze from the ocean blowing across it. They walked for the first few
+minutes in silence. There were a dozen questions he would have liked to
+ask, but his jealous resentment had not entirely vanished and his pride
+forbade. It was she who spoke first.
+
+“Albert,” she said, “you must think this very odd.”
+
+He knew what she meant, but he did not choose to admit it.
+
+“What?” he asked.
+
+“Why, my asking you to walk home with me, after--after our trouble. It
+is strange, I suppose, particularly as you had not spoken before this
+whole evening.”
+
+“_I_--spoken to YOU? Why, you bowed to me when I came into the room and
+that was the only sign of recognition you gave me until just now. Not a
+dance--not one.”
+
+“Did you expect me to look you up and beg you to dance with me?”
+
+“Did you expect me to trot at that fellow's heels and wait my chance to
+get a word with you, to take what he left? I should say not! By George,
+Helen, I--”
+
+She interrupted him. “Hush, hush!” she pleaded. “This is all so silly,
+so childish. And we mustn't quarrel any more. I have made up my mind to
+that. We mustn't.”
+
+“Humph! All right, _I_ had no thought of quarreling in the beginning.
+But there are some things a self-respecting chap can't stand. I have
+SOME pride, I hope.”
+
+She caught her breath quickly. “Do you think,” she asked, “that it was
+no sacrifice to my pride to beg you to walk home with me? After--after
+the things you said the other evening? Oh, Albert, how could you say
+them!”
+
+“Well--” he hesitated, and then added, “I told you I was sorry.”
+
+“Yes, but you weren't really sorry. You must have believed the things
+that hateful Issachar Price said or you wouldn't have repeated them.
+. . . Oh, but never mind that now, I didn't mean to speak of it at all. I
+asked you to walk home with me because I wanted to make up our quarrel.
+Yes, that was it. I didn't want to go away and feel that you and I were
+not as good friends as ever. So, you see, I put all MY pride to one
+side--and asked.”
+
+One phrase in one sentence of this speech caught and held the young
+man's attention. He forgot the others.
+
+“You are going away?” he repeated. “What do you mean? Where are you
+going?”
+
+“I am going to Cambridge to study. I am going to take some courses at
+Radcliffe. You know I told you I hoped to some day. Well, it has
+been arranged. I am to live with my cousin, father's half sister in
+Somerville. Father is well enough to leave now and I have engaged a
+capable woman, Mrs. Peters, to help Maria with the housework. I am going
+Friday morning, the day after to-morrow.”
+
+He stopped short to stare at her.
+
+“You are going away?” he asked, again. “You are going to do that
+and--and--Why didn't you tell me before?”
+
+It was a characteristic return to his attitude of outraged royalty. She
+had made all these plans, had arranged to do this thing, and he had
+not been informed. At another time Helen might have laughed at him; she
+generally did when he became what she called the “Grand Bashaw.” She did
+not laugh now, however, but answered quietly.
+
+“I didn't know I was going to do it until a little more than a week
+ago,” she said. “And I have not seen you since then.”
+
+“No, you've been too busy seeing someone else.”
+
+She lost patience for the instant. “Oh, don't, don't, don't!” she cried.
+“I know who you mean, of course. You mean Ed Raymond. Don't you know why
+he has been at the house so much of late? Why he and I have been so much
+together? Don't you really know?”
+
+“What? . . . No, I don't--except that you and he wanted to be together.”
+
+“And it didn't occur to you that there might be some other reason? You
+forgot, I suppose, that he and I were appointed on the Ticket Committee
+for this very dance?”
+
+He had forgotten it entirely. Now he remembered perfectly the meeting
+of the French Relief Society at which the appointment had been made. In
+fact Helen herself had told him of it at the time. For the moment he was
+staggered, but he rallied promptly.
+
+“Committee meetings may do as an excuse for some things,” he said, “but
+they don't explain the rest--his calls here every other evening and--and
+so on. Honest now, Helen, you know he hasn't been running after you in
+this way just because he is on that committee with you; now don't you?”
+
+They were almost at the parsonage. The light from Mr. Kendall's study
+window shone through the leaves of the lilac bush behind the white
+fence. Helen started to speak, but hesitated. He repeated his question.
+
+“Now don't you?” he urged.
+
+“Why, why, yes, I suppose I do,” she said, slowly. “I do know--now. But
+I didn't even think of such a thing until--until you came that evening
+and told me what Issy Price said.”
+
+“You mean you didn't guess at all?”
+
+“Well--well, perhaps I--I thought he liked to come--liked to--Oh, what
+is the use of being silly! I did think he liked to call, but only as a
+friend. He was jolly and lots of fun and we were both fond of music. I
+enjoyed his company. I never dreamed that there was anything more than
+that until you came and were so--disagreeable. And even then I didn't
+believe--until to-night.”
+
+Again she hesitated. “To-night?” he repeated. “What happened to-night?”
+
+“Oh nothing. I can't tell you. Oh, why can't friends be friends and not.
+. . . That is why I spoke to you, Albert, why I wanted to have this talk
+with you. I was going away so soon and I couldn't bear to go with any
+unfriendliness between us. There mustn't be. Don't you see?”
+
+He heard but a part of this. The memory of Raymond's face as he had seen
+it when the young man strode out of the cloakroom and out of the hotel
+came back to him and with it a great heart-throbbing sense of relief, of
+triumph. He seized her hand.
+
+“Helen,” he cried, “did he--did you tell him--Oh, by George, Helen,
+you're the most wonderful girl in the world! I'm--I--Oh, Helen, you know
+I--I--”
+
+It was not his habit to be at a loss for words, but he was just then. He
+tried to retain her hand, to put his arm about her.
+
+“Oh, Helen!” he cried. “You're wonderful! You're splendid! I'm crazy
+about you! I really am! I--”
+
+She pushed him gently away. “Don't! Please don't!” she said. “Oh,
+don't!”
+
+“But I must. Don't you see I. . . . Why, you're crying!”
+
+Her face had, for a moment, been upturned. The moon at that moment had
+slipped behind a cloud, but the lamplight from the window had shown
+him the tears in her eyes. He was amazed. He could have shouted, have
+laughed aloud from joy or triumphant exultation just then, but to weep!
+What occasion was there for tears, except on Ed Raymond's part?
+
+“You're crying!” he repeated. “Why, Helen--!”
+
+“Don't!” she said, again. “Oh, don't! Please don't talk that way.”
+
+“But don't you want me to, Helen? I--I want you to know how I feel. You
+don't understand. I--”
+
+“Hush! . . . Don't, Al, don't, please. Don't talk in that way. I don't
+want you to.”
+
+“But why not?”
+
+“Oh, because I don't. It's--it is foolish. You're only a boy, you know.”
+
+“A boy! I'm more than a year older than you are.”
+
+“Are you? Why yes, I suppose you are, really. But that doesn't make any
+difference. I guess girls are older than boys when they are our age,
+lots older.”
+
+“Oh, bother all that! We aren't kids, either of us. I want you to
+listen. You don't understand what I'm trying to say.”
+
+“Yes, I do. But I'm sure you don't. You are glad because you have
+found you have no reason to be jealous of Ed Raymond and that makes you
+say--foolish things. But I'm not going to have our friendship spoiled
+in that way. I want us to be real friends, always. So you mustn't be
+silly.”
+
+“I'm not silly. Helen, if you won't listen to anything else, will you
+listen to this? Will you promise me that while you are away you won't
+have other fellows calling on you or--or anything like that? And I'll
+promise you that I'll have nothing to say to another girl--in any way
+that counts, I mean. Shall we promise each other that, Helen? Come!”
+
+She paused for some moment before answering, but her reply, when it
+came, was firm.
+
+“No,” she said, “I don't think we should promise anything, except to
+remain friends. You might promise and then be sorry, later.”
+
+“_I_ might? How about you?”
+
+“Perhaps we both might. So we won't take the risk. You may come and see
+me to-morrow evening and say good-by, if you like. But you mustn't stay
+long. It is my last night with father for some time and I mustn't cheat
+him out of it. Good night, Albert. I'm so glad our misunderstanding is
+over, aren't you?”
+
+“Of course I am. But, Helen--”
+
+“I must go in now. Good night.”
+
+The reflections of Alberto Speranza during his walk back to the Snow
+place were varied but wonderful. He thought of Raymond's humiliation
+and gloried in it. He thought of Helen and rhapsodized. And if,
+occasionally, he thought also of the dance and of Madeline Fosdick,
+forgive him. He was barely twenty-one and the moon was shining.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+
+The good-by call the following evening was, to him at least, not very
+satisfactory. Helen was tired, having been busy all day with the final
+preparations for leaving, and old Mr. Kendall insisted on being present
+during the entire visit and in telling long and involved stories of the
+trip abroad he had made when a young man and the unfavorable opinion
+which he had then formed of Prussians as traveling companions. Albert's
+opinion of Prussians was at least as unfavorable as his own, but his
+complete and even eager agreement with each of the old gentleman's
+statements did not have the effect of choking the latter off, but rather
+seemed to act as encouragement for more. When ten o'clock came and it
+was time to go Albert felt as if he had been listening to a lecture on
+the Hohenzollerns. “Great Scott, Helen,” he whispered, as she came to
+the door with him, “I don't feel as if I had talked with you a minute.
+Why, I scarcely--”
+
+But just here Mr. Kendall came hurrying from the sitting-room to tell
+of one incident which he had hitherto forgotten, and so even this brief
+interval of privacy was denied. But Albert made one more attempt.
+
+“I'm going to run over to the station to-morrow morning to see you off,”
+ he called from the gate. “Good night.”
+
+The morning train left at nine o'clock, and at a quarter to nine Albert,
+who had kept his eye on the clock ever since eight, his hour of arriving
+at the office, called to Mr. Price.
+
+“I say,” he said, in a low tone and one as casual as he could assume, “I
+am going to run out for a few minutes. I'll be right back.”
+
+Issachar's response was as usual anything but low.
+
+“Eh?” he shouted. “Goin' out? Where you goin'?”
+
+“Oh, I'm just going out--er--on an errand.”
+
+“What kind of an errand? I was cal'latin' to run out myself for a little
+spell. Can't I do your errand for you?”
+
+“No, no. . . There, there, don't bother me any more. I'm in a hurry.”
+
+“Hurry! So'm I in a hurry. I was cal'latin' to run acrost to the deepo
+and see Helen Kendall start for Boston. She's goin' this morning; did
+you know it?”
+
+Before the somewhat flustered assistant bookkeeper could reply Captain
+Zelotes called from the inner office:
+
+“Wouldn't wonder if that was where Al was bound, too,” he observed. “And
+I was thinkin' of the same thing. Suppose we all go together. Labe'll
+keep shop, won't you, Labe?”
+
+Mr. Keeler looked over his spectacles. “Eh?” he observed. “Oh, yes, yes
+. . . yes, yes, yes. And say good-by to Helen for me, some of you, if
+you happen to think of it. Not that 'twill make much difference to her,”
+ he added, “whether she gets my good-bys or not, but it might make some
+to me. . . . Um, yes, yes.”
+
+Mr. Price was eager to oblige.
+
+“I'll tell her you sent 'em, Labe,” he said, patronizingly. “Set your
+mind to rest; I'll tell her.”
+
+Laban's lip twitched. “Much obliged, Is,” he chirruped. “That's a great
+relief! My mind's rested some already.”
+
+So, instead of going alone to the railway station, Albert made one of a
+delegation of three. And at the station was Mr. Kendall, and two of the
+school committee, and one or two members of the church sewing circle,
+and the president and secretary of the Society for the Relief of the
+French Wounded. So far from being an intimate confidential farewell,
+Helen's departure was in the nature of a public ceremony with
+speech-making. Mr. Price made most of the speeches, in fact the lower
+portion of his countenance was in violent motion most of the ten
+minutes.
+
+“Take care of yourself, Helen,” he urged loudly. “Don't you worry about
+your pa, we'll look out for him. And don't let none of them Boston
+fellers carry you off. We'll watch and see that Eddie Raymond and Al
+here don't get into mischief while you're gone. I . . . Crimustee! Jim
+Young, what in time's the matter with you? Can't ye see nothin'?”
+
+This last outburst was directed at the driver of the depot-wagon, who,
+wheeling a trunk on a baggage truck, had bumped violently into the rear
+of Mr. Price's legs, just at the knee joint, causing their owner to bend
+backward unexpectedly, and with enthusiasm.
+
+“Can't you see nothin' when it's right in front of ye?” demanded
+Issachar, righteously indignant.
+
+Jim Young winked over his shoulder at Albert. “Sorry, Is,” he said, as
+he continued toward the baggage car. “I didn't notice you WAS in front
+of me.”
+
+“Well, then, you'd better. . . . Eh? See here, what do you mean by
+that?”
+
+Even after Mr. Price had thus been pushed out of the foreground, so to
+speak, Albert was denied the opportunity of taking his place by Helen's
+side. Her father had a few last messages to deliver, then Captain
+Zelotes shook her hand and talked for a moment, and, after that, the
+ladies of the sewing circle and the war work society felt it their duty
+to, severally and jointly, kiss her good-by. This last was a trying
+operation to watch.
+
+Then the engine bell rang and the train began to move. Albert, running
+beside the platform of the last car, held up his hand for a farewell
+clasp.
+
+“Good-by,” he said, and added in a whisper, “You'll write, won't you?”
+
+“Of course. And so must you. Good-by.”
+
+The last car and the handkerchief waving figure on its platform
+disappeared around the curve. The little group by the station broke up.
+Albert and his grandfather walked over to the office together.
+
+“There goes a good girl, Al,” was Captain Lote's only comment. “A mighty
+good capable girl.”
+
+Albert nodded. A moment later he lifted his hat to a group in a passing
+automobile.
+
+“Who were those folks?” asked the Captain.
+
+“The Fosdicks,” was the reply. “The people who are going to build down
+by the Inlet.”
+
+It was Madeline and her mother. The latter had been serenely
+indifferent, but the young lady had smiled and bowed behind the maternal
+shoulders.
+
+“Oh; that so?” observed Captain Zelotes, looking after the flying car
+with interest. “That's who 'tis, eh? Nice lookin', the young one, ain't
+she?”
+
+Albert did not answer. With the noise of the train which was carrying
+Helen out of his life still ringing in his ears it seemed wicked even to
+mention another girl's name, to say nothing of commenting upon her good
+looks. For the rest of that day he was a gloomy spirit, a dark shadow in
+the office of Z. Snow and Co.
+
+Before the end of another fortnight the season at South Harniss was
+definitely over. The hotel closed on the Saturday following the dance,
+and by October first the last of the cottages was locked and shuttered.
+The Kelseys went on the twentieth and the Fosdicks went with them.
+Albert met Madeline and Jane at the post-office in the evening of the
+nineteenth and there more farewells were said.
+
+“Don't forget us down here in the sand, will you?” he suggested to Miss
+Fosdick. It was Jane Kelsey who answered.
+
+“Oh, she won't forget,” returned that young lady. “Why she has your
+photograph to remember you by.”
+
+Madeline colored becomingly and was, as Jane described it, “awfully
+fussed.”
+
+“Nonsense!” she exclaimed, with much indignation, “I haven't any such
+thing. You know I haven't, Jane.”
+
+“Yes, you have, my dear. You have a photograph of him standing in front
+of the drug store and looking dreamily in at--at the strawberry sundaes.
+It is a most romantic pose, really.”
+
+Albert laughed. He remembered the photograph. It was one of a series of
+snapshots taken with Miss Kelsey's camera one Saturday afternoon when
+a party of young people had met in front of the sundae dispensary. Jane
+had insisted on “snapping” everyone.
+
+“That reminds me that I have never seen the rest of those photographs,”
+ he said.
+
+“Haven't you?” exclaimed Jane. “Well, you ought to see them. I have
+Madeline's with me. It is a dream, if I do say it as I took it.”
+
+She produced the snapshot, which showed her friend standing beside the
+silver-leaf tree before the druggist's window and smiling at the camera.
+It was a good likeness and, consequently, a very pretty picture.
+
+“Isn't it a dream, just as I said?” demanded the artist. “Honest now,
+isn't it?”
+
+Albert of course declared it to be beyond praise.
+
+“May I have this one?” he asked, on the impulse of the moment.
+
+“Don't ask me, stupid,” commanded Jane, mischievously. “It isn't my
+funeral--or my portrait, either.”
+
+“May I?” he repeated, turning to Madeline. She hesitated.
+
+“Why--why yes, you may, if you care for it,” she said. “That particular
+one is Jane's, anyway, and if she chooses to give it away I don't see
+how I can prevent her. But why you should want the old thing I can't
+conceive. I look as stiff and wooden as a sign-post.”
+
+Jane held up a protesting finger.
+
+“Fibs, fibs, fibs,” she observed. “Can't conceive why he should want it!
+As if you weren't perfectly aware that he will wear it next his heart
+and--Oh, don't put it in THAT pocket! I said next your heart, and that
+isn't on your RIGHT side.”
+
+Albert took the photograph home and stuck it between the frame and glass
+of his bureau. Then came a sudden remembrance of his parting with Helen
+and with it a twinge of conscience. He had begged her to have nothing
+to do with any other fellow. True she had refused to promise and
+consequently he also was unbound, but that made no difference--should
+not make any. So he put the photograph at the back of the drawer where
+he kept his collars and ties, with a resolve never to look at it. He did
+not look at it--very often.
+
+Then came another long winter. He ground away at the bookkeeping--he was
+more proficient at it, but he hated it as heartily as ever--and wrote
+a good deal of verse and some prose. For the first time he sold a prose
+article, a short story, to a minor magazine. He wrote long letters to
+Helen and she replied. She was studying hard, she liked her work, and
+she had been offered the opportunity to tutor in a girls' summer camp in
+Vermont during July and August and meant to accept provided her father's
+health continued good. Albert protested violently against her being
+absent from South Harniss for so long. “You will scarcely be home at
+all,” he wrote. “I shall hardly see you. What am I going to do? As it
+is now I miss you--” and so on for four closely written pages. Having
+gotten into the spirit of composition he, so to speak, gloried in his
+loneliness, so much so that Helen was moved to remonstrate. “Your letter
+made me almost miserable,” she wrote, “until I had read it over twice.
+Then I began to suspect that you were enjoying your wretchedness,
+or enjoying writing about it. I truly don't believe anyone--you
+especially--could be quite as lonesome as all that. Honestly now,
+Albert, weren't you exaggerating a little? I rather think you were?”
+
+He had been, of course, but it irritated him to think that she
+recognized the fact. She had an uncanny faculty of seeing through his
+every pretense. In his next letter he said nothing whatever about being
+lonesome.
+
+At home, and at the office, the war was what people talked about most
+of the time. Since the Lusitania's sinking Captain Zelotes had been a
+battle charger chafing at the bit. He wanted to fight and to fight at
+once.
+
+“We've got to do it, Mother,” he declared, over and over again. “Sooner
+or later we've got to fight that Kaiser gang. What are we waitin' for;
+will somebody tell me that?”
+
+Olive, as usual, was mild and unruffled.
+
+“Probably the President knows as much about it as you and me, Zelotes,”
+ she suggested. “I presume likely he has his own reasons.”
+
+“Humph! When Seth Bassett got up in the night and took a drink out of
+the bottle of Paris Green by mistake 'Bial Cahoon asked him what in time
+he kept Paris Green in his bedroom for, anyhow. All that Seth would say
+was that he had his own reasons. The rest of the town was left to guess
+what those reasons was. That's what the President's doin'--keepin' us
+guessin'. By the everlastin', if I was younger I'd ship aboard a British
+lime-juicer and go and fight, myself!”
+
+It was Rachel Ellis who caused the Captain to be a bit more restrained
+in his remarks.
+
+“You hadn't ought to talk that way, Cap'n Lote,” she said. “Not when
+Albert's around, you hadn't.”
+
+“Eh? Why not?”
+
+“Because the first thing you know he'll be startin' for Canada to
+enlist. He's been crazy to do it for 'most a year.”
+
+“He has? How do you know he has?”
+
+“Because he's told me so, more'n once.”
+
+Her employer looked at her.
+
+“Humph!” he grunted. “He seems to tell you a good many things he doesn't
+tell the rest of us.”
+
+The housekeeper nodded. “Yes,” she said gravely, “I shouldn't wonder
+if he did.” A moment later she added, “Cap'n Lote, you will be careful,
+won't you? You wouldn't want Al to go off and leave Z. Snow and Company
+when him and you are gettin' on so much better. You ARE gettin' on
+better, ain't you?”
+
+The captain pulled at his beard.
+
+“Yes,” he admitted, “seems as if we was. He ain't any wonder at
+bookkeepin', but he's better'n he used to be; and he does seem to try
+hard, I'll say that for him.”
+
+Rachael beamed gratification. “He'll be a Robert Penfold yet,” she
+declared; “see if he isn't. So you musn't encourage him into enlistin'
+in the Canadian army. You wouldn't want him to do that any more'n the
+rest of us would.”
+
+The captain gazed intently into the bowl of the pipe which he had been
+cleaning. He made no answer.
+
+“You wouldn't want him to do that, would you?” repeated the housekeeper.
+
+Captain Lote blew through the pipe stem. Then he said, “No, I wouldn't
+. . . but I'm darn glad he's got the spunk to WANT to do it. We may
+get that Portygee streak out of him, poetry and all, give us time; eh,
+Rachael?”
+
+It was the first time in months that he had used the word “Portygee” in
+connection with his grandson. Mrs. Ellis smiled to herself.
+
+In April the arbutus buds began to appear above the leaf mold between
+the scrub oaks in the woods, and the walls of Fletcher Fosdick's new
+summer home began to rise above the young pines on the hill by the
+Inlet in the Bay Road. The Item kept its readers informed, by weekly
+installments, of the progress made by the builders.
+
+
+The lumber for Mr. Fletcher Fosdick's new cottage is beginning to be
+hauled to his property on Inlet Hill in this town. Our enterprising firm
+of South Harniss dealers, Z. Snow & Co., are furnishing said lumber.
+Mr. Nehemiah Nickerson is to do the mason work. Mr. Fosdick shows good
+judgment as well as a commendable spirit in engaging local talent in
+this way. We venture to say he will never regret it.
+
+
+A week later:
+
+
+Mr. Fletcher Fosdick's new residence is beginning building, the
+foundation being pretty near laid.
+
+
+And the following week:
+
+
+The Fosdick mansion is growing fast. South Harniss may well be proud of
+its new ornament.
+
+
+The rise in three successive numbers from “cottage” to “mansion” is
+perhaps sufficient to indicate that the Fosdick summer home was to be,
+as Issachar Price described it, “Some considerable house! Yes sir, by
+crimus, some considerable!”
+
+In June, Helen came home for a week. At the end of the week she left to
+take up her new duties at the summer camp for girls in Vermont. Albert
+and she were together a good deal during that week. Anticipating her
+arrival, the young man's ardent imagination had again fanned what he
+delighted to think of as his love for her into flame. During the
+last months of the winter he had not played the languishing swain as
+conscientiously as during the autumn. Like the sailor in the song
+“is 'eart was true to Poll” always, but he had broken away from his
+self-imposed hermitage in his room at the Snow place several times
+to attend sociables, entertainments and, even, dances. Now, when
+she returned he was eagerly awaiting her and would have haunted the
+parsonage before and after working hours of every day as well as the
+evening, if she had permitted, and when with her assumed a proprietary
+air which was so obvious that even Mr. Price felt called upon to comment
+on it.
+
+“Say, Al,” drawled Issachar, “cal'late you've cut out Eddie Raymond
+along with Helen, ain't ye? Don't see him hangin' around any since she
+got back, and the way you was actin' when I see you struttin' into the
+parsonage yard last night afore mail time made me think you must have a
+first mortgage on Helen and her pa and the house and the meetin'-house
+and two-thirds of the graveyard. I never see such an important-lookin'
+critter in MY life. Haw, haw! Eh? How 'bout it?”
+
+Albert did not mind the Price sarcasm; instead he felt rather grateful
+to have the proletariat recognize that he had triumphed again. The fly
+in his ointment, so to speak, was the fact that Helen herself did not in
+the least recognize that triumph. She laughed at him.
+
+“Don't look at me like that, please, please, don't,” she begged.
+
+“Why not?” with a repetition of the look.
+
+“Because it is silly.”
+
+“Silly! Well, I like that! Aren't you and I engaged? Or just the same as
+engaged?”
+
+“No, of course we are not.”
+
+“But we promised each other--”
+
+“No, we did not. And you know we didn't.”
+
+“Helen, why do you treat me that way? Don't you know that--that I just
+worship the ground you tread on? Don't you know you're the only girl in
+this world I could ever care for? Don't you know that?”
+
+They were walking home from church Sunday morning and had reached the
+corner below the parsonage. There, screened by the thicket of young
+silver-leafs, she stopped momentarily and looked into his face. Then she
+walked on.
+
+“Don't you know how much I care?” he repeated.
+
+She shook her head. “You think you do now, perhaps,” she said, “but you
+will change your mind.”
+
+“What do you mean by that? How do you know I will?”
+
+“Because I know you. There, there, Albert, we won't quarrel, will we?
+And we won't be silly. You're an awfully nice boy, but you are just a
+boy, you know.”
+
+He was losing his temper.
+
+“This is ridiculous!” he declared. “I'm tired of being grandmothered
+by you. I'm older than you are, and I know what I'm doing. Come, Helen,
+listen to me.”
+
+But she would not listen, and although she was always kind and frank and
+friendly, she invariably refused to permit him to become sentimental. It
+irritated him, and after she had gone the irritation still remained. He
+wrote her as before, although not quite so often, and the letters were
+possibly not quite so long. His pride was hurt and the Speranza pride
+was a tender and important part of the Speranza being. If Helen noted
+any change in his letters she did not refer to it nor permit it to
+influence her own, which were, as always, lengthy, cheerful, and full of
+interest in him and his work and thoughts.
+
+During the previous fall, while under the new influence aroused in him
+by his discovery that Helen Kendall was “the most wonderful girl in the
+world,” said discovery of course having been previously made for him by
+the unfortunate Raymond, he had developed a habit of wandering off into
+the woods or by the seashore to be alone and to seek inspiration. When
+a young poet is in love, or fancies himself in love, inspiration is
+usually to be found wherever sought, but even at that age and to one in
+that condition solitude is a marked aid in the search. There were two
+or three spots which had become Albert Speranza's favorites. One was a
+high, wind-swept knoll, overlooking the bay, about a half mile from the
+hotel, another was a secluded nook in the pine grove beside Carver's
+Pond, a pretty little sheet of water on the Bayport boundary. On
+pleasant Saturday afternoons or Sundays, when the poetic fit was on
+him, Albert, with a half dozen pencils in his pocket, and a rhyming
+dictionary and a scribbling pad in another, was wont to stroll towards
+one or the other of these two retreats. There he would sprawl amid the
+beachgrass or upon the pine-needles and dream and think and, perhaps,
+ultimately write.
+
+One fair Saturday in late June he was at the first of these respective
+points. Lying prone on the beach grass at the top of the knoll and
+peering idly out between its stems at the water shimmering in the summer
+sun, he was endeavoring to find a subject for a poem which should deal
+with love and war as requested by the editor of the Columbian Magazine.
+“Give us something with a girl and a soldier in it,” the editor had
+written. Albert's mind was lazily drifting in search of the pleasing
+combination.
+
+The sun was warm, the breeze was light, the horizon was veiled with a
+liquid haze. Albert's mind was veiled with a similar haze and the idea
+he wanted would not come. He was losing his desire to find it and was,
+in fact, dropping into a doze when aroused by a blood-curdling outburst
+of barks and yelps and growls behind him, at his very heels. He came
+out of his nap with a jump and, scrambling to a sitting position and
+turning, he saw a small Boston bull-terrier standing within a yard of
+his ankles and, apparently, trying to turn his brindled outside in, or
+his inside out, with spiteful ferocity. Plainly the dog had come upon
+him unexpectedly and was expressing alarm, suspicion and disapproval.
+
+Albert jerked his ankles out of the way and said “Hello, boy,” in as
+cheerfully cordial a tone as he could muster at such short notice. The
+dog took a step forward, evidently with the idea of always keeping the
+ankles within jumping distance, showed a double row of healthy teeth and
+growled and barked with renewed violence.
+
+“Nice dog,” observed Albert. The nice dog made a snap at the nearest
+ankle and, balked of his prey by a frenzied kick of the foot attached to
+the ankle, shrieked, snarled and gurgled like a canine lunatic.
+
+“Go home, you ugly brute,” commanded the young man, losing patience, and
+looking about for a stone or stick. On the top of that knoll the largest
+stone was the size of a buckshot and the nearest stick was, to be Irish,
+a straw.
+
+“Nice doggie! Nice old boy! Come and be patted! . . . Clear out with
+you! Go home, you beast!”
+
+Flatteries and threats were alike in their result. The dog continued to
+snarl and growl, darting toward the ankles occasionally. Evidently he
+was mustering courage for the attack. Albert in desperation scooped up
+a handful of sand. If worst came to worst he might blind the creature
+temporarily. What would happen after that was not clear. Unless he might
+by a lucky cast fill the dog's interior so full of sand that--like the
+famous “Jumping Frog”--it would be too heavy to navigate, he saw no
+way of escape from a painful bite, probably more than one. What Captain
+Zelotes had formerly called his “Portygee temper” flared up.
+
+“Oh, damn you, clear out!” he shouted, springing to his feet.
+
+From a little way below him; in fact, from behind the next dune, between
+himself and the beach, a feminine voice called his name.
+
+“Oh, Mr. Speranza!” it said. “Is it you? I'm so glad!”
+
+Albert turned, but the moment he did so the dog made a dash at his legs,
+so he was obliged to turn back again and kick violently.
+
+“Oh, I am so glad it is you,” said the voice again. “I was sure it was a
+dreadful tramp. Googoo loathes tramps.”
+
+As an article of diet that meant, probably. Googoo--if that was the
+dog's name--was passionately fond of poets, that was self-evident, and
+intended to make a meal of this one, forthwith. He flew at the Speranza
+ankles. Albert performed a most undignified war dance, and dashed his
+handful of sand into Googoo's open countenance. For a minute or so there
+was a lively shindy on top of that knoll. At the end of the minute the
+dog, held tightly in a pair of feminine arms, was emitting growls
+and coughs and sand, while Madeline Fosdick and Albert Speranza were
+kneeling in more sand and looking at each other.
+
+“Oh, did he bite you?” begged Miss Fosdick.
+
+“No . . . no, I guess not,” was the reply. “I--I scarcely know yet.
+. . . Why, when did you come? I didn't know you were in town.”
+
+“We came yesterday. Motored from home, you know. I--be still, Goo, you
+bad thing! It was such a lovely day that I couldn't resist going for
+a walk along the beach. I took Googoo because he does love it so,
+and--Goo, be still, I tell you! I am sure he thinks you are a tramp, out
+here all alone in the--in the wilderness. And what were you doing here?”
+
+Albert drew a long breath. “I was half asleep, I guess,” he said, “when
+he broke loose at my heels. I woke up quick enough then, as you may
+imagine. And so you are here for the summer? Your new house isn't
+finished, is it?”
+
+“No, not quite. Mother and Goo and I are at the hotel for a month.
+But you haven't answered my question. What were you doing off here all
+alone? Have you been for a walk, too?”
+
+“Not exactly. I--well, I come here pretty often. It is one of my
+favorite hiding places. You see, I . . . don't laugh if I tell you, will
+you?”
+
+“Of course not. Go on; this is very mysterious and interesting.”
+
+“Well, I come here sometimes on pleasant days, to be alone--and write.”
+
+“Write? Write poetry, do you mean?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Oh, how wonderful! Were you writing when I--when Goo interrupted you?”
+
+“No; I had made two or three attempts, but nothing that I did satisfied
+me. I had just about decided to tear them up and to give up trying for
+this afternoon.”
+
+“Oh, I hope you won't tear them up. I'm sure they shouldn't be. Perhaps
+you were not in a proper mood to judge, yourself.”
+
+“Perhaps not. Perhaps they might look a little less hopeless to some one
+else. But that person would have to be really interested, and there are
+few people in South Harniss who know or care anything about poetry.”
+
+“I suppose that is true. I--I don't suppose you would care to show them
+to me, would you?”
+
+“Why,” eagerly, “would you really care to see them?”
+
+“Indeed I should! Not that my judgment or advice is worth anything, of
+course. But I am very, very fond of poetry, and to see how a real poet
+wrote would be wonderful. And if I could help you, even the least little
+bit, it would be such an honor.”
+
+This sort of thing was balm to the Speranza spirit. Albert's
+temperamental ego expanded under it like a rosebud under a summer sun.
+Yet there was a faint shadow of doubt--she might be making fun of him.
+He looked at her intently and she seemed to read his thoughts, for she
+said:
+
+“Oh, I mean it! Please believe I do. I haven't spoken that way when Jane
+was with me, for she wouldn't understand and would laugh, but I mean it,
+Mr. Speranza. It would be an honor--a great honor.”
+
+So the still protesting and rebellious Googoo was compelled to go a few
+feet away and lie down, while his mistress and the young man whom he had
+attempted to devour bent their heads together over a scribbling-pad
+and talked and exclaimed during the whole of that hour and a full
+three-quarters of the next. Then the distant town clock in the steeple
+of the Congregational church boomed five times and Miss Fosdick rose to
+her feet.
+
+“Oh,” she said, “it can't really be five o'clock, can it? But it is!
+What WILL mother fancy has become of me? I must go this minute. Thank
+you, Mr. Speranza. I have enjoyed this so much. It has been a wonderful
+experience.”
+
+Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were shining. She had grown
+handsomer than ever during the winter months. Albert's eyes were shining
+also as he impulsively seized her hand.
+
+“Thank you, Miss Fosdick,” he said. “You have helped me more than I
+can tell you. I was about to give up in despair before you came, and
+now--now I KNOW I shall write the best thing I have ever done. And you
+will be responsible for it.”
+
+She caught her breath. “Oh, not really!” she exclaimed. “You don't mean
+it, really?”
+
+“Indeed I do! If I might have your help and sympathy once in awhile, I
+believe--I believe I could do almost anything. Will you help me again
+some day? I shall be here almost every pleasant Saturday and Sunday
+afternoon. Will you come again?”
+
+She hesitated. “I--I'll see; perhaps,” she answered hurriedly. “But I
+must go now. Come, Goo.”
+
+She hastened away, down the knoll and along the beach toward the hotel.
+Googoo followed her, turning occasionally to cast diabolical glances at
+the Speranza ankles. Albert gazed until the graceful figure in the trim
+sport costume disappeared behind the corner of the point of the beach.
+Just at the point she paused to wave to him. He waved in return. Then
+he tramped homeward. There was deep sand beneath his feet and, later,
+pine-needles and grass. They were all alike to him, for he was traveling
+on air.
+
+That evening at supper his radiant appearance caused comment.
+
+“What makes you look so happy, Albert?” asked his grandmother. “Seems to
+me I never saw you look so sort of--well, glorified, as you might say.
+What is the reason?”
+
+The glorified one reddened and was confused. He stammered that he did
+not know, he was not aware of any particular reason.
+
+Mrs. Ellis beamed upon him. “I presume likely his bookkeepin' at the
+office has been goin' pretty well lately,” she suggested.
+
+Captain Zelote's gray eyes twinkled. “Cal'late he's been makin' up more
+poetry about girls,” was his offering. “Another one of those pieces
+about teeth like pearls and hair all curls, or somethin' like that. Say,
+Al, why don't you poetry-makin' fellers try a new one once in a while?
+Say, 'Her hair's like rope and her face has lost hope.' Eh? Why not, for
+a change?”
+
+The protests on the part of Olive and the housekeeper against the
+captain's innovation in poetry-making had the effect of distracting
+attention from Albert's “glorified” appearance. The young man himself
+was thankful for the respite.
+
+That night before he retired he took Madeline Fosdick's photograph from
+the back of the drawer among the ties and collars and looked at it for
+five minutes at least. She was a handsome girl, certainly. Not that
+that made any difference to him. And she was an intelligent girl; she
+understood his poetry and appreciated it. Yes, and she understood him,
+too, almost as well as Helen. . . . Helen! He hastily returned the
+Fosdick photograph to the drawer; but this time he did not put it quite
+so near the back.
+
+On the following Saturday he was early at the knoll, a brand-new
+scribbling-pad in his pocket and in his mind divine gems which
+were later, and with Miss Fosdick's assistance, to be strung into
+a glittering necklace of lyric song and draped, with the stringer's
+compliments, about the throat of a grateful muse. But no gems were
+strung that day. Madeline did not put in an appearance, and by and by
+it began to rain, and Albert walked home, damp, dejected, and disgusted.
+When, a day or two later, he met Miss Fosdick at the post office and
+asked why she had not come he learned that her mother had insisted upon
+a motor trip to Wapatomac that afternoon.
+
+“Besides,” she said, “you surely mustn't expect me EVERY Saturday.”
+
+“No,” he admitted grudgingly, “I suppose not. But you will come
+sometimes, won't you? I have a perfectly lovely idea for a ballad and I
+want to ask your advice about it.”
+
+“Oh, do you really? You're not making fun? You mean that my advice is
+really worth something? I can't believe it.”
+
+He convinced her that it was, and the next Saturday afternoon they spent
+together at the inspiration point among the dunes, at work upon the
+ballad. It was not finished on that occasion, nor on the next, for it
+was an unusually long ballad, but progress was made, glorious progress.
+
+And so, during that Summer, as the Fosdick residence upon the Bay Road
+grew and grew, so did the acquaintanceship, the friendship, the poetic
+partnership between the Fosdick daughter and the grandson of Captain
+Zelotes Snow grow and grow. They met almost every Saturday, they met at
+the post office on week evenings, occasionally they saw each other for a
+moment after church on Sunday mornings. Mrs. Fletcher Fosdick could not
+imagine why her only child cared to attend that stuffy little country
+church and hear that prosy Kendall minister drone on and on. “I hope,
+my dear, that I am as punctilious in my religious duties as the average
+woman, but one Kendall sermon was sufficient for me, thank you. What you
+see in THAT church to please you, _I_ can't guess.”
+
+If she had attended as often as Madeline did she might have guessed and
+saved herself much. But she was busy organizing, in connection with
+Mrs. Seabury Calvin, a Literary Society among the summer people of South
+Harniss. The Society was to begin work with the discussion of the poetry
+of Rabindranath Tagore. Mrs. Fosdick said she doted on Tagore; Mrs.
+Calvin expressed herself as being positively insane about him. A
+warm friendship had sprung up between the two ladies, as each was
+particularly fond of shining as a literary light and neither under any
+circumstances permitted a new lion to roar unheard in her neighborhood,
+provided, of course, that the said roarings had been previously endorsed
+and well advertised by the critics and the press.
+
+So Mrs. Fosdick was too busy to accompany Madeline to church on Sunday
+or to walk on Saturday, and the young lady was left to wander pretty
+much at her own sweet will. That sweet will led her footsteps to trails
+frequented by Albert Speranza and they walked and talked and poetized
+together. As for Mr. Fletcher Fosdick, he was busy at his office in New
+York and came to South Harniss only for infrequent week-ends.
+
+The walks and talks and poetizings were innocent enough. Neither of the
+partners in poesy had the least idea of anything more than being just
+that. They liked each other, they had come to call each other by their
+Christian names, and on Albert's bureau Madeline's photograph now stood
+openly and without apology. Albert had convinced himself there was
+nothing to apologize for. She was his friend, that was all. He liked to
+write and she liked to help him--er--well, just as Helen used to when
+she was at home. He did not think of Helen quite as often as formerly,
+nor were his letters to her as frequent or as long.
+
+So the summer passed and late August came, the last Saturday afternoon
+of that month. Albert and Madeline were together, walking together along
+the beach from the knoll where they had met so often. It was six o'clock
+and the beach was deserted. There was little wind, the tiny waves were
+lapping and plashing along the shore, and the rosy light of the sinking
+sun lay warm upon the water and the sand. They were thinking and
+speaking of the summer which was so near its end.
+
+“It has been a wonderful summer, hasn't it?” said Albert.
+
+“Yes, wonderful,” agreed Madeline.
+
+“Yes, I--I--by George, I never believed a summer could be so wonderful.”
+
+“Nor I.”
+
+Silence. Then Albert, looking at her, saw her eyes looking into his and
+saw in them--
+
+He kissed her.
+
+That morning Albert Speranza had arisen as usual, a casual, careless,
+perfectly human young fellow. He went to bed that night a superman, an
+archangel, a demi-god, with his head in the clouds and the earth a cloth
+of gold beneath his feet. Life was a pathway through Paradise arched
+with rainbows.
+
+He and Madeline Fosdick loved each other madly, devotedly. They were
+engaged to be married. They had plighted troth. They were to be each
+other's, and no one else's, for ever--and ever--and ever.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+
+The remainder of that summer was a paradisical meandering over the cloth
+of gold beneath the rainbows. Albert and his Madeline met often, very
+often. Few poems were written at these meetings. Why trouble to put
+penciled lines on paper when the entire universe was a poem especially
+composed for your benefit? The lovers sat upon the knoll amid the
+sand dunes and gazed at the bay and talked of themselves separately,
+individually, and, more especially, collectively. They strolled through
+the same woody lanes and discussed the same satisfactory subjects. They
+met at the post office or at the drug store and gazed into each other's
+eyes. And, what was the most astonishing thing about it all, their
+secret remained undiscovered. Undiscovered, that is to say, by those
+by whom discovery would have meant calamity. The gossips among the
+townspeople winked and chuckled and cal'lated Fletcher Fosdick had
+better look out or his girl would be took into the firm of Z. Snow and
+Co. Issachar Price uttered sarcastic and sly innuendoes. Jane Kelsey
+and her set ragged the pair occasionally. But even these never really
+suspected that the affair was serious. And neither Mrs. Fletcher Fosdick
+nor Captain and Mrs. Zelotes Snow gave it a minute's attention.
+
+It was serious enough with the principals, however. To them it was the
+only serious matter in the world. Not that they faced or discussed the
+future with earnest and complete attention. Some day or other--that was
+of course the mutually accepted idea--some day or other they were to
+marry. In the meantime here was the blissful present with its roses
+and rainbows and here, for each, was the other. What would be likely to
+happen when the Fosdick parents learned of the engagement of their
+only child to the assistant bookkeeper of the South Harniss lumber and
+hardware company was unpleasant to contemplate, so why contemplate it?
+Upon one point they were agreed--never, never, NEVER would they
+give each other up. No power on earth--which included parents and
+grandparents--should or could separate them.
+
+Albert's conscience troubled him slightly at first when he thought of
+Helen Kendall. It had been in reality such a short time--although of
+course it seemed ages and ages--since he had fancied himself in love
+with her. Only the previous fall--yes, even that very spring, he
+had asked her to pledge herself to him. Fortunately--oh, how very
+fortunately!--she had refused, and he had been left free. Now he knew
+that his fancied love for her had been merely a passing whim, a delusion
+of the moment. This--THIS which he was now experiencing was the grand
+passion of his life. He wrote a poem with the title, “The Greater
+Love”--and sold it, too, to a sensational periodical which circulated
+largely among sentimental shopgirls. It is but truthful to state that
+the editor of the magazine to which he first submitted it sent it back
+with the brief note--“This is a trifle too syrupy for our use. Fear the
+pages might stick. Why not send us another war verse?” Albert treated
+the note and the editor with the contempt they deserved. He pitied the
+latter; poor soul, doubtless HE had never known the greater love.
+
+He and Madeline had agreed that they would tell no one--no one at
+all--of their betrothal. It should be their own precious secret for the
+present. So, under the circumstances, he could not write Helen the
+news. But ought he to write her at all? That question bothered him not
+a little. He no longer loved her--in fact, he was now certain that he
+never had loved her--but he liked her, and he wanted her to keep on
+liking him. And she wrote to him with regularity. What ought he to do
+about writing her?
+
+He debated the question with himself and, at last, and with some
+trepidation, asked Madeline's opinion of his duty in the matter. Her
+opinion was decisive and promptly given. Of course he must not write
+Helen again. “How would you like it if I corresponded with another
+fellow?” she asked. Candor forced him to admit that he should not like
+it at all. “But I want to behave decently,” he said. “She is merely a
+friend of mine”--oh, how short is memory!--“but we have been friends for
+a long time and I wouldn't want to hurt her feelings.” “No, instead
+you prefer to hurt mine.” “Now, dearest, be reasonable.” It was their
+nearest approach to a quarrel and was a very, very sad affair.
+The making-up was sweet, of course, but the question of further
+correspondence with Helen Kendall remained just where it was at the
+beginning. And, meanwhile, the correspondence lapsed.
+
+September came far, far too soon--came and ended. And with it ended
+also the stay of the Fosdicks in South Harniss. Albert and Madeline said
+good-by at their rendezvous by the beach. It was a sad, a tearful, but
+a very precious farewell. They would write each other every day, they
+would think of each other every minute of every day, they would live
+through the winter somehow and look forward to the next spring and their
+next meeting.
+
+“You will write--oh, ever and ever so many poems, won't you, dear?”
+ begged Madeline. “You know how I love them. And whenever I see one of
+your poems in print I shall be so proud of you--of MY poet.”
+
+Albert promised to write ever and ever so many. He felt that there would
+be no difficulty in writing reams of poems--inspired, glorious poems.
+The difficulty would be in restraining himself from writing too many
+of them. With Madeline Fosdick as an inspiration, poetizing became as
+natural as breathing.
+
+Then, which was unusual for them, they spoke of the future, the dim,
+vague, but so happy future, when Albert was to be the nation's poet
+laureate and Madeline, as Mrs. Laureate, would share his glory and
+wear, so to speak, his second-best laurels. The disagreeable problems
+connected with the future they ignored, or casually dismissed with,
+“Never mind, dear, it will be all right by and by.” Oh, it was a
+wonderful afternoon, a rosy, cloudy, happy, sorrowful, bitter-sweet
+afternoon.
+
+And the next morning Albert, peeping beneath Z. Snow and Co.'s office
+window shade, saw his heart's desire step aboard the train, saw that
+train puff out of the station, saw for just an instant a small hand
+waved behind the dingy glass of the car window. His own hand waved in
+reply. Then the raucous voice of Mr. Price broke the silence.
+
+“Who was you flappin' your flipper at?” inquired Issachar. “Girl, I'll
+bet you! Never saw such a critter as you be to chase after the girls.
+Which one is it this time?”
+
+Albert made no reply. Between embarrassment and sorrow he was incapable
+of speech. Issachar, however, was not in that condition; at all times
+when awake, and sometimes when asleep, Mr. Price could, and usually did,
+speak.
+
+“Which one is it this time, Al?” demanded Issy. “Eh? Crimus, see him get
+red! Haw, haw! Labe,” to Mr. Keeler, who came into the office from the
+inner room, “which girl do you cal'late Al here is wavin' by-bye to this
+mornin'? Who's goin' away on the cars this mornin', Labe?”
+
+Laban, his hands full of the morning mail, absently replied that he
+didn't know.
+
+“Yes, you do, too,” persisted Issy. “You ain't listenin', that's all.
+Who's leavin' town on the train just now?”
+
+“Eh? Oh, I don't know. The Small folks are goin' to Boston, I believe.
+And George Bartlett's goin' to Ostable on court business, he told me.
+Oh, yes, I believe Cap'n Lote said that Fosdick woman and her daughter
+were goin' back to New York. Back to New York--yes--yes--yes.”
+
+Mr. Price crowed triumphantly. “Ah, ha!” he crowed. “Ah, ha! That's the
+answer. That's the one he's shakin' day-days to, that Fosdick girl. I've
+seen you 'round with her at the post office and the ice cream s'loon.
+I'm onto you, Al. Haw, haw! What's her name? Adeline? Dandelion?
+Madeline?--that's it! Say, how do you think Helen Kendall's goin' to
+like your throwin' kisses to the Madeline one, eh?”
+
+The assistant bookkeeper was still silent. The crimson, however, was
+leaving his face and the said face was paling rapidly. This was an
+ominous sign had Mr. Price but known it. He did not know it and cackled
+merrily on,
+
+“Guess I'll have to tell Helen when she comes back home,” he announced.
+“Cal'late I'll put a flea in her ear. 'Helen,' I'll say, 'don't feel
+too bad now, don't cry and get your handkerchief all soakin', or nothin'
+like that. I just feel it's my duty to tell ye that your little Albert
+is sparkin' up to somebody else. He's waitin' on a party by the name of
+Padeline--no, Madeline--Woodtick--no, Fosdick--and . . .' Here! let go
+of me! What are you doin'?”
+
+That last question was in the nature of a gurgle. Albert, his face now
+very white indeed, had strode across the office, seized the speaker by
+the front of his flannel shirt and backed him against the wall.
+
+“Stop,” commanded Albert, between his teeth. “That's enough of that.
+Don't you say any more!”
+
+“Eh? Ugh! Ur-gg! Leggo of my shirt.”
+
+Albert let go, but he did not step back. He remained where he was,
+exactly in front of Mr. Price.
+
+“Don't you say any more about--about what you were saying,” he repeated.
+
+“Eh? Not say any more? Why not? Who's goin' to stop me, I'd like to
+know?”
+
+“I am.”
+
+“I want to know! What'll you do?”
+
+“I don't know. If you weren't so old, I would--but I'll stop you,
+anyhow.”
+
+Albert felt a hand on his arm and heard Mr. Keeler's voice at his ear.
+
+“Careful, Al, careful,” it said. “Don't hit him.”
+
+“Of course I shan't hit him,” indignantly. “What do you think I am? But
+he must promise not to mention--er--Miss Fosdick's name again.”
+
+“Better promise, Is,” suggested Laban. Issachar's mouth opened, but no
+promise came forth.
+
+“Promise be darned!” he yelled furiously. “Mention her name! I'll
+mention any name I set out to, and no Italyun Portygee is goin' to stop
+me, neither.”
+
+Albert glanced about the office. By the wall stood two brimming pails of
+water, brought in by Mr. Price for floor-washing purposes. He lifted one
+of the pails.
+
+“If you don't promise I'll duck you,” he declared. “Let go of me,
+Keeler, I mean it.”
+
+“Careful, Al, careful,” said Mr. Keeler. “Better promise, Is.”
+
+“Promise nawthin'! Fosdick! What in time do I care for Fosdicks,
+Madelines or Padelines or Dandelions or--”
+
+His sentence stopped just there. The remainder of it was washed back
+and down his throat by the deluge from the bucket. Overcome by shock and
+surprise, Mr. Price leaned back against the wall and slid slowly down
+that wall until he reclined in a sitting posture, upon the floor.
+
+“Crimustee,” he gasped, as soon as he could articulate, “I'm--awk--I'm
+drownded.”
+
+Albert put down the empty bucket and picked up the full one.
+
+“Promise,” he said again.
+
+Laban Keeler rubbed his chin.
+
+“I'd promise if I was you, Is,” he said. “You're some subject to
+rheumatism, you know.”
+
+Issachar, sitting in a spreading puddle, looked damply upward at the
+remaining bucket. “By crimustee--” he began. Albert drew the bucket
+backward; the water dripped from its lower brim.
+
+“I--I--darn ye, I promise!” shouted Issachar. Albert put down the bucket
+and walked back to his desk. Laban watched him curiously, smiling just a
+little. Then he turned to Mr. Price, who was scrambling to his feet.
+
+“Better get your mop and swab up here, Is,” he said. “Cap'n Lote'll be
+in 'most any minute.”
+
+When Captain Zelotes did return to the office, Issachar was
+industriously sweeping out, Albert was hard at work at the books, and
+Laban was still rubbing his chin and smiling at nothing in particular.
+
+The next day Albert and Issachar made it up. Albert apologized.
+
+“I'm sorry, Issy,” he said. “I shouldn't have done it, but you made me
+mad. I have a--rather mean temper, I'm afraid. Forgive me, will you?”
+
+He held out his hand, and Issachar, after a momentary hesitation, took
+it.
+
+“I forgive you this time, Al,” he said solemnly, “but don't never do
+nothin' like it again, will ye? When I went home for dinner yesterday
+noon I give you my word my clothes was kind of dampish even then. If
+it hadn't been nice warm sunshine and I was out doors and dried off
+considerable I'd a had to change everything, underclothes and all, and
+'tain't but the middle of the week yet.”
+
+His ducking had an effect which Albert noticed with considerable
+satisfaction--he was never quite as flippantly personal in his comments
+concerning the assistant bookkeeper. He treated the latter, if not with
+respect, at least with something distantly akin to it.
+
+After Madeline's departure the world was very lonely indeed. Albert
+wrote long, long letters and received replies which varied in length
+but never in devotion. Miss Fosdick was obliged to be cautious in her
+correspondence with her lover. “You will forgive me if this is not much
+more than a note, won't you, dear?” she wrote. “Mother seems to be very
+curious of late about my letters and to whom I write and I had to just
+steal the opportunity this morning.” An older and more apprehensive
+person might have found Mrs. Fosdick's sudden interest in her daughter's
+correspondence suspicious and a trifle alarming, but Albert never
+dreamed of being alarmed.
+
+He wrote many poems, all dealing with love and lovers, and sold some of
+them. He wrote no more letters to Helen. She, too, had ceased to write
+him, doubtless because of the lack of reply to her last two or three
+letters. His conscience still troubled him about Helen; he could not
+help feeling that his treatment of her had not been exactly honorable.
+Yet what else under the circumstances could he do? From Mr. Kendall he
+learned that she was coming home to spend Thanksgiving. He would see her
+then. She would ask him questions? What should his answer be? He faced
+the situation in anticipation many, many times, usually after he had
+gone to bed at night, and lay awake through long torturing hours in
+consequence.
+
+But when at last Helen and he did meet, the day before Thanksgiving,
+their meeting was not at all the dreadful ordeal he had feared. Her
+greeting was as frank and cordial as it had always been, and there was
+no reproach in her tone or manner. She did not even ask him why he had
+stopped writing. It was he, himself, who referred to that subject,
+and he did so as they walked together down the main road. Just why he
+referred to it he could not probably have told. He was aware only that
+he felt mean and contemptible and that he must offer some explanation.
+His not having any to offer made the task rather difficult.
+
+But she saved him the trouble. She interrupted one of his blundering,
+stumbling sentences in the middle.
+
+“Never mind, Albert,” she said quietly. “You needn't explain. I think I
+understand.”
+
+He stopped and stared at her. “You understand?” he repeated. “Why--why,
+no, you don't. You can't.”
+
+“Yes, I can, or I think I can. You have changed your mind, that is all.”
+
+“Changed my mind?”
+
+“Yes. Don't you remember I told you you would change your mind
+about--well, about me? You were so sure you cared so very, very much for
+me, you know. And I said you mustn't promise anything because I thought
+you would change your mind. And you have. That is it, isn't it? You have
+found some one else.”
+
+He gazed at her as if she were a witch who had performed a miracle.
+
+“Why--why--well, by George!” he exclaimed. “Helen--how--how did you
+know? Who told you?”
+
+“No one told me. But I think I can even guess who it is you have found.
+It is Madeline Fosdick, isn't it?”
+
+His amazement now was so open-mouthed as well as open-eyed that she
+could not help smiling.
+
+“Don't! Don't stare at me like that,” she whispered. “Every one is
+looking at you. There is old Captain Pease on the other side of the
+street; I'm sure he thinks you have had a stroke or something. Here!
+Walk down our road a little way toward home with me. We can talk as we
+walk. I'm sure,” she added, with just the least bit of change in her
+tone, “that your Madeline won't object to our being together to that
+extent.”
+
+She led the way down the side street toward the parsonage and he
+followed her. He was still speechless from surprise.
+
+“Well,” she went on, after a moment, “aren't you going to say anything?”
+
+“But--but, Helen,” he faltered, “how did you know?”
+
+She smiled again. “Then it IS Madeline,” she said. “I thought it must
+be.”
+
+“You--you thought--What made you think so?”
+
+For an instant she seemed on the point of losing her patience.
+
+Then she turned and laid her hand on his arm.
+
+“Oh, Al,” she said, “please don't think I am altogether an idiot.
+I surmised when your letters began to grow shorter and--well,
+different--that there was something or some one who was changing them,
+and I suspected it was some one. When you stopped writing altogether, I
+KNEW there must be. Then father wrote in his letters about you and about
+meeting you, and so often Madeline Fosdick was wherever he met you. So I
+guessed--and, you see, I guessed right.”
+
+He seized her hand.
+
+“Oh, Helen,” he cried, “if you only knew how mean I have felt and how
+ashamed I am of the way I have treated you! But, you see, I--I COULDN'T
+write you and tell you because we had agreed to keep it a secret. I
+couldn't tell ANY ONE.”
+
+“Oh, it is as serious as that! Are you two really and truly engaged?”
+
+“Yes. There! I've told it, and I swore I would never tell.”
+
+“No, no, you didn't tell. I guessed. Now tell me all about her. She is
+very lovely. Is she as sweet as she looks?”
+
+He rhapsodized for five minutes. Then all at once he realized what he
+was saying and to whom he was saying it. He stopped, stammering, in the
+very middle of a glowing eulogium.
+
+“Go on,” said Helen reassuringly. But he could not go on, under the
+circumstances. Instead he turned very red. As usual, she divined his
+thought, noticed his confusion, and took pity on it.
+
+“She must be awfully nice,” she said. “I don't wonder you fell in love
+with her. I wish I might know her better.”
+
+“I wish you might. By and by you must. And she must know you. Helen,
+I--I feel so ashamed of--of--”
+
+“Hush, or I shall begin to think you are ashamed because you liked
+me--or thought you did.”
+
+“But I do like you. Next to Madeline there is no one I like so much.
+But, but, you see, it is different.”
+
+“Of course it is. And it ought to be. Does her mother--do her people
+know of the engagement?”
+
+He hesitated momentarily. “No-o,” he admitted, “they don't yet. She and
+I have decided to keep it a secret from any one for the present. I want
+to get on a little further with my writing, you know. She is like you in
+that, Helen--she's awfully fond of poetry and literature.”
+
+“Especially yours, I'm sure. Tell me about your writing. How are you
+getting on?”
+
+So he told her and, until they stood together at the parsonage gate,
+Madeline's name was not again mentioned. Then Helen put out her hand.
+
+“Good morning, Albert,” she said. “I'm glad we have had this talk, ever
+so glad.”
+
+“By George, so am I! You're a corking friend, Helen. The chap who does
+marry you will be awfully lucky.”
+
+She smiled slightly. “Perhaps there won't be any such chap,” she said.
+“I shall always be a schoolmarm, I imagine.”
+
+“Indeed you won't,” indignantly. “I have too high an opinion of men for
+that.”
+
+She smiled again, seemed about to speak, and then to change her mind. An
+instant later she said,
+
+“I must go in now. But I shall hope to see you again before I go back to
+the city. And, after your secret is out and the engagement is announced,
+I want to write Madeline, may I?”
+
+“Of course you may. And she'll like you as much as I do.”
+
+“Will she? . . . Well, perhaps; we'll hope so.”
+
+“Certainly she will. And you won't let my treating you as--as I have
+make any difference in our friendship?”
+
+“No. We shall always be friends, I hope. Good-by.”
+
+She went into the house. He waited a moment, hoping she might turn again
+before entering, but she did not. He walked home, pondering deeply, his
+thoughts a curious jumble of relief and dissatisfaction. He was glad
+Helen had seen her duty and given him over to Madeline, but he felt a
+trifle piqued to think she had done it with such apparent willingness.
+If she had wept or scolded it would have been unpleasant but much more
+gratifying to his self-importance.
+
+He could not help realizing, however, that her attitude toward him was
+exceptionally fine. He knew well that he, if in her place, would not
+have behaved as she had done. No spite, no sarcasm, no taunts, no
+unpleasant reminders of things said only a few months before. And with
+all her forgiveness and forbearance and understanding there had been
+always that sense of greater age and wisdom; she had treated him as she
+might have treated a boy, younger brother, perhaps.
+
+“She IS older than I am,” he thought, “even if she really isn't. It's
+funny, but it's a fact.”
+
+December came and Christmas, and then January and the new year, the year
+1917. In January, Z. Snow and Co. took its yearly account of stock, and
+Captain Lote and Laban and Albert and Issachar were truly busy during
+the days of stock-taking week and tired when evening came. Laban worked
+the hardest of the quartette, but Issy made the most fuss about it.
+Labe, who had chosen the holiday season to go on one of his periodical
+vacations, as rather white and shaky and even more silent than usual.
+Mr. Price, however, talked with his customary fluency and continuity, so
+there was no lack of conversation. Captain Zelotes was moved to comment.
+
+“Issy,” he suggested gravely, looking up from a long column of figures,
+“did you ever play 'Door'?”
+
+Issachar stared at him.
+
+“Play 'Door'?” he repeated. “What's that?”
+
+“It's a game. Didn't you ever play it?”
+
+“No, don't know's I ever did.”
+
+“Then you'd better begin right this minute. The first thing to do is to
+shut up and the next is to stay that way. You play 'Door' until I tell
+you to do somethin' else; d'you hear?”
+
+At home the week between Christmas and the New Year was rather dismal.
+Mr. Keeler's holiday vacation had brought on one of his fiancee's
+“sympathetic attacks,” and she tied up her head and hung crape upon
+her soul, as usual. During these attacks the Snow household walked on
+tiptoe, as if the housekeeper were an invalid in reality. Even consoling
+speeches from Albert, who with Laban when the latter was sober, enjoyed
+in her mind the distinction of being the reincarnation of “Robert
+Penfold,” brought no relief to the suffering Rachel. Nothing but the
+news brought by the milkman, that “Labe was taperin' off,” and would
+probably return to his desk in a few days, eased her pain.
+
+One forenoon about the middle of the month Captain Zelotes himself
+stopped in at the post office for the morning mail. When he returned to
+the lumber company's building he entered quietly and walked to his own
+desk with a preoccupied air. For the half hour before dinner time he sat
+there, smoking his pipe, and speaking to no one unless spoken to. The
+office force noticed his preoccupation and commented upon it.
+
+“What ails the old man, Al?” whispered Issachar, peering in around the
+corner of the door at the silent figure tilted back in the revolving
+chair, its feet upon the corner of the desk. “Ain't said so much as
+'Boo' for up'ards of twenty minutes, has he? I was in there just now
+fillin' up his ink-stand and, by crimus, I let a great big gob of ink
+come down ker-souse right in the middle of the nice, clean blottin'
+paper in front of him. I held my breath, cal'latin' to catch what
+Stephen Peter used to say he caught when he went fishin' Sundays. Stevey
+said he generally caught cold when he went and always caught the Old
+Harry when he got back. I cal'lated to catch the Old Harry part sure,
+'cause Captain Lote is always neat and fussy 'bout his desk. But no, the
+old man never said a word. I don't believe he knew the ink was spilled
+at all. What's on his mind, Al; do you know?”
+
+Albert did not know, so he asked Laban. Laban shook his head.
+
+“Give it up, Al,” he whispered. “Somethin's happened to bother him,
+that's sartin'. When Cap'n Lote gets his feet propped up and his head
+tilted back that way I can 'most generally cal'late he's doin' some real
+thinkin'. Real thinkin'--yes, sir-ee--um-hm--yes--yes. When he h'ists
+his boots up to the masthead that way it's safe to figger his brains
+have got steam up. Um-hm--yes indeed.”
+
+“But what is he thinking about? And why is he so quiet?”
+
+“I give up both riddles, Al. He's the only one's got the answers and
+when he gets ready enough maybe he'll tell 'em. Until then it'll pay us
+fo'mast hands to make believe we're busy, even if we ain't. Hear that,
+do you, Is?”
+
+“Hear what?” demanded Issachar, who was gazing out of the window, his
+hands in his pockets.
+
+“I say it will pay us--you and Al and me--to make believe we're workin'
+even if we ain't.”
+
+“'Workin'!” indignantly. “By crimus, I AM workin'! I don't have to make
+believe.”
+
+“That so? Well, then, I'd pick up that coal-hod and make believe
+play for a spell. The fire's 'most out. Almost--um-hm--pretty
+nigh--yes--yes.”
+
+Albert and his grandfather walked home to dinner together, as was their
+custom, but still the captain remained silent. During dinner he spoke
+not more than a dozen words and Albert several times caught Mrs. Snow
+regarding her husband intently and with a rather anxious look. She did
+not question him, however, but Rachel was not so reticent.
+
+“Mercy on us, Cap'n Lote,” she demanded, “what IS the matter? You're as
+dumb as a mouthful of mush. I don't believe you've said ay, yes or no
+since we sat down to table. Are you sick?”
+
+Her employer's calm was unruffled.
+
+“No-o,” he answered, with deliberation.
+
+“That's a comfort. What's the matter, then; don't you WANT to talk?”
+
+“No-o.”
+
+“Oh,” with a toss of the head, “well, I'm glad I know. I was beginnin'
+to be afraid you'd forgotten how.”
+
+The captain helped himself to another fried “tinker” mackerel.
+
+“No danger of that around here, Rachel,” he said serenely. “So long as
+my hearin's good I couldn't forget--not in this house.”
+
+Olive detained her grandson as he was following Captain Zelotes from the
+dining room.
+
+“What's wrong with him, Albert?” she whispered. “Do you know?”
+
+“No, I don't, Grandmother. Do you think there is anything wrong?”
+
+“I know there's somethin' troublin' him. I've lived with him too many
+years not to know the signs. Oh, Albert--you haven't done anything to
+displease him, have you?”
+
+“No, indeed, Grandmother. Whatever it is, it isn't that.”
+
+When they reached the office, the captain spoke to Mr. Keeler.
+
+“Had your dinner, Labe?” he asked.
+
+“Yes--yes, indeed. Don't take me long to eat--not at my boardin' house.
+A feller'd have to have paralysis to make eatin' one of Lindy Dadgett's
+meals take more'n a half hour. Um-hm--yes.”
+
+Despite his preoccupation, Captain Zelotes could not help smiling.
+
+“To make it take an hour he'd have to be ossified, wouldn't he, like the
+feller in the circus sideshow?” he observed.
+
+Laban nodded. “That--or dead,” he replied. “Yes--just about--just so,
+Cap'n.”
+
+“Where's Issachar?”
+
+“He's eatin' yet, I cal'late. He don't board at Lindy's.”
+
+“When he gets back set him to pilin' that new carload of spruce under
+Number Three shed. Keep him at it.”
+
+“Yes, sir. Um-hm. All right.”
+
+Captain Zelotes turned to his grandson. “Come in here, Al,” he said. “I
+want to see you for a few minutes.”
+
+Albert followed him into the inner office. He wondered what in the world
+his grandfather wished to see him about, in this very private fashion.
+
+“Sit down, Al,” said the captain, taking his own chair and pointing to
+another. “Oh, wait a minute, though! Maybe you'd better shut that hatch
+first.”
+
+The “hatch” was the transom over the door between the offices. Albert,
+remembering how a previous interview between them had been overheard
+because of that open transom, glanced at his grandfather. The twinkle
+in the latter's eye showed that he too, remembered. Albert closed the
+“hatch.” When he came back to his seat the twinkle had disappeared;
+Captain Zelotes looked serious enough.
+
+“Well, Grandfather?” queried the young man, after waiting a moment. The
+captain adjusted his spectacles, reached into the inside pocket of his
+coat and produced an envelope. It was a square envelope with either
+a trade-mark or a crest upon the back. Captain Lote did not open the
+envelope, but instead tapped his desk with it and regarded his grandson
+in a meditative way.
+
+“Al,” he said slowly, “has it seemed to you that your cruise aboard this
+craft of ours here had been a little smoother the last year or two than
+it used to be afore that?”
+
+Albert, by this time well accustomed to his grandfather's nautical
+phraseology, understood that the “cruise” referred to was his voyage as
+assistant bookkeeper with Z. Snow and Co. He nodded.
+
+“I have tried to make it so,” he answered. “I mean I have tried to make
+it smoother for you.”
+
+“Um-hm, I think you have tried. I don't mind tellin' you that it has
+pleased me consid'ble to watch you try. I don't mean by that,” he
+added, with a slight curve of the lip, “that you'd win first prize as
+a lightnin'-calculator even yet, but you're a whole lot better one than
+you used to be. I've been considerable encouraged about you; I don't
+mind tellin' you that either. . . . And,” he added, after another
+interval during which he was, apparently, debating just how much of
+an admission it was safe to make, “so far as I can see, this poetry
+foolishness of yours hasn't interfered with your work any to speak of.”
+
+Albert smiled. “Thanks, Grandfather,” he said.
+
+“You're welcome. So much for that. But there's another side to our
+relations together, yours and mine, that I haven't spoken of to you
+afore. And I have kept still on purpose. I've figgered that so long as
+you kept straight and didn't go off the course, didn't drink or gamble,
+or go wild or the like of that, what you did was pretty much your own
+business. I've noticed you're considerable of a feller with the girls,
+but I kept an eye on the kind of girls and I will say that so far as I
+can see, you've picked the decent kind. I say so far as I can see. Of
+course I ain't fool enough to believe I see all you do, or know all you
+do. I've been young myself, and when I get to thinkin' how much I know
+about you I try to set down and remember how much my dad didn't know
+about me when I was your age. That--er--helps some toward givin' me my
+correct position on the chart.”
+
+He paused. Albert's brain was vainly striving to guess what all
+this meant. What was he driving at? The captain crossed his legs and
+continued.
+
+“I did think for a spell,” he said, “that you and Helen Kendall were
+gettin' to understand each other pretty well. Well, Helen's a good girl
+and your grandma and I like her. Course we didn't cal'late anything
+very serious was liable to come of the understandin', not for some time,
+anyhow, for with your salary and--well, sort of unsettled prospects, I
+gave you credit for not figgerin' on pickin' a wife right away. . . .
+Haven't got much laid by to support a wife on, have you, Al?”
+
+Albert's expression had changed during the latter portion of the speech.
+Now he was gazing intently at his grandfather and at the letter in the
+latter's hands. He was beginning to guess, to dread, to be fearful.
+
+“Haven't got much to support a wife on, Al, have you?” repeated Captain
+Zelotes.
+
+“No, sir, not now.”
+
+“Um. . . . But you hope to have by and by, eh? Well, I hope you will.
+But UNTIL you have it would seem to older folks like me kind of risky
+navigatin' to--to . . . Oh, there was a letter in the mail for you this
+mornin, Al.”
+
+He put down the envelope he had hitherto held in his hand and, reaching
+into his pocket, produced another. Even before he had taken it from
+his grandfather's hand Albert recognized the handwriting. It was from
+Madeline.
+
+Captain Zelotes, regarding him keenly, leaned back again in his chair.
+“Read it if you want to, Al,” he said. “Maybe you'd better. I can wait.”
+
+Albert hesitated a moment and then tore open the envelope. The note
+within was short, evidently written in great haste and agitation and
+was spotted with tear stains. He read it, his cheeks paling and his
+hand shaking as he did so. Something dreadful had happened. Mother--Mrs.
+Fosdick, of course--had discovered everything. She had found all
+his--Albert's--letters and read them. She was furious. There had been
+the most terrible scene. Madeline was in her own room and was smuggling
+him this letter by Mary, her maid, who will do anything for me, and
+has promised to mail it. Oh, dearest, they say I must give you up. They
+say--Oh, they say dreadful things about you! Mother declares she will
+take me to Japan or some frightful place and keep me there until I
+forget you. I don't care if they take me to the ends of the earth, I
+shall NEVER forget you. I will never--never--NEVER give you up. And you
+mustn't give me up, will you, darling? They say I must never write you
+again. But you see I have--and I shall. Oh, what SHALL we do? I was SO
+happy and now I am so miserable. Write me the minute you get this, but
+oh, I KNOW they won't let me see your letters and then I shall die. But
+write, write just the same, every day. Oh what SHALL we do?
+
+Yours, always and always, no matter what everyone does or says, lovingly
+and devotedly,
+
+MADELINE.
+
+
+When the reading was finished Albert sat silently staring at the floor,
+seeing it through a wet mist. Captain Zelotes watched him, his heavy
+brows drawn together and the smoke wreaths from his pipe curling slowly
+upward toward the office ceiling. At length he said:
+
+“Well, Al, I had a letter, too. I presume likely it came from the same
+port even if not from the same member of the family. It's about you,
+and I think you'd better read it, maybe. I'll read it to you, if you'd
+rather.”
+
+Albert shook his head and held out his hand for the second letter. His
+grandfather gave it to him, saying as he did so: “I'd like to have you
+understand, Al, that I don't necessarily believe all that she says about
+you in this thing.”
+
+“Thanks, Grandfather,” mechanically.
+
+“All right, boy.”
+
+The second letter was, as he had surmised, from Mrs. Fosdick. It had
+evidently been written at top speed and at a mental temperature well
+above the boiling point. Mrs. Fosdick addressed Captain Zelotes Snow
+because she had been given to understand that he was the nearest
+relative, or guardian, or whatever it was, of the person concerning whom
+the letter was written and therefore, it was presumed, might be expected
+to have some measure of control over that person's actions. The person
+was, of course, one Albert Speranza, and Mrs. Fosdick proceeded to set
+forth her version of his conduct in sentences which might almost have
+blistered the paper. Taking advantage of her trust in her daughter's
+good sense and ability to take care of herself--which trust it
+appeared had been in a measure misplaced--he, the Speranza person, had
+sneakingly, underhandedly and in a despicably clandestine fashion--the
+lady's temper had rather gotten away from her here--succeeded in meeting
+her daughter in various places and by various disgraceful means and had
+furthermore succeeded in ensnaring her youthful affections, et cetera,
+et cetera.
+
+
+“The poor child actually believes herself in love with him,” wrote the
+poor child's mother. “She protests ridiculously that she is engaged to
+him and will marry him in spite of her father or myself or the protests
+of sensible people. I write to you, therefore, assuming you likewise to
+be a sensible person, and requesting that you use your influence with
+the--to put the most charitable interpretation of his conduct--misguided
+and foolish young man and show him the preposterous folly of his
+pretended engagement to my daughter. Of course the whole affair,
+CORRESPONDENCE INCLUDED, must cease and terminate AT ONCE.”
+
+
+And so on for two more pages. The color had returned to Albert's cheeks
+long before he finished reading. When he had finished he rose to his
+feet and, throwing the letter upon his grandfather's desk, turned away.
+
+“Well, Al?” queried Captain Zelotes.
+
+Albert's face, when he turned back to answer, was whiter than ever, but
+his eyes flashed fire.
+
+“Do you believe that?” he demanded.
+
+“What?”
+
+“That--that stuff about my being a--a sneak and--and ensnaring her--and
+all the rest? Do you?”
+
+The captain took his pipe from his mouth.
+
+“Steady, son, steady,” he said. “Didn't I tell you before you begun
+to read at all that I didn't necessarily believe it because that woman
+wrote it.”
+
+“You--you or no one else had better believe it. It's a lie.”
+
+“All right, I'm glad to hear you say so. But there's a little mite of
+truth here and there amongst the lies, I presume likely. For instance,
+you and this Fosdick girl have been--er--keepin' company?”
+
+“Her name is Madeline--and we are engaged to be married.”
+
+“Oh! Hum--I see--I see. And, bein' as the old lady--her mother, Mrs.
+Fosdick, I mean--hasn't suspected anything, or, at any rate, hasn't
+found out anything until now, yesterday, or whenever it was, I judge you
+have been meetin'--er--Madeline at places where there wasn't--well, too
+large a crowd. Eh?”
+
+Albert hesitated and was, momentarily, a trifle embarrassed. But he
+recovered at once.
+
+“I met her first at the drug store last summer,” he said defiantly.
+“Then I met her after that at the post office and at the hotel dance
+last fall, and so on. This year I met her--well, I met her first down by
+the beach, where I went to write. She liked poetry and--and she helped
+me with mine. After that she came--well, she came to help me again. And
+after that--after that--”
+
+“After that it just moved along kind of natural, eh? Um-hm, I see.”
+
+“Look here, Grandfather, I want you to understand that she is--is--by
+George, she is the cleanest, finest, best girl in the world. Don't you
+get the idea that--that she isn't. She came to meet me just because she
+was interested in my verse and wanted to help. It wasn't until the very
+last that we--that we found out we cared for each other.”
+
+“All right, boy, all right. Go on, tell me the whole yarn, if you feel
+like it. I don't want to pry too much into your affairs, but, after all,
+I AM interested in those affairs, Al. Tell me as much as you can.”
+
+“I'll tell you the whole. There's nothing I can't tell, nothing I'm not
+proud to tell. By George, I ought to be proud! Why, Grandfather, she's
+wonderful!”
+
+“Sartin, son, sartin. They always are. I mean she is, of course. Heave
+ahead.”
+
+So Albert told his love story. When he had finished Captain Zelote's
+pipe was empty, and he put it down.
+
+“Albert,” he said slowly, “I judge you mean this thing seriously. You
+mean to marry her some day.”
+
+“Yes, indeed I do. And I won't give her up, either. Her mother--why,
+what right has her mother got to say--to treat her in this way? Or to
+call me what she calls me in that letter? Why, by George--”
+
+“Easy, son. As I understand it, this Madeline of yours is the only child
+the Fosdicks have got and when our only child is in danger of bein'
+carried off by somebody else--why, well, their mothers and fathers are
+liable to be just a little upset, especially if it comes on 'em sudden.
+. . . Nobody knows that better than I do,” he added slowly.
+
+Albert recognized the allusion, but he was not in the mood to be
+affected by it. He was not, just then, ready to make allowances for any
+one, particularly the parental Fosdicks.
+
+“They have no business to be upset--not like that, anyhow,” he declared.
+“What does that woman know about me? What right has she to say that I
+ensnared Madeline's affection and all that rot? Madeline and I fell in
+love with each other, just as other people have, I suppose.”
+
+“You suppose right,” observed Captain Zelotes, dryly. “Other people
+have--a good many of 'em since Adam's time.”
+
+“Well, then! And what right has she to give orders that I stop
+writing or seeing Madeline,--all that idiotic stuff about ceasing
+and terminating at once? She--she--” His agitation was making him
+incoherent--“She talks like Lord Somebody-or-other in an old-fashioned
+novel or play or something. Those old fools were always rejecting
+undesirable suitors and ordering their daughters to do this and that,
+breaking their hearts, and so on. But that sort of thing doesn't go
+nowadays. Young people have their own ideas.”
+
+“Um-hm, Al; so I've noticed.”
+
+“Yes, indeed they have. Now, if Madeline wants to marry me and I want to
+marry her, who will stop us?”
+
+The captain pulled at his beard.
+
+“Why, nobody, Al, as I know of,” he said; “provided you both keep on
+wantin' to marry each other long enough.”
+
+“Keep on wanting long enough? What do you mean by that?”
+
+“Why, nothin' much, perhaps; only gettin' married isn't all just goin'
+to the parson. After the ceremony the rent begins and the grocers' bills
+and the butchers' and the bakers' and a thousand or so more. Somebody's
+got to pay 'em, and the money's got to come from somewhere. Your wages
+here, Al, poetry counted in, ain't so very big yet. Better wait a spell
+before you settle down to married life, hadn't you?”
+
+“Well--well, I--I didn't say we were to be married right away,
+Grandfather. She and I aren't unreasonable. I'm doing better and better
+with my writings. Some day I'll make enough, and more. Why not?”
+
+There was enough of the Speranza egotism in this confident assurance to
+bring the twinkle to the captain's eye. He twisted his beard between his
+finger and thumb and regarded his grandson mildly.
+
+“Have you any idea how much 'enough' is liable to be, Al?” he inquired.
+“I don't know the facts about 'em, of course, but from what I have heard
+I judge the Fosdicks have got plenty of cash. I've heard it estimated
+around town from one million to fifty millions. Allowin' it's only one
+million, it seems likely that your--er--what's-her-name--Madeline has
+been used to havin' as much as fifty cents to spend whenever she wanted
+it. Do you cal'late to be able to earn enough makin' up poetry to keep
+her the way her folks have been doin'?”
+
+“No, of course not--not at first.”
+
+“Oh, but later on--when the market price of poetry has gone up--you can,
+eh?”
+
+“Look here, Grandfather, if you're making fun of me I tell you I won't
+stand it. This is serious; I mean it. Madeline and I are going to be
+married some time and no one can stop us.”
+
+“All right, son, all right. But it did seem to me that in the light of
+this letter from--er--your mother-in-law that's goin' to be, we ought
+to face the situation moderately square, anyhow. First comes marriage.
+Well, that's easy; any fool can get married, lots of 'em do. But then,
+as I said, comes supportin' yourself and wife--bills, bills, and more
+bills. You'll say that you and she will economize and fight it out
+together. Fine, first-rate, but later on there may be more of you, a
+child, children perhaps--”
+
+“Grandfather!”
+
+“It's possible, son. Such things do happen, and they cost money. More
+mouths to feed. Now I take it for granted that you aren't marryin' the
+Fosdick girl for her money--”
+
+The interruption was prompt and made with fiery indignation.
+
+“I never thought of her money,” declared Albert. “I don't even know that
+she has any. If she has, I don't want it. I wouldn't take it. She is all
+I want.”
+
+Captain Zelotes' lip twitched.
+
+“Judgin' from the tone of her ma's last letter to me,” he observed, “she
+is all you would be liable to get. It don't read as if many--er--weddin'
+presents from the bride's folks would come along with her. But, there,
+there, Al don't get mad. I know this is a long ways from bein' a joke to
+you and, in a way, it's no joke for me. Course I had realized that some
+day you'd be figgerin', maybe, on gettin' married, but I did hope the
+figgerin' wouldn't begin for some years yet. And when you did, I rather
+hoped--well, I--I hoped. . . . However, we won't stop to bother with
+that now. Let's stick to this letter of Mrs. Fosdick's here. I must
+answer that, I suppose, whether I want to or not, to-day. Well, Al,
+you tell me, I understand that there has been nothin' underhand in your
+acquaintance with her daughter. Other than keepin' the engagement a
+secret, that is?”
+
+“Yes, I do.”
+
+“And you mean to stick by your guns and. . . . Well, what is it? Come
+in!”
+
+There had been a knock upon the office door. In answer to his employer's
+summons, Mr. Keeler appeared. He held a card in his hand.
+
+“Sorry to disturb you, Cap'n Lote,” he said. “Yes, I be, yes, sir. But
+I judged maybe 'twas somethin' important about the lumber for his
+house and he seemed anxious to see you, so I took the risk and knocked.
+Um-hm--yes, yes, yes.”
+
+Captain Zelotes looked at the card. Then he adjusted his spectacles and
+looked again.
+
+“Humph!” he grunted. “Humph! . . . We-ell, Labe, I guess likely you
+might show him in here. Wait just a minute before you do it, though.
+I'll open the door when I want him to come.”
+
+“All right, Cap'n Lote. Yes, yes,” observed Mr. Keeler and departed. The
+captain looked thoughtfully at the card.
+
+“Al,” he said, after a moment's reflection, “we'll have to cut this
+talk of ours short for a little spell. You go back to your desk and wait
+there until I call you. Hold on,” as his grandson moved toward the door
+of the outer office. “Don't go that way. Go out through the side door
+into the yard and come in the front way. There's--er--there's a man
+waitin' to see me, and--er--perhaps he'd better not see you first.”
+
+Albert stared at him uncomprehendingly.
+
+“Better not see ME?” he repeated. “Why shouldn't he see me?”
+
+Captain Zelotes handed the card to Albert.
+
+“Better let me talk with him first, Al,” he said. “You can have your
+chance later on.”
+
+The card bore the name of Mr. Fletcher Story Fosdick.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+
+Albert read the name on the card. He was too astonished to speak. Her
+father! He was here! He--
+
+His grandfather spoke again, and his tone was brisk and businesslike.
+
+“Go on, Al,” he ordered. “Out through this side door and around to the
+front. Lively, son, lively!”
+
+But the young man's wits were returning. He scowled at the card.
+
+“No,” he said stoutly, “I'm not going to run away. I'm not afraid of
+him. I haven't done anything to be ashamed of.”
+
+The captain nodded. “If you had, I should ASK you to run away,” he said.
+“As it is, I just ask you to step out and wait a little while, that's
+all.”
+
+“But, Grandfather, I WANT to see him.”
+
+“All right, I want you to--but not until he and I have talked first.
+Come, boy, come! I've lived a little longer than you have, and maybe I
+know about half as much about some things. This is one of 'em. You clear
+out and stand by. I'll call you when I want you.”
+
+Albert went, but reluctantly. After he had gone his grandfather walked
+to the door of the outer office and opened it.
+
+“Step aboard, Mr. Fosdick,” he said. “Come in, sir.”
+
+Mr. Fletcher Fosdick was a large man, portly, and with a head which was
+rapidly losing its thatch. His smoot-shaven face was ruddy and his blue
+eye mild. He entered the private office of Z. Snow and Co. and shook the
+hand which Captain Zelotes proffered.
+
+“How do you do, Captain Snow?” he asked pleasantly. “You and I have had
+some business dealings, but we have never met before, I believe.”
+
+The captain waved toward a chair. “That's a fact, Mr. Fosdick,” he said.
+“I don't believe we ever have, but it's better late than by and by, as
+the feller said. Sit down, sit down, Mr. Fosdick. Throw off your coat,
+won't you? It's sort of warm in here compared to out door.”
+
+The visitor admitted the difference in temperature between the interior
+and exterior of the building, and removed his overcoat. Also he sat
+down. Captain Zelotes opened a drawer of his desk and produced a box of
+cigars.
+
+“Have a smoke, won't you?” he inquired.
+
+Mr. Fosdick glanced at the label on the box.
+
+“Why--why, I was rather hoping you would smoke one of mine,” he said. “I
+have a pocket full.”
+
+“When I come callin' on you at your place in New York I will smoke
+yours. Now it kind of looks to me as if you'd ought to smoke mine. Seems
+reasonable when you think it over, don't it?”
+
+Fosdick smiled. “Perhaps you're right,” he said. He took one of the
+gaudily banded perfectos from his host's box and accepted a light from
+the match the captain held. Both men blew a cloud of smoke and through
+those clouds each looked at the other. The preliminaries were over, but
+neither seemed particularly anxious to begin the real conversation. It
+was the visitor who, at last, began it.
+
+“Captain Snow,” he said, “I presume your clerk told you I wished to see
+you on a matter of business.”
+
+“Who? Oh, Labe, you mean? Yes, he told me.”
+
+“I told him to tell you that. It may surprise you, however, to learn
+that the business I wished to see you about--that I came on from New
+York to see you about--has nothing whatever to do with the house I'm
+building down here.”
+
+Captain Zelotes removed his cigar from his lips and looked meditatively
+at its burning end. “No-o,” he said slowly, “that don't surprise me very
+much. I cal'lated 'twasn't about the house you wished to see me.”
+
+“Oh, I see! . . . Humph!” The Fosdick mild blue eye lost, for the
+moment, just a trifle of its mildness and became almost keen, as its
+owner flashed a glance at the big figure seated at the desk. “I see,”
+ said Mr. Fosdick. “And have you--er--guessed what I did come to see you
+about?”
+
+“No-o. I wouldn't call it guessin', exactly.”
+
+“Wouldn't you? What would you call it?”
+
+“We-ll, I don't know but I'd risk callin' it knowin'. Yes, I think
+likely I would.”
+
+“Oh, I see. . . . Humph! Have you had a letter--on the subject?”
+
+“Ye-es.”
+
+“I see. From Mrs. Fosdick, of course. She said she was going to
+write--I'm not sure she didn't say she had written; but I had the
+impression it was to--well, to another member of your family, Captain
+Snow.”
+
+“No, 'twas to me. Come this mornin's mail.”
+
+“I see. My mistake. Well, I'm obliged to her in a way. If the news has
+been broken to you, I shan't have to break it and we can get down to
+brass tacks just so much sooner. The surprise being over--I take it, it
+WAS a surprise, Captain?”
+
+“You take it right. Just as much of a surprise to me as you.”
+
+“Of course. Well, the surprise being over for both of us, we can talk of
+the affair--calmly and coolly. What do you think about it, Captain?”
+
+“Oh, I don't know as I know exactly what to think. What do YOU think
+about it, Mr. Fosdick?”
+
+“I think--I imagine I think very much as you do.”
+
+“I shouldn't be surprised. And--er--what's your notion of what I think?”
+
+Captain Zelotes' gray eye twinkled as he asked the question, and the
+Fosdick blue eye twinkled in return. Both men laughed.
+
+“We aren't getting very far this way, Captain,” observed the visitor.
+“There's no use dodging, I suppose. I, for one, am not very well
+pleased. Mrs. Fosdick, for another, isn't pleased at all; she is
+absolutely and entirely opposed to the whole affair. She won't hear of
+it, that's all, and she said so much that I thought perhaps I had better
+come down here at once, see you, and--and the young fellow with the
+queer name--”
+
+“My grandson.”
+
+“Why yes. He is your grandson, isn't he? I beg your pardon.”
+
+“That's all right. I shan't fight with you because you don't like his
+name. Go ahead. You decided to come and see him--and me--?”
+
+“Yes, I did. I decided to come because it has been my experience that
+a frank, straight talk is better, in cases like this, than a hundred
+letters. And that the time to talk was now, before matters between the
+young foo--the young people went any further. Don't you agree with me?”
+
+Captain Zelotes nodded.
+
+“That now is a good time to talk? Yes, I do,” he said.
+
+“Good! Then suppose we talk.”
+
+“All right.”
+
+There was another interval of silence. Then Fosdick broke it with a
+chuckle. “And I'm the one to do the talking, eh?” he said.
+
+Captain Lote's eye twinkled. “We-ll, you came all the way from New
+York on purpose, you know,” he observed. Then he added: “But there, Mr.
+Fosdick, I don't want you to think I ain't polite or won't talk, myself.
+I'll do my share when the time comes. But it does seem to me that you
+ought to do yours first as it's your family so far that's done the
+objectin'. . . . Your cigar's gone out. Have another light, won't you?”
+
+The visitor shook his head. “No, thank you, not now,” he said hastily,
+placing the defunct cigar carefully on the captain's desk. “I won't
+smoke for the minute. So you want me to begin the talking, do you? It
+seems to me I have begun it. I told you that I do not like the idea
+of my daughter's being engaged to--to say nothing of marrying--your
+grandson. My wife likes it even less than I do. That is enough of a
+statement to begin with, isn't it?”
+
+“Why, no, not exactly, if you'll excuse my sayin' so. Your daughter
+herself--how does she feel about it?”
+
+“Oh, she is enthusiastic, naturally. She appears to be suffering from
+temporary insanity on the subject.”
+
+“She don't seem to think it's quite as--er--preposterous, and ridiculous
+and outrageous--and Lord knows what all--as your wife does, eh?”
+
+“No. I say, Snow, I hope you're not too deeply offended by what my wife
+wrote you. I judge you are quoting from her letter and apparently she
+piled it on red-hot. You'll have to excuse her; she was almost wild all
+day yesterday. I'll ask your pardon on her behalf.”
+
+“Sho, sho! No need, Mr. Fosdick, no need at all. I know what women
+are, even the easy-goin' kind, when they've got steam up. I've got a
+wife--and I had a daughter. But, gettin' back on the course again, you
+think your daughter's crazy because she wants to marry my grandson. Is
+that it?”
+
+“Why, no, I wouldn't say that, exactly. Of course, I wouldn't say that.”
+
+“But, you see, you did say it. However, we'll leave that to one side
+for a spell. What objection--what real objection is there to those two
+marryin'--my grandson and your daughter--provided that they care for
+each other as they'd ought to?”
+
+Mr. Fosdick's expression changed slightly. His tone, as he replied to
+the question, was colder and his manner less cordial.
+
+“I don't know that it is worth while answering that in detail,” he said,
+after an instant's pause. “Frankly, Captain Snow, I had rather hoped
+you would see, for yourself, the reasons why such a marriage wouldn't be
+desirable. If you don't see them, if you are backing up your grandson
+in his business, why--well, there is no use in our discussing the matter
+any further, is there? We should only lose our tempers and not gain
+much. So we had better end it now, I think.”
+
+He rose to his feet. Captain Zelotes, leaning forward, held up a
+protesting hand.
+
+“Now--now, Mr. Fosdick,” he said earnestly, “I don't want you to
+misunderstand me. And I'm sorry if what I said has made you mad.”
+
+Fosdick smiled. “Oh, I'm not mad,” he answered cheerfully. “I make it
+a rule in all my business dealings not to get mad, or, more especially,
+not to let the other fellow know that I'm getting that way. My temper
+hasn't a ruffle in it just now, and I am leaving merely because I want
+it to remain smooth. I judge that you and I aren't going to agree. All
+right, then we'll differ, but we'll differ without a fight, that's all.
+Good afternoon, Captain.”
+
+But Captain Lote's hand still remained uplifted.
+
+“Mr. Fosdick,” he said, “just a minute now--just a minute. You never
+have met Albert, my grandson, have you? Never even seen him, maybe?”
+
+“No, but I intend to meet him and talk with him before I leave South
+Harniss. He was one of the two people I came here to meet.”
+
+“And I was the other, eh? Um-hm. . . . I see. You think you've found out
+where I stand and now you'll size him up. Honest, Mr. Fosdick, I . . .
+Humph! Mind if I tell you a little story? 'Twon't take long. When I was
+a little shaver, me and my granddad, the first Cap'n Lote Snow--there's
+been two since--were great chums. When he was home from sea he and I
+stuck together like hot pitch and oakum. One day we were sittin' out in
+the front yard of his house--it's mine, now--watchin' a hoptoad catch
+flies. You've seen a toad catch flies, haven't you, Mr. Fosdick? Mr.
+Toad sits there, lookin' half asleep and as pious and demure as a
+pickpocket at camp-meetin', until a fly comes along and gets too near.
+Then, Zip! out shoots about six inches of toad tongue and that fly's
+been asked in to dinner. Well, granddad and I sat lookin' at our
+particular toad when along came a bumble-bee and lighted on a
+honeysuckle blossom right in front of the critter. The toad didn't take
+time to think it over, all he saw was a square meal, and his tongue
+flashed out and nailed that bumble-bee and snapped it into the pantry.
+In about a half second, though, there was a change. The pantry had been
+emptied, the bumble-bee was on his way again, and Mr. Toad was on
+his, hoppin' lively and huntin' for--well, for ice water or somethin'
+coolin', I guess likely. Granddad tapped me on the shoulder. 'Sonny,'
+says he, 'there's a lesson for you. That hoptoad didn't wait to make
+sure that bumble-bee was good to eat; he took it for granted, and was
+sorry afterward. It don't pay to jump at conclusions, son,' he says.
+'Some conclusions are like that bumble-bee's, they have stings in 'em.'”
+
+Captain Lote, having finished his story, felt in his pocket for a match.
+Fosdick, for an instant, appeared puzzled. Then he laughed.
+
+“I see,” he said. “You think I made too quick a jump when I concluded
+you were backing your grandson in this affair. All right, I'm glad to
+hear it. What do you want me to do, sit down again and listen?”
+
+He resumed his seat as he asked the question. Captain Zelotes nodded.
+
+“If you don't mind,” he answered. “You see, you misunderstood me, Mr.
+Fosdick. I didn't mean any more than what I said when I asked you
+what real objection there was, in your opinion to Albert's marryin'
+your--er--Madeline, that's her name, I believe. Seems to me the way for
+us to get to an understandin'--you and I--is to find out just how the
+situation looks to each of us. When we've found out that, we'll know how
+nigh we come to agreein' or disagreein' and can act accordin'. Sounds
+reasonable, don't it?”
+
+Fosdick nodded in his turn. “Perfectly,” he admitted. “Well, ask your
+questions, and I'll answer them. After that perhaps I'll ask some
+myself. Go ahead.”
+
+“I have gone ahead. I've asked one already.”
+
+“Yes, but it is such a general question. There may be so many
+objections.”
+
+“I see. All right, then I'll ask some: What do the lawyers call
+'em?--Atlantic? Pacific? I've got it--I'll ask some specific questions.
+Here's one. Do you object to Al personally? To his character?”
+
+“Not at all. We know nothing about his character. Very likely he may be
+a young saint.”
+
+“Well, he ain't, so we'll let that slide. He's a good boy, though, so
+far as I've ever been able to find out. Is it his looks? You've never
+seen him, but your wife has. Don't she like his looks?”
+
+“She hasn't mentioned his looks to me.”
+
+“Is it his money? He hasn't got any of his own.”
+
+“We-ell, of course that does count a little bit. Madeline is our only
+child, and naturally we should prefer to have her pick out a husband
+with a dollar or so in reserve.”
+
+“Um-hm. Al's twenty-one, Mr. Fosdick. When I was twenty-one I had some
+put by, but not much. I presume likely 'twas different with you, maybe.
+Probably you were pretty well fixed.”
+
+Fosdick laughed aloud. “You make a good cross-examiner, Snow,” he
+observed. “As a matter of fact, when I was twenty-one I was assistant
+bookkeeper in a New Haven broker's office. I didn't have a cent except
+my salary, and I had that only for the first five days in the week.”
+
+“However, you got married?”
+
+“Yes, I did. More fool I! If I had known anything, I should have waited
+five years at least. I didn't have any one to tell me so. My father and
+mother were both dead.”
+
+“Think you'd have listened to 'em if they had been alive and had told
+you? However, however, that's all to one side. Well, Albert's havin' no
+money to speak of is an objection--and a good honest one from your point
+of view. His prospects here in this business of mine are fair, and he
+is doin' better at it than he was, so he may make a comf'table livin'--a
+comf'table South Harniss livin', that is--by and by.”
+
+“Oh, he is with you, then? Oh, yes, I remember my wife said he worked in
+your office. But she said more about his being some sort of a--a poet,
+wasn't it?”
+
+For the first time since the interview began the captain looked ill at
+ease and embarrassed.
+
+“Thunderation!” he exclaimed testily, “you mustn't pay attention to
+that. He does make up poetry' pieces--er--on the side, as you might say,
+but I keep hopin' all the time he'll grow out of it, give him time. It
+'ain't his regular job, you mustn't think 'tis.”
+
+The visitor laughed again. “I'm glad of that,” he said, “both for your
+sake and mine. I judge that you and I, Snow, are in complete agreement
+as far as our opinion of poetry and that sort of stuff is concerned.
+Of course I'm not condemning all poetry, you understand. Longfellow and
+Tennyson and the regular poets are all right. You understand what I'm
+getting at?”
+
+“Sartin. I used to know 'Down went the R'yal George with all her crew
+complete,' and a lot more. Used to say 'em over to myself when I first
+went to sea and stood watch alone nights. But they were different, you
+know; they--they--”
+
+“Sure! My wife--why, I give you my word that my own wife and her set
+go perfectly daffy over chaps who write stuff that rhymes and that the
+papers are printing columns about. Snow, if this grandson of yours was
+a genuine press-touted, women's club poet instead of a would-be--well,
+I don't know what might happen. In that case she might be as strong FOR
+this engagement as she is now against it.”
+
+He paused, seeming a bit ashamed of his own heat. Captain Zelotes,
+however, regarded him with more approval than he had yet shown.
+
+“It's been my observation that women are likely to get off the course
+chasin' false signals like that,” he observed. “When a man begins
+lettin' his hair and his mouth run wild together seems as if the
+combination had an attraction for a good many women folks. Al keeps his
+hair cut, though, I'll say that for him,” he added. “It curls some, but
+it ain't long. I wouldn't have him in the office if 'twas.”
+
+“Well, Mr. Fosdick,” he continued, “what other objections are they?
+Manners? Family and relations? Education? Any objections along that
+line?”
+
+“No-o, no; I--well, I don't know; you see, I don't know much about the
+young fellow.”
+
+“Perhaps I can help you out. As to manners--well, you can judge them for
+yourself when you see him. He seems to be in about every kind of social
+doin's there is down here, and he's as much or more popular with the
+summer folks than with the year-'rounders. Education? Well, that's
+fair to middlin', as I see it. He spent nine or ten years in a mighty
+expensive boardin' school up in New York State.”
+
+“Did he? What school?”
+
+The captain gave the name of the school. Fosdick looked surprised.
+
+“Humph! That IS a good school,” he said.
+
+“Is it? Depends on what you call good, I cal'late. Al learned a good
+deal of this and that, a little bit of foreign language, some that they
+call dead and some that ought to be dead--and buried, 'cordin' to my
+notion. When he came to me he couldn't add up a column of ten figgers
+without makin' a mistake, and as for business--well, what he knew about
+business was about equal to what Noah knew about a gas engine.”
+
+He paused to chuckle, and Fosdick chuckled with him.
+
+“As to family,” went on Captain Lote, “he's a Snow on his mother's side,
+and there's been seven generations of Snow's in this part of the Cape
+since the first one landed here. So far as I know, they've all managed
+to keep out of jail, which may have been more good luck than deservin'
+in some cases.”
+
+“His father?” queried Fosdick.
+
+The captain's heavy brows drew together. “His father was a Portygee--or
+Spaniard, I believe is right--and he was a play-actor, one of
+those--what do you call 'em?--opera singers.”
+
+Fosdick seemed surprised and interested. “Oh, indeed,” he exclaimed, “an
+opera singer? . . . Why, he wasn't Speranza, the baritone, was he?”
+
+“Maybe; I believe he was. He married my daughter and--well, we won't
+talk about him, if you don't mind.”
+
+“But Speranza was a--”
+
+“IF you don't mind, Mr. Fosdick.”
+
+Captain Lote lapsed into silence, drumming the desk with his big
+fingers. His visitor waited for a few moments. At length he said:
+
+“Well, Captain Snow, I have answered your questions and you have
+answered mine. Do you think we are any nearer an agreement now?”
+
+Captain Zelotes seemed to awake with a start. “Eh?” he queried.
+“Agreement? Oh, I don't know. Did you find any--er--what you might call
+vital objections in the boy's record?”
+
+“No-o. No, all that is all right. His family and his education and all
+the rest are good enough, I'm sure. But, nevertheless--”
+
+“You still object to the young folks gettin' married.”
+
+“Yes, I do. Hang it all, Snow, this isn't a thing one can reason out,
+exactly. Madeline is our only child; she is our pet, our baby. Naturally
+her mother and I have planned for her, hoped for her, figured that some
+day, when we had to give her up, it would be to--to--”
+
+“To somebody that wasn't Albert Speranza of South Harniss, Mass. . . .
+Eh?”
+
+“Yes. Not that your grandson isn't all right. I have no doubt he is a
+tip-top young fellow. But, you see--”
+
+Captain Lote suddenly leaned forward. “Course I see, Mr. Fosdick,” he
+interrupted. “Course I see. You object, and the objection ain't a mite
+weaker on account of your not bein' able to say exactly what 'tis.”
+
+“That's the idea. Thank you, Captain.”
+
+“You're welcome. I can understand. I know just how you feel, because
+I've been feelin' the same way myself.”
+
+“Oh, you have? Good! Then you can sympathize with Mrs. Fosdick and with
+me. You see--you understand why we had rather our daughter did not marry
+your grandson.”
+
+“Sartin. You see, I've had just the same sort of general kind of
+objection to Al's marryin' your daughter.”
+
+Mr. Fletcher Fosdick leaned slowly backward in his chair. His appearance
+was suggestive of one who has received an unexpected thump between the
+eyes.
+
+“Oh, you have!” he said again, but not with the same expression.
+
+“Um-hm,” said Captain Zelotes gravely. “I'm like you in one way; I've
+never met your Madeline any more than you have met Al. I've seen her
+once or twice, and she is real pretty and nice-lookin'. But I don't know
+her at all. Now I don't doubt for a minute but that she's a real nice
+girl and it might be that she'd make Al a fairly good wife.”
+
+“Er--well,--thanks.”
+
+“Oh, that's all right, I mean it. It might be she would. And I ain't got
+a thing against you or your folks.”
+
+“Humph,--er--thanks again.”
+
+“That's all right; you don't need to thank me. But it's this way with
+me--I live in South Harniss all the year round. I want to live here till
+I die, and--after I die I'd like first-rate to have Al take up the Z.
+Snow and Co. business and the Snow house and land and keep them goin'
+till HE dies. Mind, I ain't at all sure that he'll do it, or be capable
+of doin' it, but that's what I'd like. Now you're in New York most of
+the year, and so's your wife and daughter. New York is all right--I
+ain't sayin' a word against it--but New York and South Harniss are
+different.”
+
+The Fosdick lip twitched. “Somewhat different,” he admitted.
+
+“Um-hm. That sounds like a joke, I know; but I don't mean it so, not
+now. What I mean is that I know South Harniss and South Harniss folks. I
+don't know New York--not so very well, though I've been there plenty of
+times--and I don't know New York ways. But I do know South Harniss ways,
+and they suit me. Would they suit your daughter--not just for summer,
+but as a reg'lar thing right straight along year in and out? I doubt
+it, Mr. Fosdick, I doubt it consid'able. Course I don't know your
+daughter--”
+
+“I do--and I share your doubts.”
+
+“Um-hm. But whether she liked it or not she'd have to come here if she
+married my grandson. Either that or he'd have to go to New York. And if
+he went to New York, how would he earn his livin'? Get a new bookkeepin'
+job and start all over again, or live on poetry?”
+
+Mr. Fosdick opened his mouth as if to speak, seemed to change his mind
+and closed it again, without speaking. Captain Zelotes, looking keenly
+at him, seemed to guess his thoughts.
+
+“Of course,” he said deliberately, but with a firmness which permitted
+no misunderstanding of his meaning, “of course you mustn't get it into
+your head for one minute that the boy is figgerin' on your daughter's
+bein' a rich girl. He hasn't given that a thought. You take my word for
+that, Mr. Fosdick. He doesn't know how much money she or you have got
+and he doesn't care. He doesn't care a continental darn.”
+
+His visitor smiled slightly. “Nevertheless,” he began. The captain
+interrupted him.
+
+“No, there ain't any nevertheless,” he said. “Albert has been with me
+enough years now so that I know a little about him. And I know that all
+he wants is your daughter. As to how much she's worth in money or how
+they're goin' to live after he's got her--I know that he hasn't given it
+one thought. I don't imagine she has, either. For one reason,” he added,
+with a smile, “he is too poor a business man to think of marriage as a
+business, bill-payin' contract, and for another,--for another--why, good
+Lord, Fosdick!” he exclaimed, leaning forward, “don't you know what this
+thing means to those two young folks? It means just moonshine and mush
+and lookin' into each other's eyes, that's about all. THEY haven't
+thought any practical thoughts about it. Why, think what their ages are!
+Think of yourself at that age! Can't you remember. . . . Humph! Well,
+I'm talkin' fifty revolutions to the second. I beg your pardon.”
+
+“That's all right, Snow. And I believe you have the situation sized up
+as it is. Still--”
+
+“Excuse me, Mr. Fosdick, but don't you think it's about time you had a
+look at the boy himself? I'm goin' to ask him to come in here and meet
+you.”
+
+Fosdick looked troubled. “Think it is good policy?” he asked doubtfully.
+“I want to see him and speak with him, but I do hate a scene.”
+
+“There won't be any scene. You just meet him face to face and talk
+enough with him to get a little idea of what your first impression is.
+Don't contradict or commit yourself or anything. And I'll send him out
+at the end of two or three minutes.”
+
+Without waiting for a reply, he rose, opened the door to the outer
+office and called, “Al, come in here!” When Albert had obeyed the
+order he closed the door behind him and turning to the gentleman in
+the visitor's chair, said: “Mr. Fosdick, this is my grandson, Albert
+Speranza. Al, shake hands with Mr. Fosdick from New York.”
+
+While awaiting the summons to meet the father of his adored, Albert had
+been rehearsing and re-rehearsing the speeches he intended making when
+that meeting took place. Sitting at his desk, pen in hand and pretending
+to be busy with the bookkeeping of Z. Snow and Company, he had seen,
+not the ruled page of the day book, but the parental countenance of the
+Honorable Fletcher Fosdick. And, to his mind's eye, that countenance
+was as rugged and stern as the rock-bound coast upon which the Pilgrims
+landed, and about as unyielding and impregnable as the door of the
+office safe. So, when his grandfather called him, he descended from the
+tall desk stool and crossed the threshold of the inner room, a trifle
+pale, a little shaky at the knees, but with the set chin and erect head
+of one who, facing almost hopeless odds, intends fighting to the last
+gasp.
+
+To his astonishment the Fosdick countenance was not as his imagination
+had pictured it. The blue eyes met his, not with a glare or a glower,
+but with a look of interest and inquiry. The Fosdick hand shook his with
+politeness, and the Fosdick manner was, if not genial, at least quiet
+and matter of fact. He was taken aback. What did it mean? Was it
+possible that Madeline's father was inclined to regard her engagement
+to him with favor? A great throb of joy accompanied the thought. Then
+he remembered the letter he had just read, the letter from Madeline's
+mother, and the hope subsided.
+
+“Albert,” said Captain Zelotes, “Mr. Fosdick has come on here to talk
+with us; that is, with me and you, about your affairs. He and I have
+talked up to the point where it seemed to me you ought to come in for
+a spell. I've told him that the news that you and his daughter
+were--er--favorably disposed toward each other was as sudden and as big
+a surprise to me as 'twas to him. Even your grandma don't know it yet.
+Now I presume likely he'd like to ask you a few questions. Heave ahead,
+Mr. Fosdick.”
+
+He relit his cigar stump and leaned back in his chair. Mr. Fosdick
+leaned forward in his. Albert stood very straight, his shoulders braced
+for the encounter. The quizzical twinkle shone in Captain Lote's eye as
+he regarded his grandson. Fosdick also smiled momentarily as he caught
+the expression of the youth's face.
+
+“Well, Speranza,” he began, in so cheerful a tone that Albert's
+astonishment grew even greater, “your grandfather has been kind enough
+to get us through the preliminaries, so we'll come at once to the
+essentials. You and my daughter consider yourselves engaged to marry?”
+
+“Yes, sir. We ARE engaged.”
+
+“I see. How long have you--um--been that way, so to speak?”
+
+“Since last August.”
+
+“Why haven't you said anything about it to us--to Mrs. Fosdick or me or
+your people here? You must excuse these personal questions. As I have
+just said to Captain Snow, Madeline is our only child, and her happiness
+and welfare mean about all there is in life to her mother and me. So,
+naturally, the man she is going to marry is an important consideration.
+You and I have never met before, so the quickest way of reaching an
+understanding between us is by the question route. You get my meaning?”
+
+“Yes, sir, I guess I do.”
+
+“Good! Then we'll go ahead. Why have you two kept it a secret so long?”
+
+“Because--well, because we knew we couldn't marry yet a while, so we
+thought we had better not announce it for the present.”
+
+“Oh! . . . And the idea that perhaps Mrs. Fosdick and I might be
+slightly interested didn't occur to you?”
+
+“Why, yes, sir, it did. But,--but we thought it best not to tell you
+until later.”
+
+“Perhaps the suspicion that we might not be overjoyed by the news had
+a little weight with you, eh? Possibly that helped to delay
+the--er--announcement?”
+
+“No, sir, I--I don't think it did.”
+
+“Oh, don't you! Perhaps you thought we WOULD be overjoyed?”
+
+“No, sir. We didn't think so very much about it. Well, that's not quite
+true. Madeline felt that her mother--and you, too, sir, I suppose,
+although she didn't speak as often of you in that way--she felt that her
+mother would disapprove at first, and so we had better wait.”
+
+“Until when?”
+
+“Until--until by and by. Until I had gone ahead further, you know.”
+
+“I'm not sure that I do know. Gone ahead how? Until you had a better
+position, more salary?”
+
+“No, not exactly. Until my writings were better known. Until I was a
+little more successful.”
+
+“Successful? Until you wrote more poetry, do you mean?”
+
+“Yes, sir. Poetry and other things, stories and plays, perhaps.”
+
+“Do you mean--Did you figure that you and Madeline were to live on what
+you made by writing poetry and the other stuff?”
+
+“Yes, sir, of course.”
+
+Fosdick looked across at Captain Zelotes. The Captain's face was worth
+looking at.
+
+“Here, here, hold on!” he exclaimed, jumping into the conversation. “Al,
+what are you talkin' about? You're bookkeeper for me, ain't you; for
+this concern right here where you are? What do you mean by talkin' as
+if your job was makin' up poetry pieces? That's only what you do on the
+side, and you know it. Eh, ain't that so?”
+
+Albert hesitated. He had, momentarily, forgotten his grandfather and
+the latter's prejudices. After all, what was the use of stirring up
+additional trouble.
+
+“Yes, Grandfather,” he said.
+
+“Course it's so. It's in this office that you draw your wages.”
+
+“Yes, Grandfather.”
+
+“All right. Excuse me for nosin' in, Mr. Fosdick, but I knew the boy
+wasn't puttin' the thing as plain as it ought to be, and I didn't want
+you to get the wrong notion. Heave ahead.”
+
+Fosdick smiled slightly. “All right, Captain,” he said. “I get it, I
+think. Well, then,” turning again to Albert, “your plan for supporting
+my daughter was to wait until your position here, plus the poetry,
+should bring in sufficient revenue. It didn't occur to you that--well,
+that there might be a possibility of getting money--elsewhere?”
+
+Albert plainly did not understand, but it was just as plain that his
+grandfather did. Captain Zelotes spoke sharply.
+
+“Mr. Fosdick,” he said, “I just answered that question for you.”
+
+“Yes, I know. But if you were in my place you might like to have him
+answer it. I don't mean to be offensive, but business is business, and,
+after all, this is a business talk. So--”
+
+The Captain interrupted. “So we'll talk it in a business way, eh?” he
+snapped. “All right. Al, what Mr. Fosdick means is had you cal'lated
+that, if you married his daughter, maybe her dad's money might help you
+and her to keep goin'? To put it even plainer: had you planned some on
+her bein' a rich girl?”
+
+Fosdick looked annoyed. “Oh, I say, Snow!” he cried. “That's too strong,
+altogether.”
+
+“Not a mite. It's what you've had in the back of your head all along.
+I'm just helpin' it to come out of the front. Well, Al?”
+
+The red spots were burning in the Speranza cheeks. He choked as he
+answered.
+
+“No,” he cried fiercely. “Of course I haven't planned on any such thing.
+I don't know how rich she is. I don't care. I wish she was as poor
+as--as I am. I want HER, that's all. And she wants me. We don't either
+of us care about money. I wouldn't take a cent of your money, Mr.
+Fosdick. But I--I want Madeline and--and--I shall have her.”
+
+“In spite of her parents, eh?”
+
+“Yes. . . . I'm sorry to speak so, Mr. Fosdick, but it is true. We--we
+love each other. We--we've agreed to wait for each other, no matter--no
+matter if it is years and years. And as for the money and all that, if
+you disinherit her, or--or whatever it is they do--we don't care. I--I
+hope you will. I--she--”
+
+Captain Zelotes' voice broke in upon the impassioned outburst.
+
+“Steady, Al; steady, son,” he cautioned quietly. “I cal'late you've said
+enough. I don't think any more's necessary. You'd better go back to your
+desk now.”
+
+“But, Grandfather, I want him to understand--”
+
+“I guess likely he does. I should say you'd made it real plain. Go now,
+Al.”
+
+Albert turned, but, with a shaking hand upon the doorknob, turned back
+again.
+
+“I'm--I--I'm sorry, Mr. Fosdick,” he faltered. “I--I didn't mean to say
+anything to hurt your feelings. But--but, you see, Madeline--she and
+I--we--”
+
+He could not go on. Fosdick's nod and answer were not unkindly. “All
+right, Speranza,” he said, “I'm not offended. Hope I wasn't too blunt,
+myself. Good-day.”
+
+When the door had closed behind the young man he turned to Captain Lote.
+
+“Sorry if I offended you, Snow,” he observed. “I threw in that hint
+about marrying just to see what effect it would have, that's all.”
+
+“Um-hm. So I judged. Well, you saw, didn't you?”
+
+“I did. Say, Captain, except as a prospective son-in-law, and then only
+because I don't see him in that light--I rather like that grandson of
+yours. He's a fine, upstanding young chap.”
+
+The captain made no reply. He merely pulled at his beard. However, he
+did not look displeased.
+
+“He's a handsome specimen, isn't he?” went on Fosdick. “No wonder
+Madeline fell for his looks. Those and the poetry together are a
+combination hard to resist--at her age. And he's a gentleman. He handled
+himself mighty well while I was stringing him just now.”
+
+The beard tugging continued. “Um-hm,” observed Captain Zelotes dryly;
+“he does pretty well for a--South Harniss gentleman. But we're kind
+of wastin' time, ain't we, Mr. Fosdick? In spite of his looks and his
+manners and all the rest, now that you've seen him you still object to
+that engagement, I take it.”
+
+“Why, yes, I do. The boy is all right, I'm sure, but--”
+
+“Sartin, I understand. I feel the same way about your girl. She's all
+right, I'm sure, but--”
+
+“We're agreed on everything, includin' the 'but.' And the 'but' is that
+New York is one place and South Harniss is another.”
+
+“Exactly.”
+
+“So we don't want 'em to marry. Fine. First rate! Only now we come
+to the most important 'but' of all. What are we going to do about it?
+Suppose we say no and they say yes and keep on sayin' it? Suppose they
+decide to get married no matter what we say. How are we goin' to stop
+it?”
+
+His visitor regarded him for a moment and then broke into a hearty
+laugh.
+
+“Snow,” he declared, “you're all right. You surely have the faculty of
+putting your finger on the weak spots. Of course we can't stop it. If
+these two young idiots have a mind to marry and keep that mind, they
+WILL marry and we can't prevent it any more than we could prevent the
+tide coming in to-morrow morning. _I_ realized that this was a sort of
+fool's errand, my coming down here. I know that this isn't the age when
+parents can forbid marriages and get away with it, as they used to on
+the stage in the old plays. Boys and girls nowadays have a way of going
+their own gait in such matters. But my wife doesn't see it in exactly
+that way, and she was so insistent on my coming down here to stop the
+thing if I could that--well, I came.”
+
+“I'm glad you did, Mr. Fosdick, real glad. And, although I agree with
+you that the very worst thing to do, if we want to stop this team from
+pullin' together, is to haul back on the bits and holler 'Whoa,' still
+I'm kind of hopeful that, maybe . . . humph! I declare, it looks as if
+I'd have to tell you another story. I'm gettin' as bad as Cap'n Hannibal
+Doane used to be, and they used to call him 'The Rope Walk' 'cause he
+spun so many yarns.”
+
+Fosdick laughed again. “You may go as far as you like with your stories,
+Captain,” he said. “I can grow fat on them.”
+
+“Thanks. Well, this ain't a story exactly; it just kind of makes the
+point I'm tryin' to get at. Calvin Bangs had a white mare one time and
+the critter had a habit of runnin' away. Once his wife, Hannah J., was
+in the buggy all by herself, over to the Ostable Fair, Calvin havin' got
+out to buy some peanuts or somethin'. The mare got scared of the noise
+and crowd and bolted. As luck would have it, she went right through the
+fence and out onto the trottin' track. And around that track she went,
+hell bent for election. All hands was runnin' alongside hollerin' 'Stop
+her! Stop her! 'but not Calvin--no SIR! He waited till the mare was
+abreast of him, the mare on two legs and the buggy on two wheels and
+Hannah 'most anywheres between the dasher and the next world, and then
+he sung out: 'Give her her head, Hannah! Give her her head. She'll stop
+when she runs down.'”
+
+He laughed and his visitor laughed with him.
+
+“I gather,” observed the New Yorker, “that you believe it the better
+policy to give our young people their heads.”
+
+“In reason--yes, I do. It's my judgment that an affair like this will
+hurry more and more if you try too hard to stop it. If you don't try at
+all so any one would notice it, it may run down and stop of itself, the
+way Calvin's mare did.”
+
+Fosdick nodded reflectively. “I'm inclined to agree with you,” he said.
+“But does that mean that they're to correspond, write love letters, and
+all that?”
+
+“Why, in reason, maybe. If we say no to that, they'll write anyhow,
+won't they?”
+
+“Of course. . . . How would it do to get them to promise to write
+nothing that their parents might not see? Of course I don't mean for
+your grandson to show you his letters before he sends them to Madeline.
+He's too old for that, and he would refuse. But suppose you asked him
+to agree to write nothing that Madeline would not be willing to show her
+mother--or me. Do you think he would?”
+
+“Maybe. I'll ask him. . . . Yes, I guess likely he'd do that.”
+
+“My reason for suggesting it is, frankly, not so much on account of the
+young people as to pacify my wife. I am not afraid--not very much afraid
+of this love affair. They are young, both of them. Give them time,
+and--as you say, Snow, the thing may run down, peter out.”
+
+“I'm in hopes 'twill. It's calf love, as I see it, and I believe 'twill
+pay to give the calves rope enough.”
+
+“So do I. No, I'm not much troubled about the young people. But Mrs.
+Fosdick--well, my trouble will be with her. She'll want to have your boy
+shot or jailed or hanged or something.”
+
+“I presume likely. I guess you'll have to handle her the way another
+feller who used to live here in South Harniss said he handled his wife.
+'We don't never have any trouble at all,' says he. 'Whenever she says
+yes or no, I say the same thing. Later on, when it comes to doin', I do
+what I feel like.' . . . Eh? You're not goin', are you, Mr. Fosdick?”
+
+His visitor had risen and was reaching for his coat. Captain Zelotes
+also rose.
+
+“Don't hurry, don't hurry,” he begged.
+
+“Sorry, but I must. I want to be back in New York tomorrow morning.”
+
+“But you can't, can you? To do that you'll have to get up to Boston or
+Fall River, and the afternoon train's gone. You'd better stay and have
+supper along with my wife and me, stay at our house over night, and take
+the early train after breakfast to-morrow.”
+
+“I wish I could; I'd like nothing better. But I can't.”
+
+“Sure?” Then, with a smile, he added: “Al needn't eat with us, you know,
+if his bein' there makes either of you feel nervous.”
+
+Fosdick laughed again. “I think I should be willing to risk the
+nervousness,” he replied. “But I must go, really. I've hired a chap
+at the garage here to drive me to Boston in his car and I'll take the
+midnight train over.”
+
+“Humph! Well, if you must, you must. Hope you have a comf'table trip,
+Mr. Fosdick. Better wrap up warm; it's pretty nigh a five-hour run to
+Boston and there's some cool wind over the Ostable marshes this time of
+year. Good-by, sir. Glad to have had this talk with you.”
+
+His visitor held out his hand. “So am I, Snow,” he said heartily.
+“Mighty glad.”
+
+“I hope I wasn't too short and brisk at the beginnin'. You see, I'd
+just read your wife's letter, and--er--well, of course, I didn't
+know--just--you see, you and I had never met, and so--”
+
+“Certainly, certainly. I quite understand. And, fool's errand or not,
+I'm very glad I came here. If you'll pardon my saying so, it was worth
+the trip to get acquainted with you. I hope, whatever comes of the other
+thing, that our acquaintanceship will continue.”
+
+“Same here, same here. Go right out the side door, Mr. Fosdick, saves
+goin' through the office. Good day, sir.”
+
+He watched the bulky figure of the New York banker tramping across the
+yard between the piles of lumber. A moment later he entered the
+outer office. Albert and Keeler were at their desks. Captain Zelotes
+approached the little bookkeeper.
+
+“Labe,” he queried, “there isn't anything particular you want me to talk
+about just now, is there?”
+
+Lahan looked up in surprise from his figuring.
+
+“Why--why, no, Cap'n Lote, don't know's there is,” he said. “Don't
+know's there is, not now, no, no, no.”
+
+His employer nodded. “Good!” he exclaimed. “Then I'm goin' back inside
+there and sit down and rest my chin for an hour, anyhow. I've talked so
+much to-day that my jaws squeak. Don't disturb me for anything short of
+a fire or a mutiny.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+
+He was not disturbed and that evening, after supper was over, he
+was ready to talk again. He and Albert sat together in the sitting
+room--Mrs. Snow and Rachel were in the kitchen washing dishes--and
+Captain Zelotes told his grandson as much as he thought advisable to
+tell of his conversation with the Honorable Fletcher Fosdick. At first
+Albert was inclined to rebel at the idea of permitting his letters to
+Madeline to be read by the latter's parents, but at length he agreed.
+
+“I'll do it because it may make it easier for her,” he said. “She'll
+have a dreadful time, I suppose, with that unreasonable mother of
+hers. But, by George, Grandfather,” he exclaimed, “isn't she splendid,
+though!”
+
+“Who? Mrs. Fosdick?”
+
+“No, of course not,” indignantly. “Madeline. Isn't she splendid and fine
+and loyal! I want you to know her, Grandfather, you and Grandmother.”
+
+“Um-hm. Well, we'll hope to, some day. Now, son, I'm goin' to ask for
+another promise. It may seem a hard one to make, but I'm askin' you to
+make it. I want you to give me your word that, no matter what happens
+or how long you have to wait, you and Madeline won't get married without
+tellin' her folks and yours beforehand. You won't run away and marry.
+Will you promise me that?”
+
+Albert looked at him. This WAS a hard promise to make. In their talks
+beneath the rainbows, whenever he and Madeline had referred to the
+future and its doubts, they had always pushed those doubts aside with
+vague hints of an elopement. If the unreasonableness of parents and
+grandparents should crowd them too far, they had always as a last
+resort, the solution of their problem by way of a runaway marriage. And
+now Captain Zelotes was asking him to give up this last resort.
+
+The captain, watching him keenly, divined what was in his grandson's
+mind.
+
+“Think it over, Al,” he said kindly. “Don't answer me now, but think it
+over, and to-morrow mornin' tell me how you feel about it.” He hesitated
+a moment and then added: “You know your grandmother and I, we--well,
+we have maybe cause to be a little mite prejudiced against this elopin'
+business.”
+
+So Albert thought, and the next morning, as the pair were walking
+together to the office, he spoke his thought. Captain Zelotes had not
+mentioned the subject.
+
+“Grandfather,” said Albert, with some embarrassment, “I'm going to give
+you that promise.”
+
+His grandfather, who had been striding along, his heavy brows drawn
+together and his glance fixed upon the frozen ground beneath his feet,
+looked up.
+
+“Eh?” he queried, uncomprehendingly.
+
+“You asked me last night to promise you something, you know. . . .
+You asked me to think it over. I have, and I'm going to promise you
+that--Madeline and I won't marry without first telling you.”
+
+Captain Zelotes stopped in his stride; then he walked on again.
+
+“Thank you, Al,” he said quietly. “I hoped you'd see it that way.”
+
+“Yes--yes, I--I do. I don't want to bring any more--trouble of that kind
+to you and Grandmother. . . . It seems to me that you--that you have had
+too much already.”
+
+“Thank you, son. . . . Much obliged.”
+
+The captain's tone was almost gruff and that was his only reference to
+the subject of the promise; but somehow Albert felt that at that moment
+he and his grandfather were closer together, were nearer to a mutual
+understanding and mutual appreciation than they had ever been before.
+
+To promise, however, is one thing, to fulfill the obligation another. As
+the days passed Albert found his promise concerning letter-writing very,
+very hard to keep. When, each evening he sat down at the table in
+his room to pour out his soul upon paper it was a most unsatisfactory
+outpouring. The constantly enforced recollection that whatever he wrote
+would be subject to the chilling glance of the eye of Fosdick mater was
+of itself a check upon the flow. To write a love letter to Madeline had
+hitherto been a joy, a rapture, to fill pages and pages a delight. Now,
+somehow, these pages were hard to fill. Omitting the very things you
+were dying to say, the precious, the intimate things--what was
+there left? He and she had, at their meetings and in their former
+correspondence, invented many delightful little pet names for each
+other. Now those names were taboo; or, at any rate, they might as well
+be. The thought of Mrs. Fosdick's sniff of indignant disgust at finding
+her daughter referred to as some one's ownest little rosebud withered
+that bud before it reached the paper.
+
+And Madeline's letters to him were quite as unsatisfactory. They were
+lengthy, but oh, so matter of fact! Saharas of fact without one oasis of
+sentiment. She was well and she had done this and that and had been
+to see such and such plays and operas. Father was well and very busy.
+Mother, too, was well, so was Googoo--but these last two bits of news
+failed to comfort him as they perhaps should. He could only try to glean
+between the lines, and as Mrs. Fosdick had raked between those lines
+before him, the gleaning was scant picking indeed.
+
+He found himself growing disconsolate and despondent. Summer seemed ages
+away. And when at last it should come--what would happen then? He could
+see her only when properly chaperoned, only when Mother, and probably
+Googoo, were present. He flew for consolation to the Muse and the
+Muse refused to console. The poems he wrote were “blue” and despairing
+likewise. Consequently they did not sell. He was growing desperate,
+ready for anything. And something came. Germany delivered to our
+Government its arrogant mandate concerning unlimited submarine warfare.
+A long-suffering President threw patience overboard and answered that
+mandate in unmistakable terms. Congress stood at his back and behind
+them a united and indignant people. The United States declared war upon
+the Hun.
+
+South Harniss, like every other community, became wildly excited.
+Captain Zelotes Snow's gray eyes flashed fiery satisfaction. The flags
+at the Snow place and at the lumber yard flew high night and day. He
+bought newspapers galore and read from them aloud at meals, in the
+evenings, and before breakfast. Issachar, as usual, talked much and said
+little. Laban Keeler's comments were pithy and dryly pointed. Albert was
+very quiet.
+
+But one forenoon he spoke. Captain Lote was in the inner office, the
+morning newspaper in his hand, when his grandson entered and closed the
+door behind him. The captain looked up.
+
+“Well, Al, what is it?” he asked.
+
+Albert came over and stood beside the desk. The captain, after a
+moment's scrutiny of the young man's face, put down his newspaper.
+
+“Well, Al?” he said, again.
+
+Albert seemed to find it hard to speak.
+
+“Grandfather,” he began, “I--I--Grandfather, I have come to ask a favor
+of you.”
+
+The captain nodded, slowly, his gaze fixed upon his grandson's face.
+
+“All right; heave ahead,” he said quietly.
+
+“Grandfather, you and I have had a four years' agreement to work
+together in this office. It isn't up yet, but--but I want to break it. I
+want you to let me off.”
+
+“Humph! . . . Let you off, eh? . . . What for?”
+
+“That's what I came here to tell you. Grandfather, I can't stay
+here--now. I want to enlist.”
+
+Captain Zelotes did not answer. His hand moved upward and pulled at his
+beard.
+
+“I want to enlist,” repeated Albert. “I can't stand it another minute.
+I must. If it hadn't been for you and our promise and--and Madeline, I
+think I should have joined the Canadian Army a year or more ago. But now
+that we have gone into the war, I CAN'T stay out. Grandfather, you don't
+want me to, do you? Of course you don't.”
+
+His grandfather appeared to ponder.
+
+“If you can wait a spell,” he said slowly, “I might be able to fix it
+so's you can get a chance for an officer's commission. I'd ought to have
+some pull somewheres, seems so.”
+
+Albert sniffed impatient disgust. “I don't want to get a commission--in
+that way,” he declared.
+
+“Humph! You'll find there's plenty that do, I shouldn't wonder.”
+
+“Perhaps, but I'm not one of them. And I don't care so much for a
+commission, unless I can earn it. And I don't want to stay here and
+study for it. I want to go now. I want to get into the thing. I don't
+want to wait.”
+
+Captain Lote leaned forward. His gray eyes snapped.
+
+“Want to fight, do you?” he queried.
+
+“You bet I do!”
+
+“All right, my boy, then go--and fight. I'd be ashamed of myself if I
+held you back a minute. Go and fight--and fight hard. I only wish to God
+I was young enough to go with you.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+
+And so, in this unexpected fashion, came prematurely the end of the
+four year trial agreement between Albert Speranza and Z. Snow and Co.
+Of course neither Captain Zelotes nor Albert admitted that it had ended.
+Each professed to regard the break as merely temporary.
+
+“You'll be back at that desk in a little while, Al,” said the captain,
+“addin' up figgers and tormentin' Issy.” And Albert's reply was
+invariably, “Why, of course, Grandfather.”
+
+He had dreaded his grandmother's reception of the news of his intended
+enlistment. Olive worshiped her daughter's boy and, although an ardent
+patriot, was by no means as fiercely belligerent as her husband. She
+prayed each night for the defeat of the Hun, whereas Captain Lote was
+for licking him first and praying afterwards. Albert feared a scene; he
+feared that she might be prostrated when she learned that he was to
+go to war. But she bore it wonderfully well, and as for the dreaded
+“scene,” there was none.
+
+“Zelotes says he thinks it's the right thing for you to do, Albert,” she
+said, “so I suppose I ought to think so, too. But, oh, my dear, DO you
+really feel that you must? I--it don't seem as I could bear to . . . but
+there, I mustn't talk so. It ain't a mite harder for me than it is for
+thousands of women all over this world. . . . And perhaps the government
+folks won't take you, anyway. Rachel said she read in the Item about
+some young man over in Bayport who was rejected because he had fat feet.
+She meant flat feet, I suppose, poor thing. Oh, dear me, I'm laughin',
+and it seems wicked to laugh a time like this. And when I think of you
+goin', Albert, I--I . . . but there, I promised Zelotes I wouldn't.
+. . . And they MAY not take you. . . . But oh, of course they will, of
+course they will! . . . I'm goin' to make you a chicken pie for dinner
+to-day; I know how you like it. . . . If only they MIGHT reject you!
+. . . But there, I said I wouldn't and I won't.”
+
+Rachel Ellis's opinion on the subject and her way of expressing that
+opinion were distinctly her own. Albert arose early in the morning
+following the announcement of his decision to enter the service. He had
+not slept well; his mind was too busy with problems and speculations
+to resign itself to sleep. He had tossed about until dawn and had then
+risen and sat down at the table in his bedroom to write Madeline of
+the step he had determined to take. He had not written her while he was
+considering that step. He felt, somehow, that he alone with no pressure
+from without should make the decision. Now that it was made, and
+irrevocably made, she must of course be told. Telling her, however, was
+not an easy task. He was sure she would agree that he had done the right
+thing, the only thing, but--
+
+“It is going to be very hard for you, dear,” he wrote, heedless of
+the fact that Mrs. Fosdick's censorious eye would see and condemn the
+“dear.” “It is going to be hard for both of us. But I am sure you will
+feel as I do that I COULDN'T do anything else. I am young and strong and
+fit and I am an American. I MUST go. You see it, don't you, Madeline. I
+can hardly wait until your letter comes telling me that you feel I did
+just the thing you would wish me to do.”
+
+He hesitated and then, even more regardless of the censor, added the
+quotation which countless young lovers were finding so apt just then:
+
+
+     “I could not love thee, dear, so much,
+        Loved I not honor more.”
+
+
+So when, fresh from the intimacy of this communication with his adored
+and with the letter in his hand, he entered the sitting-room at that
+early hour he was not overjoyed to find the housekeeper there ahead
+of him. And her first sentence showed that she had been awaiting his
+coming.
+
+“Good mornin', Albert,” she said. “I heard you stirrin' 'round up in
+your room and I came down here so's you and I could talk together for a
+minute without anybody's disturbin' us. . . . Humph! I guess likely you
+didn't sleep any too well last night, did you?”
+
+Albert shook his head. “Not too well, Rachel,” he replied.
+
+“I shouldn't wonder. Well, I doubt if there was too much sleep anywheres
+in this house last night. So you're really goin' to war, are you,
+Albert?”
+
+“Yes. If the war will let me I certainly am.”
+
+“Dear, dear! . . . Well, I--I think it's what Robert Penfold would have
+done if he was in your place. I've been goin' over it and goin' over it
+half the night, myself, and I've come to that conclusion. It's goin' to
+be awful hard on your grandma and grandfather and me and Labe, all us
+folks here at home, but I guess it's the thing you'd ought to do, the
+Penfold kind of thing.”
+
+Albert smiled. “I'm glad you think so, Rachel,” he said.
+
+“Well, I do, and if I'm goin' to tell the truth I might as well say I
+tried terrible hard to find some good reasons for thinkin' 'twan't. I
+did SO! But the only good reasons I could scare up for makin' you stay
+to home was because home was safe and comf'table and where you was goin'
+wan't. And that kind of reasonin' might do fust-rate for a passel
+of clams out on the flats, but it wouldn't be much credit to decent,
+self-respectin' humans. When General Rolleson came to that island and
+found his daughter and Robert Penfold livin' there in that house made
+out of pearls he'd built for her--Wan't that him all over! Another man,
+the common run of man, would have been satisfied to build her a house
+out of wood and lucky to get that, but no, nothin' would do him
+but pearls, and if they'd have been di'monds he'd have been better
+satisfied. Well. . . . Where was I? . . . Oh yes! When General Rolleson
+came there and says to his daughter, 'Helen, you come home along of
+me,' and she says, 'No, I shan't leave him,' meanin' Robert Penfold, you
+understand--When she says that did Robert Penfold say, 'That's the talk!
+Put that in your pipe, old man, and smoke it?' No, SIR, he didn't! He
+says, 'Helen, you go straight home along with your pa and work like fury
+till you find out who forged that note and laid it onto me. You find
+that out,' he says, 'and then you can come fetch me and not afore.'
+That's the kind of man HE was! And they sailed off and left him behind.”
+
+Albert shook his head. He had heard only about half of the housekeeper's
+story. “Pretty rough on him, I should say,” he commented, absently.
+
+“I GUESS 'twas rough on him, poor thing! But 'twas his duty and so he
+done it. It was rough on Helen, havin' to go and leave him, but 'twas
+rougher still on him. It's always roughest, seems to me,” she added,
+“on the ones that's left behind. Those that go have somethin' to take up
+their minds and keep 'em from thinkin' too much. The ones that stay to
+home don't have much to do EXCEPT think. I hope you don't get the notion
+that I feel your part of it is easy, Al. Only a poor, crazy idiot could
+read the papers these days and feel that any part of this war was EASY!
+It's awful, but--but it WILL keep you too busy to think, maybe.”
+
+“I shouldn't wonder, Rachel. I understand what you mean.”
+
+“We're all goin' to miss you, Albert. This house is goin' to be a pretty
+lonesome place, I cal'late. Your grandma'll miss you dreadful and so
+will I, but--but I have a notion that your grandpa's goin' to miss you
+more'n anybody else.”
+
+He shook his head. “Oh, not as much as all that, Rachel,” he said. “He
+and I have been getting on much better than we used to and we have come
+to understand each other better, but he is still disappointed in me. I'm
+afraid I don't count for much as a business man, you see; and, besides,
+Grandfather can never quite forget that I am the son of what he calls a
+Portygee play actor.”
+
+Mrs. Ellis looked at him earnestly. “He's forgettin' it better every
+day, Albert,” she said. “I do declare I never believed Capt'n Lote Snow
+could forget it the way he's doin'. And you--well, you've forgot a whole
+lot, too. Memory's a good thing, the land knows,” she added, sagely,
+“but a nice healthy forgetery is worth consider'ble--some times and in
+some cases.”
+
+Issachar Price's comments on his fellow employee's decision to become a
+soldier were pointed. Issy was disgusted.
+
+“For thunder sakes, Al,” he demanded, “'tain't true that you've enlisted
+to go to war and fight them Germans, is it?”
+
+Albert smiled. “I guess it is, Issy,” he replied.
+
+“Well, by crimus!”
+
+“Somebody had to go, you see, Is.”
+
+“Well, by crimustee!”
+
+“What's the matter, Issy? Don't you approve?”
+
+“Approve! No, by crimus, I don't approve! I think it's a divil of a
+note, that's what I think.”
+
+“Why?”
+
+“WHY? Who's goin' to do the work in this office while you're gone? Labe
+and me, that's who; and I'll do the heft of it. Slavin' myself half to
+death as 'tis and now--Oh, by crimustee! This war is a darned nuisance.
+It hadn't ought to be allowed. There'd ought to be a law against it.”
+
+But of all the interviews which followed Albert's decision the most
+surprising and that which he was the least likely to forget was his
+interview with Laban Keeler. It took place on the evening of the third
+day following the announcement of his intention to enlist. All that day,
+and indeed for several days, Albert had noted in the little bookkeeper
+certain symptoms, familiar symptoms they were and from experience the
+young man knew what they portended. Laban was very nervous, his fingers
+twitched as he wrote, occasionally he rose from his chair and walked
+up and down the room, he ran his hand through his scanty hair, he was
+inclined to be irritable--that is, irritable for him. Albert had noted
+the symptoms and was sorry. Captain Zelotes noted them and frowned and
+pulled his beard.
+
+“Al,” he said to his grandson, “if you can put off goin' up to enlist
+for a little spell, a few days, I wish you would. Labe's gettin' ready
+to go on one of his vacations.”
+
+Albert nodded. “I'm afraid he is,” he said.
+
+“Oh, it's as sartin as two and two makes four. I've lived with him
+too many years not to know the signs. And I did hope,” he added,
+regretfully, “that maybe he was tryin' to break off. It's been a good
+long spell, an extry long spell, since he had his last spree. Ah hum!
+it's a pity a good man should have that weak spot in him, ain't it? But
+if you could hang around a few more days, while the vacation's goin' on,
+I'd appreciate it, Al. I kind of hate to be left here alone with nobody
+but Issachar to lean on. Issy's a good deal like a post in some ways,
+especially in the makeup of his head, but he's too ricketty to lean on
+for any length of time.”
+
+That evening Albert went to the post-office for the mail. On his way
+back as he passed the dark corner by the now closed and shuttered
+moving-picture theater he was hailed in a whisper.
+
+“Al,” said a voice, “Al.”
+
+Albert turned and peered into the deep shadow of the theater doorway. In
+the summer this doorway was a blaze of light and gaiety; now it was cold
+and bleak and black enough. From the shadow a small figure emerged on
+tiptoe.
+
+“Al,” whispered Mr. Keeler. “That's you, ain't it? Yes, yes--yes, yes,
+yes--I thought 'twas, I thought so.”
+
+Albert was surprised. For one thing it was most unusual to see the
+little bookkeeper abroad after nine-thirty. His usual evening procedure,
+when not on a vacation, was to call upon Rachel Ellis at the Snow place
+for an hour or so and then to return to his room over Simond's shoe
+store, which room he had occupied ever since the building was erected.
+
+There he read, so people said, until eleven sharp, when his lamp was
+extinguished. During or at the beginning of the vacation periods he
+usually departed for some unknown destination, destinations which,
+apparently, varied. He had been seen, hopelessly intoxicated, in
+Bayport, in Ostable, in Boston, once in Providence. When he returned he
+never seemed to remember exactly where he had been. And, as most people
+were fond of and pitied him, few questions were asked.
+
+“Why, Labe!” exclaimed Albert. “Is that you? What's the matter?”
+
+“Busy, are you, Al?” queried Laban. “In a hurry, eh? Are you? In a
+hurry, Al, eh?”
+
+“Why no, not especially.”
+
+“Could you--could you spare me two or three minutes? Two or three
+minutes--yes, yes? Come up to my room, could you--could you, Al?”
+
+“Yes indeed. But what is it, Labe?”
+
+“I want to talk. Want to talk, I do. Yes, yes, yes. Saw you go by and
+I've been waitin' for you. Waitin'--yes, I have--yes.”
+
+He seized his assistant by the arm and led him across the road toward
+the shoe store. Albert felt the hand on his arm tremble violently.
+
+“Are you cold, Labe?” he asked. “What makes you shiver so?”
+
+“Eh? Cold? No, I ain't cold--no, no, no. Come, Al, come.”
+
+Albert sniffed suspiciously, but no odor of alcohol rewarded the sniff.
+Neither was there any perfume of peppermint, Mr. Keeler's transparent
+camouflage at a vacation's beginning. And Laban was not humming the
+refrain glorifying his “darling hanky-panky.” Apparently he had not yet
+embarked upon the spree which Captain Lote had pronounced imminent. But
+why did he behave so queerly?
+
+“I ain't the way you think, Al,” declared the little man, divining his
+thought. “I'm just kind of shaky and nervous, that's all. That's all,
+that's all, that's all. Yes, yes. Come, come! COME!”
+
+The last “come” burst from him in an agony of impatience. Albert
+hastened up the narrow stairs, Laban leading the way. The latter fumbled
+with a key, his companion heard it rattling against the keyhole plate.
+Then the door opened. There was a lamp, its wick turned low, burning
+upon the table in the room. Mr. Keeler turned it up, making a trembly
+job of the turning. Albert looked about him; he had never been in that
+room before.
+
+It was a small room and there was not much furniture in it. And it was a
+neat room, for the room of an old bachelor who was his own chambermaid.
+Most things seemed to have places where they belonged and most of them
+appeared to be in those places. What impressed Albert even more was the
+number of books. There were books everywhere, in the cheap bookcase, on
+the pine shelf between the windows, piled in the corners, heaped on the
+table beside the lamp. They were worn and shabby volumes for the most
+part, some with but half a cover remaining, some with none. He picked up
+one of the latter. It was Locke on The Human Understanding; and next it,
+to his astonishment, was Alice's Adventures in Wonderland.
+
+Mr. Keeler looked over his shoulder and, for an instant, the whimsical
+smile which was characteristic of him curved his lip.
+
+“Philosophy, Al,” he observed. “If Locke don't suit you try the 'mad
+hatter' feller. I get consider'ble comfort out of the hatter, myself.
+Do you remember when the mouse was tellin' the story about the three
+sisters that lived in the well? He said they lived on everything that
+began with M. Alice says 'Why with an M?' And the hatter, or the March
+hare, I forget which 'twas, says prompt, 'Why not?' . . . Yes, yes, why
+not? that's what he said. . . . There's some philosophy in that, Al. Why
+does a hen go across the road? Why not? Why is Labe Keeler a disgrace to
+all his friends and the town he lives in? Why not? . . . Eh? . . . Yes,
+yes. That's it--why not?”
+
+He smiled again, but there was bitterness and not humor in the smile.
+Albert put a hand on his shoulder.
+
+“Why, Labe,” he asked, in concern, “what is it?”
+
+Laban turned away.
+
+“Don't mind, me, Al,” he said, hurriedly. “I mean don't mind if I act
+funny. I'm--I'm kind of--of--Oh, good Lord A'mighty, DON'T look at me
+like that! . . . I beg your pardon, Al. I didn't mean to bark like a dog
+at you. No, I didn't--no, no. Forgive me, will you? Will you, Al, eh?”
+
+“Of course I will. But what is the matter, Labe? Sit down and tell me
+about it.”
+
+Instead of sitting the little bookkeeper began to walk up and down.
+
+“Don't mind me, Al,” he said, hurriedly. “Don't mind me. Let me go my
+own gait. My own gait--yes, yes. You see, Al, I--I'm tryin' to enlist,
+same as you're goin' to do, and--and MY fight's begun already. Yes
+indeed--yes, yes--it has so.”
+
+Albert was more astonished than ever. There was no smell of alcohol, and
+Keeler had declared that he had not been drinking; but--
+
+“You're going to ENLIST?” repeated Albert. “YOU? Why, Labe, what--”
+
+Laban laughed nervously. “Not to kill the Kaiser,” he replied. “No, no,
+not that--not exactly. I'd like to, only I wouldn't be much help that
+way. But--but Al, I--I want to do somethin'. I--I'd like to try to
+show--I'd like to be an American, a decent American, and the best way
+to begin, seems to me, is to try and be a man, a decent man. Eh? You
+understand, I--I--Oh, Lord, what a mess I am makin' of this! I--I--Al,”
+ turning and desperately waving his hands, “I'm goin' to try to swear
+off. Will you help me?”
+
+Albert's answer was enthusiastic. “You bet I will!” he exclaimed. Keeler
+smiled pathetically.
+
+“It's goin' to be some job, I cal'late,” he said. “Some job, yes, yes.
+But I'm goin' to try it, Al. I read in the papers 'tother day that
+America needed every man. Then you enlisted, Al,--or you're goin' to
+enlist. It set me to thinkin' I'd try to enlist, too. For the duration
+of the war, eh? Yes, yes.”
+
+“Good for you, Labe! Bully!”
+
+Laban held up a protesting hand. “Don't hurrah yet, Al,” he said. “This
+ain't the first time I've tried it. I've swore off a dozen times in the
+last fifteen years. I've promised Rachel and broke the promise over and
+over again. Broke my promise to her, the best woman in the world. Shows
+what I am, what sort I am, don't it, Al? Yes, it does,--yes, yes. And
+she's stuck by me, too, Lord knows why. Last time I broke it I said I'd
+never promise her again. Bad enough to be a common drunk without bein' a
+liar--yes, yes. But this is a little different. Seems to me--seems so.”
+
+He began his pacing up and down again.
+
+“Seems different, somehow,” he went on. “Seems like a new chance. I want
+to do somethin' for Uncle Sam. I--I'd like to try and enlist for the
+duration of the war--swear off for that long, anyhow. Then, maybe, I'd
+be able to keep on for life, you know--duration of Labe Keeler, eh? Yes,
+yes, yes. But I could begin for just the war, couldn't I? Maybe, 'twould
+fool me into thinkin' that was easier.”
+
+“Of course, Labe. It's a good idea.”
+
+“Maybe; and maybe it's a fool one. But I'm goin' to try it. I AM tryin'
+it, have been all day.”
+
+He paused, drew a shaking hand across his forehead and then asked, “Al,
+will you help me? I asked you up here hopin' you would. Will you, Al,
+eh? Will you?”
+
+Albert could not understand how he could possibly help another man keep
+the pledge, but his promise was eagerly given.
+
+“Certainly, Labe,” he said.
+
+“Thanks . . . thank you, Al. . . . And now will you do something for
+me--a favor?”
+
+“Gladly. What is it?”
+
+Laban did not answer at once. He appeared to be on the point of
+doing so, but to be struggling either to find words or to overcome a
+tremendous reluctance. When he did speak the words came in a burst.
+
+“Go down stairs,” he cried. “Down those stairs you came up. At the foot
+of 'em, in a kind of cupboard place, under 'em, there's--there probably
+is a jug, a full jug. It was due to come by express to-day and I
+cal'late it did, cal'late Jim Young fetched it down this afternoon. I--I
+could have looked for myself and seen if 'twas there,” he added, after
+a momentary hesitation, “but--but I didn't dare to. I was afraid
+I'd--I'd--”
+
+“All right, Labe. I understand. What do you want me to do with it if it
+is there?”
+
+“I want you--I want you to--to--” The little bookkeeper seemed to be
+fighting another internal battle between inclination and resolution. The
+latter won, for he finished with, “I want you to take it out back of the
+buildin' and--and empty it. That's what I want you to do, empty it, Al,
+every drop. . . . And, for the Almighty's sake, go quick,” he ordered,
+desperately, “or I'll tell you not to before you start. Go!”
+
+Albert went. He fumbled in the cupboard under the stairs, found the
+jug--a large one and heavy--and hastened out into the night with it in
+his hands. Behind the shoe store, amid a heap of old packing boxes
+and other rubbish, he emptied it. The process was rather lengthy and
+decidedly fragrant. As a finish he smashed the jug with a stone. Then he
+climbed the stairs again.
+
+Laban was waiting for him, drops of perspiration upon his forehead.
+
+“Was--was it there?” he demanded.
+
+Albert nodded.
+
+“Yes, yes. 'Twas there, eh? And did you--did you--?”
+
+“Yes, I did, jug and all.”
+
+“Thank you, Al . . . thank you . . . I--I've been trying to muster up
+spunk enough to do it myself, but--but I swan I couldn't. I didn't dast
+to go nigh it . . . I'm a fine specimen, ain't I, now?” he added, with a
+twisted smile. “Some coward, eh? Yes, yes. Some coward.”
+
+Albert, realizing a little of the fight the man was making, was affected
+by it. “You're a brick, Labe,” he declared, heartily. “And as for being
+a coward--Well, if I am half as brave when my turn comes I shall be
+satisfied.”
+
+Laban shook his head. “I don't know how scared I'd be of a German
+bombshell,” he said, “but I'm everlastin' sure I wouldn't run from it
+for fear of runnin' towards it, and that's how I felt about that jug.
+. . . Yes, yes, yes. I did so . . . I'm much obliged to you, Al. I shan't
+forget it--no, no. I cal'late you can trot along home now, if you want
+to. I'm pretty safe--for to-night, anyhow. Guess likely the new recruit
+won't desert afore morning.”
+
+But Albert, watching him intently, refused to go.
+
+“I'm going to stay for a while, Labe,” he said. “I'm not a bit sleepy,
+really. Let's have a smoke and talk together. That is, of course, unless
+you want to go to bed.”
+
+Mr. Keeler smiled his twisted smile. “I ain't crazy to,” he said. “The
+way I feel now I'd get to sleep about week after next. But I hadn't
+ought to keep you up, Al.”
+
+“Rubbish! I'm not sleepy, I tell you. Sit down. Have a cigar. Now what
+shall we talk about? How would books do? What have you been reading
+lately, Labe?”
+
+They smoked and talked books until nearly two. Then Laban insisted upon
+his guest departing. “I'm all right, Al” he declared, earnestly. “I am
+honest--yes, yes, I am. I'll go to sleep like a lamb, yes indeed.”
+
+“You'll be at the office in the morning, won't you, Labe?”
+
+The little bookkeeper nodded. “I'll be there,” he said. “Got to answer
+roll call the first mornin' after enlistment. Yes, yes. I'll be there,
+Al.”
+
+He was there, but he did not look as if his indulgence in the lamb-like
+sleep had been excessive. He was so pale and haggard that his assistant
+was alarmed.
+
+“You're not sick, are you, Labe?” he asked, anxiously. Laban shook his
+head.
+
+“No,” he said. “No, I ain't sick. Been doin' picket duty up and down the
+room since half past three, that's all. Um-hm, that's all. Say, Al, if
+General what's-his-name--er--von Hindenburg--is any harder scrapper
+than old Field Marshal Barleycorn he's a pretty tough one. Say, Al, you
+didn't say anything about--about my--er--enlistin' to Cap'n Lote, did
+you? I meant to ask you not to.”
+
+“I didn't, Labe. I thought you might want it kept a secret.”
+
+“Um-hm. Better keep it in the ranks until we know how this
+first--er--skirmish is comin' out. Yes, yes. Better keep it that way.
+Um-hm.”
+
+All day he stuck manfully at his task and that evening, immediately
+after supper, Albert went to the room over the shoe store, found him
+there and insisted upon his coming over to call upon Rachel. He had not
+intended doing so.
+
+“You see, Al,” he explained, “I'm--I'm kind of--er--shaky and Rachel
+will be worried, I'm afraid. She knows me pretty well and she'll
+cal'late I'm just gettin' ready to--to bust loose again.”
+
+Albert interrupted. “No, she won't, Laban,” he said. “We'll show her
+that you're not.”
+
+“You won't say anything to her about my--er--enlistin', Al? Don't.
+No, no. I've promised her too many times--and broke the promises. If
+anything should come of this fight of mine I'd rather she'd find it out
+for herself. Better to surprise her than to disapp'int her. Yes, yes,
+lots better.”
+
+Albert promised not to tell Rachel and so Laban made his call. When it
+was over the young man walked home with him and the pair sat and talked
+until after midnight, just as on the previous night. The following
+evening it was much the same, except that, as Mr. Keeler pronounced
+himself more than usually “shaky” and expressed a desire to “keep
+movin',” they walked half way to Orham and back before parting. By the
+end of the week Laban declared the fight won--for the time.
+
+“You've pulled me through the fust tussle, Al,” he said. “I shan't
+desert now, not till the next break-out, anyhow. I cal'late it'll get me
+harder than ever then. Harder than ever--yes, yes. And you won't be here
+to help me, neither.”
+
+“Never mind; I shall be thinking of you, Labe. And I know you're going
+to win. I feel it in my bones.”
+
+“Um-hm. . . . Yes, yes, yes. . . In your bones, eh? Well, MY bones don't
+seem to feel much, except rheumatics once in a while. I hope yours
+are better prophets, but I wouldn't want to bet too high on it. No, I
+wouldn't--no, no. However, we'll do our best, and they say angels can't
+do any more--though they'd probably do it in a different way . . . some
+different. . . . Um-hm. . . . Yes, indeed.”
+
+Two letters came to Albert before that week ended. The first was from
+Madeline. He had written her of his intention to enlist and this was her
+reply. The letter had evidently been smuggled past the censor, for it
+contained much which Mrs. Fosdick would have blue-penciled. Its contents
+were a blend of praise and blame, of exaltation and depression. He was
+a hero, and so brave, and she was so proud of him. It was wonderful his
+daring to go, and just what she would have expected of her hero. If only
+she might see him in his uniform. So many of the fellows she knew had
+enlisted. They were wonderfully brave, too, although of course nothing
+like as wonderful as her own etcetera, etcetera. She had seen some of
+THEM in their uniforms and they were PERFECTLY SPLENDID. But they
+were officers, or they were going to be. Why wasn't he going to be an
+officer? It was so much nicer to be an officer. And if he were one he
+might not have to go away to fight nearly so soon. Officers stayed here
+longer and studied, you know. Mother had said something about “a common
+private,” and she did not like it. But never mind, she would be just as
+proud no matter what he was. And she should dream of him and think of
+him always and always. And perhaps he might be so brave and wonderful
+that he would be given one of those war crosses, the Croix de Guerre or
+something. She was sure he would. But oh, no matter what happened, he
+must not go where it was TOO dangerous. Suppose he should be wounded.
+Oh, suppose, SUPPOSE he should be killed. What would she do then? What
+would become of her? MUST he go, after all? Couldn't he stay at home and
+study or something, for a while, you know? She should be so lonely after
+he was gone. And so frightened and so anxious. And he wouldn't forget
+her, would he, no matter where he went? Because she never, never, never
+would forget him for a moment. And he must write every day. And--
+
+The letter was fourteen pages long.
+
+The other letter was a surprise. It was from Helen. The Reverend Mr.
+Kendall had been told of Albert's intended enlistment and had written
+his daughter.
+
+
+So you are going into the war, Albert (she wrote). I am not surprised
+because I expected you would do just that. It is what all of us would
+like to do, I'm sure, and you were always anxious to go, even before the
+United States came in. So I am writing this merely to congratulate you
+and to wish you the very best of good luck. Father says you are not
+going to try for a commission but intend enlisting as a private. I
+suppose that is because you think you may get to the actual fighting
+sooner. I think I understand and appreciate that feeling too, but are
+you sure it is the best plan? You want to be of the greatest service
+to the country and with your education and brains--This ISN'T flattery,
+because it is true--don't you think you might help more if you were in
+command of men? Of course I don't know, being only a girl, but I have
+been wondering. No doubt you know best and probably it is settled before
+this; at any rate, please don't think that I intend butting in. “Butting
+in” is not at all a proper expression for a schoolmarm to use but it is
+a relief to be human occasionally. Whatever you do I am sure will be the
+right thing and I know all your friends are going to be very, very proud
+of you. I shall hear of you through the people at home, I know, and
+I shall be anxious to hear. I don't know what I shall do to help the
+cause, but I hope to do something. A musket is prohibitive to females
+but the knitting needle is ours and I CAN handle that, if I do say it.
+And I MAY go in for Red Cross work altogether. But I don't count much,
+and you men do, and this is your day. Please, for the sake of your
+grandparents and all your friends, don't take unnecessary chances. I can
+see your face as you read that and think that I am a silly idiot. I'm
+not and I mean what I say. You see I know YOU and I know you will not be
+content to do the ordinary thing. We want you to distinguish yourself,
+but also we want you to come back whole and sound, if it is possible.
+We shall think of you a great deal. And please, in the midst of the
+excitement of the BIG work you are doing, don't forget us home folk,
+including your friend,
+
+HELEN KENDALL.
+
+
+Albert's feelings when he read this letter were divided. He enjoyed
+hearing from Helen. The letter was just like herself, sensible and
+good-humored and friendly. There were no hysterics in it and no
+heroics but he knew that no one except his grandparents and Rachel and
+Laban--and, of course, his own Madeline--would think of him oftener or
+be more anxious for his safety and welfare than Helen. He was glad she
+was his friend, very glad. But he almost wished she had not written. He
+felt a bit guilty at having received the letter. He was pretty sure
+that Madeline would not like the idea. He was tempted to say nothing
+concerning it in his next letter to his affianced, but that seemed
+underhanded and cowardly, so he told her. And in her next letter to him
+Madeline made no reference at all to Helen or her epistle, so he knew
+she was displeased. And he was miserable in consequence.
+
+But his misery did not last long. The happenings which followed crowded
+it from his mind, and from Madeline's also, for that matter. One
+morning, having told no one except his grandfather of his intention, he
+took the morning train to Boston. When he returned the next day he
+was Uncle Sam's man, sworn in and accepted. He had passed the physical
+examination with flying colors and the recruiting officers expressed
+themselves as being glad to get him. He was home for but one day leave,
+then he must go to stay. He had debated the question of going in for a
+commission, but those were the early days of our participation in
+the war and a Plattsburg training or at least some sort of military
+education was almost an essential. He did not want to wait; as he had
+told his grandfather, he wanted to fight. So he enlisted as a private.
+
+And when the brief leave was over he took the train for Boston, no
+longer Alberto Miguel Carlos Speranza, South Harniss's Beau Brummel,
+poet and Portygee, but Private Speranza, U.S.A. The farewells were brief
+and no one cried--much. His grandmother hugged and kissed him, Rachel
+looked very much as if she wanted to. Laban and Issachar shook hands
+with him.
+
+“Good luck to you, boy,” said Mr. Keeler. “All the luck there is.”
+
+“Same to you, old man,” replied Albert. Then, in a lower tone, he added,
+“We'll fight it out together, eh?”
+
+“We'll try. Yes, yes. We'll try. So long, Al.”
+
+Issachar struck the reassuring note. “Don't fret about things in the
+office,” he said. “I'll look out for 'em long's I keep my health.”
+
+“Be sure and keep that, Issy.”
+
+“You bet you! Only thing that's liable to break it down is over-work.”
+
+Captain Zelotes said very little. “Write us when you can, Al,” he said.
+“And come home whenever you get leave.”
+
+“You may be sure of that, Grandfather. And after I get to camp perhaps
+you can come and see me.”
+
+“Maybe so. Will if I can. . . . Well, Al, I . . . I. . . . Good luck to
+you, son.”
+
+“Thank you, Grandfather.”
+
+They shook hands. Each looked as if there was more he would have liked
+to say but found the saying hard. Then the engine bell rang and the
+hands fell apart. The little group on the station platform watched
+the train disappear. Mrs. Snow and Rachel wiped their eyes with their
+handkerchiefs. Captain Zelotes gently patted his wife's shoulder.
+
+“The team's waitin', Mother,” he said. “Labe'll drive you and Rachel
+home.”
+
+“But--but ain't you comin', too, Zelotes?” faltered Olive. Her husband
+shook his head.
+
+“Not now, Mother,” he answered. “Got to go back to the office.”
+
+He stood for an instant looking at the faint smear of smoke above the
+curve in the track. Then, without another word, he strode off in the
+direction of Z. Snow and Co.'s buildings. Issachar Price sniffed.
+
+“Crimus,” he whispered to Laban, as the latter passed him on the way to
+where Jessamine, the Snow horse, was tied, “the old man takes it cool,
+don't he! I kind of imagined he'd be sort of shook up by Al's goin' off
+to war, but he don't seem to feel it a mite.”
+
+Keeler looked at him in wonder. Then he drew a long breath.
+
+“Is,” he said, slowly, “it is a mighty good thing for the Seven Wise Men
+of Greece that they ain't alive now.”
+
+It was Issachar's turn to stare. “Eh?” he queried. “The Seven Wise Men
+of Which? Good thing for 'em they ain't alive? What kind of talk's that?
+Why is it a good thing?”
+
+Laban spoke over his shoulder. “Because,” he drawled, “if they was alive
+now they'd be so jealous of you they'd commit suicide. Yes, they would.
+. . . Yes, yes.”
+
+With which enigmatical remark he left Mr. Price and turned his attention
+to the tethered Jessamine.
+
+And then began a new period, a new life at the Snow place and in the
+office of Z. Snow and Co. Or, rather, life in the old house and at the
+lumber and hardware office slumped back into the groove in which it had
+run before the opera singer's son was summoned from the New York school
+to the home and into the lives of his grandparents. Three people instead
+of four sat down at the breakfast table and at dinner and at supper.
+Captain Zelotes walked alone to and from the office. Olive Snow no
+longer baked and iced large chocolate layer cakes because a certain
+inmate of her household was so fond of them. Rachel Ellis discussed
+Foul Play and Robert Penfold with no one. The house was emptier, more
+old-fashioned and behind the times, more lonely--surprisingly empty and
+behind the times and lonely.
+
+The daily mails became matters of intense interest and expectation.
+Albert wrote regularly and of course well and entertainingly. He
+described the life at the camp where he and the other recruits were
+training, a camp vastly different from the enormous military towns built
+later on for housing and training the drafted men. He liked the life
+pretty well, he wrote, although it was hard and a fellow had precious
+little opportunity to be lazy. Mistakes, too, were unprofitable for the
+maker. Captain Lote's eye twinkled when he read that.
+
+Later on he wrote that he had been made a corporal and his grandmother,
+to whom a major general and a corporal were of equal rank, rejoiced much
+both at home and in church after meeting was over and friends came to
+hear the news. Mrs. Ellis declared herself not surprised. It was the
+Robert Penfold in him coming out, so she said.
+
+A month or two later one of Albert's letters contained an interesting
+item of news. In the little spare time which military life afforded him
+he continued to write verse and stories. Now a New York publisher, not
+one of the most prominent but a reputable and enterprising one, had
+written him suggesting the collecting of his poems and their publication
+in book form. The poet himself was, naturally, elated.
+
+“Isn't it splendid!” he wrote. “The best part of it, of course, is that
+he asked to publish, I did not ask him. Please send me my scrapbook and
+all loose manuscript. When the book will come out I'm sure I don't know.
+In fact it may never come out, we have not gotten as far as terms and
+contracts yet, but I feel we shall. Send the scrapbook and manuscript
+right away, PLEASE.”
+
+They were sent. In his next letter Albert was still enthusiastic.
+
+“I have been looking over my stuff,” he wrote, “and some of it is pretty
+good, if you don't mind my saying so. Tell Grandfather that when this
+book of mine is out and selling I may be able to show him that poetry
+making isn't a pauper's job, after all. Of course I don't know how much
+it will sell--perhaps not more than five or ten thousand at first--but
+even at ten thousand at, say, twenty-five cents royalty each, would be
+twenty-five hundred dollars, and that's something. Why, Ben Hur, the
+novel, you know, has sold a million, I believe.”
+
+Mrs. Snow and Rachel were duly impressed by this prophecy of affluence,
+but Captain Zelotes still played the skeptic.
+
+“A million at twenty-five cents a piece!” exclaimed Olive. “Why,
+Zelotes, that's--that's an awful sight of money.”
+
+Mental arithmetic failing her, she set to work with a pencil and paper
+and after a strenuous struggle triumphantly announced that it came to
+two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.
+
+“My soul and body!” she cried. “Two hundred and fifty thousand DOLLARS!
+My SOUL, Zelotes! Suppose--only suppose Albert's book brought him in as
+much as that!”
+
+Her husband shook his head. “I can't, Olive,” he said, without looking
+up from his newspaper. “My supposer wouldn't stand the strain.”
+
+“But it might, Zelotes, it MIGHT. Suppose it did, what would you say
+then?”
+
+The captain regarded her over the top of the Transcript. “I shouldn't
+say a word, Olive,” he answered, solemnly. “I should be down sick by the
+time it got up as far as a thousand, and anything past two thousand
+you could use to buy my tombstone with. . . . There, there, Mother,”
+ he added, noticing the hurt look on her face, “don't feel bad. I'm only
+jokin'. One of these days Al's goin' to make a nice, comf'table livin'
+sellin' lumber and hardware right here in South Harniss. I can SEE that
+money in the offin'. All this million or two that's comin' from poetry
+and such is out of sight in the fog. It may be there but--humph! well, I
+KNOW where Z. Snow and Co. is located.”
+
+Olive was not entirely placated. “I must say I think you're awful
+discouragin' to the poor boy, Zelotes,” she said. Her husband put down
+his paper.
+
+“No, no, I ain't, Mother,” he replied, earnestly. “At least I don't mean
+to be. Way I look at it, this poetry-makin' and writin' yarns and that
+sort of stuff is just part of the youngster's--er--growin' up, as you
+might say. Give him time he'll grow out of it, same as I cal'late he
+will out of this girl business, this--er--Madel--humph--er--ahem. . . .
+Looks like a good day to-morrow, don't it.”
+
+He pulled up suddenly, and with considerable confusion. He had kept the
+news of his grandson's infatuation and engagement even from his wife.
+No one in South Harniss knew of it, no one except the captain. Helen
+Kendall knew, but she was in Boston.
+
+Rachel Ellis picked up the half knitted Red Cross mitten in her lap.
+“Well, I don't know whether he's right or you are, Cap'n Lote,” she
+said, with a sigh, “but this I do know--I wish this awful war was over
+and he was back home again.”
+
+That remark ended the conversation. Olive resumed her own knitting,
+seeing it but indistinctly. Her husband did not continue his newspaper
+reading. Instead he rose and, saying something about cal'latin' he would
+go for a little walk before turning in, went out into the yard.
+
+But the war did not end, it went on; so too did the enlisting and
+training. In the early summer Albert came home for a two days' leave. He
+was broader and straighter and browner. His uniform became him and, more
+than ever, the eyes of South Harniss's youthful femininity, native or
+imported, followed him as he walked the village streets. But the glances
+were not returned, not in kind, that is. The new Fosdick home, although
+completed, was not occupied. Mrs. Fosdick had, that summer, decided
+that her duties as mover in goodness knows how many war work activities
+prevented her taking her “usual summer rest.” Instead she and Madeline
+occupied a rented villa at Greenwich, Connecticut, coming into town
+for meetings of all sorts. Captain Zelotes had his own suspicions as to
+whether war work alone was the cause of the Fosdicks' shunning of what
+was to have been their summer home, but he kept those suspicions to
+himself. Albert may have suspected also, but he, too, said nothing. The
+censored correspondence between Greenwich and the training camp traveled
+regularly, and South Harniss damsels looked and longed in vain. He
+saw them, he bowed to them, he even addressed them pleasantly and
+charmingly, but to him they were merely incidents in his walks to and
+from the post-office. In his mind's eye he saw but one, and she, alas,
+was not present in the flesh.
+
+Then he returned to the camp where, later on, Captain Zelotes and Olive
+visited him. As they came away the captain and his grandson exchanged a
+few significant words.
+
+“It is likely to be almost any time, Grandfather,” said Albert, quietly.
+“They are beginning to send them now, as you know by the papers, and we
+have had the tip that our turn will be soon. So--”
+
+Captain Lote grasped the significance of the uncompleted sentence.
+
+“I see, Al,” he answered, “I see. Well, boy, I--I--Good luck.”
+
+“Good luck, Grandfather.”
+
+That was all, that and one more handclasp. Our Anglo-Saxon inheritance
+descends upon us in times like these. The captain was silent for most of
+the ride to the railroad station.
+
+Then followed a long, significant interval during which there were no
+letters from the young soldier. After this a short reassuring cablegram
+from “Somewhere in France.” “Safe. Well,” it read and Olive Snow carried
+it about with her, in the bosom of her gown, all that afternoon and put
+it upon retiring on her bureau top so that she might see it the first
+thing in the morning.
+
+Another long interval, then letters, the reassuring but so tantalizingly
+unsatisfactory letters we American families were, just at that time,
+beginning to receive. Reading the newspapers now had a personal
+interest, a terrifying, dreadful interest. Then the packing and sending
+of holiday boxes, over the contents of which Olive and Rachel spent much
+careful planning and anxious preparation. Then another interval of more
+letters, letters which hinted vaguely at big things just ahead.
+
+Then no letter for more than a month.
+
+And then, one noon, as Captain Zelotes returned to his desk after the
+walk from home and dinner, Laban Keeler came in and stood beside that
+desk.
+
+The captain, looking up, saw the little bookkeeper's face. “What is it,
+Labe?” he asked, sharply.
+
+Laban held a yellow envelope in his hand.
+
+“It came while you were gone to dinner, Cap'n,” he said. “Ben Kelley
+fetched it from the telegraph office himself. He--he said he didn't
+hardly want to take it to the house. He cal'lated you'd better have it
+here, to read to yourself, fust. That's what he said--yes, yes--that's
+what 'twas, Cap'n.”
+
+Slowly Captain Zelotes extended his hand for the envelope. He did not
+take his eyes from the bookkeeper's face.
+
+“Ben--Ben, he told me what was in it, Cap'n Lote,” faltered Laban. “I--I
+don't know what to say to you, I don't--no, no.”
+
+Without a word the captain took the envelope from Keeler's fingers, and
+tore it open. He read the words upon the form within.
+
+Laban leaned forward.
+
+“For the Lord sakes, Lote Snow,” he cried, in a burst of agony,
+“why couldn't it have been some darn good-for-nothin' like me
+instead--instead of him? Oh, my God A'mighty, what a world this is! WHAT
+a world!”
+
+Still Captain Zelotes said nothing. His eyes were fixed upon the yellow
+sheet of paper on the desk before him. After a long minute he spoke.
+
+“Well,” he said, very slowly, “well, Labe, there goes--there goes Z.
+Snow and Company.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+
+The telegram from the War Department was brief, as all such telegrams
+were perforce obliged to be. The Secretary of War, through his
+representative, regretted to inform Captain Zelotes Snow that Sergeant
+Albert Speranza had been killed in action upon a certain day. It was
+enough, however--for the time quite enough. It was not until later
+that the little group of South Harniss recovered sufficiently from the
+stunning effect of those few words to think of seeking particulars.
+Albert was dead; what did it matter, then, to know how he died?
+
+Olive bore the shock surprisingly well. Her husband's fears for her
+seemed quite unnecessary. The Captain, knowing how she had idolized her
+daughter's boy, had dreaded the effect which the news might have upon
+her. She was broken down by it, it is true, but she was quiet and
+brave--astonishingly, wonderfully quiet and brave. And it was she,
+rather than her husband, who played the part of the comforter in those
+black hours.
+
+“He's gone, Zelotes,” she said. “It don't seem possible, I know, but
+he's gone. And he died doin' his duty, same as he would have wanted
+to die if he'd known 'twas comin', poor boy. So--so we must do ours,
+I suppose, and bear up under it the very best we can. It won't be very
+long, Zelotes,” she added. “We're both gettin' old.”
+
+Captain Lote made no reply. He was standing by the window of the
+sitting-room looking out into the wet backyard across which the
+wind-driven rain was beating in stormy gusts.
+
+“We must be brave, Zelotes,” whispered Olive, tremulously. “He'd want us
+to be and we MUST be.”
+
+He put his arm about her in a sudden heat of admiration. “I'd be ashamed
+not to be after seein' you, Mother,” he exclaimed.
+
+He went out to the barn a few moments later and Rachel, entering the
+sitting-room, found Olive crumpled down in the big rocker in an agony of
+grief.
+
+“Oh, don't, Mrs. Snow, don't,” she begged, the tears streaming down her
+own cheeks. “You mustn't give way to it like this; you mustn't.”
+
+Olive nodded.
+
+“I know it, I know it,” she admitted, chokingly, wiping her eyes with a
+soaked handkerchief. “I shan't, Rachel, only this once, I promise you.
+You see I can't. I just can't on Zelotes's account. I've got to bear up
+for his sake.”
+
+The housekeeper was surprised and a little indignant.
+
+“For his sake!” she repeated. “For mercy sakes why for his sake? Is it
+any worse for him than 'tis for you.”
+
+“Oh, yes, yes, lots worse. He won't say much, of course, bein' Zelotes
+Snow, but you and I know how he's planned, especially these last years,
+and how he's begun to count on--on Albert. . . . No, no, I ain't goin'
+to cry, Rachel, I ain't--I WON'T--but sayin' his name, you know, kind
+of--”
+
+“I know, I know. Land sakes, DON'T I know! Ain't I doin' it myself?”
+
+“Course you are, Rachel. But we mustn't when Zelotes is around. We
+women, we--well, times like these women HAVE to keep up. What would
+become of the men if we didn't?”
+
+So she and Rachel “kept up” in public and when the captain was present,
+and he for his part made no show of grief nor asked for pity. He was
+silent, talked little and to the callers who came either at the house or
+office was uncomplaining.
+
+“He died like a man,” he told the Reverend Mr. Kendall when the latter
+called. “He took his chance, knowin' what that meant--”
+
+“He was glad to take it,” interrupted the minister. “Proud and glad to
+take it.”
+
+“Sartin. Why not? Wouldn't you or I have been glad to take ours, if we
+could?”
+
+“Well, Captain Snow, I am glad to find you so resigned.”
+
+Captain Zelotes looked at him. “Resigned?” he repeated. “What do you
+mean by resigned? Not to sit around and whimper is one thing--any decent
+man or woman ought to be able to do that in these days; but if by bein'
+resigned you mean I'm contented to have it so--well, you're mistaken,
+that's all.”
+
+Only on one occasion, and then to Laban Keeler, did he open his shell
+sufficiently to give a glimpse of what was inside. Laban entered the
+inner office that morning to find his employer sitting in the desk
+chair, both hands jammed in his trousers' pockets and his gaze fixed,
+apparently, upon the row of pigeon-holes. When the bookkeeper spoke to
+him he seemed to wake from a dream, for he started and looked up.
+
+“Cap'n Lote,” began Keeler, “I'm sorry to bother you, but that last
+carload of pine was--”
+
+Captain Zelotes waved his hand, brushing the carload of pine out of the
+conversation.
+
+“Labe,” he said, slowly, “did it seem to you that I was too hard on
+him?”
+
+Laban did not understand. “Hard on him?” he repeated. “I don't know's I
+just get--”
+
+“Hard on Al. Did it seem to you as if I was a little too much of the
+bucko mate to the boy? Did I drive him too hard? Was I unreasonable?”
+
+The answer was prompt. “No, Cap'n Lote,” replied Keeler.
+
+“You mean that? . . . Um-hm. . . . Well, sometimes seems as if I might
+have been. You see, Labe, when he first come I--Well, I cal'late I
+was consider'ble prejudiced against him. Account of his father, you
+understand.”
+
+“Sartin. Sure. I understand.”
+
+“It took me a good while to get reconciled to the Portygee streak in
+him. It chafed me consider'ble to think there was a foreign streak in
+our family. The Snows have been straight Yankee for a good long while.
+. . . Fact is, I--I never got really reconciled to it. I kept bein'
+fearful all the time that that streak, his father's streak, would break
+out in him. It never did, except of course in his poetry and that sort
+of foolishness, but I was always scared 'twould, you see. And now--now
+that this has happened I--I kind of fret for fear that I may have let my
+notions get ahead of my fair play. You think I did give the boy a square
+deal, Labe?”
+
+“Sure thing, Cap'n.”
+
+“I'm glad of that. . . . And--and you cal'late he wasn't--wasn't too
+prejudiced against me? I don't mean along at first, I mean this last
+year or two.”
+
+Laban hesitated. He wished his answer to be not an overstatement, but
+the exact truth.
+
+“I think,” he said, with emphasis, “that Al was comin' to understand
+you better every day he lived, Cap'n. Yes, and to think more and more
+of you, too. He was gettin' older, for one thing--older, more of a
+man--yes, yes.”
+
+Captain Zelotes smiled sadly. “He was more boy than man by a good deal
+yet,” he observed. “Well, Labe, he's gone and I'm just beginnin' to
+realize how much of life for me has gone along with him. He'd been doin'
+better here in the office for the last two or three years, seemed to be
+catchin' on to business better. Didn't you think so, Labe?”
+
+“Sartin. Yes indeed. Fust-rate, fust-rate.”
+
+“No, not first-rate. He was a long ways from a business man yet, but I
+did think he was doin' a lot better. I could begin to see him pilotin'
+this craft after I was called ashore. Now he's gone and . . . well, I
+don't see much use in my fightin' to keep it afloat. I'm gettin' along
+in years--and what's the use?”
+
+It was the first time Laban had ever heard Captain Zelotes refer to
+himself as an old man. It shocked him into sharp expostulation.
+
+“Nonsense!” he exclaimed. “You ain't old enough for the scrap heap by a
+big stretch. And besides, he made his fight, didn't he? He didn't quit,
+Al didn't, and he wouldn't want us to. No sir-ee, he wouldn't! No, sir,
+no! . . . I--I hope you'll excuse me, Cap'n Lote. I--declare it must
+seem to you as if I was talkin' pretty fresh. I swan I'm sorry. I am so
+. . . sorry; yes, yes, I be.”
+
+The captain was not offended. He waved the apologies aside.
+
+“So you think it's worth while my fightin' it out, do you, Labe?” he
+asked, reflectively.
+
+“I--I think it's what you ought to do anyhow, whether it's worth
+while or not. The whole world's fightin'. Uncle Sam's fightin'. Al was
+fightin'. You're fightin'. I'm fightin'. It's a darn sight easier to
+quit, a darn sight, but--but Al didn't quit. And--and we mustn't--not if
+we can help it,” he added, drawing a hand across his forehead.
+
+His agitation seemed to surprise Captain Zelotes. “So all hands are
+fightin', are they, Labe,” he observed. “Well, I presume likely there's
+some truth in that. What's your particular fight, for instance?”
+
+The little bookkeeper looked at him for an instant before replying.
+The captain's question was kindly asked, but there was, or so Laban
+imagined, the faintest trace of sarcasm in its tone. That trace decided
+him. He leaned across the desk.
+
+“My particular fight?” he repeated. “You--you want to know what 'tis,
+Cap'n Lote? All right, all right, I'll tell you.”
+
+And without waiting for further questioning and with, for him,
+surprisingly few repetitions, he told of his “enlistment” to fight John
+Barleycorn for the duration of the war. Captain Zelotes listened to the
+very end in silence. Laban mopped his forehead with a hand which shook
+much as it had done during the interview with Albert in the room above
+the shoe store.
+
+“There--there,” he declared, in conclusion, “that's my fight, Cap'n
+Lote. Al and I, we--we kind of went into it together, as you might say,
+though his enlistin' was consider'ble more heroic than mine--yes indeed,
+I should say so . . . yes, yes, yes. But I'm fightin' too . . . er . . .
+I'm fightin' too.”
+
+Captain Zelotes pulled his beard.
+
+“How's the fight goin', Labe?” he asked, quietly.
+
+“Well--well, it's kind of--kind of spotty, as you might say. There's
+spots when I get along fairly smooth and others when--well, when it's
+pretty rough goin'. I've had four hard spots since Al went away, but
+there's two that was the hardest. One was along Christmas and New Year
+time; you know I 'most generally had one of my--er--spells along about
+then. And t'other is just now; I mean since we got word about--about
+Al. I don't suppose likely you surmised it, Cap'n, but--but I'd come to
+think a lot of that boy--yes, I had. Seems funny to you, I don't doubt,
+but it's so. And since the word come, you know--I--I--well, I've had
+some fight, some fight. I--I don't cal'late I've slept more'n four hours
+in the last four nights--not more'n that, no. Walkin' helps me most,
+seems so. Last night I walked to West Orham.”
+
+“To West Orham! You WALKED there? Last NIGHT?”
+
+“Um-hm. Long's I can keep walkin' I--I seem to part way forget--to
+forget the stuff, you know. When I'm alone in my room I go 'most
+crazy--pretty nigh loony. . . . But there! I don't know why I got to
+talkin' like this to you, Cap'n Lote. You've got your troubles and--”
+
+“Hold on, Labe. Does Rachel know about your fight?”
+
+“No. No, no. Course she must notice how long I've been--been straight,
+but I haven't told her. I want to be sure I'm goin' to win before I
+tell her. She's been disappointed times enough before, poor woman. . . .
+There, Cap'n Lote, don't let's talk about it any more. Please don't get
+the notion that I'm askin' for pity or anything like that. And don't
+think I'm comparin' what I call my fight to the real one like Al's.
+There's nothin' much heroic about me, eh? No, no, I guess not. Tell that
+to look at me, eh?”
+
+Captain Zelotes rose and laid his big hand on his bookkeeper's shoulder.
+
+“Don't you believe it, Labe,” he said. “I'm proud of you. . . . And, I
+declare, I'm ashamed of myself. . . . Humph! . . . Well, to-night you
+come home with me and have supper at the house.”
+
+“Now, now, Cap'n Lote--”
+
+“You do as I tell you. After supper, if there's any walkin' to be
+done--if you take a notion to frog it to Orham or San Francisco or
+somewheres--maybe I'll go with you. Walkin' may be good for my fight,
+too; you can't tell till you try. . . . There, don't argue, Labe. I'm
+skipper of this craft yet and you'll obey my orders; d'you hear?”
+
+The day following the receipt of the fateful telegram the captain wrote
+a brief note to Fletcher Fosdick. A day or two later he received a
+reply. Fosdick's letter was kindly and deeply sympathetic. He had been
+greatly shocked and grieved by the news.
+
+
+Young Speranza seemed to me, (he wrote) in my one short interview with
+him, to be a fine young fellow. Madeline, poor girl, is almost frantic.
+She will recover by and by, recovery is easier at her age, but it will
+be very, very hard for you and Mrs. Snow. You and I little thought when
+we discussed the problem of our young people that it would be solved
+in this way. To you and your wife my sincerest sympathy. When you hear
+particulars concerning your grandson's death, please write me. Madeline
+is anxious to know and keeps asking for them. Mrs. Fosdick is too much
+concerned with her daughter's health to write just now, but she joins me
+in sympathetic regards.
+
+
+Captain Zelotes took Mrs. Fosdick's sympathy with a grain of salt. When
+he showed this letter to his wife he, for the first time, told her of
+the engagement, explaining that his previous silence had been due to
+Albert's request that the affair be kept a secret for the present.
+Olive, even in the depth of her sorrow, was greatly impressed by the
+grandeur of the alliance.
+
+“Just think, Zelotes,” she exclaimed, “the Fosdick girl--and our Albert
+engaged to marry her! Why, the Fosdicks are awful rich, everybody says
+so. Mrs. Fosdick is head of I don't know how many societies and clubs
+and things in New York; her name is in the paper almost every day, so
+another New York woman told me at Red Cross meetin' last summer. And Mr.
+Fosdick has been in politics, way up in politics.”
+
+“Um-hm. Well, he's reformed lately, I understand, so we mustn't hold
+that against him.”
+
+“Why, Zelotes, what DO you mean? How can you talk so? Just think what it
+would have meant to have our Albert marry a girl like Madeline Fosdick.”
+
+The captain put his arm about her and gently patted her shoulder.
+
+“There, there, Mother,” he said, gently, “don't let that part of it fret
+you.”
+
+“But, Zelotes,” tearfully, “I don't understand. It would have been such
+a great thing for Albert.”
+
+“Would it? Well, maybe. Anyhow, there's no use worryin' about it now.
+It's done with--ended and done with . . . same as a good many other
+plans that's been made in the world.”
+
+“Zelotes, don't speak like that, dear, so discouraged. It makes me
+feel worse than ever to hear you. And--and he wouldn't want you to, I'm
+sure.”
+
+“Wouldn't he? No, I cal'late you're right, Mother. We'll try not to.”
+
+Other letters came, including one from Helen. It was not long. Mrs. Snow
+was a little inclined to feel hurt at its brevity. Her husband, however,
+did not share this feeling.
+
+“Have you read it carefully, Mother?” he asked.
+
+“Of course I have, Zelotes. What do you mean?”
+
+“I mean--well, I tell you, Mother, I've read it three time. The first
+time I was like you; seemed to me as good a friend of Al and of us as
+Helen Kendall ought to have written more than that. The second time I
+read it I begun to wonder if--if--”
+
+“If what, Zelotes?”
+
+“Oh, nothin', Mother, nothin'. She says she's comin' to see us just as
+soon as she can get away for a day or two. She'll come, and when she
+does I cal'late both you and I are goin' to be satisfied.”
+
+“But why didn't she WRITE more, Zelotes? That's what I can't
+understand.”
+
+Captain Zelotes tugged at his beard reflectively. “When I wrote Fosdick
+the other day,” he said, “I couldn't write more than a couple of pages.
+I was too upset to do it. I couldn't, that's all.”
+
+“Yes, but you are Albert's grandfather.”
+
+“I know. And Helen's always . . . But there, Mother, don't you worry
+about Helen Kendall. I've known her since she was born, pretty nigh, and
+_I_ tell you she's all RIGHT.”
+
+Fosdick, in his letter, had asked for particulars concerning Albert's
+death. Those particulars were slow in coming. Captain Zelotes wrote
+at once to the War Department, but received little satisfaction. The
+Department would inform him as soon as it obtained the information. The
+name of Sergeant Albert Speranza had been cabled as one of a list of
+fatalities, that was all.
+
+“And to think,” as Rachel Ellis put it, “that we never knew that he'd
+been made a sergeant until after he was gone. He never had time to write
+it, I expect likely, poor boy.”
+
+The first bit of additional information was furnished by the press. A
+correspondent of one of the Boston dailies sent a brief dispatch to his
+paper describing the fighting at a certain point on the Allied front. A
+small detachment of American troops had taken part, with the French,
+in an attack on a village held by the enemy. The enthusiastic reporter
+declared it to be one of the smartest little actions in which our
+soldiers had so far taken part and was eloquent concerning the bravery
+and dash of his fellow countrymen. “They proved themselves,” he went
+on, “and French officers with whom I have talked are enthusiastic. Our
+losses, considering the number engaged, are said to be heavy. Among
+those reported as killed is Sergeant Albert Speranza, a Massachusetts
+boy whom American readers will remember as a writer of poetry and
+magazine fiction. Sergeant Speranza is said to have led his company
+in the capture of the village and to have acted with distinguished
+bravery.” The editor of the Boston paper who first read this dispatch
+turned to his associate at the next desk.
+
+“Speranza? . . . Speranza?” he said aloud. “Say, Jim, wasn't it Albert
+Speranza who wrote that corking poem we published after the Lusitania
+was sunk?”
+
+Jim looked up. “Yes,” he said. “He has written a lot of pretty good
+stuff since, too. Why?”
+
+“He's just been killed in action over there, so Conway says in this
+dispatch.”
+
+“So? . . . Humph! . . . Any particulars?”
+
+“Not yet. 'Distinguished bravery,' according to Conway. Couldn't we have
+something done in the way of a Sunday special? He was a Massachusetts
+fellow.”
+
+“We might. We haven't a photograph, have we? If we haven't, perhaps we
+can get one.”
+
+The photograph was obtained--bribery and corruption of the Orham
+photographer--and, accompanied by a reprint of the Lusitania poem,
+appeared in the “Magazine Section” of the Sunday newspaper. With these
+also appeared a short notice of the young poet's death in the service of
+his country.
+
+That was the beginning. At the middle of that week Conway sent another
+dispatch. The editor who received it took it into the office of the
+Sunday editor.
+
+“Say,” he said, “here are more particulars about that young chap
+Speranza, the one we printed the special about last Sunday. He must have
+been a corker. When his lieutenant was put out of business by a shrapnel
+this Speranza chap rallied the men and jammed 'em through the Huns like
+a hot knife through butter. Killed the German officer and took three
+prisoners all by himself. Carried his wounded lieutenant to the rear
+on his shoulders, too. Then he went back into the ruins to get another
+wounded man and was blown to slivers by a hand grenade. He's been cited
+in orders and will probably be decorated by the French--that is,
+his memory will be. Pretty good for a poet, I'd say. No 'lilies and
+languors' about that, eh?”
+
+The Sunday editor nodded approval.
+
+“Great stuff!” he exclaimed. “Let me have that dispatch, will you, when
+you've finished. I've just discovered that this young Speranza's father
+was Speranza, the opera baritone. You remember him? And his mother was
+the daughter of a Cape Cod sea captain. How's that? Spain, Cape Cod,
+opera, poetry and the Croix de Guerre. And have you looked at the young
+fellow's photograph? Combination of Adonis and 'Romeo, where art thou.'
+I've had no less than twenty letters about him and his poetry already.
+Next Sunday we'll have a special 'as is.' Where can I get hold of a lot
+of his poems?”
+
+The “special as was” occupied an entire page. A reporter had visited
+South Harniss and had taken photographs of the Snow place and some of
+its occupants. Captain Zelotes had refused to pose, but there was a
+view of the building and yards of “Z. Snow and Co.” with the picturesque
+figure of Mr. Issachar Price tastefully draped against a pile of boards
+in the right foreground. Issy had been a find for the reporter; he
+supplied the latter with every fact concerning Albert which he could
+remember and some that he invented on the spur of the moment. According
+to Issy, Albert was “a fine, fust-class young feller. Him and me was
+like brothers, as you might say. When he got into trouble, or was
+undecided or anything, he'd come to me for advice and I always gave it
+to him. Land, yes! I always give to Albert. No matter how busy I was I
+always stopped work to help HIM out.” The reporter added that Mr. Price
+stopped work even while speaking of it.
+
+The special attracted the notice of other newspaper editors. This
+skirmish in which Albert had taken so gallant part was among the first
+in which our soldiers had participated. So the story was copied and
+recopied. The tale of the death of the young poet, the “happy warrior,”
+ as some writer called him, was spread from the Atlantic to the Pacific
+and from Canada to the Gulf. And just at this psychological moment the
+New York publisher brought out the long deferred volume. The Lances of
+Dawn, Being the Collected Poems of Albert M. C. Speranza, such was its
+title.
+
+Meanwhile, or, rather, within the week when the Lances of Dawn flashed
+upon the public, Captain Zelotes received a letter from the captain of
+Albert's regiment in France. It was not a long letter, for the captain
+was a busy man, but it was the kindly, sympathetic letter of one who
+was, literally, that well-advertised combination, an officer and a
+gentleman. It told of Albert's promotion to the rank of sergeant, “a
+promotion which, had the boy been spared, would, I am sure, have been
+the forerunner of others.” It told of that last fight, the struggle for
+the village, of Sergeant Speranza's coolness and daring and of his rush
+back into the throat of death to save a wounded comrade.
+
+
+The men tell me they tried to stop him (wrote the captain). He was
+himself slightly wounded, he had just brought Lieutenant Stacey back
+to safety and the enemy at that moment was again advancing through the
+village. But he insisted upon going. The man he was trying to rescue was
+a private in his company and the pair were great friends. So he started
+back alone, although several followed him a moment later. They saw him
+enter the ruined cottage where his friend lay. Then a party of the
+enemy appeared at the corner and flung grenades. The entire side of the
+cottage which he had just entered was blown in and the Germans passed on
+over it, causing our men to fall back temporarily. We retook the place
+within half an hour. Private Kelly's body--it was Private Kelly whom
+Sergeant Speranza was attempting to rescue--was found and another, badly
+disfigured, which was at first supposed to be that of your grandson. But
+this body was subsequently identified as that of a private named Hamlin
+who was killed when the enemy first charged. Sergeant Speranza's body
+is still missing, but is thought to be buried beneath the ruins of the
+cottage. These ruins were subsequently blown into further chaos by a
+high explosive shell.
+
+
+Then followed more expressions of regret and sympathy and confirmation
+of the report concerning citation and the war cross. Captain Lote read
+the letter at first alone in his private office. Then he brought it
+home and gave it to his wife to read. Afterward he read it aloud to Mrs.
+Ellis and to Laban, who was making his usual call in the Snow kitchen.
+
+When the reading was ended Labe was the first to speak. His eyes were
+shining.
+
+“Godfreys!” he exclaimed. “Godfreys, Cap'n Lote!”
+
+The captain seemed to understand.
+
+“You're right, Labe,” he said. “The boy's made us proud of him. . . .
+Prouder than some of us are of ourselves, I cal'late,” he added, rising
+and moving toward the door.
+
+“Sho, sho, Cap'n, you mustn't feel that way. No, no.”
+
+“Humph! . . . Labe, I presume likely if I was a pious man, one of the
+old-fashioned kind of pious, and believed the Almighty went out of his
+way to get square with any human bein' that made a mistake or didn't do
+the right thing--if I believed that I might figger all this was a sort
+of special judgment on me for my prejudices, eh?”
+
+Mr. Keeler was much disturbed.
+
+“Nonsense, nonsense, Cap'n Lote!” he protested. “You ain't fair to
+yourself. You never treated Al anyhow but just honest and fair and
+square. If he was here now instead of layin' dead over there in France,
+poor feller, he'd say so, too. Yes, he would. Course he would.”
+
+The captain made no reply, but walked from the room. Laban turned to
+Mrs. Ellis.
+
+“The old man broods over that,” he said. “I wish. . . . Eh? What's the
+matter, Rachel? What are you lookin' at me like that for?”
+
+The housekeeper was leaning forward in her chair, her cheeks flushed and
+her hands clenched.
+
+“How do you know he's dead?” she asked, in a mysterious whisper.
+
+“Eh? How do I know who's dead?”
+
+“Albert. How do you know he's dead?”
+
+Laban stared at her.
+
+“How do I know he's DEAD!” he repeated. “How do I know--”
+
+“Yes, yes, yes,” impatiently; “that's what I said. Don't run it over
+three or four times more. How do you know Albert's dead?”
+
+“Why, Rachel, what kind of talk's that? I know he's dead because the
+newspapers say so, and the War Department folks say so, and this cap'n
+man in France that was right there at the time, HE says so. All hands
+say so--yes, yes. So don't--”
+
+“Sh! I don't care if they all say so ten times over. How do they KNOW?
+They ain't found him dead, have they? The report from the War Department
+folks was sent when they thought that other body was Albert's. Now they
+know that wasn't him. Where is he?”
+
+“Why, under the ruins of that cottage. 'Twas all blown to pieces and
+most likely--”
+
+“Um-hm. There you are! 'Most likely!' Well, I ain't satisfied with most
+likelys. I want to KNOW.”
+
+“But--but--”
+
+“Laban Keeler, until they find his body I shan't believe Albert's dead.”
+
+“But, Rachel, you mustn't try to deceive yourself that way. Don't you
+see--”
+
+“No, I don't see. Labe, when Robert Penfold was lost and gone for all
+them months all hands thought he was dead, didn't they? But he wasn't;
+he was on that island lost in the middle of all creation. What's to
+hinder Albert bein' took prisoner by those Germans? They came back to
+that cottage place after Albert was left there, the cap'n says so in
+that letter Cap'n Lote just read. What's to hinder their carryin' Al off
+with 'em? Eh? What's to hinder?”
+
+“Why--why, nothin', I suppose, in one way. But nine chances out of
+ten--”
+
+“That leaves one chance, don't it. I ain't goin' to give up that chance
+for--for my boy. I--I--Oh, Labe, I did think SO much of him.”
+
+“I know, Rachel, I know. Don't cry any more than you can help. And if
+it helps you any to make believe--I mean to keep on hopin' he's alive
+somewheres--why, do it. It won't do any harm, I suppose. Only I wouldn't
+hint such a thing to Cap'n Lote or Olive.”
+
+“Of course not,” indignantly. “I ain't quite a fool, I hope. . . . And I
+presume likely you're right, Laban. The poor boy is dead, probably. But
+I--I'm goin' to hope he isn't, anyhow, just to get what comfort I can
+from it. And Robert Penfold did come back, you know.”
+
+For some time Laban found himself, against all reason, asking the very
+question Rachel had asked: Did they actually KNOW that Albert was dead?
+But as the months passed and no news came he ceased to ask it. Whenever
+he mentioned the subject to the housekeeper her invariable reply was:
+“But they haven't found his body, have they?” She would not give up
+that tenth chance. As she seemed to find some comfort in it he did not
+attempt to convince her of its futility.
+
+And, meanwhile The Lances of Dawn, Being the Collected Poems of
+Albert M. C. Speranza was making a mild sensation. The critics were
+surprisingly kind to it. The story of the young author's recent and
+romantic death, of his gallantry, his handsome features displayed in
+newspapers everywhere, all these helped toward the generous welcome
+accorded the little volume. If the verses were not inspired--why, they
+were at least entertaining and pleasant. And youth, high-hearted youth
+sang on every page. So the reviewers were kind and forbearing to the
+poems themselves, and, for the sake of the dead soldier-poet, were often
+enthusiastic. The book sold, for a volume of poems it sold very well
+indeed.
+
+At the Snow place in South Harniss pride and tears mingled. Olive read
+the verses over and over again, and wept as she read. Rachel Ellis
+learned many of them by heart, but she, too, wept as she recited them to
+herself or to Laban. In the little bookkeeper's room above Simond's shoe
+store The Lances of Dawn lay under the lamp upon the center table as
+before a shrine. Captain Zelotes read the verses. Also he read all
+the newspaper notices which, sent to the family by Helen Kendall,
+were promptly held before his eyes by Olive and Rachel. He read the
+publisher's advertisements, he read the reviews. And the more he read
+the more puzzled and bewildered he became.
+
+“I can't understand it, Laban,” he confided in deep distress to Mr.
+Keeler. “I give in I don't know anything at all about this. I'm clean
+off soundin's. If all this newspaper stuff is so Albert was right
+all the time and I was plumb wrong. Here's this feller,” picking up a
+clipping from the desk, “callin' him a genius and 'a gifted youth' and
+the land knows what. And every day or so I get a letter from somebody I
+never heard of tellin' me what a comfort to 'em those poetry pieces of
+his are. I don't understand it, Labe. It worries me. If all this is true
+then--then I was all wrong. I tried to keep him from makin' up poetry,
+Labe--TRIED to, I did. If what these folks say is so somethin' ought
+to be done to me. I--I--by thunder, I don't know's I hadn't ought to be
+hung! . . . And yet--and yet, I did what I thought was right and did
+it for the boy's sake . . . And--and even now I--I ain't sartin I was
+wrong. But if I wasn't wrong then this is . . . Oh, I don't know, I
+don't know!”
+
+And not only in South Harniss were there changes of heart. In New York
+City and at Greenwich where Mrs. Fosdick was more than ever busy with
+war work, there were changes. When the newspaper accounts of young
+Speranza's heroic death were first published the lady paid little
+attention to them. Her daughter needed all her care just then--all the
+care, that is, which she could spare from her duties as president of
+this society and corresponding secretary of that. If her feelings upon
+hearing the news could have been analyzed it is probable that their
+larger proportion would have been a huge sense of relief. THAT problem
+was solved, at all events. She was sorry for poor Madeline, of course,
+but the dear child was but a child and would recover.
+
+But as with more and more intensity the limelight of publicity was
+turned upon Albert Speranza's life and death and writing, the wife of
+the Honorable Fletcher Fosdick could not but be impressed. As head of
+several so-called literary societies, societies rather neglected since
+the outbreak of hostilities, she had made it her business to hunt
+literary lions. Recently it was true that military lions--Major
+Vermicelli of the Roumanian light cavalry, or Private Drinkwater of the
+Tank Corps--were more in demand than Tagores, but, as Mrs. Fosdick read
+of Sergeant Speranza's perils and poems, it could not help occurring to
+her that here was a lion both literary and martial. Decidedly she had
+not approved of her daughter's engagement to that lion, but now the said
+lion was dead, which rendered him a perfectly harmless yet not the
+less fascinating animal. And then appeared The Lances of Dawn and Mrs.
+Fosdick's friends among the elect began to read and talk about it.
+
+It was then that the change came. Those friends, one by one, individuals
+judiciously chosen, were told in strict confidence of poor Madeline's
+romantic love affair and its tragic ending. These individuals, chosen
+judiciously as has been stated, whispered, also in strict confidence,
+the tale to other friends and acquaintances. Mrs. Fosdick began to
+receive condolences on her daughter's account and on her own. Soon she
+began to speak publicly of “My poor, dear daughter's dead fiance. Such a
+loss to American literature. Sheer genius. Have you read the article in
+the Timepiece? Madeline, poor girl, is heartbroken, naturally, but very
+proud, even in the midst of her grief. So are we all, I assure you.”
+
+She quoted liberally from The Lances of Dawn. A copy specially bound,
+lay upon her library table. Albert's photograph in uniform, obtained
+from the Snows by Mr. Fosdick, who wrote for it at his wife's request,
+stood beside it. To callers and sister war workers Mrs. Fosdick gave
+details of the hero's genius, his bravery, his devotion to her daughter.
+It was all so romantic and pleasantly self-advertising--and perfectly
+safe.
+
+Summer came again, the summer of 1918. The newspapers now were gravely
+personal reading to millions of Americans. Our new army was trying
+its metal on the French front and with the British against the vaunted
+Hindenburg Line. The transports were carrying thousands on every trip to
+join those already “over there.” In South Harniss and in Greenwich and
+New York, as in every town and city, the ordinary summer vacations and
+playtime occupations were forgotten or neglected and war charities and
+war labors took their place. Other soldiers than Sergeant Speranza were
+the newspaper heroes now, other books than The Lances of Dawn talked
+about.
+
+As on the previous summer the new Fosdick cottage was not occupied by
+its owners. Mrs. Fosdick was absorbed by her multitudinous war duties
+and her husband was at Washington giving his counsel and labor to
+the cause. Captain Zelotes bought to his last spare dollar of each
+successive issue of Liberty Bonds, and gave that dollar to the Red Cross
+or the Y. M. C. A.; Laban and Rachel did likewise. Even Issachar Price
+bought Thrift Stamps and exhibited them to anyone who would stop long
+enough to look.
+
+“By crimus,” declared Issy, “I'm makin' myself poor helpin' out the
+gov'ment, but let 'er go and darn the Kaiser, that's my motto. But they
+ain't all like me. I was down to the drug store yesterday and old
+man Burgess had the cheek to tell me I owed him for some cigars I
+bought--er--last fall, seems to me 'twas. I turned right around and
+looked at him--'I've got my opinion,' says I, 'of a man that thinks of
+cigars and such luxuries when the country needs every cent. What have
+you got that gov'ment poster stuck up on your wall for?' says I. 'Read
+it,' I says. 'It says' '“Save! Save! Save!”' don't it? All right. That's
+what I'M doin'. I AM savin'.' Then when he was thinkin' of somethin' to
+answer back I walked right out and left him. Yes sir, by crimustee, I
+left him right where he stood!”
+
+August came; September--the Hindenburg Line was broken. Each day the
+triumphant headlines in the papers were big and black and also, alas,
+the casualty lists on the inside pages long and longer. Then October.
+The armistice was signed. It was the end. The Allied world went wild,
+cheered, danced, celebrated. Then it sat back, thinking, thanking God,
+solemnly trying to realize that the killing days, the frightful days of
+waiting and awful anxiety, were over.
+
+And early in November another telegram came to the office of Z. Snow and
+Co. This time it came, not from the War Department direct, but from the
+Boston headquarters of the American Red Cross.
+
+And this time, just as on the day when the other fateful telegram came,
+Laban Keeler was the first of the office regulars to learn its contents.
+Ben Kelley himself brought this message, just as he had brought that
+telling of Albert Speranza's death. And the usually stolid Ben was
+greatly excited. He strode straight from the door to the bookkeeper's
+desk.
+
+“Is the old man in, Labe?” he whispered, jerking his head toward the
+private office, the door of which happened to be shut.
+
+Laban looked at him over his spectacles. “Cap'n Lote, you mean?” he
+asked. “Yes, he's in. But he don't want to be disturbed--no, no. Goin'
+to write a couple of important letters, he said. Important ones. . . .
+Um-hm. What is it, Ben? Anything I can do for you?”
+
+Kelley did not answer that question. Instead he took a telegram from his
+pocket.
+
+“Read it, Labe,” he whispered. “Read it. It's the darndest
+news--the--the darnedest good news ever you heard in your life. It don't
+seem as if it could he, but, by time, I guess 'tis. Anyhow, it's from
+the Red Cross folks and they'd ought to know.”
+
+Laban stared at the telegram. It was not in the usual envelope; Kelley
+had been too anxious to bring it to its destination to bother with an
+envelope.
+
+“Read it,” commanded the operator again. “See if you think Cap'n Lote
+ought to have it broke easy to him or--or what? Read it, I tell you.
+Lord sakes, it's no secret! I hollered it right out loud when it come in
+over the wire and the gang at the depot heard it. They know it and it'll
+be all over town in ten minutes. READ IT.”
+
+Keeler read the telegram. His florid cheeks turned pale.
+
+“Good Lord above!” he exclaimed, under his breath.
+
+“Eh? I bet you! Shall I take it to the cap'n? Eh? What do you think?”
+
+“Wait. . . . Wait . . . I--I--My soul! My soul! Why . . . It's--it's
+true. . . . And Rachel always said . . . Why, she was right . . .
+I . . .”
+
+From without came the sound of running feet and a series of yells.
+
+“Labe! Labe!” shrieked Issy. “Oh, my crimus! . . . Labe!”
+
+He burst into the office, his eyes and mouth wide open and his hands
+waving wildly.
+
+“Labe! Labe!” he shouted again. “Have you heard it? Have you? It's true,
+too. He's alive! He's alive! He's alive!”
+
+Laban sprang from his stool. “Shut up, Is!” he commanded. “Shut up! Hold
+on! Don't--”
+
+“But he's alive, I tell you! He ain't dead! He ain't never been dead!
+Oh, my crimus! . . . Hey, Cap'n Lote! HE'S ALIVE!”
+
+Captain Zelotes was standing in the doorway of the private office. The
+noise had aroused him from his letter writing.
+
+“Who's alive? What's the matter with you this time, Is?” he demanded.
+
+“Shut up, Issy,” ordered Laban, seizing the frantic Mr. Price by the
+collar. “Be still! Wait a minute.”
+
+“Be still? What do I want to be still for? I cal'late Cap'n Lote'll
+holler some, too, when he hears. He's alive, Cap'n Lote, I tell ye. Let
+go of me, Labe Keeler! He's alive!”
+
+“Who's alive? What is it? Labe, YOU answer me. Who's alive?”
+
+Laban's thoughts were still in a whirl. He was still shaking from the
+news the telegraph operator had brought. Rachel Ellis was at that moment
+in his mind and he answered as she might have done.
+
+“Er--er--Robert Penfold,” he said.
+
+“Robert PENFOLD! What--”
+
+Issachar could hold in no longer.
+
+“Robert Penfold nawthin'!” he shouted. “Who in thunder's he? 'Tain't
+Robert Penfold nor Robert Penholder neither. It's Al Speranza, that's
+who 'tis. He ain't killed, Cap'n Lote. He's alive and he's been alive
+all the time.”
+
+Kelley stepped forward.
+
+“Looks as if 'twas so, Cap'n Snow,” he said. “Here's the telegram from
+the Red Cross.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+
+There was nothing miraculous about it. That is to say, it was no more of
+a miracle than hundreds of similar cases in the World War. The papers of
+those years were constantly printing stories of men over whose supposed
+graves funeral sermons had been preached, to whose heirs insurance
+payments had been made, in whose memory grateful communities had made
+speeches and delivered eulogiums--the papers were telling of instance
+after instance of those men being discovered alive and in the flesh, as
+casuals in some French hospital or as inmates of German prison camps.
+
+Rachel Ellis had asked what was to hinder Albert's having been taken
+prisoner by the Germans and carried off by them. As a matter of fact
+nothing had hindered and that was exactly what had happened. Sergeant
+Speranza, wounded by machine gun fire and again by the explosion of the
+grenade, was found in the ruins of the cottage when the detachment of
+the enemy captured it. He was conscious and able to speak, so instead
+of being bayonetted was carried to the rear where he might be questioned
+concerning the American forces. The questioning was most unsatisfactory
+to the Prussian officers who conducted it. Albert fainted, recovered
+consciousness and fainted again. So at last the Yankee swine was left
+to die or get well and his Prussian interrogators went about other
+business, the business of escaping capture themselves. But when they
+retreated the few prisoners, mostly wounded men, were taken with them.
+
+Albert's recollections of the next few days were hazy and very doubtful.
+Pain, pain and more pain. Hours and hours--they seemed like years--of
+jolting over rough roads. Pawing-over by a fat, bearded surgeon, who
+may not have been intentionally brutal, but quite as likely may. A great
+desire to die, punctuated by occasional feeble spurts of wishing to
+live. Then more surgical man-handling, more jolting--in freight cars
+this time--a slow, miserable recovery, nurses who hated their patients
+and treated them as if they did, then, a prison camp, a German prison
+camp. Then horrors and starvation and brutality lasting many months.
+Then fever.
+
+He was wandering in that misty land between this world and the
+next when, the armistice having been signed, an American Red Cross
+representative found him. In the interval between fits of delirium
+he told this man his name and regiment and, later, the name of his
+grandparents. When it seemed sure that he was to recover the Red Cross
+representative cabled the facts to this country. And, still later, those
+facts, or the all-important fact that Sergeant Albert M. C. Speranza was
+not dead but alive, came by telegraph to Captain Zelotes Snow of South
+Harniss. And, two months after that, Captain Zelotes himself, standing
+on the wharf in Boston and peering up at a crowded deck above him, saw
+the face of his grandson, that face which he had never expected to see
+again, looking eagerly down upon him.
+
+A few more weeks and it was over. The brief interval of camp life and
+the mustering out were things of the past. Captain Lote and Albert,
+seated in the train, were on their way down the Cape, bound home. Home!
+The word had a significance now which it never had before. Home!
+
+Albert drew a long breath. “By George!” he exclaimed. “By George,
+Grandfather, this looks good to me!”
+
+It might not have looked as good to another person. It was raining, the
+long stretches of salt marsh were windswept and brown and bleak. In the
+distance Cape Cod Bay showed gray and white against a leaden sky. The
+drops ran down the dingy car windows.
+
+Captain Zelotes understood, however. He nodded.
+
+“It used to look good to me when I was bound home after a v'yage,” he
+observed. “Well, son, I cal'late your grandma and Rachel are up to the
+depot by this time waitin' for you. We ain't due for pretty nigh an hour
+yet, but I'd be willin' to bet they're there.”
+
+Albert smiled. “My, I do want to see them!” he said.
+
+“Shouldn't wonder a mite if they wanted to see you, boy. Well, I'm kind
+of glad I shooed that reception committee out of the way. I presumed
+likely you'd rather have your first day home to yourself--and us.”
+
+“I should say so! Newspaper reporters are a lot of mighty good fellows,
+but I hope I never see another one. . . . That's rather ungrateful, I
+know,” he added, with a smile, “but I mean it--just now.”
+
+He had some excuse for meaning it. The death of Albert Speranza, poet
+and warrior, had made a newspaper sensation. His resurrection and return
+furnished material for another. Captain Zelotes was not the only person
+to meet the transport at the pier; a delegation of reporters was there
+also. Photographs of Sergeant Speranza appeared once more in print. This
+time, however, they were snapshots showing him in uniform, likenesses
+of a still handsome, but less boyish young man, thinner, a scar upon
+his right cheek, and the look in his eyes more serious, and infinitely
+older, the look of one who had borne much and seen more. The reporters
+found it difficult to get a story from the returned hero. He seemed to
+shun the limelight and to be almost unduly modest and retiring, which
+was of itself, had they but known it, a transformation sufficiently
+marvelous to have warranted a special “Sunday special.”
+
+“Will not talk about himself,” so one writer headed his article. Gertie
+Kendrick, with a brand-new ring upon her engagement finger, sniffed as
+she read that headline to Sam Thatcher, who had purchased the ring. “Al
+Speranza won't talk about himself!” exclaimed Gertie. “Well, it's the
+FIRST time, then. No wonder they put it in the paper.”
+
+But Albert would not talk, claiming that he had done nothing worth
+talking about, except to get himself taken prisoner in almost his first
+engagement. “Go and ask some of the other fellows aboard here,” he
+urged. “They have been all through it.” As he would not talk the
+newspaper men were obliged to talk for him, which they did by describing
+his appearance and his manner, and by rehashing the story of the fight
+in the French village. Also, of course, they republished some of his
+verses. The Lances of Dawn appeared in a special edition in honor of its
+author's reappearance on this earth.
+
+“Yes sir,” continued Captain Zelotes, “the reception committee was
+consider'ble disappointed. They'd have met you with the Orham band if
+they'd had their way. I told 'em you'd heard all the band music you
+wanted in camp, I guessed likely, and you'd rather come home quiet.
+There was goin' to be some speeches, too, but I had them put off.”
+
+“Thanks, Grandfather.”
+
+“Um-hm. I had a notion you wouldn't hanker for speeches. If you do
+Issy'll make one for you 'most any time. Ever since you got into the
+papers Issy's been swellin' up like a hot pop-over with pride because
+you and he was what he calls chummies. All last summer Issachar spent
+his evenin's hangin' around the hotel waitin' for the next boarder to
+mention your name. Sure as one did Is was ready for him. 'Know him?'
+he'd sing out. 'Did I know Al Speranza? ME? Well, now say!--' And so on,
+long as the feller would listen. I asked him once if he ever told any of
+'em how you ducked him with the bucket of water. He didn't think I knew
+about that and it kind of surprised him, I judged.”
+
+Albert smiled. “Laban told you about it, I suppose,” he said. “What a
+kid trick that was, wasn't it?”
+
+The captain turned his head and regarded him for an instant. The old
+twinkle was in his eye when he spoke.
+
+“Wouldn't do a thing like that now, Al, I presume likely?” he said.
+“Feel a good deal older now, eh?”
+
+Albert's answer was seriously given.
+
+“Sometimes I feel at least a hundred and fifty,” he replied.
+
+“Humph! . . . Well, I wouldn't feel like that. If you're a hundred and
+fifty I must be a little older than Methuselah was in his last years.
+I'm feelin' younger to-day, younger than I have for quite a spell. Yes,
+for quite a spell.”
+
+His grandson put a hand on his knee. “Good for you, Grandfather,” he
+said. “Now tell me more about Labe. Do you know I think the old chap's
+sticking by his pledge is the bulliest thing I've heard since I've been
+home.”
+
+So they talked of Laban and of Rachel and of South Harniss happenings
+until the train drew up at the platform of that station. And upon that
+platform stepped Albert to feel his grandmother's arms about him and her
+voice, tremulous with happiness, at his ear. And behind her loomed Mrs.
+Ellis, her ample face a combination of smiles and tears, “all sunshine
+and fair weather down below but rainin' steady up aloft,” as Captain
+Lote described it afterwards. And behind her, like a foothill in
+the shadow of a mountain, was Laban. And behind Laban--No, that is a
+mistake--in front of Laban and beside Laban and in front of and beside
+everyone else when opportunity presented was Issachar. And Issachar's
+expression and bearings were wonderful to see. A stranger, and there
+were several strangers amid the group at the station, might have gained
+the impression that Mr. Price, with of course a very little help from
+the Almighty, was responsible for everything.
+
+“Why, Issy!” exclaimed Albert, when they shook hands. “You're here, too,
+eh?”
+
+Mr. Price's already protuberant chest swelled still further. His reply
+had the calmness of finality.
+
+“Yes, sir,” said Issy, “I'm here. 'Who's goin' to look out for Z. Snow
+and Co. if all hands walks out and leaves 'em?' Labe says. 'I don't
+know,' says I, 'and I don't care. I'm goin' to that depot to meet Al
+Speranzy and if Z. Snow and Co. goes to pot while I'm gone I can't help
+it. I have sacrificed,' I says, 'and I stand ready to sacrifice pretty
+nigh everything for my business, but there's limits and this is one of
+'em. I'm goin' acrost to that depot to meet him,' says I, 'and don't you
+try to stop me, Labe Keeler.'”
+
+“Great stuff, Is!” said Albert, with a laugh. “What did Labe say to
+that?”
+
+“What was there for him to say? He could see I meant it. Course he hove
+out some of his cheap talk, but it didn't amount to nothin'. Asked if I
+wan't goin' to put up a sign sayin' when I'd be back, so's to ease the
+customers' minds. 'I don't know when I'll be back,' I says. 'All right,'
+says he, 'put that on the sign. That'll ease 'em still more.' Just cheap
+talk 'twas. He thinks he's funny, but I don't pay no attention to him.”
+
+Others came to shake hands and voice a welcome. The formal reception,
+that with the band, had been called off at Captain Zelotes's request,
+but the informal one was, in spite of the rain, which was now much less
+heavy, quite a sizable gathering.
+
+The Reverend Mr. Kendall held his hand for a long time and talked much,
+it seemed to Albert that he had aged greatly since they last met. He
+wandered a bit in his remarks and repeated himself several times.
+
+“The poor old gentleman's failin' a good deal, Albert,” said Mrs. Snow,
+as they drove home together, he and his grandparents, three on the
+seat of the buggy behind Jessamine. “His sermons are pretty tiresome
+nowadays, but we put up with 'em because he's been with us so long. . . .
+Ain't you squeezed 'most to death, Albert? You two big men and me all
+mashed together on this narrow seat. It's lucky I'm small. Zelotes ought
+to get a two-seated carriage, but he won't.”
+
+“Next thing I get, Mother,” observed the captain, “will be an
+automobile. I'll stick to the old mare here as long as she's able to
+navigate, but when she has to be hauled out of commission I'm goin'
+to buy a car. I believe I'm pretty nigh the last man in this county
+to drive a horse, as 'tis. Makes me feel like what Sol Dadgett calls
+a cracked teapot--a 'genuine antique.' One of these city women will be
+collectin' me some of these days. Better look out, mother.”
+
+Olive sighed happily. “It does me good to hear you joke again,
+Zelotes,” she said. “He didn't joke much, Albert, while--when we thought
+you--you--”
+
+Albert interrupted in time to prevent the threatened shower.
+
+“So Mr. Kendall is not well,” he said. “I'm very sorry to hear it.”
+
+“Of course you would be. You and he used to be so friendly when Helen
+was home. Oh, speakin' of Helen, she IS comin' home in a fortni't or
+three weeks, so I hear. She's goin' to give up her teachin' and come
+back to be company for her father. I suppose she realizes he needs her,
+but it must be a big sacrifice for her, givin' up the good position
+she's got now. She's such a smart girl and such a nice one. Why, she
+came to see us after the news came--the bad news--and she was so kind
+and so good. I don't know what we should have done without her. Zelotes
+says so too, don't you, Zelotes?”
+
+Her husband did not answer. Instead he said: “Well, there's home, Al.
+Rachel's there ahead of us and dinner's on the way, judgin' by the smoke
+from the kitchen chimney. How does the old place look to you, boy?”
+
+Albert merely shook his head and drew a long breath, but his
+grandparents seemed to be quite satisfied.
+
+There were letters and telegrams awaiting him on the table in the
+sitting-room. Two of the letters were postmarked from a town on the
+Florida coast. The telegram also was from that same town.
+
+“_I_ had one of those things,” observed Captain Zelotes, alluding to
+the telegram. “Fosdick sent me one of those long ones, night-letters
+I believe they call 'em. He wants me to tell you that Mrs. Fosdick is
+better and that they cal'late to be in New York before very long and
+shall expect you there. Of course you knew that, Al, but I presume
+likely the main idea of the telegram was to help say, 'Welcome home' to
+you, that's all.”
+
+Albert nodded. Madeline and her mother had been in Florida all winter.
+Mrs. Fosdick's health was not good. She declared that her nerves had
+given way under her frightful responsibilities during the war. There
+was, although it seems almost sacrilege to make such a statement, a
+certain similarity between Mrs. Fletcher Fosdick and Issachar Price. The
+telegram was, as his grandfather surmised, an expression of welcome and
+of regret that the senders could not be there to share in the reception.
+The two letters which accompanied it he put in his pocket to read later
+on, when alone. Somehow he felt that the first hours in the old
+house belonged exclusively to his grandparents. Everything else, even
+Madeline's letters, must take second place for that period.
+
+Dinner was, to say the least, an ample meal. Rachel and Olive had, as
+Captain Lote said, “laid themselves out” on that dinner. It began well
+and continued well and ended best of all, for the dessert was one of
+which Albert was especially fond. They kept pressing him to eat until
+Laban, who was an invited guest, was moved to comment.
+
+“Humph!” observed Mr. Keeler. “I knew 'twas the reg'lar program to
+kill the fatted calf when the prodigal got home, but I see now it's the
+proper caper to fat up the prodigal to take the critter's place. No, no,
+Rachel, I'd like fust-rate to eat another bushel or so to please you,
+but somethin'--that still, small voice we're always readin' about, or
+somethin'--seems to tell me 'twouldn't be good jedgment. . . . Um-hm.
+. . . 'Twouldn't be good jedgment. . . . Cal'late it's right, too. . . .
+Yes, yes, yes.”
+
+“Now, Cap'n Lote,” he added, as they rose from the table, “you stay
+right to home here for the rest of the day. I'll hustle back to the
+office and see if Issy's importance has bust his b'iler for him.
+So-long, Al. See you pretty soon. Got some things to talk about, you and
+I have. . . . Yes, yes.”
+
+Later, when Rachel was in the kitchen with the dishes, Olive left the
+sitting room and reappeared with triumph written large upon her face. In
+one hand she held a mysterious envelope and in the other a book. Albert
+recognized that book. It was his own, The Lances of Dawn. It was
+no novelty to him. When first the outside world and he had reopened
+communication, copies of that book had been sent him. His publisher
+had sent them, Madeline had sent them, his grandparents had sent them,
+comrades had sent them, nurses and doctors and newspaper men had brought
+them. No, The Lances of Dawn was not a novelty to its author. But he
+wondered what was in the envelope.
+
+Mrs. Snow enlightened him. “You sit right down now, Albert,” she said.
+“Sit right down and listen because I've got somethin' to tell you. Yes,
+and somethin' to show you, too. Here! Stop now, Zelotes! You can't run
+away. You've got to sit down and look on and listen, too.”
+
+Captain Zelotes smiled resignedly. There was, or so it seemed to his
+grandson, an odd expression on his face. He looked pleased, but not
+altogether pleased. However, he obeyed his wife's orders and sat.
+
+“Stop, look and listen,” he observed. “Mother, you sound like a railroad
+crossin'. All right, here I am. Al, the society of 'What did I tell you'
+is goin' to have a meetin'.”
+
+His wife nodded. “Well,” she said, triumphantly, “what DID I tell you?
+Wasn't I right?”
+
+The captain pulled his beard and nodded.
+
+“Right as right could be, Mother,” he admitted. “Your figgers was a
+few hundred thousand out of the way, maybe, but barrin' that you was
+perfectly right.”
+
+“Well, I'm glad to hear you say so for once in your life. Albert,”
+ holding up the envelope, “do you know what this is?”
+
+Albert, much puzzled, admitted that he did not. His grandmother put down
+the book, opened the envelope and took from it a slip of paper.
+
+“And can you guess what THIS is?” she asked. Albert could not guess.
+
+“It's a check, that's what it is. It's the first six months' royalties,
+that's what they call 'em, on that beautiful book of yours. And how much
+do you suppose 'tis?”
+
+Albert shook his head. “Twenty-five dollars?” he suggested jokingly.
+
+“Twenty-five dollars! It's over twenty-five HUNDRED dollars. It's
+twenty-eight hundred and forty-three dollars and sixty-five cents,
+that's what it is. Think of it! Almost three thousand dollars! And
+Zelotes prophesied that 'twouldn't be more than--”
+
+Her husband held up his hand. “Sh-sh! Sh-sh, Mother,” he said. “Don't
+get started on what I prophesied or we won't be through till doomsday.
+I'll give in right off that I'm the worst prophet since the feller that
+h'isted the 'Fair and Dry' signal the day afore Noah's flood begun. You
+see,” he explained, turning to Albert, “your grandma figgered out that
+you'd probably clear about half a million on that book of poetry, Al. I
+cal'lated 'twan't likely to be much more'n a couple of hundred thousand,
+so--”
+
+“Why, Zelotes Snow! You said--”
+
+“Yes, yes. So I did, Mother, so I did. You was right and I was wrong.
+Twenty-eight hundred ain't exactly a million, Al, but it's a darn sight
+more than I ever cal'lated you'd make from that book. Or 'most anybody
+else ever made from any book, fur's that goes,” he added, with a shake
+of the head. “I declare, I--I don't understand it yet. And a poetry
+book, too! Who in time BUYS 'em all? Eh?”
+
+Albert was looking at the check and the royalty statement.
+
+“So this is why I couldn't get any satisfaction from the publisher,” he
+observed. “I wrote him two or three times about my royalties, and he put
+me off each time. I began to think there weren't any.”
+
+Captain Zelotes smiled. “That's your grandma's doin's,” he observed.
+“The check came to us a good while ago, when we thought you
+was--was--well, when we thought--”
+
+“Yes. Surely, I understand,” put in Albert, to help him out.
+
+“Yes. That's when 'twas. And Mother, she was so proud of it, because
+you'd earned it, Al, that she kept it and kept it, showin' it to all
+hands and--and so on. And then when we found out you wasn't--that you'd
+be home some time or other--why, then she wouldn't let me put it in the
+bank for you because she wanted to give it to you herself. That's what
+she said was the reason. I presume likely the real one was that
+she wanted to flap it in my face every time she crowed over my bad
+prophesyin', which was about three times a day and four on Sundays.”
+
+“Zelotes Snow, the idea!”
+
+“All right, Mother, all right. Anyhow, she got me to write your
+publisher man and ask him not to give you any satisfaction about those
+royalties, so's she could be the fust one to paralyze you with 'em.
+And,” with a frank outburst, “if you ain't paralyzed, Al, I own up that
+_I_ am. Three thousand poetry profits beats me. _I_ don't understand
+it.”
+
+His wife sniffed. “Of course you don't,” she declared. “But Albert does.
+And so do I, only I think it ought to have been ever and ever so much
+more. Don't you, yourself, Albert?”
+
+The author of The Lances of Dawn was still looking at the statement of
+its earnings.
+
+“Approximately eighteen thousand sold at fifteen cents royalty,” he
+observed. “Humph! Well, I'll be hanged!”
+
+“But you said it would be twenty-five cents, not fifteen,” protested
+Olive. “In your letter when the book was first talked about you said
+so.”
+
+Albert smiled. “Did I?” he observed. “Well, I said a good many things
+in those days, I'm afraid. Fifteen cents for a first book, especially a
+book of verse, is fair enough, I guess. But eighteen thousand SOLD! That
+is what gets me.”
+
+“You mean you think it ought to be a lot more. So do I, Albert, and so
+does Rachel. Why, we like it a lot better than we do David Harum. That
+was a nice book, but it wasn't lovely poetry like yours. And David
+Harum sold a million. Why shouldn't yours sell as many? Only eighteen
+thousand--why are you lookin' at me so funny?”
+
+Her grandson rose to his feet. “Let's let well enough alone,
+Grandmother,” he said. “Eighteen thousand will do, thank you. I'm like
+Grandfather, I'm wondering who on earth bought them.”
+
+Mrs. Snow was surprised and a little troubled.
+
+“Why, Albert,” she said, “you act kind of--kind of queer, seems to me.
+You talk as if your poetry wasn't beautiful. You know it is. You used to
+say it was, yourself.”
+
+He interrupted her. “Did I, Grandmother?” he said. “All right, then,
+probably I did. Let's walk about the old place a little. I want to see
+it all. By George, I've been dreaming about it long enough!”
+
+There were callers that afternoon, friends among the townsfolk, and more
+still after supper. It was late--late for South Harniss, that is--when
+Albert, standing in the doorway of the bedroom he nor they had ever
+expected he would occupy again, bade his grandparents good night. Olive
+kissed him again and again and, speech failing her, hastened away down
+the hall. Captain Zelotes shook his hand, opened his mouth to speak,
+shut it again, repeated both operations, and at last with a brief,
+“Well, good night, Al,” hurried after his wife. Albert closed the door,
+put his lamp upon the bureau, and sat down in the big rocker.
+
+In a way the night was similar to that upon which he had first entered
+that room. It had ceased raining, but the wind, as on that first night,
+was howling and whining about the eaves, the shutters rattled and the
+old house creaked and groaned rheumatically. It was not as cold as
+on that occasion, though by no means warm. He remembered how bare and
+comfortless he had thought the room. Now it looked almost luxurious. And
+he had been homesick, or fancied himself in that condition. Compared
+to the homesickness he had known during the past eighteen months that
+youthful seizure seemed contemptible and quite without excuse. He looked
+about the room again, looked long and lovingly. Then, with a sigh of
+content, drew from his pocket the two letters which had lain upon the
+sitting-room table when he arrived, opened them and began to read.
+
+Madeline wrote, as always, vivaciously and at length. The maternal
+censorship having been removed, she wrote exactly as she felt. She could
+scarcely believe he was really going to be at home when he received
+this, at home in dear, quaint, queer old South Harniss. Just think,
+she had not seen the place for ever and ever so long, not for over two
+years. How were all the funny, odd people who lived there all the time?
+Did he remember how he and she used to go to church every Sunday and sit
+through those dreadful, DREADFUL sermons by that prosy old minister
+just as an excuse for meeting each other afterward? She was SO sorry she
+could not have been there to welcome her hero when he stepped from the
+train. If it hadn't been for Mother's poor nerves she surely would have
+been. He knew it, didn't he? Of course he did. But she should see him
+soon “because Mother is planning already to come back to New York in a
+few weeks and then you are to run over immediately and make us a LONG
+visit. And I shall be so PROUD of you. There are lots of Army fellows
+down here now, officers for the most part. So we dance and are very
+gay--that is, the other girls are; I, being an engaged young lady, am
+very circumspect and demure, of course. Mother carries The Lances about
+with her wherever she goes, to teas and such things, and reads aloud
+from it often. Captain Blanchard, he is one of the family's officer
+friends, is crazy about your poetry, dear. He thinks it WONDERFUL. You
+know what _I_ think of it, don't you, and when I think that _I_ actually
+helped you, or played at helping you write some of it!
+
+“And I am WILD to see your war cross. Some of the officers here have
+them--the crosses, I mean--but not many. Captain Blanchard has the
+military medal, and he is almost as modest about it as you are about
+your decoration. I don't see how you CAN be so modest. If _I_ had a
+Croix de Guerre I should want EVERY ONE to know about it. At the tea
+dance the other afternoon there was a British major who--”
+
+And so on. The second letter was really a continuation of the first.
+Albert read them both and, after the reading was finished, sat for some
+time in the rocking chair, quite regardless of the time and the cold,
+thinking. He took from his pocketbook a photograph, one which Madeline
+had sent him months before, which had reached him while he lay in the
+French hospital after his removal from the German camp. He looked at
+the pretty face in the photograph. She looked just as he remembered her,
+almost exactly as she had looked more than two years before, smiling,
+charming, carefree. She had not, apparently, grown older, those age-long
+months had not changed her. He rose and regarded his own reflection in
+the mirror of the bureau. He was surprised, as he was constantly being
+surprised, to see that he, too, had not changed greatly in personal
+appearance.
+
+He walked about the room. His grandmother had told him that his room was
+just as he had left it. “I wouldn't change it, Albert,” she said,
+“even when we thought you--you wasn't comin' back. I couldn't touch it,
+somehow. I kept thinkin', 'Some day I will. Pretty soon I MUST.' But I
+never did, and now I'm so glad.”
+
+He wandered back to the bureau and pulled open the upper drawers. In
+those drawers were so many things, things which he had kept there,
+either deliberately or because he was too indolent to destroy them. Old
+dance cards, invitations, and a bundle of photographs, snapshots. He
+removed the rubber band from the bundle and stood looking them over.
+Photographs of school fellows, of picnic groups, of girls. Sam Thatcher,
+Gertie Kendrick--and Helen Kendall. There were at least a dozen of
+Helen.
+
+One in particular was very good. From that photograph the face of
+Helen as he had known it four years before looked straight up into
+his--clear-eyed, honest, a hint of humor and understanding and
+common-sense in the gaze and at the corners of the lips. He looked at
+the photograph, and the photograph looked up at him. He had not seen
+her for so long a time. He wondered if the war had changed her as it had
+changed him. Somehow he hoped it had not. Change did not seem necessary
+in her case.
+
+There had been no correspondence between them since her letter written
+when she heard of his enlistment. He had not replied to that because
+he knew Madeline would not wish him to do so. He wondered if she ever
+thought of him now, if she remembered their adventure at High Point
+light. He had thought of her often enough. In those days and nights of
+horror in the prison camp and hospital he had found a little relief, a
+little solace in lying with closed eyes and summoning back from memory
+the things of home and the faces of home. And her face had been one of
+these. Her face and those of his grandparents and Rachel and Laban, and
+visions of the old house and the rooms--they were the substantial things
+to cling to and he had clung to them. They WERE home. Madeline--ah! yes,
+he had longed for her and dreamed of her, God knew, but Madeline, of
+course, was different.
+
+He snapped the rubber band once more about the bundle of photographs,
+closed the drawer and prepared for bed.
+
+For the two weeks following his return home he had a thoroughly good
+time. It was a tremendous comfort to get up when he pleased, to eat the
+things he liked, to do much or little or nothing at his own sweet will.
+He walked a good deal, tramping along the beach in the blustering wind
+and chilly sunshine and enjoying every breath of the clean salt air. He
+thought much during those solitary walks, and at times, at home in the
+evenings, he would fall to musing and sit silent for long periods. His
+grandmother was troubled.
+
+“Don't it seem to you, Zelotes,” she asked her husband, “as if Albert
+was kind of discontented or unsatisfied these days? He's so--so sort
+of fidgety. Talks like the very mischief for ten minutes and then don't
+speak for half an hour. Sits still for a long stretch and then jumps up
+and starts off walkin' as if he was crazy. What makes him act so? He's
+kind of changed from what he used to be. Don't you think so?”
+
+The captain patted her shoulder. “Don't worry, Mother,” he said. “Al's
+older than he was and what he's been through has made him older still.
+As for the fidgety part of it, the settin' down and jumpin' up and all
+that, that's the way they all act, so far as I can learn. Elisha Warren,
+over to South Denboro, tells me his nephew has been that way ever since
+he got back. Don't fret, Mother, Al will come round all right.”
+
+“I didn't know but he might be anxious to see--to see her, you know.”
+
+“Her? Oh, you mean the Fosdick girl. Well, he'll be goin' to see her
+pretty soon, I presume likely. They're due back in New York 'most any
+time now, I believe. . . . Oh, hum! Why in time couldn't he--”
+
+“Couldn't he what, Zelotes?”
+
+“Oh, nothin', nothin'.”
+
+The summons came only a day after this conversation. It came in the form
+of another letter from Madeline and one from Mrs. Fosdick. They were, so
+the latter wrote, back once more in their city home, her nerves, thank
+Heaven, were quite strong again, and they were expecting him, Albert, to
+come on at once. “We are all dying to see you,” wrote Mrs. Fosdick. “And
+poor, dear Madeline, of course, is counting the moments.”
+
+“Stay as long as you feel like, Al,” said the captain, when told of the
+proposed visit. “It's the dull season at the office, anyhow, and Labe
+and I can get along first-rate, with Issy to superintend. Stay as long
+as you want to, only--”
+
+“Only what, Grandfather?”
+
+“Only don't want to stay too long. That is, don't fall in love with New
+York so hard that you forget there is such a place as South Harniss.”
+
+Albert smiled. “I've been in places farther away than New York,” he
+said, “and I never forgot South Harniss.”
+
+“Um-hm. . . . Well, I shouldn't be surprised if that was so. But you'll
+have better company in New York than you did in some of those places.
+Give my regards to Fosdick. So-long, Al.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+
+The Fosdick car was at the Grand Central Station when the Knickerbocker
+Limited pulled in. And Madeline, a wonderfully furred and veiled and
+hatted Madeline, was waiting there behind the rail as he came up the
+runway from the train. It was amazing the fact that it was really she.
+It was more amazing still to kiss her there in public, to hold her hand
+without fear that some one might see. To--
+
+“Shall I take your bags, sir?”
+
+It was the Fosdick footman who asked it. Albert started guiltily. Then
+he laughed, realizing that the hand-holding and the rest were no longer
+criminal offenses. He surrendered his luggage to the man. A few minutes
+later he and Madeline were in the limousine, which was moving rapidly
+up the Avenue. And Madeline was asking questions and he was answering
+and--and still it was all a dream. It COULDN'T be real.
+
+It was even more like a dream when the limousine drew up before the door
+of the Fosdick home and they entered that home together. For there was
+Mrs. Fosdick, as ever majestic, commanding, awe-inspiring, the same Mrs.
+Fosdick who had, in her letter to his grandfather, written him down a
+despicable, underhanded sneak, here was that same Mrs. Fosdick--but not
+at all the same. For this lady was smiling and gracious, welcoming him
+to her home, addressing him by his Christian name, treating him kindly,
+with almost motherly tenderness. Madeline's letters and Mrs. Fosdick's
+own letters received during his convalescence abroad had prepared him,
+or so he had thought, for some such change. Now he realized that he had
+not been prepared at all. The reality was so much more revolutionary
+than the anticipation that he simply could not believe it.
+
+But it was not so very wonderful if he had known all the facts and had
+been in a frame of mind to calmly analyze them. Mrs. Fletcher Fosdick
+was a seasoned veteran, a general who had planned and fought many
+hard campaigns upon the political battlegrounds of women's clubs and
+societies of various sorts. From the majority of those campaigns she had
+emerged victorious, but her experiences in defeat had taught her that
+the next best thing to winning is to lose gracefully, because by
+so doing much which appears to be lost may be regained. For Albert
+Speranza, bookkeeper and would-be poet of South Harniss, Cape Cod,
+she had had no use whatever as a prospective son-in-law. Even toward a
+living Albert Speranza, hero and newspaper-made genius, she might have
+been cold. But when that hero and genius was, as she and every one else
+supposed, safely and satisfactorily dead and out of the way, she had
+seized the opportunity to bask in the radiance of his memory. She had
+talked Albert Speranza and read Albert Speranza and boasted of Albert
+Speranza's engagement to her daughter before the world. Now that the
+said Albert Speranza had been inconsiderate enough to “come alive
+again,” there was but one thing for her to do--that is, to make the best
+of it. And when Mrs. Fletcher Fosdick made the best of anything she made
+the very best.
+
+“It doesn't make any difference,” she told her husband, “whether he
+really is a genius or whether he isn't. We have said he is and now
+we must keep on saying it. And if he can't earn his salt by his
+writings--which he probably can't--then you must fix it in some way so
+that he can make-believe earn it by something else. He is engaged to
+Madeline, and we have told every one that he is, so he will have to
+marry her; at least, I see no way to prevent it.”
+
+“Humph!” grunted Fosdick. “And after that I'll have to support them, I
+suppose.”
+
+“Probably--unless you want your only child to starve.”
+
+“Well, I must say, Henrietta--”
+
+“You needn't, for there is nothing more TO say. We're in it and, whether
+we like it or not, we must make the best of it. To do anything now
+except appear joyful about it would be to make ourselves perfectly
+ridiculous. We can't do that, and you know it.”
+
+Her husband still looked everything but contented.
+
+“So far as the young fellow himself goes,” he said, “I like him, rather.
+I've talked with him only once, of course, and then he and I weren't
+agreeing exactly. But I liked him, nevertheless. If he were anything but
+a fool poet I should be more reconciled.”
+
+He was snubbed immediately. “THAT,” declared Mrs. Fosdick, with
+decision, “is the only thing that makes him possible.”
+
+So Mrs. Fosdick's welcome was whole-handed if not whole-hearted. And her
+husband's also was cordial and intimate. The only member of the Fosdick
+household who did not regard the guest with favor was Googoo. That
+aristocratic bull-pup was still irreconcilably hostile. When Albert
+attempted to pet him he appeared to be planning to devour the caressing
+hand, and when rebuked by his mistress retired beneath a davenport,
+growling ominously. Even when ignominiously expelled from the room he
+growled and cast longing backward glances at the Speranza ankles. No,
+Googoo did not dissemble; Albert was perfectly sure of his standing in
+Googoo's estimation.
+
+Dinner that evening was a trifle more formal than he had expected, and
+he was obliged to apologize for the limitations of his wardrobe. His
+dress suit of former days he had found much too dilapidated for use.
+Besides, he had outgrown it.
+
+“I thought I was thinner,” he said, “and I think I am. But I must have
+broadened a bit. At any rate, all the coats I left behind won't do at
+all. I shall have to do what Captain Snow, my grandfather, calls 'refit'
+here in New York. In a day or two I hope to be more presentable.”
+
+Mrs. Fosdick assured him that it was quite all right, really. Madeline
+asked why he didn't wear his uniform. “I was dying to see you in it,”
+ she said. “Just think, I never have.”
+
+Albert laughed. “You have been spared,” he told her. “Mine was not a
+triumph, so far as fit was concerned. Of course, I had a complete new
+rig when I came out of the hospital, but even that was not beautiful.
+It puckered where it should have bulged and bulged where it should have
+been smooth.”
+
+Madeline professed not to believe him.
+
+“Nonsense!” she declared. “I don't believe it. Why, almost all the
+fellows I know have been in uniform for the past two years and theirs
+fitted beautifully.”
+
+“But they were officers, weren't they, and their uniforms were custom
+made.”
+
+“Why, I suppose so. Aren't all uniforms custom made?”
+
+Her father laughed. “Scarcely, Maddie,” he said. “The privates have
+their custom-made by the mile and cut off in chunks for the individual.
+That was about it, wasn't it, Speranza?”
+
+“Just about, sir.”
+
+Mrs. Fosdick evidently thought that the conversation was taking a rather
+low tone. She elevated it by asking what his thoughts were when taken
+prisoner by the Germans. He looked puzzled.
+
+“Thoughts, Mrs. Fosdick?” he repeated. “I don't know that I understand,
+exactly. I was only partly conscious and in a good deal of pain and my
+thoughts were rather incoherent, I'm afraid.”
+
+“But when you regained consciousness, you know. What were your thoughts
+then? Did you realize that you had made the great sacrifice for your
+country? Risked your life and forfeited your liberty and all that for
+the cause? Wasn't it a great satisfaction to feel that you had done
+that?”
+
+Albert's laugh was hearty and unaffected. “Why, no,” he said. “I think
+what I was realizing most just then was that I had made a miserable mess
+of the whole business. Failed in doing what I set out to do and been
+taken prisoner besides. I remember thinking, when I was clear-headed
+enough to think anything, 'You fool, you spent months getting into this
+war, and then got yourself out of it in fifteen minutes.' And it WAS a
+silly trick, too.”
+
+Madeline was horrified.
+
+“What DO you mean?” she cried. “Your going back there to rescue your
+comrade a silly trick! The very thing that won you your Croix de
+Guerre?”
+
+“Why, yes, in a way. I didn't save Mike, poor fellow--”
+
+“Mike! Was his name Mike?”
+
+“Yes; Michael Francis Xavier Kelly. A South Boston Mick he was, and one
+of the finest, squarest boys that ever drew breath. Well, poor Mike was
+dead when I got to him, so my trip had been for nothing, and if he had
+been alive I could not have prevented his being taken. As it was, he
+was dead and I was a prisoner. So nothing was gained and, for me,
+personally, a good deal was lost. It wasn't a brilliant thing to do.
+But,” he added apologetically, “a chap doesn't have time to think
+collectively in such a scrape. And it was my first real scrap and I was
+frightened half to death, besides.”
+
+“Frightened! Why, I never heard anything so ridiculous! What--”
+
+“One moment, Madeline.” It was Mrs. Fosdick who interrupted. “I want
+to ask--er--Albert a question. I want to ask him if during his long
+imprisonment he composed--wrote, you know. I should have thought the
+sights and experiences would have forced one to express one's self--that
+is, one to whom the gift of expression was so generously granted,” she
+added, with a gracious nod.
+
+Albert hesitated.
+
+“Why, at first I did,” he said. “When I first was well enough to think,
+I used to try to write--verses. I wrote a good many. Afterwards I tore
+them up.”
+
+“Tore them up!” Both Mrs. and Miss Fosdick uttered this exclamation.
+
+“Why, yes. You see, they were such rot. The things I wanted to write
+about, the things _I_ had seen and was seeing, the--the fellows like
+Mike and their pluck and all that--well, it was all too big for me
+to tackle. My jingles sounded, when I read them over, like tunes on a
+street piano. _I_ couldn't do it. A genius might have been equal to the
+job, but I wasn't.”
+
+Mrs. Fosdick glanced at her husband. There was something of alarmed
+apprehension in the glance. Madeline's next remark covered the
+situation. It expressed the absolute truth, so much more of the truth
+than even the young lady herself realized at the time.
+
+“Why, Albert Speranza,” she exclaimed, “I never heard you speak of
+yourself and your work in that way before. Always--ALWAYS you have had
+such complete, such splendid confidence in yourself. You were never
+afraid to attempt ANYTHING. You MUST not talk so. Don't you intend to
+write any more?”
+
+Albert looked at her. “Oh, yes, indeed,” he said simply. “That is just
+what I do intend to do--or try to do.”
+
+That evening, alone in the library, he and Madeline had their first
+long, intimate talk, the first since those days--to him they seemed as
+far away as the last century--when they walked the South Harniss beach
+together, walked beneath the rainbows and dreamed. And now here was
+their dream coming true.
+
+Madeline, he was realizing it as he looked at her, was prettier than
+ever. She had grown a little older, of course, a little more mature, but
+surprisingly little. She was still a girl, a very, very pretty girl and
+a charming girl. And he--
+
+“What are you thinking about?” she demanded suddenly.
+
+He came to himself. “I was thinking about you,” he said. “You are just
+as you used to be, just as charming and just as sweet. You haven't
+changed.”
+
+She smiled and then pouted.
+
+“I don't know whether to like that or not,” she said. “Did you expect to
+find me less--charming and the rest?”
+
+“Why, no, of course not. That was clumsy on my part. What I meant was
+that--well, it seems ages, centuries, since we were together there on
+the Cape--and yet you have not changed.”
+
+She regarded him reflectively.
+
+“You have,” she said.
+
+“Have what?”
+
+“Changed. You have changed a good deal. I don't know whether I like it
+or not. Perhaps I shall be more certain by and by. Now show me your war
+cross. At least you have brought that, even if you haven't brought your
+uniform.”
+
+He had the cross in his pocket-book and he showed it to her. She
+enthused over it, of course, and wished he might wear it even when in
+citizen's clothes. She didn't see why he couldn't. And it was SUCH
+a pity he could not be in uniform. Captain Blanchard had called
+the evening before, to see Mother about some war charities she was
+interested in, and he was still in uniform and wearing his decorations,
+too. Albert suggested that probably Blanchard was still in service.
+Yes, she believed he was, but she could not see why that should make the
+difference. Albert had BEEN in service.
+
+He laughed at this and attempted to explain. She seemed to resent the
+attempt or the tone.
+
+“I do wish,” she said almost pettishly, “that you wouldn't be so
+superior.”
+
+He was surprised. “Superior!” he repeated. “Superior! I? Superiority is
+the very least of my feelings. I--superior! That's a joke.”
+
+And, oddly enough, she resented that even more. “Why is it a joke?” she
+demanded. “I should think you had the right to feel superior to almost
+any one. A hero--and a genius! You ARE superior.”
+
+However, the little flurry was but momentary, and she was all sweetness
+and smiles when she kissed him good night. He was shown to his room by
+a servant and amid its array of comforts--to him, fresh from France
+and the camp and his old room at South Harniss, it was luxuriously
+magnificent--he sat for some time thinking. His thoughts should have
+been happy ones, yet they were not entirely so. This is a curiously
+unsatisfactory world, sometimes.
+
+The next day he went shopping. Fosdick had given him a card to his own
+tailor and Madeline had given him the names of several shops where, so
+she declared, he could buy the right sort of ties and things. From the
+tailor's Albert emerged looking a trifle dazed; after a visit to two of
+the shops the dazed expression was even more pronounced. His next
+visits were at establishments farther downtown and not as exclusive.
+He returned to the Fosdick home feeling fairly well satisfied with the
+results achieved. Madeline, however, did not share his satisfaction.
+
+“But Dad sent you to his tailor,” she said. “Why in the world didn't you
+order your evening clothes there? And Brett has the most stunning ties.
+Every one says so. Instead you buy yours at a department store. Now
+why?”
+
+He smiled. “My dear girl,” he said, “your father's tailor estimated
+that he might make me a very passable dress suit for one hundred and
+seventy-five dollars. Brett's ties were stunning, just as you say, but
+the prices ranged from five to eight dollars, which was more stunning
+still. For a young person from the country out of a job, which is my
+condition at present, such things may be looked at but not handled. I
+can't afford them.”
+
+She tossed her head. “What nonsense!” she exclaimed. “You're not out of
+a job, as you call it. You are a writer and a famous writer. You have
+written one book and you are going to write more. Besides, you must have
+made heaps of money from The Lances. Every one has been reading it.”
+
+When he told her the amount of his royalty check she expressed the
+opinion that the publisher must have cheated. It ought to have been ever
+and ever so much more than that. Such wonderful poems!
+
+The next day she went to Brett's and purchased a half dozen of the most
+expensive ties, which she presented to him forthwith.
+
+“There!” she demanded. “Aren't those nicer than the ones you bought at
+that old department store? Well, then!”
+
+“But, Madeline, I must not let you buy my ties.”
+
+“Why not? It isn't such an unheard-of thing for an engaged girl to give
+her fiance a necktie.”
+
+“That isn't the idea. I should have bought ties like those myself, but I
+couldn't afford them. Now for you to--”
+
+“Nonsense! You talk as if you were a beggar. Don't be so silly.”
+
+“But, Madeline--”
+
+“Stop! I don't want to hear it.”
+
+She rose and went out of the room. She looked as if she were on the
+verge of tears. He felt obliged to accept the gift, but he disliked the
+principle of the things as much as ever. When she returned she was very
+talkative and gay and chatted all through luncheon. The subject of the
+ties was not mentioned again by either of them. He was glad he had not
+told her that his new dress suit was ready-made.
+
+While in France, awaiting his return home, he had purchased a ring
+and sent it to her. She was wearing it, of course. Compared with other
+articles of jewelry which she wore from time to time, his ring made an
+extremely modest showing. She seemed quite unaware of the discrepancy,
+but he was aware of it.
+
+On an evening later in the week Mrs. Fosdick gave a reception. “Quite
+an informal affair,” she said, in announcing her intention. “Just a few
+intimate friends to meet Mr. Speranza, that is all. Mostly lovers of
+literature--discerning people, if I may say so.”
+
+The quite informal affair looked quite formidably formal to Albert. The
+few intimate friends were many, so it seemed to him. There was still
+enough of the former Albert Speranza left in his make-up to prevent
+his appearing in the least distressed or ill at ease. He was, as he
+had always been when in the public eye, even as far back as the school
+dancing-classes with the Misses Bradshaw's young ladies, perfectly
+self-possessed, charmingly polite, absolutely self-assured. And his good
+looks had not suffered during his years of imprisonment and suffering.
+He was no longer a handsome boy, but he was an extraordinarily
+attractive and distinguished man.
+
+Mrs. Fosdick marked his manner and appearance and breathed a sigh of
+satisfaction. Madeline noted them. Her young friends of the sex noted
+them and whispered and looked approval. What the young men thought does
+not matter so much, perhaps. One of these was the Captain Blanchard, of
+whom Madeline had written and spoken. He was a tall, athletic chap,
+who looked well in his uniform, and whose face was that of a healthy,
+clean-living and clean-thinking young American. He and Albert shook
+hands and looked each other over. Albert decided he should like
+Blanchard if he knew him better. The captain was not talkative; in fact,
+he seemed rather taciturn. Maids and matrons gushed when presented to
+the lion of the evening. It scarcely seemed possible that they were
+actually meeting the author of The Lances of Dawn. That wonderful book!
+Those wonderful poems! “How CAN you write them, Mr. Speranza?” “When do
+your best inspirations come, Mr. Speranza?” “Oh, if I could write as
+you do I should walk on air.” The matron who breathed the last-quoted
+ecstasy was distinctly weighty; the mental picture of her pedestrian
+trip through the atmosphere was interesting. Albert's hand was patted by
+the elderly spinsters, young women's eyes lifted soulful glances to his.
+
+It was the sort of thing he would have revelled in three or four years
+earlier. Exactly the sort of thing he had dreamed of when the majority
+of the poems they gushed over were written. It was much the same thing
+he remembered having seen his father undergo in the days when he and
+the opera singer were together. And his father had, apparently, rather
+enjoyed it. He realized all this--and he realized, too, with a queer
+feeling that it should be so, that he did not like it at all. It was
+silly. Nothing he had written warranted such extravagances. Hadn't these
+people any sense of proportion? They bored him to desperation. The sole
+relief was the behavior of the men, particularly the middle-aged or
+elderly men, obviously present through feminine compulsion. They seized
+his hand, moved it up and down with a pumping motion, uttered some
+stereotyped prevarications about their pleasure at meeting him and their
+having enjoyed his poems very much, and then slid on in the direction of
+the refreshment room.
+
+And Albert, as he shook hands, bowed and smiled and was charmingly
+affable, found his thoughts wandering until they settled upon Private
+Mike Kelly and the picturesque language of the latter when he, as
+sergeant, routed him out for guard duty. Mike had not gushed over him
+nor called him a genius. He had called him many things, but not that.
+
+He was glad indeed when he could slip away for a dance with Madeline. He
+found her chatting gaily with Captain Blanchard, who had been her most
+recent partner. He claimed her from the captain and as he led her out to
+the dance floor she whispered that she was very proud of him. “But I DO
+wish YOU could wear your war cross,” she added.
+
+The quite informal affair was the first of many quite as informally
+formal. Also Mrs. Fosdick's satellites and friends of the literary clubs
+and the war work societies seized the opportunity to make much of the
+heroic author of The Lances of Dawn. His society was requested at teas,
+at afternoon as well as evening gatherings. He would have refused most
+of these invitations, but Madeline and her mother seemed to take his
+acceptance for granted; in fact, they accepted for him. A ghastly
+habit developed of asking him to read a few of his own poems on these
+occasions. “PLEASE, Mr. Speranza. It will be such a treat, and such an
+HONOR.” Usually a particular request was made that he read “The Greater
+Love.” Now “The Greater Love” was the poem which, written in those
+rapturous days when he and Madeline first became aware of their mutual
+adoration, was refused by one editor as a “trifle too syrupy.” To read
+that sticky effusion over and over again became a torment. There were
+occasions when if a man had referred to “The Greater Love,” its author
+might have howled profanely and offered bodily violence. But no men ever
+did refer to “The Greater Love.”
+
+On one occasion when a sentimental matron and her gushing daughter had
+begged to know if he did not himself adore that poem, if he did not
+consider it the best he had ever written, he had answered frankly.
+He was satiated with cake and tea and compliments that evening and
+recklessly truthful. “You really wish to know my opinion of that poem?”
+ he asked. Indeed and indeed they really wished to knew just that thing.
+“Well, then, I think it's rot,” he declared. “I loathe it.”
+
+Of course mother and daughter were indignant. Their comments reached
+Madeline's ear. She took him to task.
+
+“But why did you say it?” she demanded. “You know you don't mean it.”
+
+“Yes, I do mean it. It IS rot. Lots of the stuff in that book of mine
+is rot. I did not think so once, but I do now. If I had the book to make
+over again, that sort wouldn't be included.”
+
+She looked at him for a moment as if studying a problem.
+
+“I don't understand you sometimes,” she said slowly. “You are different.
+And I think what you said to Mrs. Bacon and Marian was very rude.”
+
+Later when he went to look for her he found her seated with Captain
+Blanchard in a corner. They were eating ices and, apparently, enjoying
+themselves. He did not disturb them. Instead he hunted up the offended
+Bacons and apologized for his outbreak. The apology, although graciously
+accepted, had rather wearisome consequences. Mrs. Bacon declared she
+knew that he had not really meant what he said.
+
+“I realize how it must be,” she declared. “You people of temperament,
+of genius, of aspirations, are never quite satisfied, you cannot be. You
+are always trying, always seeking the higher attainment. Achievements of
+the past, though to the rest of us wonderful and sublime, are to you--as
+you say, 'rot.' That is it, is it not?” Albert said he guessed it was,
+and wandered away, seeking seclusion and solitude. When the affair broke
+up he found Madeline and Blanchard still enjoying each other's society.
+Both were surprised when told the hour.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+
+So the first three weeks of his proposed month's visit passed and the
+fourth began. And more and more his feelings of dissatisfaction and
+uneasiness increased. The reasons for those feelings he found hard to
+define. The Fosdicks were most certainly doing their best to make him
+comfortable and happy. They were kind--yes, more than kind. Mr.
+Fosdick he really began to like. Mrs. Fosdick's manner had a trace of
+condescension in it, but as the lady treated all creation with much the
+same measure of condescension, he was more amused than resentful. And
+Madeline--Madeline was sweet and charming and beautiful. There was in
+her manner toward him, or so he fancied, a slight change, perhaps a
+change a trifle more marked since the evening when his expressed opinion
+of “The Greater Love” had offended her and the Bacons. It seemed to
+him that she was more impatient, more capricious, sometimes almost
+overwhelming him with attention and tenderness and then appearing to
+forget him entirely and to be quite indifferent to his thoughts and
+opinions. Her moods varied greatly and there were occasions when he
+found it almost impossible to please her. At these times she took
+offense when no offense was intended and he found himself apologizing
+when, to say the least, the fault, if there was any, was not more than
+half his. But she always followed those moods with others of contrition
+and penitence and then he was petted and fondled and his forgiveness
+implored.
+
+These slight changes in her he noticed, but they troubled him little,
+principally because he was coming to realize the great change in
+himself. More and more that change was forcing itself upon him. The
+stories and novels he had read during the first years of the war,
+the stories by English writers in which young men, frivolous and
+inconsequential, had enlisted and fought and emerged from the ordeal
+strong, purposeful and “made-over”--those stories recurred to him now.
+He had paid little attention to the “making-over” idea when he read
+those tales, but now he was forced to believe there might be something
+in it. Certainly something, the three years or the discipline and
+training and suffering, or all combined, had changed him. He was not as
+he used to be. Things he liked very much he no longer liked at all. And
+where, oh where, was the serene self-satisfaction which once was his?
+
+The change must be quite individual, he decided. All soldiers were not
+so affected. Take Blanchard, for instance. Blanchard had seen service,
+more and quite as hard fighting as he had seen, but Blanchard was, to
+all appearances, as light-hearted and serene and confident as ever.
+Blanchard was like Madeline; he was much the same now as he had been
+before the war. Blanchard could dance and talk small talk and laugh and
+enjoy himself. Well, so could he, on occasions, for that matter, if that
+had been all. But it was not all, or if it was why was he at other times
+so discontented and uncomfortable? What was the matter with him, anyway?
+
+He drew more and more into his shell and became more quiet and less
+talkative. Madeline, in one of her moods, reproached him for it.
+
+“I do wish you wouldn't be grumpy,” she said.
+
+They had been sitting in the library and he had lapsed into a fit of
+musing, answering her questions with absentminded monosyllables. Now he
+looked up.
+
+“Grumpy?” he repeated. “Was I grumpy? I beg your pardon.”
+
+“You should. You answered every word I spoke to you with a grunt or a
+growl. I might as well have been talking to a bear.”
+
+“I'm awfully sorry, dear. I didn't feel grumpy. I was thinking, I
+suppose.”
+
+“Thinking! You are always thinking. Why think, pray? . . . If I
+permitted myself to think, I should go insane.”
+
+“Madeline, what do you mean?”
+
+“Oh, nothing. I'm partially insane now, perhaps. Come, let's go to the
+piano. I feel like playing. You don't mind, do you?”
+
+That evening Mrs. Fosdick made a suggestion to her husband.
+
+“Fletcher,” she said, “I am inclined to think it is time you and Albert
+had a talk concerning the future. A business talk, I mean. I am a little
+uneasy about him. From some things he has said to me recently I gather
+that he is planning to earn his living with his pen.”
+
+“Well, how else did you expect him to earn it; as bookkeeper for the
+South Harniss lumber concern?”
+
+“Don't be absurd. What I mean is that he is thinking of devoting himself
+to literature exclusively. Don't interrupt me, please. That is very
+beautiful and very idealistic, and I honor him for it, but I cannot see
+Madeline as an attic poet's wife, can you?”
+
+“I can't, and I told you so in the beginning.”
+
+“No. Therefore I should take him to one side and tell him of the opening
+in your firm. With that as a means of keeping his feet on the ground his
+brain may soar as it likes, the higher the better.”
+
+Mr. Fosdick, as usual, obeyed orders and that afternoon Albert and he
+had the “business talk.” Conversation at dinner was somewhat strained.
+Mr. Fosdick was quietly observant and seemed rather amused about
+something. His wife was dignified and her manner toward her guest was
+inclined to be abrupt. Albert's appetite was poor. As for Madeline, she
+did not come down to dinner, having a headache.
+
+She came down later, however. Albert, alone in the library, was sitting,
+a book upon his knees and his eyes fixed upon nothing in particular,
+when she came in.
+
+“You are thinking again, I see,” she said.
+
+He had not heard her enter. Now he rose, the book falling to the floor.
+
+“Why--why, yes,” he stammered. “How are you feeling? How is your head?”
+
+“It is no worse. And no better. I have been thinking, too, which perhaps
+explains it. Sit down, Albert, please. I want to talk with you. That is
+what I have been thinking about, that you and I must talk.”
+
+She seated herself upon the davenport and he pulled forward a chair
+and sat facing her. For a moment she was silent. When she did speak,
+however, her question was very much to the point.
+
+“Why did you say 'No' to Father's offer?” she asked. He had been
+expecting this very question, or one leading up to it. Nevertheless,
+he found answering difficult. He hesitated, and she watched him, her
+impatience growing.
+
+“Well?” she asked.
+
+He sighed. “Madeline,” he said, “I am afraid you think me very
+unreasonable, certainly very ungrateful.”
+
+“I don't know what to think about you. That is why I feel we must
+have this talk. Tell me, please, just what Father said to you this
+afternoon.”
+
+“He said--well, the substance of what he said was to offer me a position
+in his office, in his firm.”
+
+“What sort of a position?”
+
+“Well, I--I scarcely know. I was to have a desk there and--and be
+generally--ornamental, I suppose. It was not very definite, the details
+of the position, but--”
+
+“The salary was good, wasn't it?”
+
+“Yes; more than good. Much too good for the return I could make for it,
+so it seemed to me.”
+
+“And your prospects for the future? Wasn't the offer what people call a
+good opportunity?”
+
+“Why, yes, I suppose it was. For the right sort of man it would have
+been a wonderful opportunity. Your father was most kind, most generous,
+Madeline. Please don't think I am not appreciative. I am, but--”
+
+“Don't. I want to understand it all. He offered you this opportunity,
+this partnership in his firm, and you would not accept it? Why? Don't
+you like my father?”
+
+“Yes, I like him very much.”
+
+“Didn't you,” with the slightest possible curl of the lip, “think the
+offer worthy of you? . . . Oh, I don't mean that! Please forgive me. I
+am trying not to be disagreeable. I--I just want to understand, Albert,
+that's all.”
+
+He nodded. “I know, Madeline,” he said. “You have the right to ask. It
+wasn't so much a question of the offer being worthy of me as of my being
+worthy the offer. Oh, Madeline, why should you and I pretend? You know
+why Mr. Fosdick made me that offer. It wasn't because I was likely to be
+worth ten dollars a year to his firm. In Heaven's name, what use would I
+be in a stockbroker's office, with my make-up, with my lack of business
+ability? He would be making a place for me there and paying me a high
+salary for one reason only, and you know what that is. Now don't you?”
+
+She hesitated now, but only for an instant. She colored a little, but
+she answered bravely.
+
+“I suppose I do,” she said, “but what of it? It is not unheard of, is
+it, the taking one's prospective son-in-law into partnership?”
+
+“No, but--We're dodging the issue again, Madeline. If I were likely
+to be of any help to your father's business, instead of a hindrance, I
+might perhaps see it differently. As it is, I couldn't accept unless I
+were willing to be an object of charity.”
+
+“Did you tell Father that?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“What did he say?”
+
+“He said a good deal. He was frank enough to say that he did not expect
+me to be of great assistance to the firm. But I might be of SOME use--he
+didn't put it as baldly as that, of course--and at all times I could
+keep on with my writing, with my poetry, you know. The brokerage
+business should not interfere with my poetry, he said; your mother would
+scalp him if it did that.”
+
+She smiled faintly. “That sounds like dad,” she commented.
+
+“Yes. Well, we talked and argued for some time on the subject. He asked
+me what, supposing I did not accept this offer of his, my plans for the
+future might be. I told him they were pretty unsettled as yet. I meant
+to write, of course. Not poetry altogether. I realized, I told him, that
+I was not a great poet, a poet of genius.”
+
+Madeline interrupted. Her eyes flashed.
+
+“Why do you say that?” she demanded. “I have heard you say it before.
+That is, recently. In the old days you were as sure as I that you were a
+real poet, or should be some day. You never doubted it. You used to tell
+me so and I loved to hear you.”
+
+Albert shook his head. “I was sure of so many things then,” he said. “I
+must have been an insufferable kid.”
+
+She stamped her foot. “It was less than three years ago that you said
+it,” she declared. “You are not so frightfully ancient now. . . . Well,
+go on, go on. How did it end, the talk with Father, I mean?”
+
+“I told him,” he continued, “that I meant to write and to earn my living
+by writing. I meant to try magazine work--stories, you know--and, soon,
+a novel. He asked if earning enough to support a wife on would not be
+a long job at that time. I said I was afraid it might, but that that
+seemed to me my particular game, nevertheless.”
+
+She interrupted again. “Did it occur to you to question whether or not
+that determination of yours was quite fair to me?” she asked.
+
+“Why--why, yes, it did. And I don't know that it IS exactly fair to you.
+I--”
+
+“Never mind. Go on. Tell me the rest. How did it end?”
+
+“Well, it ended in a sort of flare-up. Mr. Fosdick was just a little bit
+sarcastic, and I expressed my feelings rather freely--too freely, I'm
+afraid.”
+
+“Never mind. I want to know what you said.”
+
+“To be absolutely truthful, then, this is what I said: I said that I
+appreciated his kindness and was grateful for the offer. But my mind was
+made up. I would not live upon his charity and draw a large salary for
+doing nothing except be a little, damned tame house-poet led around in
+leash and exhibited at his wife's club meetings. . . . That was about
+all, I think. We shook hands at the end. He didn't seem to like me any
+the less for . . . Why, Madeline, have I offended you? My language was
+pretty strong, I know, but--”
+
+She had bowed her head upon her arms amid the sofa cushions and was
+crying. He sprang to his feet and bent over her.
+
+“Why, Madeline,” he said again, “I beg your pardon. I'm sorry--”
+
+“Oh, it isn't that,” she sobbed. “It isn't that. I don't care what you
+said.”
+
+“What is it, then?”
+
+She raised her head and looked at him.
+
+“It is you,” she cried. “It is myself. It is everything. It is all
+wrong. I--I was so happy and--and now I am miserable. Oh--oh, I wish I
+were dead!”
+
+She threw herself upon the cushions again and wept hysterically. He
+stood above her, stroking her hair, trying to soothe her, to comfort
+her, and all the time he felt like a brute, a heartless beast. At last
+she ceased crying, sat up and wiped her eyes with her handkerchief.
+
+“There!” she exclaimed. “I will not be silly any longer. I won't be! I
+WON'T! . . . Now tell me: Why have you changed so?”
+
+He looked down at her and shook his head. He was conscience-stricken and
+fully as miserable as she professed to be.
+
+“I don't know,” he said. “I am older and--and--and I DON'T see things as
+I used to. If that book of mine had appeared three years ago I have no
+doubt I should have believed it to be the greatest thing ever printed.
+Now, when people tell me it is and I read what the reviewers said and
+all that, I--I DON'T believe, I KNOW it isn't great--that is, the most
+of it isn't. There is some pretty good stuff, of course, but--You see,
+I think it wasn't the poems themselves that made it sell; I think it was
+all the fool tommyrot the papers printed about me, about my being a hero
+and all that rubbish, when they thought I was dead, you know. That--”
+
+She interrupted. “Oh, don't!” she cried. “Don't! I don't care about
+the old book. I'm not thinking about that. I'm thinking about you. YOU
+aren't the same--the same toward me.”
+
+“Toward you, Madeline? I don't understand what you mean.”
+
+“Yes, you do. Of course you do. If you were the same as you used to be,
+you would let Father help you. We used to talk about that very thing
+and--and you didn't resent it then.”
+
+“Didn't I? Well, perhaps I didn't. But I think I remember our speaking
+sometimes of sacrificing everything for each other. We were to live in
+poverty, if necessary, and I was to write, you know, and--”
+
+“Stop! All that was nonsense, nonsense! you know it.”
+
+“Yes, I'm afraid it was.”
+
+“You know it was. And if you were as you used to be, if you--”
+
+“Madeline!”
+
+“What? Why did you interrupt me?”
+
+“Because I wanted to ask you a question. Do you think YOU are exactly
+the same--as you used to be?”
+
+“What do you mean?”
+
+“Haven't YOU changed a little? Are you as sure as you were then--as sure
+of your feeling toward me?”
+
+She gazed at him, wide-eyed. “WHAT do you mean?”
+
+“I mean ARE you sure? It has seemed to me that perhaps--I was out of
+your life for a long time, you know, and during a good deal of that
+time it seemed certain that I had gone forever. I am not blaming you,
+goodness knows, but--Madeline, isn't there--Well, if I hadn't come back,
+mightn't there have been some one--else?”
+
+She turned pale.
+
+“What do--” she stammered, inarticulate. “Why, why--”
+
+“It was Captain Blanchard, wasn't it?”
+
+The color came back to her cheeks with a rush. She blushed furiously and
+sprang to her feet.
+
+“How--how can you say such things!” she cried. “What do you mean? How
+DARE you say Captain Blanchard took advantage of--How--how DARE you say
+I was not loyal to you? It is not true. It is not true. I was. I am.
+There hasn't been a word--a word between us since--since the news came
+that you were--I told him--I said--And he has been splendid! Splendid!
+And now you say--Oh, what AM I saying? What SHALL I do?”
+
+She collapsed once more among the cushions. He leaned forward.
+
+“My dear girl--” he began, but she broke in.
+
+“I HAVEN'T been disloyal,” she cried. “I have tried--Oh, I have tried so
+hard--”
+
+“Hush, Madeline, hush. I understand. I understand perfectly. It is all
+right, really it is.”
+
+“And I should have kept on trying always--always.”
+
+“Yes, dear, yes. But do you think a married life with so much trying in
+it likely to be a happy one? It is better to know it now, isn't it, a
+great deal better for both of us? Madeline, I am going to my room. I
+want you to think, to think over all this, and then we will talk
+again. I don't blame you. I don't, dear, really. I think I realize
+everything--all of it. Good night, dear.”
+
+He stooped and kissed her. She sobbed, but that was all. The next
+morning a servant came to his room with a parcel and a letter. The
+parcel was a tiny one. It was the ring he had given her, in its case.
+The letter was short and much blotted. It read:
+
+
+Dear Albert:
+
+I have thought and thought, as you told me to, and I have concluded that
+you were right. It IS best to know it now. Forgive me, please, PLEASE. I
+feel wicked and horrid and I HATE myself, but I think this is best. Oh,
+do forgive me. Good-by.
+
+MADELINE.
+
+
+His reply was longer. At its end he wrote:
+
+
+Of course I forgive you. In the first place there is nothing to forgive.
+The unforgivable thing would have been the sacrifice of your happiness
+and your future to a dream and a memory. I hope you will be very happy.
+I am sure you will be, for Blanchard is, I know, a fine fellow. The best
+of fortune to you both.
+
+
+The next forenoon he sat once more in the car of the morning train for
+Cape Cod, looking out of the window. He had made the journey from New
+York by the night boat and had boarded the Cape train at Middleboro. All
+the previous day, and in the evening as he tramped the cold wind-swept
+deck of the steamer, he had been trying to collect his thoughts, to
+readjust them to the new situation, to comprehend in its entirety the
+great change that had come in his life. The vague plans, the happy
+indefinite dreams, all the rainbows and roses had gone, shivered to bits
+like the reflection in a broken mirror. Madeline, his Madeline, was his
+no longer. Nor was he hers. In a way it seemed impossible.
+
+He tried to analyze his feelings. It seemed as if he should have been
+crushed, grief-stricken, broken. He was inclined to reproach himself
+because he was not. Of course there was a sadness about it, a regret
+that the wonder of those days of love and youth had passed. But the
+sorrow was not bitter, the regret was but a wistful longing, the sweet,
+lingering fragrance of a memory, that was all. Toward her, Madeline, he
+felt--and it surprised him, too, to find that he felt--not the slightest
+trace of resentment. And more surprising still he felt none toward
+Blanchard. He had meant what he said in his letter, he wished for them
+both the greatest happiness.
+
+And--there was no use attempting to shun the fact--his chief feeling,
+as he sat there by the car window looking out at the familiar landscape,
+was a great relief, a consciousness of escape from what might have
+been a miserable, crushing mistake for him and for her. And with this
+a growing sense of freedom, of buoyancy. It seemed wicked to feel like
+that. Then it came to him, the thought that Madeline, doubtless, was
+experiencing the same feeling. And he did not mind a bit; he hoped she
+was, bless her!
+
+A youthful cigar “drummer,” on his first Down-East trip, sat down beside
+him.
+
+“Kind of a flat, bare country, ain't it?” observed the drummer, with
+a jerk of his head toward the window. “Looks bleak enough to me. Know
+anything about this neck of the woods, do you?”
+
+Albert turned to look at him.
+
+“Meaning the Cape?” he asked.
+
+“Sure.”
+
+“Indeed I do. I know all about it.”
+
+“That so! Say, you sound as if you liked it.”
+
+Albert turned back to the window again.
+
+“Like it!” he repeated. “I love it.” Then he sighed, a sigh of
+satisfaction, and added: “You see, I BELONG here.”
+
+His grandparents and Rachel were surprised when he walked into the house
+that noon and announced that he hoped dinner was ready, because he was
+hungry. But their surprise was more than balanced by their joy. Captain
+Zelotes demanded to know how long he was going to stay.
+
+“As long as you'll have me, Grandfather,” was the answer.
+
+“Eh? Well, that would be a consider'ble spell, if you left it to us, but
+I cal'late that girl in New York will have somethin' to say as to time
+limit, won't she?”
+
+Albert smiled. “I'll tell you about that by and by,” he said.
+
+He did not tell them until that evening after supper. It was Friday
+evening and Olive was going to prayer-meeting, but she delayed “putting
+on her things” to hear the tale. The news that the engagement was off
+and that her grandson was not, after all, to wed the daughter of the
+Honorable Fletcher Fosdick, shocked and grieved her not a little.
+
+“Oh, dear!” she sighed. “I suppose you know what's best, Albert, and
+maybe, as you say, you wouldn't have been happy, but I DID feel sort of
+proud to think my boy was goin' to marry a millionaire's daughter.”
+
+Captain Zelotes made no comment--then. He asked to be told more
+particulars. Albert described the life at the Fosdick home, the
+receptions, his enforced exhibitions and readings. At length the recital
+reached the point of the interview in Fosdick's office.
+
+“So he offered you to take you into the firm--eh, son?” he observed.
+
+“Yes, sir.”
+
+“Humph! Fosdick, Williamson and Hendricks are one of the biggest
+brokerage houses goin', so a good many New Yorkers have told me.”
+
+“No doubt. But, Grandfather, you've had some experience with me as a
+business man; how do you think I would fit into a firm of stockbrokers?”
+
+Captain Lote's eye twinkled, but he did not answer the question. Instead
+he asked:
+
+“Just what did you give Fosdick as your reason for not sayin' yes?”
+
+Albert laughed. “Well, Grandfather,” he said, “I'll tell you. I said
+that I appreciated his kindness and all that, but that I would not
+draw a big salary for doing nothing except to be a little, damned
+tame house-poet led around in leash and shown off at his wife's club
+meetings.”
+
+Mrs. Snow uttered a faint scream. “Oh, Albert!” she exclaimed. She might
+have said more, but a shout from her husband prevented her doing so.
+
+Captain Zelotes had risen and his mighty hand descended with a stinging
+slap upon his grandson's shoulder.
+
+“Bully for you, boy!” he cried. Then, turning to Olive, he added,
+“Mother, I've always kind of cal'lated that you had one man around this
+house. Now, by the Lord A'Mighty, I know you've got TWO!”
+
+Olive rose. “Well,” she declared emphatically, “that may be; but if both
+those men are goin' to start in swearin' right here in the sittin' room,
+I think it's high time SOMEBODY in that family went to church.”
+
+So to prayer meeting she went, with Mrs. Ellis as escort, and her
+husband and grandson, seated in armchairs before the sitting room stove,
+both smoking, talked and talked, of the past and of the future--not as
+man to boy, nor as grandparent to grandson, but for the first time as
+equals, without reservations, as man to man.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+
+The next morning Albert met old Mr. Kendall. After breakfast Captain
+Zelotes had gone, as usual, directly to the office. His grandson,
+however, had not accompanied him.
+
+“What are you cal'latin' to do this mornin', Al?” inquired the captain.
+
+“Oh, I don't know exactly, Grandfather. I'm going to look about the
+place a bit, write a letter to my publishers, and take a walk, I think.
+You will probably see me at the office pretty soon. I'll look in there
+by and by.”
+
+“Ain't goin' to write one or two of those five hundred dollar stories
+before dinner time, are you?”
+
+“I guess not, sir. I'm afraid they won't be written as quickly as all
+that.”
+
+Captain Lote shook his head. “Godfreys!” he exclaimed; “it ain't the
+writin' of 'em I'd worry about so much as the gettin' paid for 'em.
+You're sure that editor man ain't crazy, you say?”
+
+“I hope he isn't. He seemed sane enough when I saw him.”
+
+“Well, I don't know. It's live and learn, I suppose, but if anybody but
+you had told me that magazine folks paid as much as five hundred dollars
+a piece for yarns made up out of a feller's head without a word of truth
+in 'em, I'd--well, I should have told the feller that told me to go to
+a doctor right off and have HIS head examined. But--well, as 'tis I
+cal'late I'd better have my own looked at. So long, Al. Come in to the
+office if you get a chance.”
+
+He hurried out. Albert walked to the window and watched the sturdy
+figure swinging out of the yard. He wondered if, should he live to
+his grandfather's age, his step would be as firm and his shoulders as
+square.
+
+Olive laid a hand on his arm.
+
+“You don't mind his talkin' that way about your writin' those stories,
+do you, Albert?” she asked, a trace of anxiety in her tone. “He don't
+mean it, you know. He don't understand it--says he don't himself--but
+he's awful proud of you, just the same. Why, last night, after you and
+he had finished talkin' and he came up to bed--and the land knows what
+time of night or mornin' THAT was--he woke me out of a sound sleep to
+tell me about that New York magazine man givin' you a written order
+to write six stories for his magazine at five hundred dollars a piece.
+Zelotes couldn't seem to get over it. 'Think of it, Mother,' he kept
+sayin'. 'Think of it! Pretty nigh twice what I pay as good a man as
+Labe Keeler for keepin' books a whole year. And Al says he ought to do
+a story every forni't. I used to jaw his head off, tellin' him he was on
+the road to starvation and all that. Tut, tut, tut! Mother, I've waited
+a long time to say it, but it looks as if you married a fool.' . . .
+That's the way he talked, but he's a long ways from bein' a fool, your
+grandfather is, Albert.”
+
+Albert nodded. “No one knows that better than I,” he said, with
+emphasis.
+
+“There's one thing,” she went on, “that kind of troubled me. He said
+you was goin' to insist on payin' board here at home. Now you know this
+house is yours. And we love to--”
+
+He put his arm about her. “I know it, Grandmother,” he broke in,
+quickly. “But that is all settled. I am going to try to make my own
+living in my own way. I am going to write and see what I am really
+worth. I have my royalty money, you know, most of it, and I have this
+order for the series of stories. I can afford to pay for my keep and
+I shall. You see, as I told Grandfather last night, I don't propose to
+live on his charity any more than on Mr. Fosdick's.”
+
+She sighed.
+
+“So Zelotes said,” she admitted. “He told me no less than three times
+that you said it. It seemed to tickle him most to death, for some
+reason, and that's queer, too, for he's anything but stingy. But there,
+I suppose you can pay board if you want to, though who you'll pay it to
+is another thing. _I_ shan't take a cent from the only grandson I've got
+in the world.”
+
+It was while on his stroll down to the village that Albert met Mr.
+Kendall. The reverend gentleman was plodding along carrying a market
+basket from the end of which, beneath a fragment of newspaper, the tail
+and rear third of a huge codfish drooped. The basket and its contents
+must have weighed at least twelve pounds and the old minister was, as
+Captain Zelotes would have said, making heavy weather of it. Albert went
+to his assistance.
+
+“How do you do, Mr. Kendall,” he said; “I'm afraid that basket is rather
+heavy, isn't it. Mayn't I help you with it?” Then, seeing that the old
+gentleman did not recognize him, he added, “I am Albert Speranza.”
+
+Down went the basket and the codfish and Mr. Kendall seized him by both
+hands.
+
+“Why, of course, of course,” he cried. “Of course, of course. It's our
+young hero, isn't it. Our poet, our happy warrior. Yes,--yes, of course.
+So glad to see you, Albert. . . . Er . . . er . . . How is your mother?”
+
+“You mean my grandmother? She is very well, thank you.”
+
+“Yes--er--yes, your grandmother, of course. . . . Er . . . er. . . .
+Did you see my codfish? Isn't it a magnificent one. I am very fond of
+codfish and we almost never have it at home. So just now, I happened to
+be passing Jonathan Howes'--he is the--er--fishdealer, you know, and
+. . . Jonathan is a very regular attendant at my Sunday morning services.
+He is--is. . . . Dear me. . . . What was I about to say?”
+
+Being switched back to the main track by Albert he explained that he
+had seen a number of cod in Mr. Howes' possession and had bought this
+specimen. Howes had lent him the basket.
+
+“And the newspaper,” he explained; adding, with triumph, “I shall dine
+on codfish to-day, I am happy to say.” Judging by appearances he might
+dine and sup and breakfast on codfish and still have a supply remaining.
+Albert insisted on carrying the spoil to the parsonage. He was doing
+nothing in particular and it would be a pleasure, he said. Mr. Kendall
+protested for the first minute or so but then forgot just what the
+protest was all about and rambled garrulously on about affairs in the
+parish. He had failed in other faculties, but his flow of language was
+still unimpeded. They entered the gate of the parsonage. Albert put the
+basket on the upper step.
+
+“There,” he said; “now I must go. Good morning, Mr. Kendall.”
+
+“Oh, but you aren't going? You must come in a moment. I want to give you
+the manuscript of that sermon of mine on the casting down of Baal, that
+is the one in which I liken the military power of Germany to the brazen
+idol which. . . . Just a moment, Albert. The manuscript is in my desk
+and. . . . Oh, dear me, the door is locked. . . . Helen, Helen!”
+
+He was shaking the door and shouting his daughter's name. Albert was
+surprised and not a little disturbed. It had not occurred to him that
+Helen could be at home. It is true that before he left for New York his
+grandmother had said that she was planning to return home to be with her
+father, but since then he had heard nothing more concerning her. Neither
+of his grandparents had mentioned her name in their letters, nor since
+his arrival the day before had they mentioned it. And Mr. Kendall had
+not spoken of her during their walk together. Albert was troubled and
+taken aback. In one way he would have liked to meet Helen very much
+indeed. They had not met since before the war. But he did not, somehow,
+wish to meet her just then. He did not wish to meet anyone who would
+speak of Madeline, or ask embarrassing questions. He turned to go.
+
+“Another time, Mr. Kendall,” he said. “Good morning.”
+
+But he had gone only a few yards when the reverend gentleman was calling
+to him to return.
+
+“Albert! Albert!” called Mr. Kendall.
+
+He was obliged to turn back, he could do nothing else, and as he did so
+the door opened. It was Helen who opened it and she stood there upon
+the threshold and looked down at him. For a moment, a barely perceptible
+interval, she looked, then he heard her catch her breath quickly and saw
+her put one hand upon the door jamb as if for support. The next, and
+she was running down the steps, her hands outstretched and the light of
+welcome in her eyes.
+
+“Why, Albert Speranza!” she cried. “Why, ALBERT!”
+
+He seized her hands. “Helen!” he cried, and added involuntarily, “My,
+but it's good to see you again!”
+
+She laughed and so did he. All his embarrassment was gone. They were
+like two children, like the boy and girl who had known each other in the
+old days.
+
+“And when did you get here?” she asked. “And what do you mean by
+surprising us like this? I saw your grandfather yesterday morning and he
+didn't say a word about your coming.”
+
+“He didn't know I was coming. I didn't know it myself until the day
+before. And when did you come? Your father didn't tell me you were here.
+I didn't know until I heard him call your name.”
+
+He was calling it again. Calling it and demanding attention for his
+precious codfish.
+
+“Yes, Father, yes, in a minute,” she said. Then to Albert, “Come in.
+Oh, of course you'll come in.”
+
+“Why, yes, if I won't be interfering with the housekeeping.”
+
+“You won't. Yes, Father, yes, I'm coming. Mercy, where did you get such
+a wonderful fish? Come in, Albert. As soon as I get Father's treasure
+safe in the hands of Maria I'll be back. Father will keep you company.
+No, pardon me, I am afraid he won't, he's gone to the kitchen already.
+And I shall have to go, too, for just a minute. I'll hurry.”
+
+She hastened to the kitchen, whither Mr. Kendall, tugging the fish
+basket, had preceded her. Albert entered the little sitting-room and sat
+down in a chair by the window. The room looked just as it used to look,
+just as neat, just as homelike, just as well kept. And when she came
+back and they began to talk, it seemed to him that she, too, was just as
+she used to be. She was a trifle less girlish, more womanly perhaps, but
+she was just as good to look at, just as bright and cheerful and in her
+conversation she had the same quietly certain way of dealing directly
+with the common-sense realities and not the fuss and feathers. It seemed
+to him that she had not changed at all, that she herself was one of the
+realities, the wholesome home realities, like Captain Zelotes and Olive
+and the old house they lived in. He told her so. She laughed.
+
+“You make me feel as ancient as the pyramids,” she said.
+
+He shook his head. “I am the ancient,” he declared. “This war hasn't
+changed you a particle, Helen, but it has handed me an awful jolt. At
+times I feel as if I must have sailed with Noah. And as if I had wasted
+most of the time since.”
+
+She smiled. “Just what do you mean by that?” she asked.
+
+“I mean--well, I don't know exactly what I do mean, I guess. I seem
+to have an unsettled feeling. I'm not satisfied with myself. And as I
+remember myself,” he added, with a shrug, “that condition of mind was
+not usual with me.”
+
+She regarded him for a moment without speaking, with the appraising look
+in her eyes which he remembered so well, which had always reminded him
+of the look in his grandfather's eyes, and which when a boy he resented
+so strongly.
+
+“Yes,” she said slowly, “I think you have changed. Not because you say
+you feel so much older or because you are uneasy and dissatisfied. So
+many of the men I talked with at the camp hospital, the men who had been
+over there and had been wounded, as you were, said they felt the same
+way. That doesn't mean anything, I think, except that it is dreadfully
+hard to get readjusted again and settle down to everyday things. But
+it seems to me that you have changed in other ways. You are a little
+thinner, but broader, too, aren't you? And you do look older, especially
+about the eyes. And, of course--well, of course I think I do miss a
+little of the Albert Speranza I used to know, the young chap with the
+chip on his shoulder for all creation to knock off.”
+
+“Young jackass!”
+
+“Oh, no indeed. He had his good points. But there! we're wasting time
+and we have so much to talk about. You--why, what am I thinking of! I
+have neglected the most important thing in the world. And you have just
+returned from New York, too. Tell me, how is Madeline Fosdick?”
+
+“She is well. But tell me about yourself. You have been in all sorts of
+war work, haven't you. Tell me about it.”
+
+“Oh, my work didn't amount to much. At first I 'Red Crossed' in Boston,
+then I went to Devens and spent a long time in the camp hospital there.”
+
+“Pretty trying, wasn't it?”
+
+“Why--yes, some of it was. When the 'flu' epidemic was raging and the
+poor fellows were having such a dreadful time it was bad enough. After
+that I was sent to Eastview. In the hospital there I met the boys who
+had been wounded on the other side and who talked about old age and
+dissatisfaction and uneasiness, just as you do. But MY work doesn't
+count. You are the person to be talked about. Since I have seen you you
+have become a famous poet and a hero and--”
+
+“Don't!”
+
+She had been smiling; now she was very serious.
+
+“Forgive me, Albert,” she said. “We have been joking, you and I, but
+there was a time when we--when your friends did not joke. Oh, Albert,
+if you could have seen the Snow place as I saw it then. It was as if all
+the hope and joy and everything worth while had been crushed out of it.
+Your grandmother, poor little woman, was brave and quiet, but we
+all knew she was trying to keep up for Captain Zelotes' sake. And
+he--Albert, you can scarcely imagine how the news of your death changed
+him. . . . Ah! well, it was a hard time, a dreadful time for--for every
+one.”
+
+She paused and he, turning to look at her, saw that there were tears in
+her eyes. He knew of her affection for his grandparents and theirs for
+her. Before he could speak she was smiling again.
+
+“But now that is all over, isn't it?” she said. “And the Snows are
+the happiest people in the country, I do believe. AND the proudest, of
+course. So now you must tell me all about it, about your experiences,
+and about your war cross, and about your literary work--oh, about
+everything.”
+
+The all-inclusive narrative was not destined to get very far. Old Mr.
+Kendall came hurrying in, the sermon on the casting down of Baal in his
+hand. Thereafter he led, guided, and to a large extent monopolized the
+conversation. His discourse had proceeded perhaps as far as “Thirdly”
+ when Albert, looking at his watch, was surprised to find it almost
+dinner time. Mr. Kendall, still talking, departed to his study to hunt
+for another sermon. The young people said good-by in his absence.
+
+“It has been awfully good to see you again, Helen,” declared Albert.
+“But I told you that in the beginning, didn't I? You seem like--well,
+like a part of home, you know. And home means something to me nowadays.”
+
+“I'm glad to hear you speak of South Harniss as home. Of course I know
+you don't mean to make it a permanent home--I imagine Madeline would
+have something to say about that--but it is nice to have you speak as if
+the old town meant something to you.”
+
+He looked about him.
+
+“I love the place,” he said simply.
+
+“I am glad. So do I; but then I have lived here all my life. The next
+time we talk I want to know more about your plans for the future--yours
+and Madeline's, I mean. How proud she must be of you.”
+
+He looked up at her; she was standing upon the upper step and he on the
+walk below.
+
+“Madeline and I--” he began. Then he stopped. What was the use? He did
+not want to talk about it. He waved his hand and turned away.
+
+After dinner he went out into the kitchen to talk to Mrs. Ellis, who
+was washing dishes. She was doing it as she did all her share of the
+housework, with an energy and capability which would have delighted the
+soul of a “scientific management” expert. Except when under the spell of
+a sympathetic attack Rachel was ever distinctly on the job.
+
+And of course she was, as always, glad to see her protege, her Robert
+Penfold. The proprietary interest which she had always felt in him was
+more than ever hers now. Had not she been the sole person to hint at the
+possibility of his being alive, when every one else had given him up for
+dead? Had not she been the only one to suggest that he might have been
+taken prisoner? Had SHE ever despaired of seeing him again--on this
+earth and in the flesh? Indeed, she had not; at least, she had never
+admitted it, if she had. So then, hadn't she a RIGHT to feel that she
+owned a share in him? No one ventured to dispute that right.
+
+She turned and smiled over one ample shoulder when he entered the
+kitchen.
+
+“Hello,” she hailed cheerfully. “Come callin', have you, Robert--Albert,
+I mean? It would have been a great help to me if you'd been christened
+Robert. I call you that so much to myself it comes almost more natural
+than the other. On account of you bein' so just like Robert Penfold in
+the book, you know,” she added.
+
+“Yes, yes, of course, Rachel, I understand,” put in Albert hastily. He
+was not in the mood to listen to a dissertation on a text taken from
+Foul Play. He looked about the room and sighed happily.
+
+“There isn't a speck anywhere, is there?” he observed. “It is just as it
+used to be, just as I used to think of it when I was laid up over there.
+When I wanted to try and eat a bit, so as to keep what strength I had,
+I would think about this kitchen of yours, Rachel. It didn't do to
+think of the places where the prison stuff was cooked. They were
+not--appetizing.”
+
+Mrs. Ellis nodded. “I presume likely not,” she observed. “Well, don't
+tell me about 'em. I've just scrubbed this kitchen from stem to stern.
+If I heard about those prison places, I'd feel like startin' right in
+and scrubbin' it all over again, I know I should. . . . Dirty pigs! I
+wish I had the scourin' of some of those Germans! I'd--I don't know as I
+wouldn't skin 'em alive.”
+
+Albert laughed. “Some of them pretty nearly deserved it,” he said.
+
+Rachel smiled grimly. “Well, let's talk about nice things,” she said.
+“Oh, Issy Price was here this forenoon; Cap'n Lote sent him over from
+the office on an errand, and he said he saw you and Mr. Kendall goin'
+down street together just as he was comin' along. He hollered at you,
+but you didn't hear him. 'Cordin' to Issachar's tell, you was luggin' a
+basket with Jonah's whale in it, or somethin' like that.”
+
+Albert described his encounter with the minister. Rachel was much
+interested.
+
+“Oh, so you saw Helen,” she said. “Well, I guess she was surprised to
+see you.”
+
+“Not more than I was to see her. I didn't know she was in town. Not a
+soul had mentioned it--you nor Grandfather nor Grandmother.”
+
+The housekeeper answered without turning her head. “Guess we had so many
+things to talk about we forgot it,” she said. “Yes, she's been here over
+a week now. High time, from what I hear. The poor old parson has failed
+consider'ble and Maria Price's housekeepin' and cookin' is enough to
+make a well man sick--or wish he was. But he'll be looked after now.
+Helen will look after him. She's the most capable girl there is in
+Ostable County. Did she tell you about what she done in the Red Cross
+and the hospitals?”
+
+“She said something about it, not very much.”
+
+“Um-hm. She wouldn't, bein' Helen Kendall. But the Red Cross folks said
+enough, and they're sayin' it yet. Why--”
+
+She went on to tell of Helen's work in the Red Cross depots and in the
+camp, and hospitals. It was an inspiring story.
+
+“There they was,” said Rachel, “the poor things, just boys most of 'em,
+dyin' of that dreadful influenza like rats, as you might say. And, of
+course it's dreadful catchin', and a good many was more afraid of it
+than they would have been of bullets, enough sight. But Helen Kendall
+wa'n't afraid--no, siree! Why--”
+
+And so on. Albert listened, hearing most of it, but losing some as his
+thoughts wandered back to the Helen he had known as a boy and the Helen
+he had met that forenoon. Her face, as she had welcomed him at the
+parsonage door--it was surprising how clearly it showed before his
+mind's eye. He had thought at first that she had not changed in
+appearance. That was not quite true--she had changed a little, but it
+was merely the fulfillment of a promise, that was all. Her eyes, her
+smile above a hospital bed--he could imagine what they must have seemed
+like to a lonely, homesick boy wrestling with the “flu.”
+
+“And, don't talk!” he heard the housekeeper say, as he drifted out of
+his reverie, “if she wa'n't popular around that hospital, around both
+hospitals, fur's that goes! The patients idolized her, and the other
+nurses they loved her, and the doctors--”
+
+“Did they love her, too?” Albert asked, with a smile, as she hesitated.
+
+She laughed. “Some of 'em did, I cal'late,” she answered. “You see, I
+got most of my news about it all from Bessie Ryder, Cornelius Ryder's
+niece, lives up on the road to the Center; you used to know her, Albert.
+Bessie was nursin' in that same hospital, the one Helen was at first.
+'Cordin' to her, there was some doctor or officer tryin' to shine up to
+Helen most of the time. When she was at Eastview, so Bessie heard, there
+was a real big-bug in the Army, a sort of Admiral or Commodore amongst
+the doctors he was, and HE was trottin' after her, or would have been if
+she'd let him. 'Course you have to make some allowances for Bessie--she
+wouldn't be a Ryder if she didn't take so many words to say so little
+that the truth gets stretched pretty thin afore she finished--but there
+must have been SOMETHIN' in it. And all about her bein' such a wonderful
+nurse and doin' so much for the Red Cross I KNOW is true. . . . Eh? Did
+you say anything, Albert?”
+
+Albert shook his head. “No, Rachel,” he replied. “I didn't speak.”
+
+“I thought I heard you or somebody say somethin'. I--Why, Laban Keeler,
+what are you doin' away from your desk this time in the afternoon?”
+
+Laban grinned as he entered the kitchen.
+
+“Did I hear you say you thought you heard somebody sayin' somethin',
+Rachel?” he inquired. “That's queer, ain't it? Seemed to me _I_ heard
+somebody sayin' somethin' as I come up the path just now. Seemed as if
+they was sayin' it right here in the kitchen, too. 'Twasn't your
+voice, Albert, and it couldn't have been Rachel's, 'cause she NEVER
+talks--'specially to you. It's too bad, the prejudice she's got against
+you, Albert,” he added, with a wink. “Um-hm, too bad--yes, 'tis--yes,
+yes.”
+
+Mrs. Ellis sniffed.
+
+“And that's what the newspapers in war time used to call--er--er--oh,
+dear, what was it?--camel--seems's if 'twas somethin' about a camel--”
+
+“Camouflage?” suggested Albert.
+
+“That's it. All that talk about me is just camouflage to save him
+answerin' my question. But he's goin' to answer it. What are you doin'
+away from the office this time in the afternoon, I want to know?”
+
+Mr. Keeler perched his small figure on the corner of the kitchen table.
+
+“Well, to tell you the truth, Rachel,” he said solemnly. “I'm here to do
+what the folks in books call demand an explanation. You and I, Rachel,
+are just as good as engaged to be married, ain't we? I've been keepin'
+company with you for the last twenty, forty or sixty years, some such
+spell as that. Now, just as I'm gettin' used to it and beginnin' to
+consider it a settled arrangement, as you may say, I come into this
+house and find you shut up in the kitchen with another man. Now, what--”
+
+The housekeeper advanced toward him with the dripping dishcloth.
+
+“Laban Keeler,” she threatened, “if you don't stop your foolishness and
+answer my question, I declare I'll--”
+
+Laban slid from his perch and retired behind the table.
+
+“Another man,” he repeated. “And SOME folks--not many, of course, but
+some--might be crazy enough to say he was a better-lookin' man than
+I am. Now, bein' ragin' jealous,--All right, Rachel, all right, I
+surrender. Don't hit me with all those soapsuds. I don't want to go back
+to the office foamin' at the mouth. The reason I'm here is that I had to
+go down street to see about the sheathin' for the Red Men's lodge room.
+Issy took the order, but he wasn't real sure whether 'twas sheathin'
+or scantlin' they wanted, so I told Cap'n Lote I'd run down myself and
+straighten it out. On the way back I saw you two through the window and
+I thought I'd drop in and worry you. So here I am.”
+
+Mrs. Ellis nodded. “Yes,” she sniffed. “And all that camel--camel--Oh,
+DEAR, what DOES ail me? All that camel--No use, I've forgot it again.”
+
+“Never mind, Rachel,” said Mr. Keeler consolingly. “All
+the--er--menagerie was just that and nothin' more. Oh, by the way, Al,”
+ he added, “speakin' of camels--don't you think I've done pretty well to
+go so long without any--er--liquid nourishment? Not a drop since you and
+I enlisted together. . . . Oh, she knows about it now,” he added, with
+a jerk of his head in the housekeeper's direction. “I felt 'twas fairly
+safe and settled, so I told her. I told her. Yes, yes, yes. Um-hm, so I
+did.”
+
+Albert turned to the lady.
+
+“You should be very proud of him, Rachel,” he said seriously. “I think
+I realize a little something of the fight he has made, and it is bully.
+You should be proud of him.”
+
+Rachel looked down at the little man.
+
+“I am,” she said quietly. “I guess likely he knows it.”
+
+Laban smiled. “The folks in Washington are doin' their best to help me
+out,” he said. “They're goin' to take the stuff away from everybody so's
+to make sure _I_ don't get any more. They'll probably put up a monument
+to me for startin' the thing; don't you think they will, Al? Eh? Don't
+you, now?”
+
+Albert and he walked up the road together. Laban told a little more of
+his battle with John Barleycorn.
+
+“I had half a dozen spells when I had to set my teeth, those I've got
+left, and hang on,” he said. “And the hangin'-on wa'n't as easy as
+stickin' to fly-paper, neither. Honest, though, I think the hardest was
+when the news came that you was alive, Al. I--I just wanted to start in
+and celebrate. Wanted to whoop her up, I did.” He paused a moment and
+then added, “I tried whoopin' on sass'parilla and vanilla sody, but
+'twa'n't satisfactory. Couldn't seem to raise a real loud whisper, let
+alone a whoop. No, I couldn't--no, no.”
+
+Albert laughed and laid a hand on his shoulder. “You're all right,
+Labe,” he declared. “I know you, and I say so.”
+
+Laban slowly shook his head. His smile, as he answered, was rather
+pathetic.
+
+“I'm a long, long ways from bein' all right, Al,” he said. “A long ways
+from that, I am. If I'd made my fight thirty year ago, I might have been
+nigher to amountin' to somethin'. . . . Oh, well, for Rachel's sake
+I'm glad I've made it now. She's stuck to me when everybody would have
+praised her for chuckin' me to Tophet. I was readin' one of Thackeray's
+books t'other night--Henry Esmond, 'twas; you've read it, Al, of course;
+I was readin' it t'other night for the ninety-ninth time or thereabouts,
+and I run across the place where it says it's strange what a man can
+do and a woman still keep thinkin' he's an angel. That's true, too, Al.
+Not,” with the return of the slight smile, “that Rachel ever went so far
+as to call me an angel. No, no. There's limits where you can't stretch
+her common-sense any farther. Callin' me an angel would be just past the
+limit. Yes, yes, yes. I guess SO.”
+
+They spoke of Captain Zelotes and Olive and of their grief and
+discouragement when the news of Albert's supposed death reached them.
+
+“Do you know,” said Labe, “I believe Helen Kendall's comin' there for a
+week did 'em more good than anything else. She got away from her soldier
+nursin' somehow--must have been able to pull the strings consider'ble
+harder'n the average to do it--and just came down to the Snow place and
+sort of took charge along with Rachel. Course she didn't live there, her
+father thought she was visitin' him, I guess likely, but she was with
+Cap'n Lote and Olive most of the time. Rachel says she never made
+a fuss, you understand, just was there and helped and was quiet and
+soft-spoken and capable and--and comfortin', that's about the word, I
+guess. Rachel always thought a sight of Helen afore that, but since then
+she swears by her.”
+
+That evening--or, rather, that night, for they did not leave the sitting
+room until after twelve--Mrs. Snow heard her grandson walking the floor
+of his room, and called to ask if he was sick.
+
+“I'm all right, Grandmother,” he called in reply. “Just taking a little
+exercise before turning in, that's all. Sorry if I disturbed you.”
+
+The exercise was, as a matter of fact, almost entirely mental, the
+pacing up and down merely an unconscious physical accompaniment. Albert
+Speranza was indulging in introspection. He was reviewing and assorting
+his thoughts and his impulses and trying to determine just what they
+were and why they were and whither they were tending. It was a mental
+and spiritual picking to pieces and the result was humiliating and in
+its turn resulted in a brand-new determination.
+
+Ever since his meeting with Helen, a meeting which had been quite
+unpremeditated, he had thought of but little except her. During his talk
+with her in the parsonage sitting room he had been--there was no use
+pretending to himself that it was otherwise--more contented with the
+world, more optimistic, happier, than he had been for months, it seemed
+to him for years. Even while he was speaking to her of his uneasiness
+and dissatisfaction he was dimly conscious that at that moment he was
+less uneasy and less dissatisfied, conscious that the solid ground was
+beneath his feet at last, that here was the haven after the storm, here
+was--
+
+He pulled up sharply. This line of thought was silly, dangerous, wicked.
+What did it mean? Three days before, only three days, he had left
+Madeline Fosdick, the girl whom he had worshiped, adored, and who
+had loved him. Yes, there was no use pretending there, either; he and
+Madeline HAD loved each other. Of course he realized now that their
+love had nothing permanently substantial about it. It was the romance
+of youth, a dream which they had shared together and from which,
+fortunately for both, they had awakened in time. And of course he
+realized, too, that the awakening had begun long, long before the actual
+parting took place. But nevertheless only three days had elapsed since
+that parting, and now--What sort of a man was he?
+
+Was he like his father? Was it what Captain Zelotes used to call the
+“Portygee streak” which was now cropping out? The opera singer had been
+of the butterfly type--in his later years a middle-aged butterfly whose
+wings creaked somewhat--but decidedly a flitter from flower to flower.
+As a boy, Albert had been aware, in an uncertain fashion, of his
+father's fondness for the sex. Now, older, his judgment of his parent
+was not as lenient, was clearer, more discerning. He understood now. Was
+his own “Portygee streak,” his inherited temperament, responsible for
+his leaving one girl on a Tuesday and on Friday finding his thoughts
+concerned so deeply with another?
+
+Well, no matter, no matter. One thing was certain--Helen should
+never know of that feeling. He would crush it down, he would use his
+common-sense. He would be a decent man and not a blackguard. For he had
+had his chance and had tossed it away. What would she think of him now
+if he came to her after Madeline had thrown him over--that is what Mrs.
+Fosdick would say, would take pains that every one else should say, that
+Madeline had thrown him over--what would Helen think of him if he came
+to her with a second-hand love like that?
+
+And of course she would not think of him as a lover at all. Why should
+she? In the boy and girl days she had refused to let him speak of such a
+thing. She was his friend, a glorious, a wonderful friend, but that was
+all, all she ever dreamed of being.
+
+Well, that was right; that was as it should be. He should be thankful
+for such a friend. He was, of course. And he would concentrate all his
+energies upon his work, upon his writing. That was it, that was it.
+Good, it was settled!
+
+So he went to bed and, eventually, to sleep.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+
+While dressing in the cold light of dawn his perturbations of the
+previous night appeared in retrospect as rather boyish and unnecessary.
+His sudden and unexpected meeting with Helen and their talk together had
+tended to make him over-sentimental, that was all. He and she were to be
+friends, of course, but there was no real danger of his allowing himself
+to think of her except as a friend. No, indeed. He opened the bureau
+drawer in search of a tie, and there was the package of “snapshots” just
+where he had tossed them that night when he first returned home
+after muster-out. Helen's photograph was the uppermost. He looked at
+it--looked at it for several minutes. Then he closed the drawer again
+and hurriedly finished his dressing. A part, at least, of his resolve
+of the night before had been sound common-sense. His brain was suffering
+from lack of exercise. Work was what he needed, hard work.
+
+So to work he went without delay. A place to work in was the first
+consideration. He suggested the garret, but his grandmother and Rachel
+held up their hands and lifted their voices in protest.
+
+“No, INDEED,” declared Olive. “Zelotes has always talked about writin'
+folks and poets starvin' in garrets. If you went up attic to work he'd
+be teasin' me from mornin' to night. Besides, you'd freeze up there, if
+the smell of moth-balls didn't choke you first. No, you wait; I've got a
+notion. There's that old table desk of Zelotes' in the settin' room. He
+don't hardly ever use it nowadays. You take it upstairs to your own room
+and work in there. You can have the oil-heater to keep you warm.”
+
+So that was the arrangement made, and in his own room Albert sat down at
+the battered old desk, which had been not only his grandfather's but
+his great-grandfather's property, to concentrate upon the first of
+the series of stories ordered by the New York magazine. He had already
+decided upon the general scheme for the series. A boy, ragamuffin son
+of immigrant parents, rising, after a wrong start, by sheer grit and
+natural shrewdness and ability, step by step to competence and success,
+winning a place in and the respect of a community. There was nothing new
+in the idea itself. Some things his soldier chum Mike Kelley had told
+him concerning an uncle of his--Mike's--suggested it. The novelty he
+hoped might come from the incidents, the various problems faced by his
+hero, the solution of each being a step upward in the latter's career
+and in the formation of his character. He wanted to write, if he could,
+the story of the building of one more worth-while American, for Albert
+Speranza, like so many others set to thinking by the war and the war
+experiences, was realizing strongly that the gabbling of a formula and
+the swearing of an oath of naturalization did not necessarily make an
+American. There were too many eager to take that oath with tongue in
+cheek and knife in sleeve. Too many, for the first time in their
+lives breathing and speaking as free men, thanks to the protection of
+Columbia's arm, yet planning to stab their protectress in the back.
+
+So Albert's hero was to be an American, an American to whom the
+term meant the highest and the best. If he had hunted a lifetime for
+something to please and interest his grandfather he could not have hit
+the mark nearer the center. Cap'n Lote, of course, pretended a certain
+measure of indifference, but that was for Olive and Rachel's benefit. It
+would never do for the scoffer to become a convert openly and at once.
+The feminine members of the household clamored each evening to have the
+author read aloud his day's installment. The captain sniffed.
+
+“Oh, dear, dear,” with a groan, “now I've got to hear all that made-up
+stuff that happened to a parcel of made-up folks that never lived and
+never will. Waste of time, waste of time. Where's my Transcript?”
+
+But it was noticed--and commented upon, you may be sure--by his wife and
+housekeeper that the Transcript was likely to be, before the reading had
+progressed far, either in the captain's lap or on the floor. And when
+the discussion following the reading was under way Captain Zelotes'
+opinions were expressed quite as freely as any one's else. Laban Keeler
+got into the habit of dropping in to listen.
+
+One fateful evening the reading was interrupted by the arrival of
+Mr. Kendall. The reverend gentleman had come to make a pastoral call.
+Albert's hero was in the middle of a situation. The old clergyman
+insisted upon the continuation of the reading. It was continued and so
+was the discussion following it; in fact, the discussion seemed likely
+to go on indefinitely, for the visitor showed no inclination of leaving.
+At ten-thirty his daughter appeared to inquire about him and to
+escort him home. Then he went, but under protest. Albert walked to the
+parsonage with them.
+
+“Now we've started somethin',” groaned the captain, as the door closed.
+“That old critter'll be cruisin' over here six nights out of five
+from now on to tell Al just how to spin those yarns of his. And he'll
+talk--and talk--and talk. Ain't it astonishin' how such a feeble-lookin'
+craft as he is can keep blowin' off steam that way and still be able to
+navigate.”
+
+His wife took him to task. “The idea,” she protested, “of your callin'
+your own minister a 'critter'! I should think you'd be ashamed. . . .
+But, oh, dear, I'm afraid he WILL be over here an awful lot.”
+
+Her fears were realized. Mr. Kendall, although not on hand “six nights
+out of five,” as the captain prophesied, was a frequent visitor at
+the Snow place. As Albert's story-writing progressed the discussions
+concerning the growth and development of the hero's character became
+more and more involved and spirited. They were for the most part
+confined, when the minister was present, to him and Mrs. Snow and
+Rachel. Laban, if he happened to be there, sat well back in the corner,
+saying little except when appealed to, and then answering with one of
+his dry, characteristic observations. Captain Lote, in the rocker, his
+legs crossed, his hand stroking his beard, and with the twinkle in his
+eyes, listened, and spoke but seldom. Occasionally, when he and his
+grandson exchanged glances, the captain winked, indicating appreciation
+of the situation.
+
+“Say, Al,” he said, one evening, after the old clergyman had departed,
+“it must be kind of restful to have your work all laid out for you this
+way. Take it to-night, for instance; I don't see but what everything's
+planned for this young feller you're writin' about so you nor he won't
+have to think for yourselves for a hundred year or such matter. Course
+there's some little difference in the plans. Rachel wants him to get
+wrecked on an island or be put in jail, and Mother, she wants him to be
+a soldier and a poet, and Mr. Kendall thinks it's high time he joined
+the church or signed the pledge or stopped swearin' or chewin' gum.”
+
+“Zelotes, how ridiculous you do talk!”
+
+“All right, Mother, all right. What strikes me, Al, is they don't any of
+'em stop to ask you what YOU mean to have him do. Course I know 'tain't
+any of your business, but still--seems 's if you might be a little mite
+interested in the boy yourself.”
+
+Albert laughed. “Don't worry, Grandfather,” he said. “I'm enjoying it
+all very much. And some of the suggestions may be just what I'm looking
+for.”
+
+“Well, son, we'll hope so. Say, Labe, I've got a notion for keepin' the
+minister from doin' all the talkin.' We'll ask Issy Price to drop in;
+eh?”
+
+Laban shook his head. “I don't know, Cap'n Lote,” he observed. “Sounds
+to me a good deal like lettin' in a hurricane to blow out a match with.
+. . . Um-hm. Seems so to me. Yes, yes.”
+
+Mr. Kendall's calls would have been more frequent still had Helen not
+interfered. Very often, when he came she herself dropped in a little
+later and insisted upon his making an early start for home. Occasionally
+she came with him. She, too, seemed much interested in the progress of
+the stories, but she offered few suggestions. When directly appealed to,
+she expressed her views, and they were worth while.
+
+Albert was resolutely adhering to his determination not to permit
+himself to think of her except as a friend. That is, he hoped he was;
+thoughts are hard to control at times. He saw her often. They met on the
+street, at church on Sunday--his grandmother was so delighted when he
+accompanied her to “meeting” that he did so rather more frequently,
+perhaps, than he otherwise would--at the homes of acquaintances, and, of
+course, at the Snow place. When she walked home with her father after a
+“story evening” he usually went with them as additional escort.
+
+She had not questioned him concerning Madeline since their first meeting
+that morning at the parsonage. He knew, therefore, that some one--his
+grandmother, probably--had told her of the broken engagement. When
+they were alone together they talked of many things, casual things, the
+generalities of which, so he told himself, a conversation between mere
+friends was composed. But occasionally, after doing escort duty, after
+Mr. Kendall had gone into the house to take his “throat medicine”--a
+medicine which Captain Zelotes declared would have to be double-strength
+pretty soon to offset the wear and tear of the story evenings--they
+talked of matters more specific and which more directly concerned
+themselves. She spoke of her hospital work, of her teaching before the
+war, and of her plans for the future. The latter, of course, were very
+indefinite now.
+
+“Father needs me,” she said, “and I shall not leave him while he lives.”
+
+They spoke of Albert's work and plans most of all. He began to ask for
+advice concerning the former. When those stories were written, what
+then? She hoped he would try the novel he had hinted at.
+
+“I'm sure you can do it,” she said. “And you mustn't give up the poems
+altogether. It was the poetry, you know, which was the beginning.”
+
+“YOU were the beginning,” he said impulsively. “Perhaps I should
+never have written at all if you hadn't urged me, shamed me out of my
+laziness.”
+
+“I was a presuming young person, I'm afraid,” she said. “I wonder
+you didn't tell me to mind my own business. I believe you did, but I
+wouldn't mind.”
+
+June brought the summer weather and the summer boarders to South
+Harniss. One of the news sensations which came at the same time was that
+the new Fosdick cottage had been sold. The people who had occupied it
+the previous season had bought it. Mrs. Fosdick, so rumor said, was not
+strong and her doctors had decided that the sea air did not agree with
+her.
+
+“Crimustee!” exclaimed Issachar, as he imparted the news to Mr. Keeler,
+“if that ain't the worst. Spend your money, and a pile of money, too,
+buyin' ground, layin' of it out to build a house on to live in, then
+buildin' that house and then, by crimus, sellin' it to somebody else for
+THEM to live in. That beats any foolishness ever come MY way.”
+
+“And there's some consider'ble come your way at that, ain't they, Is?”
+ observed Laban, busy with his bookkeeping.
+
+Issachar nodded. “You're right there has,” he said complacently.
+“I . . . What do you mean by that? Tryin' to be funny again, ain't you?”
+
+Albert heard the news with a distinct feeling of relief. While the
+feeling on his part toward Madeline was of the kindliest, and Madeline's
+was, he felt sure, the same toward him, nevertheless to meet her
+day after day, as people must meet in a village no bigger than South
+Harniss, would be awkward for both. And to meet Mrs. Fosdick might be
+more awkward still. He smiled as he surmised that the realization by the
+lady of that very awkwardness was probably responsible for the discovery
+that sea air was not beneficial.
+
+The story-writing and the story evenings continued. Over the fourth
+story in the series discussion was warm, for there were marked
+differences of opinion among the listeners. One of the experiences
+through which Albert had brought his hero was that of working as general
+assistant to a sharp, unscrupulous and smooth-tongued rascal who was
+proprietor of a circus sideshow and fake museum. He was a kind-hearted
+swindler, but one who never let a question of honesty interfere with the
+getting of a dollar. In this fourth story, to the town where the hero,
+now a man of twenty-five, had established himself in business, came this
+cheat of other days, but now he came as a duly ordained clergyman in
+answer to the call of the local church. The hero learned that he had not
+told the governing body of that church of his former career. Had he done
+so, they most certainly would not have called him. The leading man in
+that church body was the hero's patron and kindest friend. The question:
+What was the hero's duty in the matter?
+
+Of course the first question asked was whether or not the ex-sideshow
+proprietor was sincerely repentant and honestly trying to walk the
+straight path and lead others along it. Albert replied that his hero had
+interviewed him and was satisfied that he was; he had been “converted”
+ at a revival and was now a religious enthusiast whose one idea was to
+save sinners.
+
+That was enough for Captain Zelotes.
+
+“Let him alone, then,” said the captain. “He's tryin' to be a decent
+man. What do you want to do? Tell on him and have him chucked overboard
+from one church after another until he gets discouraged and takes to
+swindlin' again?”
+
+Rachel Ellis could not see it that way.
+
+“If he was a saved sinner,” she declared, “and repentant of his sins,
+then he'd ought to repent 'em out loud. Hidin' 'em ain't repentin'. And,
+besides, there's Donald's (Donald was the hero's name) there's Donald's
+duty to the man that's been so good to him. Is it fair to that man to
+keep still and let him hire a minister that, like as not, will steal the
+collection, box and all, afore he gets through? No, sir, Donald ought to
+tell THAT man, anyhow.”
+
+Olive was pretty dubious about the whole scheme. She doubted if anybody
+connected with a circus COULD ever become a minister.
+
+“The whole--er--er--trade is so different,” she said.
+
+Mr. Kendall was not there that evening, his attendance being required at
+a meeting of the Sunday School teachers. Helen, however, was not at that
+meeting and Captain Zelotes declared his intention of asking her opinion
+by telephone.
+
+“She'll say same as I do--you see if she don't,” he declared. When
+he called the parsonage, however, Maria Price answered the phone and
+informed him that Helen was spending the evening with old Mrs. Crowell,
+who lived but a little way from the Snow place. The captain promptly
+called up the Crowell house.
+
+“She's there and she'll stop in here on her way along,” he said
+triumphantly. “And she'll back me up--you see.”
+
+But she did not. She did not “back up” any one. She merely smiled and
+declared the problem too complicated to answer offhand.
+
+“Why don't you ask Albert?” she inquired. “After all, he is the one who
+must settle it eventually.”
+
+“He won't tell,” said Olive. “He's real provokin', isn't he? And now you
+won't tell, either, Helen.”
+
+“Oh, I don't know--yet. But I think he does.”
+
+Albert, as usual, walked home with her.
+
+“How are you going to answer your hero's riddle?” she asked.
+
+“Before I tell you, suppose you tell me what your answer would be.”
+
+She reflected. “Well,” she said, “it seems to me that, all things being
+as they are, he should do this: He should go to the sideshow man--the
+minister now--and have a very frank talk with him. He should tell him
+that he had decided to say nothing about the old life and to help him
+in every way, to be his friend--provided that he keep straight, that is
+all. Of course more than that would be meant, the alternative would be
+there and understood, but he need not say it. I think that course of
+action would be fair to himself and to everybody. That is my answer.
+What is yours?”
+
+He laughed quietly. “Just that, of course,” he said. “You would see it,
+I knew. You always see down to the heart of things, Helen. You have the
+gift.”
+
+She shook her head. “It didn't really need a gift, this particular
+problem, did it?” she said. “It is not--excuse me--it isn't exactly a
+new one.”
+
+“No, it isn't. It is as old as the hills, but there are always new
+twists to it.”
+
+“As there are to all our old problems.”
+
+“Yes. By the way, your advice about the ending of my third story was
+exactly what I needed. The editor wrote me he should never have forgiven
+me if it had ended in any other way. It probably WOULD have ended in
+another way if it hadn't been for you. Thank you, Helen.”
+
+“Oh, you know there was really nothing to thank me for. It was all you,
+as usual. Have you planned the next story, the fifth, yet?”
+
+“Not entirely. I have some vague ideas. Do you want to hear them?”
+
+“Of course.”
+
+So they discussed those ideas as they walked along the sidewalk of the
+street leading down to the parsonage. It was a warm evening, a light
+mist, which was not substantial enough to be a fog, hanging low over
+everything, wrapping them and the trees and the little front yards and
+low houses of the old village in a sort of cozy, velvety, confidential
+quiet. The scent of lilacs was heavy in the air.
+
+They both were silent. Just when they had ceased speaking neither could
+have told. They walked on arm in arm and suddenly Albert became aware
+that this silence was dangerous for him; that in it all his resolves and
+brave determinations were melting into mist like that about him; that
+he must talk and talk at once and upon a subject which was not personal,
+which--
+
+And then Helen spoke.
+
+“Do you know what this reminds me of?” she said. “All this talk of ours?
+It reminds me of how we used to talk over those first poems of yours.
+You have gone a long way since then.”
+
+“I have gone to Kaiserville and back.”
+
+“You know what I mean. I mean your work has improved wonderfully. You
+write with a sure hand now, it seems to me. And your view is so much
+broader.”
+
+“I hope I'm not the narrow, conceited little rooster I used to be. I
+told you, Helen, that the war handed me an awful jolt. Well, it did. I
+think it, or my sickness or the whole business together, knocked most of
+that self-confidence of mine galley-west. For so much I'm thankful.”
+
+“I don't know that I am, altogether. I don't want you to lose confidence
+in yourself. You should be confident now because you deserve to be. And
+you write with confidence, or it reads as if you did. Don't you feel
+that you do, yourself? Truly, don't you?”
+
+“Well, perhaps, a little. I have been at it for some time now. I ought
+to show some progress. Perhaps I don't make as many mistakes.”
+
+“I can't see that you have made any.”
+
+“I have made one . . . a damnable one.”
+
+“Why, what do you mean?”
+
+“Oh, nothing. I didn't mean to say that. . . . Helen, do you know it is
+awfully good of you to take all this interest in me--in my work, I mean.
+Why do you do it?”
+
+“Why?”
+
+“Yes, why?”
+
+“Why, because--Why shouldn't I? Haven't we always talked about your
+writings together, almost since we first knew each other? Aren't we old
+friends?”
+
+There it was again--friends. It was like a splash of cold water in the
+face, at once awakening and chilling. Albert walked on in silence for
+a few moments and then began speaking of some trivial subject entirely
+disconnected with himself or his work or her. When they reached the
+parsonage door he said good night at once and strode off toward home.
+
+Back in his room, however, he gave himself another mental picking to
+pieces. He was realizing most distinctly that this sort of thing would
+not do. It was easy to say that his attitude toward Helen Kendall was
+to be that of a friend and nothing more, but it was growing harder and
+harder to maintain that attitude. He had come within a breath that very
+night of saying what was in his heart.
+
+Well, if he had said it, if he did say it--what then? After all, was
+there any real reason why he should not say it? It was true that he had
+loved, or fancied that he loved, Madeline, that he had been betrothed to
+her--but again, what of it? Broken engagements were common enough, and
+there was nothing disgraceful in this one. Why not go to Helen and tell
+her that his fancied love for Madeline had been the damnable mistake he
+had confessed making. Why not tell her that since the moment when he saw
+her standing in the doorway of the parsonage on the morning following
+his return from New York he had known that she was the only woman in the
+world for him, that it was her image he had seen in his dreams, in the
+delirium of fever, that it was she, and not that other, who--
+
+But there, all this was foolishness, and he knew it. He did not dare say
+it. Not for one instant had she, by speech or look or action, given him
+the slightest encouragement to think her feeling for him was anything
+but friendship. And that friendship was far too precious to risk. He
+must not risk it. He must keep still, he must hide his thoughts, she
+must never guess. Some day, perhaps, after a year or two, after his
+position in his profession was more assured, then he might speak. But
+even then there would be that risk. And the idea of waiting was not
+pleasant. What had Rachel told him concerning the hosts of doctors and
+officers and generals who had been “shining up” to her. Some risk there,
+also.
+
+Well, never mind. He would try to keep on as he had been going for the
+present. He would try not to see her as frequently. If the strain became
+unbearable he might go away somewhere--for a time.
+
+He did not go away, but he made it a point not to see her as frequently.
+However, they met often even as it was. And he was conscious always that
+the ice beneath his feet was very, very thin.
+
+One wonderful August evening he was in his room upstairs. He was not
+writing. He had come up there early because he wished to think,
+to consider. A proposition had been made to him that afternoon, a
+surprising proposition--to him it had come as a complete surprise--and
+before mentioning it even to his grandparents he wished to think it over
+very carefully.
+
+About ten o'clock his grandfather called to him from the foot of the
+stairs and asked him to come down.
+
+“Mr. Kendall's on the phone,” said Captain Zelotes. “He's worried about
+Helen. She's up to West Harniss sittin' up along of Lurany Howes, who's
+been sick so long. She ain't come home, and the old gentleman's frettin'
+about her walkin' down from there alone so late. I told him I cal'lated
+you'd just as soon harness Jess and drive up and get her. You talk with
+him yourself, Al.”
+
+Albert did and, after assuring the nervous clergyman that he would see
+that his daughter reached home safely, put on his hat and went out to
+the barn. Jessamine was asleep in her stall. As he was about to lead
+her out he suddenly remembered that one of the traces had broken that
+morning and Captain Zelotes had left it at the harness-maker's to be
+mended. It was there yet. The captain had forgotten the fact, and so had
+he. That settled the idea of using Jessamine and the buggy. Never mind,
+it was a beautiful night and the walk was but little over a mile.
+
+When he reached the tiny story-and-a-half Howes cottage, sitting back
+from the road upon the knoll amid the tangle of silverleaf sprouts, it
+was Helen herself who opened the door. She was surprised to see him, and
+when he explained his errand she was a little vexed.
+
+“The idea of Father's worrying,” she said. “Such a wonderful night as
+this, bright moonlight, and in South Harniss, too. Nothing ever happens
+to people in South Harniss. I will be ready in a minute or two. Mrs.
+Howes' niece is here now and will stay with her until to-morrow. Then
+her sister is coming to stay a month. As soon as I get her medicine
+ready we can go.”
+
+The door of the tiny bedroom adjoining the sitting room was open, and
+Albert, sitting upon the lounge with the faded likeness of a pink
+dog printed on the plush cover, could hear the querulous voice of the
+invalid within. The widow Howes was deaf and, as Laban Keeler described
+it, “always hollered loud enough to make herself hear” when she spoke.
+Helen was moving quietly about the sick room and speaking in a low tone.
+Albert could not hear what she said, but he could hear Lurania.
+
+“You're a wonder, that's what you be,” declared the latter, “and I told
+your pa so last time he was here. 'She's a saint,' says I, 'if ever
+there was one on this earth. She's the nicest, smartest, best-lookin'
+girl in THIS town and . . .' eh?”
+
+There had been a murmur, presumably of remonstrance, from Helen.
+
+“Eh?”
+
+Another murmur.
+
+“EH? WHO'D you say was there?”
+
+A third murmur.
+
+“WHO? . . . Oh, that Speranzy one? Lote Snow's grandson? The one they
+used to call the Portygee? . . . Eh? Well, all right, I don't care if
+he did hear me. If he don't know you're nice and smart and good-lookin',
+it's high time he did.”
+
+Helen, a trifle embarrassed but laughing, emerged a moment later, and
+when she had put on her hat she and Albert left the Howes cottage and
+began their walk home. It was one of those nights such as Cape Codders,
+year-rounders or visitors, experience three or four times during a
+summer and boast of the remainder of the year. A sky clear, deep,
+stretched cloudless from horizon to horizon. Every light at sea or on
+shore, in cottage window or at masthead or in lighthouse or on lightship
+a twinkling diamond point. A moon, apparently as big as a barrel-head,
+hung up in the east and below it a carpet of cold fire, of dancing,
+spangled silver spread upon the ocean. The sound of the surf, distant,
+soothing; and for the rest quiet and the fragrance of the summer woods
+and fields.
+
+They walked rather fast at first and the conversation was brisk, but as
+the night began to work its spell upon them their progress was slower
+and there were intervals of silence of which neither was aware. They
+came to the little hill where the narrow road from West Harniss comes to
+join the broader highway leading to the Center. There were trees here,
+a pine grove, on the landward side, and toward the sea nothing to break
+the glorious view.
+
+Helen caught her breath. “Oh, it is beautiful, beautiful!” she said.
+
+Albert did not answer. “Why don't you talk?” she asked. “What are you
+thinking about?”
+
+He did not tell her what he was thinking about. Instead, having caught
+himself just in time, he began telling her of what he had been thinking
+when his grandfather called him to the telephone.
+
+“Helen,” he said, “I want to ask your advice. I had an astonishing
+proposal made to me this afternoon. I must make a decision, I must say
+yes or no, and I'm not sure which to say.”
+
+She looked up at him inquiringly.
+
+“This afternoon,” he went on, “Doctor Parker called me into his office.
+There was a group of men there, prominent men in politics from about the
+country; Judge Baxter from Ostable was there, and Captain Warren from
+South Denboro, and others like them. What do you suppose they want me to
+do?”
+
+“I can't imagine.”
+
+“They offer me the party nomination for Congress from this section. That
+is, of course, they want me to permit my name to stand and they seem
+sure my nomination will be confirmed by the voters. The nomination, they
+say, is equivalent to election. They seem certain of it. . . . And they
+were insistent that I accept.”
+
+“Oh--oh, Albert!”
+
+“Yes. They said a good many flattering things, things I should like to
+believe. They said my war record and my writing and all that had made
+me a prominent man in the county--Please don't think I take any stock in
+that--”
+
+“But _I_ do. Go on.”
+
+“Well, that is all. They seemed confident that I would make a good
+congressman. I am not so sure. Of course the thing . . . well, it does
+tempt me, I confess. I could keep on with my writing, of course. I
+should have to leave the home people for a part of the year, but I could
+be with them or near them the rest. And . . . well, Helen, I--I think
+I should like the job. Just now, when America needs Americans and the
+thing that isn't American must be fought, I should like--if I were sure
+I was capable of it--”
+
+“Oh, but you are--you ARE.”
+
+“Do you really think so? Would you like to have me try?”
+
+He felt her arm tremble upon his. She drew a long breath.
+
+“Oh, I should be so PROUD!” she breathed.
+
+There was a quiver in her voice, almost a sob. He bent toward her. She
+was looking off toward the sea, the moonlight upon her face was like a
+glory, her eyes were shining--and there were tears in them. His heart
+throbbed wildly.
+
+“Helen!” he cried. “Helen!”
+
+She turned and looked up into his face. The next moment her own face was
+hidden against his breast, his arms were about her, and . . . and the
+risk, the risk he had feared to take, was taken.
+
+They walked home after a time, but it was a slow, a very slow walk with
+many interruptions.
+
+“Oh, Helen,” he kept saying, “I don't see how you can. How can you? In
+spite of it all. I--I treated you so badly. I was SUCH an idiot. And you
+really care? You really do?”
+
+She laughed happily. “I really do . . . and . . . and I really have, all
+the time.”
+
+“Always?”
+
+“Always.”
+
+“Well--well, by George! And . . . Helen, do you know I think--I think I
+did too--always--only I was such a young fool I didn't realize it. WHAT
+a young fool I was!”
+
+“Don't say that, dear, don't. . . . You are going to be a great man.
+You are a famous one already; you are going to be great. Don't you know
+that?”
+
+He stooped and kissed her.
+
+“I think I shall have to be,” he said, “if I am going to be worthy of
+you.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+
+Albert, sitting in the private office of Z. Snow and Co., dropped his
+newspaper and looked up with a smile as his grandfather came in. Captain
+Zelotes' florid face was redder even than usual, for it was a cloudy day
+in October and blowing a gale.
+
+“Whew!” puffed the captain, pulling off his overcoat and striding over
+to warm his hands at the stove; “it's raw as January comin' over the
+tops of those Trumet hills, and blowin' hard enough to part your back
+hair, besides. One time there I didn't know but I'd have to reef,
+cal'late I would if I'd known how to reef an automobile.”
+
+“Is the car running as well as ever?” asked Albert.
+
+“You bet you! Took all but two of those hills on full steam and never
+slowed down a mite. Think of goin' to Trumet and back in a forenoon,
+and havin' time enough to do the talkin' I went to do besides. Why, Jess
+would have needed the whole day to make the down cruise, to say nothin'
+of the return trip. Well, the old gal's havin' a good rest now, nothin'
+much to do but eat and sleep. She deserves it; she's been a good horse
+for your grandma and me.”
+
+He rubbed his hands before the stove and chuckled.
+
+“Olive's still scared to death for fear I'll get run into, or run over
+somebody or somethin',” he observed. “I tell her I can navigate that car
+now the way I used to navigate the old President Hayes, and I could
+do that walkin' in my sleep. There's a little exaggeration there,” he
+added, with a grin. “It takes about all my gumption when I'm wide awake
+to turn the flivver around in a narrow road, but I manage to do it. . .
+. Well, what are you doin' in here, Al?” he added. “Readin' the Item's
+prophesy about how big your majority's goin' to be?”
+
+Albert smiled. “I dropped in here to wait for you, Grandfather,” he
+replied. “The novel-writing mill wasn't working particularly well, so I
+gave it up and took a walk.”
+
+“To the parsonage, I presume likely?”
+
+“Well, I did stop there for a minute or two.”
+
+“You don't say! I'm surprised to hear it. How is Helen this mornin'? Did
+she think you'd changed much since you saw her last night?”
+
+“I don't know. She didn't say so if she did. She sent her love to you
+and Grandmother--”
+
+“What she had left over, you mean.”
+
+“And said to tell you not to tire yourself out electioneering for
+me. That was good advice, too. Grandfather, don't you know that you
+shouldn't motor all the way to Trumet and back a morning like this? I'd
+rather--much rather go without the votes than have you do such things.”
+
+Captain Zelotes seated himself in his desk chair.
+
+“But you ain't goin' to do without 'em,” he chuckled. “Obed Nye--he's
+chairman of the Trumet committee--figgers you'll have a five-to-one
+majority. He told me to practice callin' you 'the Honorable' because
+that's what you'd be by Tuesday night of week after next. And next
+winter Mother and I will be takin' a trip to Washin'ton so as to set
+in the gallery and listen to you makin' speeches. We'll be some
+consider'ble proud of you, too, boy,” he added, with a nod.
+
+His grandson looked away, out of the window, over the bleak yard with
+its piles of lumber. The voice of Issacher raised in expostulation with
+the driver of Cahoon's “truck-wagon” could be faintly heard.
+
+“I shall hate to leave you and Grandmother and the old place,” he said.
+“If I am elected--”
+
+“WHEN you're elected; there isn't any 'if.'”
+
+“Well, all right. I shall hate to leave South Harniss. Every person I
+really care for will be here. Helen--and you people at home.”
+
+“It's too bad you and Helen can't be married and go to Washin'ton
+together. Not to stay permanent,” he added quickly, “but just while
+Congress is in session. Your grandma says then she'd feel as if you had
+somebody to look after you. She always figgers, you know, that a man
+ain't capable of lookin' out for himself. There'd ought to be at least
+one woman to take care of him, see that he don't get his feet wet and
+goes to meetin' reg'lar and so on; if there could be two, so much the
+better. Mother would have made a pretty good Mormon, in some ways.”
+
+Albert laughed. “Helen feels she must stay with her father for the
+present,” he said. “Of course she is right. Perhaps by and by we can
+find some good capable housekeeper to share the responsibility, but not
+this winter. IF I am sent to Washington I shall come back often, you may
+be sure.”
+
+“When ARE you cal'latin' to be married, if that ain't a secret?”
+
+“Perhaps next spring. Certainly next fall. It will depend upon Mr.
+Kendall's health. But, Grandfather, I do feel rather like a deserter,
+going off and leaving you here--”
+
+“Good Lord! You don't cal'late I'M breakin' down, runnin' strong to talk
+and weakenin' everywhere else, like old Minister Kendall, do you?”
+
+“Well, hardly. But . . . well, you see, I have felt a little ungrateful
+ever since I came back from the war. In a way I am sorry that I feel I
+must give myself entirely to my writing--and my political work. I wish
+I might have gone on here in this office, accepted that partnership you
+would have given me--”
+
+“You can have it yet, you know. Might take it and just keep it to fall
+back on in case that story-mill of yours busts altogether or all hands
+in Ostable County go crazy and vote the wrong ticket. Just take it and
+wait. Always well to have an anchor ready to let go, you know.”
+
+“Thanks, but that wouldn't be fair. I wish I MIGHT have taken it--for
+your sake. I wish for your sake I were so constituted as to be good for
+something at it. Of course I don't mean by that that I should be willing
+to give up my writing--but--well, you see, Grandfather, I owe you an
+awful lot in this world . . . and I know you had set your heart on my
+being your partner in Z. Snow and Co. I know you're disappointed.”
+
+Captain Lote did not answer instantly. He seemed to be thinking. Then
+he opened a drawer in his desk and took out a box of cigars similar to
+those he had offered the Honorable Fletcher Fosdick on the occasion of
+their memorable interview.
+
+“Smoke, Al?” he asked. Albert declined because of the nearness to dinner
+time, but the captain, who never permitted meals or anything else to
+interfere with his smoking, lighted one of the cigars and leaned back in
+his chair, puffing steadily.
+
+“We-ll, Al,” he said slowly, “I'll tell you about that. There was a
+time--I'll own up that there was a time when the idea you wasn't goin'
+to turn out a business man and the partner who would take over this
+concern after I got my clearance papers was a notion I wouldn't let
+myself think of for a minute. I wouldn't THINK of it, that's all. But
+I've changed my mind about that, as I have about some other things.” He
+paused, tugged at his beard, and then added, “And I guess likely I might
+as well own up to the whole truth while I'm about it: I didn't change it
+because I wanted to, but because I couldn't help it--'twas changed for
+me.”
+
+He made this statement more as if he were thinking aloud than as if he
+expected a reply. A moment later he continued.
+
+“Yes, sir,” he said, “'twas changed for me. And,” with a shrug, “I'd
+rather prided myself that when my mind was made up it stayed that way.
+But--but, well, consarn it, I've about come to the conclusion that I was
+a pig-headed old fool, Al, in some ways.”
+
+“Nonsense, Grandfather. You are the last man to--”
+
+“Oh, I don't mean a candidate for the feeble-minded school. There ain't
+been any Snows put there that I can remember, not our branch of 'em,
+anyhow. But, consarn it, I--I--” he was plainly finding it hard to
+express his thought, “I--well, I used to think I knew consider'ble,
+had what I liked to think was good, hard sense. 'Twas hard enough, I
+cal'late--pretty nigh petrified in spots.”
+
+Albert laid a hand on his knee.
+
+“Don't talk like that,” he replied impulsively. “I don't like to hear
+you.”
+
+“Don't you? Then I won't. But, you see, Al, it bothers me. Look how I
+used to talk about makin' up poetry and writin' yarns and all that. Used
+to call it silliness and a waste of time, I did--worse names than that,
+generally. And look what you're makin' at it in money, to say nothin' of
+its shovin' you into Congress, and keepin' the newspapers busy printin'
+stuff about you. . . . Well, well,” with a sigh of resignation, “I don't
+understand it yet, but know it's so, and if I'd had my pig-headed way
+'twouldn't have been so. It's a dreadful belittlin' feelin' to a man at
+my time of life, a man that's commanded ten-thousand-ton steamers and
+handled crews and bossed a business like this. It makes him wonder how
+many other fool things he's done. . . . Why, do you know, Al,” he added,
+in a sudden burst of confidence, “I was consider'ble prejudiced against
+you when you first came here.”
+
+He made the statement as if he expected it to come as a stunning
+surprise. Albert would not have laughed for the world, nor in one way
+did he feel like it, but it was funny.
+
+“Well, perhaps you were, a little,” he said gravely. “I don't wonder.”
+
+“Oh, I don't mean just because you was your father's son. I mean on your
+own account, in a way. Somehow, you see, I couldn't believe--eh? Oh,
+come in, Labe! It's all right. Al and I are just talkin' about nothin'
+in particular and all creation in general.”
+
+Mr. Keeler entered with a paper in his hand.
+
+“Sorry to bother you, Cap'n Lote,” he said, “but this bill of Colby and
+Sons for that last lot of hardware ain't accordin' to agreement. The
+prices on those butts ain't right, and neither's those half-inch screws.
+Better send it back to em, eh?”
+
+Captain Zelotes inspected the bill.
+
+“Humph!” he grunted. “You're right, Labe. You generally are, I notice.
+Yes, send it back and tell 'em--anything you want to.”
+
+Laban smiled. “I want to, all right,” he said. “This is the third time
+they've sent wrong bills inside of two months. Well, Al,” turning toward
+him, “I cal'late this makes you kind of homesick, don't it, this talk
+about bills and screws and bolts and such? Wa'n't teasin' for your old
+job back again, was you, Al? Cal'late he could have it, couldn't he,
+Cap'n? We'll need somebody to heave a bucket of water on Issy pretty
+soon; he's gettin' kind of pert and uppish again. Pretty much so. Yes,
+yes, yes.”
+
+He departed, chuckling. Captain Zelotes looked after him. He tugged at
+his beard.
+
+“Al,” he said, “do you know what I've about made up my mind to do?”
+
+Albert shook his head.
+
+“I've about made up my mind to take Labe Keeler into the firm of Z. Snow
+and Co. YOU won't come in, and,” with a twinkle, “I need somebody to
+keep my name from gettin' lonesome on the sign.”
+
+Albert was delighted.
+
+“Bully for you, Grandfather!” he exclaimed. “You couldn't do a better
+thing for Labe or for the firm. And he deserves it, too.”
+
+“Ye-es, I think he does. Labe's a mighty faithful, capable feller, and
+now that he's sworn off on those vacations of his he can be trusted
+anywheres. Yes, I've as good as made up my mind to take him in. Of
+course,” with the twinkle in evidence once more, “Issachar'll be a
+little mite jealous, but we'll have to bear up under that as best we
+can.”
+
+“I wonder what Labe will say when you tell him?”
+
+“He'll say yes. I'll tell Rachel first and she'll tell him to say it.
+And then I'll tell 'em both I won't do it unless they agree to get
+married. I've always said I didn't want to die till I'd been to that
+weddin'. I want to hear Rachel tell the minister she'll 'obey' Labe. Ho,
+ho!”
+
+“Do you suppose they ever will be married?”
+
+“Why, yes, I kind of think so. I shouldn't wonder if they would be right
+off now if it wasn't that Rachel wouldn't think of givin' up keepin'
+house for your grandmother. She wouldn't do that and Labe wouldn't want
+her to. I've got to fix that somehow. Perhaps they could live along with
+us. Land knows there's room enough. They're all right, those two. Kind
+of funny to look at, and they match up in size like a rubber boot and a
+slipper, but I declare I don't know which has got the most common-sense
+or the biggest heart. And 'twould be hard to tell which thinks the most
+of you, Al. . . . Eh? Why, it's after half-past twelve o'clock! Olive'll
+be for combin' our topknots with a belayin' pin if we keep her dinner
+waitin' like this.”
+
+As they were putting on their coats the captain spoke again.
+
+“I hadn't finished what I was sayin' to you when Labe came in,” he
+observed. “'Twasn't much account; just a sort of confession, and they
+say that's good for the soul. I was just goin' to say that when you
+first came here I was prejudiced against you, not only because your
+father and I didn't agree, but because he was what he was. Because he
+was--was--”
+
+Albert finished the sentence for him.
+
+“A Portygee,” he said.
+
+“Why, yes, that's what I called him. That's what I used to call about
+everybody that wasn't born right down here in Yankeeland. I used to be
+prejudiced against you because you was what I called a half-breed. I'm
+sorry, Al. I'm ashamed. See what you've turned out to be. I declare,
+I--”
+
+“Shh! shh! Don't, Grandfather. When I came here I was a little snob, a
+conceited, insufferable little--”
+
+“Here, here! Hold on! No, you wa'n't, neither. Or if you was, you was
+only a boy. I was a man, and I ought to--”
+
+“No, I'm going to finish. Whatever I am now, or whatever I may be. I owe
+to you, and to Grandmother, and Rachel and Laban--and Helen. You made me
+over between you. I know that now.”
+
+They walked home instead of riding in the new car. Captain Zelotes
+declared he had hung on to that steering wheel all the forenoon and he
+was afraid if he took it again his fingers would grow fast to the rim.
+As they emerged from the office into the open air, he said:
+
+“Al, regardin' that makin'-over business, I shouldn't be surprised if
+it was a kind of--er--mutual thing between you and me. We both had some
+prejudices to get rid of, eh?”
+
+“Perhaps so. I'm sure I did.”
+
+“And I'm sartin sure I did. And the war and all that came with it put
+the finishin' touches to the job. When I think of what the thousands
+and thousands of men did over there in those hell-holes of trenches, men
+with names that run all the way from Jones and Kelly to--er--”
+
+“Speranza.”
+
+“Yes, and Whiskervitch and the land knows what more. When I think of
+that I'm ready to take off my hat to 'em and swear I'll never be so
+narrow again as to look down on a feller because he don't happen to be
+born in Ostable County. There's only one thing I ask of 'em, and that
+is that when they come here to live--to stay--under our laws and takin'
+advantage of the privileges we offer 'em--they'll stop bein' Portygees
+or Russians or Polacks or whatever they used to be or their folks were,
+and just be Americans--like you, Al.”
+
+“That's what we must work for now, Grandfather. It's a big job, but it
+must be done.”
+
+They walked on in silence for a time. Then the captain said:
+
+“It's a pretty fine country, after all, ain't it, Albert?”
+
+Albert looked about him over the rolling hills, the roofs of the little
+town, the sea, the dunes, the pine groves, the scene which had grown so
+familiar to him and which had become in his eyes so precious.
+
+“It is MY country,” he declared, with emphasis.
+
+His grandfather caught his meaning.
+
+“I'm glad you feel that way, son,” he said, “but 'twasn't just South
+Harniss I meant then. I meant all of it, the whole United States. It's
+got its faults, of course, lots of 'em. And if I was an Englishman or
+a Frenchman I'd probably say it wasn't as good as England or France,
+whichever it happened to be. That's all right; I ain't findin' any fault
+with 'em for that--that's the way they'd ought to feel. But you and I,
+Al, we're Americans. So the rest of the world must excuse us if we say
+that, take it by and large, it's a mighty good country. We've planned
+for it, and worked for it, and fought for it, and we know. Eh?”
+
+“Yes. We know.”
+
+“Yes. And no howlin', wild-eyed bunch from somewhere else that haven't
+done any of these things are goin' to come here and run it their way if
+we can help it--we Americans; eh?”
+
+Alberto Miguel Carlos Speranza, American, drew a long breath.
+
+“No!” he said, with emphasis.
+
+“You bet! Well, unless I'm mistaken, I smell salt fish and potatoes,
+which, accordin' to Cape Cod notion, is a good American dinner. I don't
+know how you feel, Al, but I'm hungry.”
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Portygee, by Joseph Crosby Lincoln
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diff --git a/3263-0.zip b/3263-0.zip
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+<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?>
+
+<!DOCTYPE html
+   PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN"
+   "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" >
+
+<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en">
+  <head>
+    <title>
+      The Portygee, by Joseph Crosby Lincoln
+    </title>
+    <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve">
+
+    body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify}
+    P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; }
+    H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; }
+    hr  { width: 50%; text-align: center;}
+    .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; }
+    blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;}
+    .mynote    {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;}
+    .toc       { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;}
+    .toc2      { margin-left: 20%;}
+    div.fig    { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; }
+    div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; }
+    .figleft   {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;}
+    .figright  {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;}
+    .pagenum   {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal;
+               margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%;
+               text-align: right;}
+    pre        { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;}
+
+</style>
+  </head>
+  <body>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Portygee, by Joseph Crosby Lincoln
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Portygee
+
+Author: Joseph Crosby Lincoln
+
+Release Date: May 30, 2006 [EBook #3263]
+Last Updated: March 5, 2018
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PORTYGEE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Donald Lainson; David Widger
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <h1>
+      THE PORTYGEE
+    </h1>
+    <p>
+      <br />
+    </p>
+    <h2>
+      By Joseph Crosby Lincoln
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <blockquote>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big>
+      </p>
+      <p>
+        <br />
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX </a>
+      </p>
+    </blockquote>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a> <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER I
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Overhead the clouds cloaked the sky; a ragged cloak it was, and, here and
+      there, a star shone through a hole, to be obscured almost instantly as
+      more cloud tatters were hurled across the rent. The pines threshed on the
+      hill tops. The bare branches of the wild-cherry and silverleaf trees
+      scraped and rattled and tossed. And the wind, the raw, chilling December
+      wind, driven in, wet and salty, from the sea, tore over the dunes and
+      brown uplands and across the frozen salt-meadows, screamed through the
+      telegraph wires, and made the platform of the dismal South Harniss railway
+      station the lonesomest, coldest, darkest and most miserable spot on the
+      face of the earth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At least that was the opinion of the seventeen-year-old boy whom the down
+      train&mdash;on time for once and a wonder&mdash;had just deposited upon
+      that platform. He would not have discounted the statement one iota. The
+      South Harniss station platform WAS the most miserable spot on earth and he
+      was the most miserable human being upon it. And this last was probably
+      true, for there were but three other humans upon that platform and,
+      judging by externals, they seemed happy enough. One was the station agent,
+      who was just entering the building preparatory to locking up for the
+      night, and the others were Jim Young, driver of the &ldquo;depot wagon,&rdquo; and
+      Doctor Holliday, the South Harniss &ldquo;homeopath,&rdquo; who had been up to a
+      Boston hospital with a patient and was returning home. Jim was whistling
+      &ldquo;Silver Bells,&rdquo; a tune much in vogue the previous summer, and Doctor
+      Holliday was puffing at a cigar and knocking his feet together to keep
+      them warm while waiting to get into the depot wagon. These were the only
+      people in sight and they were paying no attention whatever to the lonely
+      figure at the other end of the platform.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The boy looked about him. The station, with its sickly yellow gleam of
+      kerosene lamp behind its dingy windowpane, was apparently the only
+      inhabited spot in a barren wilderness. At the edge of the platform
+      civilization seemed to end and beyond was nothing but a black earth and a
+      black sky, tossing trees and howling wind, and cold&mdash;raw, damp,
+      penetrating cold. Compared with this even the stuffy plush seats and
+      smelly warmth of the car he had just left appeared temptingly homelike and
+      luxurious. All the way down from the city he had sneered inwardly at a
+      one-horse railroad which ran no Pullmans on its Cape branch in winter
+      time. Now he forgot his longing for mahogany veneer and individual chairs
+      and would gladly have boarded a freight car, provided there were in it a
+      lamp and a stove.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The light in the station was extinguished and the agent came out with a
+      jingling bunch of keys and locked the door. &ldquo;Good-night, Jim,&rdquo; he shouted,
+      and walked off into the blackness. Jim responded with a &ldquo;good-night&rdquo; of
+      his own and climbed aboard the wagon, into the dark interior of which the
+      doctor had preceded him. The boy at the other end of the platform began to
+      be really alarmed. It looked as if all living things were abandoning him
+      and he was to be left marooned, to starve or freeze, provided he was not
+      blown away first.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He picked up the suitcase&mdash;an expensive suitcase it was, elaborately
+      strapped and buckled, with a telescope back and gold fittings&mdash;and
+      hastened toward the wagon. Mr. Young had just picked up the reins.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh,&mdash;oh, I say!&rdquo; faltered the boy. We have called him &ldquo;the boy&rdquo; all
+      this time, but he did not consider himself a boy, he esteemed himself a
+      man, if not full-grown physically, certainly so mentally. A man, with all
+      a man's wisdom, and more besides&mdash;the great, the all-embracing wisdom
+      of his age, or youth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here, I say! Just a minute!&rdquo; he repeated. Jim Young put his head around
+      the edge of the wagon curtain. &ldquo;Eh?&rdquo; he queried. &ldquo;Eh? Who's talkin'? Oh,
+      was it you, young feller? Did you want me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The young fellow replied that he did. &ldquo;This is South Harniss, isn't it?&rdquo;
+       he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Young chuckled. &ldquo;Darn sure thing,&rdquo; he drawled. &ldquo;I give in that it
+      looks consider'ble like Boston, or Providence, R. I., or some of them
+      capitols, but it ain't, it's South Harniss, Cape Cod.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Doctor Holliday, on the back seat of the depot wagon, chuckled. Jim did
+      not; he never laughed at his own jokes. And his questioner did not
+      chuckle, either.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Does a&mdash;does a Mr. Snow live here?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The answer was prompt, if rather indefinite. &ldquo;Um-hm,&rdquo; said the driver. &ldquo;No
+      less'n fourteen of him lives here. Which one do you want?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A Mr. Z. Snow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Z. Snow, eh? Humph! I don't seem to recollect any Mr. Z. Snow around
+      nowadays. There used to be a Ziba Snow, but he's dead. 'Twan't him you
+      wanted, was it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. The one I want is&mdash;is a Captain Snow. Captain&mdash;&rdquo; he paused
+      before uttering the name which to his critical metropolitan ear had seemed
+      so dreadfully countrified and humiliating; &ldquo;Captain Zelotes Snow,&rdquo; he
+      blurted, desperately.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Jim Young laughed aloud. &ldquo;Good land, Doc!&rdquo; he cried, turning toward his
+      passenger; &ldquo;I swan I clean forgot that Cap'n Lote's name begun with a Z.
+      Cap'n Lote Snow? Why, darn sure! I . . . Eh?&rdquo; He stopped short, evidently
+      struck by a new idea. &ldquo;Sho!&rdquo; he drawled, slowly. &ldquo;Why, I declare I believe
+      you're . . . Yes, of course! I heard they was expectin' you. Doc, you know
+      who 'tis, don't you? Cap'n Lote's grandson; Janie's boy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He took the lighted lantern from under the wagon seat and held it up so
+      that its glow shone upon the face of the youth standing by the wheel.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hum,&rdquo; he mused. &ldquo;Don't seem to favor Janie much, does he, Doc. Kind of
+      got her mouth and chin, though. Remember that sort of good-lookin' set to
+      her mouth she had? And SHE got it from old Cap'n Lo himself. This boy's
+      face must be more like his pa's, I cal'late. Don't you cal'late so, Doc?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Whether Doctor Holliday cal'lated so or not he did not say. It may be that
+      he thought this cool inspection of and discussion concerning a stranger,
+      even a juvenile stranger, somewhat embarrassing to its object. Or the
+      lantern light may have shown him an ominous pucker between the boy's black
+      brows and a flash of temper in the big black eyes beneath them. At any
+      rate, instead of replying to Mr. Young, he said, kindly:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, Captain Snow lives in the village. If you are going to his house get
+      right in here. I live close by, myself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Darned sure!&rdquo; agreed Mr. Young, with enthusiasm. &ldquo;Hop right in, sonny.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But the boy hesitated. Then, haughtily ignoring the driver, he said: &ldquo;I
+      thought Captain Snow would be here to meet me. He wrote that he would.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The irrepressible Jim had no idea of remaining ignored. &ldquo;Did Cap'n Lote
+      write you that he'd be here to the depot?&rdquo; he demanded. &ldquo;All right, then
+      he'll be here, don't you fret. I presume likely that everlastin' mare of
+      his has eat herself sick again; eh, Doc? By godfreys domino, the way they
+      pet and stuff that fool horse is a sin and a shame. It ain't Lote's fault
+      so much as 'tis his wife's&mdash;she's responsible. Don't you fret, Bub,
+      the cap'n'll be here for you some time to-night. If he said he'll come
+      he'll come, even if he has to hire one of them limmysines. He, he, he! All
+      you've got to do is wait, and . . . Hey! . . . Hold on a minute! . . .
+      Bub!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The boy was walking away. And to hail him as &ldquo;Bub&rdquo; was, although Jim Young
+      did not know it, the one way least likely to bring him back.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bub!&rdquo; shouted Jim again. Receiving no reply he added what he had intended
+      saying. &ldquo;If I run afoul of Cap'n Lote anywheres on the road,&rdquo; he called,
+      &ldquo;I'll tell him you're here a-waitin'. So long, Bub. Git dap, Chain
+      Lightnin'.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The horse, thus complimented, pricked up one ear, lifted a foot, and
+      jogged off. The depot wagon became merely a shadowy smudge against the
+      darkness of the night. For a few minutes the &ldquo;chock, chock&rdquo; of the hoofs
+      upon the frozen road and the rattle of wheels gave audible evidence of its
+      progress. Then these died away and upon the windswept platform of the
+      South Harniss station descended the black gloom of lonesomeness so
+      complete as to make that which had been before seem, by comparison, almost
+      cheerful.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The youth upon that platform turned up his coat collar, thrust his gloved
+      hands into his pockets, and shivered. Then, still shivering, he took a
+      brisk walk up and down beside the suitcase and, finally, circumnavigated
+      the little station. The voyage of discovery was unprofitable; there was
+      nothing to discover. So far as he could see&mdash;which was by no means
+      far&mdash;upon each side of the building was nothing but bare fields and
+      tossing pines, and wind and cold and blackness. He came to anchor once
+      more by the suitcase and drew a long, hopeless breath.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He thought of the cheery dining room at the school he had left the day
+      before. Dinner would be nearly over by now. The fellows were having
+      dessert, or, probably, were filing out into the corridors, the younger
+      chaps to go to the study hall and the older ones&mdash;the lordly seniors,
+      of whom he had been one&mdash;on the way to their rooms. The picture of
+      his own cheerful, gay room in the senior corridor was before his mind; of
+      that room as it was before the telegram came, before the lawyer came with
+      the letter, before the end of everything as he knew it and the beginning
+      of&mdash;this. He had not always loved and longed for that school as he
+      loved and longed for it now. There had been times when he referred to it
+      as &ldquo;the old jail,&rdquo; and professed to hate it. But it had been the only real
+      home he had known since he was eight years old and now he looked back upon
+      it as a fallen angel might have looked back upon Paradise. He sighed
+      again, choked and hastily drew his gloved hand across his eyes. At the age
+      of seventeen it is very unmanly to cry, but, at that age also, manhood and
+      boyhood are closely intermingled. He choked again and then, squaring his
+      shoulders, reached into his coat pocket for the silver cigarette case
+      which, as a recent acquisition, was the pride of his soul. He had just
+      succeeded in lighting a cigarette when, borne upon the wind, he heard once
+      more the sound of hoofs and wheels and saw in the distance a speck of
+      light advancing toward the station.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The sounds drew nearer, so did the light. Then an old-fashioned buggy,
+      drawn by a plump little sorrel, pulled up by the platform and a hand held
+      a lantern aloft.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hello!&rdquo; hailed a voice. &ldquo;Where are you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The hail did not have to be repeated. Before the vehicle reached the
+      station the boy had tossed away the cigarette, picked up the suitcase, and
+      was waiting. Now he strode into the lantern light.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here I am,&rdquo; he answered, trying hard not to appear too eager. &ldquo;Were you
+      looking for me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The holder of the lantern tucked the reins between the whip-socket and the
+      dash and climbed out of the buggy. He was a little man, perhaps about
+      forty-eight or fifty, with a smooth-shaven face wrinkled at the corners of
+      the mouth and eyes. His voice was the most curious thing about him; it was
+      high and piping, more like a woman's than a man's. Yet his words and
+      manner were masculine enough, and he moved and spoke with a nervous, jerky
+      quickness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He answered the question promptly. &ldquo;Guess I be, guess I be,&rdquo; he said
+      briskly. &ldquo;Anyhow, I'm lookin' for a boy name of&mdash;name of&mdash;My
+      soul to heavens, I've forgot it again, I do believe! What did you say your
+      name was?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Speranza. Albert Speranza.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sartin, sartin! Sper&mdash;er&mdash;um&mdash;yes, yes. Knew it just as
+      well as I did my own. Well, well, well! Ye-es, yes, yes. Get right aboard,
+      Alfred. Let me take your satchel.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He picked up the suitcase. The boy, his foot upon the buggy step, still
+      hesitated. &ldquo;Then you're&mdash;you're not my grandfather?&rdquo; he faltered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eh? Who? Your grandfather? Me? He, he, he!&rdquo; He chuckled shrilly. &ldquo;No, no!
+      No such luck. If I was Cap'n Lote Snow, I'd be some older'n I be now and a
+      dum sight richer. Yes, yes. No, I'm Cap'n Lote's bookkeeper over at the
+      lumber consarn. He's got a cold, and Olive&mdash;that's his wife&mdash;she
+      said he shouldn't come out to-night. He said he should, and while they was
+      Katy-didin' back and forth about it, Rachel&mdash;Mrs. Ellis&mdash;she's
+      the hired housekeeper there&mdash;she telephoned me to harness up and come
+      meet you up here to the depot. Er&mdash;er&mdash;little mite late, wan't
+      I?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, yes, just a little. The other man, the one who drives the mail cart&mdash;I
+      think that was what it was&mdash;said perhaps the horse was sick, or
+      something like that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No-o, no, that wan't it this time. I&mdash;er&mdash;All tucked in and
+      warm enough, be you? Ye-es, yes, yes. No, I'm to blame, I shouldn't
+      wonder. I stopped at the&mdash;at the store a minute and met one or two of
+      the fellers, and that kind of held me up. All right now? Ye-es, yes, yes.
+      G'long, gal.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The buggy moved away from the platform. Its passenger, his chilly feet and
+      legs tightly wrapped in the robes, drew a breath of relief between his
+      chattering teeth. He was actually going somewhere at last; whatever
+      happened, morning would not find him propped frozen stiff against the
+      scarred and mangy clapboards of the South Harniss station.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Warm enough, be you?&rdquo; inquired his driver cheerfully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, thank you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's good, that's good, that's good. Ye-es, yes, yes. Well&mdash;er&mdash;Frederick,
+      how do you think you're goin' to like South Harniss?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The answer was rather non-committal. The boy replied that he had not seen
+      very much of it as yet. His companion seemed to find the statement highly
+      amusing. He chuckled and slapped his knee.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ain't seen much of it, eh? No-o, no, no. I guess you ain't, guess you
+      ain't. He, he, he . . . Um . . . Let's see, what was I talkin' about?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, nothing in particular, I think, Mr.&mdash;Mr.&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Didn't I tell you my name? Sho, sho! That's funny. My name's Keeler&mdash;Laban
+      B. Keeler. That's my name and bookkeeper is my station. South Harniss is
+      my dwellin' place&mdash;and I guess likely you'll have to see the minister
+      about the rest of it. He, he, he!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His passenger, to whom the old schoolbook quatrain was entirely unknown,
+      wondered what on earth the man was talking about. However, he smiled
+      politely and sniffed with a dawning suspicion. It seemed to him there was
+      an unusual scent in the air, a spirituous scent, a&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have a peppermint lozenger,&rdquo; suggested Mr. Keeler, with sudden
+      enthusiasm. &ldquo;Peppermint is good for what ails you, so they tell me. Ye-es,
+      yes, yes. Have one. Have two, have a lot.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He proceeded to have a lot himself, and the buggy was straightway
+      reflavored, so to speak. The boy, his suspicions by no means dispelled,
+      leaned back in the corner behind the curtains and awaited developments. He
+      was warmer, that was a real physical and consequently a slight mental
+      comfort, but the feeling of lonesomeness was still acute. So far his
+      acquaintanceship with the citizens of South Harniss had not filled him
+      with enthusiasm. They were what he, in his former and very recent state of
+      existence, would have called &ldquo;Rubes.&rdquo; Were the grandparents whom he had
+      never met this sort of people? It seemed probable. What sort of a place
+      was this to which Fate had consigned him? The sense of utter helplessness
+      which had had him in its clutches since the day when he received the news
+      of his father's death was as dreadfully real as ever. He had not been
+      consulted at all. No one had asked him what he wished to do, or where he
+      wished to go. The letter had come from these people, the Cape Cod
+      grandparents of whom, up to that time, he had never even heard, and he had
+      been shipped to them as though he were a piece of merchandise. And what
+      was to become of him now, after he reached his destination? What would
+      they expect him to do? Or be? How would he be treated?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In his extensive reading&mdash;he had been an omnivorous reader&mdash;there
+      were numerous examples of youths left, like him, to the care of distant
+      relatives, or step-parents, or utter strangers. Their experiences,
+      generally speaking, had not been cheerful ones. Most of them had run away.
+      He might run away; but somehow the idea of running away, with no money, to
+      face hardship and poverty and all the rest, did not make an alluring
+      appeal. He had been used to comfort and luxury ever since he could
+      remember, and his imagination, an unusually active one, visualized much
+      more keenly than the average the tribulations and struggles of a runaway.
+      David Copperfield, he remembered, had run away, but he did it when a kid,
+      not a man like himself. Nicholas Nickleby&mdash;no, Nicholas had not run
+      away exactly, but his father had died and he had been left to an uncle. It
+      would be dreadful if his grandfather should turn out to be a man like
+      Ralph Nickleby. Yet Nicholas had gotten on well in spite of his wicked
+      relative. Yes, and how gloriously he had defied the old rascal, too! He
+      wondered if he would ever be called upon to defy his grandfather. He saw
+      himself doing it&mdash;quietly, a perfect gentleman always, but with the
+      noble determination of one performing a disagreeable duty. His chin lifted
+      and his shoulders squared against the back of the buggy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Keeler, who had apparently forgotten his passenger altogether, broke
+      into song,
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     &ldquo;She's my darlin' hanky-panky
+        And she wears a number two,
+      Her father keeps a barber shop
+        Way out in Kalamazoo.&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      He sang the foregoing twice over and then added a chorus, plainly
+      improvised, made up of &ldquo;Di doos&rdquo; and &ldquo;Di dums&rdquo; ad lib. And the buggy
+      rolled up and over the slope of a little hill and, in the face of a
+      screaming sea wind, descended a long, gentle slope to where, scattered
+      along a two-mile water frontage, the lights of South Harniss twinkled
+      sparsely.
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     &ldquo;Did doo dum, dee dum, doo dum
+       Di doo dum, doo dum dee.&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      So sang Mr. Keeler. Then he broke off his solo as the little mare turned
+      in between a pair of high wooden posts bordering a drive, jogged along
+      that drive for perhaps fifty feet, and stopped beside the stone step of a
+      white front door. Through the arched window above that door shone
+      lamplight warm and yellow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Whoa!&rdquo; commanded Mr. Keeler, most unnecessarily. Then, as if himself a
+      bit uncertain as to his exact whereabouts, he peered out at the door and
+      the house of which it was a part, afterward settling back to announce
+      triumphantly: &ldquo;And here we be! Yes, sir, here we be!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the door opened. A flood of lamplight poured upon the buggy and its
+      occupants. And the boy saw two people standing in the doorway, a man and a
+      woman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was the woman who spoke first. It was she who had opened the door. The
+      man was standing behind her looking over her shoulder&mdash;over her head
+      really, for he was tall and broad and she short and slender.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it&mdash;?&rdquo; she faltered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Keeler answered. &ldquo;Yes, ma'am,&rdquo; he declared emphatically, &ldquo;that's who
+      'tis. Here we be&mdash;er&mdash;er&mdash;what's-your-name&mdash;Edward.
+      Jump right out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His passenger alighted from the buggy. The woman bent forward to look at
+      him, her hands clasped.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It&mdash;it's Albert, isn't it?&rdquo; she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The boy nodded. &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The hands unclasped and she held them out toward him. &ldquo;Oh, Albert,&rdquo; she
+      cried, &ldquo;I'm your grandmother. I&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The man interrupted. &ldquo;Wait till we get him inside, Olive,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Come
+      in, son.&rdquo; Then, addressing the driver, he ordered: &ldquo;Labe, take the horse
+      and team out to the barn and unharness for me, will you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ye-es, yes, yes,&rdquo; replied Mr. Keeler. &ldquo;Yes indeed, Cap'n. Take her right
+      along&mdash;right off. Yes indeedy. Git dap!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He drove off toward the end of the yard, where a large building,
+      presumably a barn, loomed black against the dark sky. He sang as he drove
+      and the big man on the step looked after him and sniffed suspiciously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Meanwhile the boy had followed the little woman into the house through a
+      small front hall, from which a narrow flight of stairs shot aloft with
+      almost unbelievable steepness, and into a large room. Albert had a swift
+      impression of big windows full of plants, of pictures of ships and
+      schooners on the walls, of a table set for four.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Take your things right off,&rdquo; cried his grandmother. &ldquo;Here, I'll take 'em.
+      There! now turn 'round and let me look at you. Don't move till I get a
+      good look.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He stood perfectly still while she inspected him from head to foot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You've got her mouth,&rdquo; she said slowly. &ldquo;Yes, you've got her mouth. Her
+      hair and eyes were brown and yours are black, but&mdash;but I THINK you
+      look like her. Oh, I did so want you to! May I kiss you, Albert? I'm your
+      grandmother, you know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With embarrassed shyness he leaned forward while she put her arms about
+      his neck and kissed him on the cheek. As he straightened again he became
+      aware that the big man had entered the room and was regarding him intently
+      beneath a pair of shaggy gray eyebrows. Mrs. Snow turned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Zelotes,&rdquo; she cried, &ldquo;he's got Janie's mouth, don't you think so? And
+      he DOES look like her, doesn't he?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her husband shook his head. &ldquo;Maybe so, Mother,&rdquo; he said, with a half
+      smile. &ldquo;I ain't a great hand for locatin' who folks look like. How are
+      you, boy? Glad to see you. I'm your grandfather, you know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They shook hands, while each inspected and made a mental estimate of the
+      other. Albert saw a square, bearded jaw, a firm mouth, gray eyes with many
+      wrinkles at the corners, and a shock of thick gray hair. The eyes had a
+      way of looking straight at you, through you, as if reading your thoughts,
+      divining your motives and making a general appraisal of you and them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Zelotes Snow, for his part, saw a tall young fellow, slim and
+      straight, with black curly hair, large black eyes and regular features. A
+      good-looking boy, a handsome boy&mdash;almost too handsome, perhaps, or
+      with just a touch of the effeminate in the good looks. The captain's
+      glance took in the well-fitting suit of clothes, the expensive tie, the
+      gold watch chain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Humph!&rdquo; grunted Captain Zelotes. &ldquo;Well, your grandma and I are glad to
+      have you with us. Let me see, Albert&mdash;that's your right name, ain't
+      it&mdash;Albert?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Something in his grandfather's looks or tone aroused a curious feeling in
+      the youth. It was not a feeling of antagonism, exactly, but more of
+      defiance, of obstinacy. He felt as if this big man, regarding him so
+      keenly from under the heavy brows, was looking for faults, was expecting
+      to find something wrong, might almost be disappointed if he did not find
+      it. He met the gaze for a moment, the color rising to his cheeks.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My name,&rdquo; he said deliberately, &ldquo;is Alberto Miguel Carlos Speranza.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Snow uttered a little exclamation. &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; she ejaculated. And then
+      added: &ldquo;Why&mdash;why, I thought&mdash;we&mdash;we understood 'twas
+      'Albert.' We didn't know there was&mdash;we didn't know there was any more
+      to it. What did you say it was?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her grandson squared his shoulders. &ldquo;Alberto Miguel Carlos Speranza,&rdquo; he
+      repeated. &ldquo;My father&rdquo;&mdash;there was pride in his voice now&mdash;&ldquo;my
+      father's name was Miguel Carlos. Of course you knew that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He spoke as if all creation must have known it. Mrs. Snow looked
+      helplessly at her husband. Captain Zelotes rubbed his chin.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We&mdash;ll,&rdquo; he drawled dryly, &ldquo;I guess likely we'll get along with
+      'Albert' for a spell. I cal'late 'twill come more handy to us Cape folks.
+      We're kind of plain and everyday 'round here. Sapper's ready, ain't it,
+      Mother? Al must be hungry. I'm plaguey sure <i>I</i> am.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, Zelotes, maybe he'd like to go up to his bedroom first. He's been
+      ridin' a long ways in the cars and maybe he'd like to wash up or change
+      his clothes?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Change his clothes! Lord sakes, Olive, what would he want to change his
+      clothes this time of night for? You don't want to change your clothes, do
+      you, boy?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, sir, I guess not.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sartin sure you don't. Want to wash? There's a basin and soap and towel
+      right out there in the kitchen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He pointed to the kitchen door. At that moment the door was partially
+      opened and a brisk feminine voice from behind it inquired: &ldquo;How about
+      eatin'? Are you all ready in there?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was Captain Snow who answered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You bet we are, Rachel!&rdquo; he declared. &ldquo;All ready and then some. Trot her
+      out. Sit down, Mother. Sit down, Al. Now then, Rachel, all aboard.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rachel, it appeared, was the owner of the brisk feminine voice just
+      mentioned. She was brisk herself, as to age about forty, plump, rosy and
+      very business-like. She whisked the platter of fried mackerel and the
+      dishes of baked potatoes, stewed corn, hot biscuits and all the rest, to
+      the table is no time, and then, to Albert's astonishment, sat down at that
+      table herself. Mrs. Snow did the honors.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Albert,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;this is Mrs. Ellis, who helps me keep house. Rachel,
+      this is my grandson, Albert&mdash;er&mdash;Speranza.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She pronounced the surname in a tone almost apologetic. Mrs. Ellis did not
+      attempt to pronounce it. She extended a plump hand and observed: &ldquo;Is that
+      so? Real glad to know you, Albert. How do you think you're goin' to like
+      South Harniss?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Considering that his acquaintance with the village had been so decidedly
+      limited, Albert was somewhat puzzled how to reply. His grandfather saved
+      him the trouble.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lord sakes, Rachel,&rdquo; he declared, &ldquo;he ain't seen more'n three square foot
+      of it yet. It's darker'n the inside of a nigger's undershirt outdoors
+      to-night. Well, Al&mdash;Albert, I mean, how are you on mackerel? Pretty
+      good stowage room below decks? About so much, eh?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Snow interrupted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Zelotes,&rdquo; she said reprovingly, &ldquo;ain't you forgettin' somethin'?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eh? Forgettin'? Heavens to Betsy, so I am! Lord, we thank thee for these
+      and all other gifts, Amen. What did I do with the fork; swallow it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As long as he lives Albert Speranza will not forget that first meal in the
+      home of his grandparents. It was so strange, so different from any other
+      meal he had ever eaten. The food was good and there was an abundance of
+      it, but the surroundings were so queer. Instead of the well-ordered and
+      sedate school meal, here all the eatables from fish to pie were put upon
+      the table at the same time and the servant&mdash;or housekeeper, which to
+      his mind were one and the same&mdash;sat down, not only to eat with the
+      family, but to take at least an equal part in the conversation. And the
+      conversation itself was so different. Beginning with questions concerning
+      his own journey from the New York town where the school was located, it at
+      length reached South Harniss and there centered about the diminutive
+      person of Laban Keeler, his loquacious and tuneful rescuer from the
+      platform of the railway station.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where are your things, Albert?&rdquo; asked Mrs. Snow. &ldquo;Your trunk or travelin'
+      bag, or whatever you had, I mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My trunks are coming by express,&rdquo; began the boy. Captain Zelotes
+      interrupted him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your trunks?&rdquo; he repeated. &ldquo;Got more'n one, have you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why&mdash;why, yes, there are three. Mr. Holden&mdash;he is the
+      headmaster, you know&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eh? Headmaster? Oh, you mean the boss teacher up there at the school?
+      Yes, yes. Um-hm.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir. Mr. Holden says the trunks should get here in a few days.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Ellis, the housekeeper, made the next remark. &ldquo;Did I understand you
+      to say you had THREE trunks?&rdquo; she demanded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Three trunks for one boy! For mercy sakes, what have you got in 'em?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why&mdash;why, my things. My clothes and&mdash;and&mdash;everything.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Everything, or just about, I should say. Goodness gracious me, when I go
+      up to Boston I have all I can do to fill up one trunk. And I'm bigger'n
+      you are&mdash;bigger 'round, anyway.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was no doubt about that. Captain Zelotes laughed shortly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That statement ain't what I'd call exaggerated, Rachel,&rdquo; he declared.
+      &ldquo;Every time I see you and Laban out walkin' together he has to keep on the
+      sunny side or be in a total eclipse. And, by the way, speakin' of Laban&mdash;Say,
+      son, how did you and he get along comin' down from the depot?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right. It was pretty dark.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll bet you! Laban wasn't very talkative, was he?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, yes, sir, he talked a good deal but he sang most of the time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This simple statement appeared to cause a most surprising sensation. The
+      Snows and their housekeeper looked at each other. Captain Zelotes leaned
+      back in his chair and whistled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Whew!&rdquo; he observed. &ldquo;Hum! Sho! Thunderation!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, dear!&rdquo; exclaimed his wife.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Ellis, the housekeeper, drew a long breath. &ldquo;I might have expected
+      it,&rdquo; she said tartly. &ldquo;It's past time. He's pretty nigh a month overdue,
+      as 'tis.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Snow rose to his feet. &ldquo;I was kind of suspicious when he started
+      for the barn,&rdquo; he declared. &ldquo;Seemed to me he was singin' then. WHAT did he
+      sing, boy?&rdquo; he asked, turning suddenly upon his grandson.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why&mdash;why, I don't know. I didn't notice particularly. You see, it
+      was pretty cold and&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Ellis interrupted. &ldquo;Did he sing anything about somebody's bein' his
+      darlin' hanky-panky and wearin' a number two?&rdquo; she demanded sharply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why&mdash;why, yes, he did.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Apparently that settled it. Mrs. Snow said, &ldquo;Oh, dear!&rdquo; again and the
+      housekeeper also rose from the table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You'd better go right out to the barn this minute, Cap'n Lote,&rdquo; she said,
+      &ldquo;and I guess likely I'd better go with you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The captain already had his cap on his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, Rachel,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I don't need you. Cal'late I can take care of
+      'most anything that's liable to have happened. If he ain't put the bridle
+      to bed in the stall and hung the mare up on the harness pegs I judge I can
+      handle the job. Wonder how fur along he'd got. Didn't hear him singin'
+      anything about 'Hyannis on the Cape,' did you, boy?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's some comfort. Now, don't you worry, Mother. I'll be back in a few
+      minutes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Snow clasped her hands. &ldquo;Oh, I HOPE he hasn't set the barn afire,&rdquo;
+       she wailed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No danger of that, I guess. No, Rachel, you 'tend to your supper. I don't
+      need you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He tramped out into the hall and the door closed behind him. Mrs. Snow
+      turned apologetically to her puzzled grandson, who was entirely at a loss
+      to know what the trouble was about.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You see, Albert,&rdquo; she hesitatingly explained, &ldquo;Laban&mdash;Mr. Keeler&mdash;the
+      man who drove you down from the depot&mdash;he&mdash;he's an awful nice
+      man and your grandfather thinks the world and all of him, but&mdash;but
+      every once in a while he&mdash;Oh, dear, I don't know how to say it to
+      you, but&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Evidently Mrs. Ellis knew how to say it, for she broke into the
+      conversation and said it then and there.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Every once in a while he gets tipsy,&rdquo; she snapped. &ldquo;And I only wish I had
+      my fingers this minute in the hair of the scamp that gave him the liquor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A light broke upon Albert's mind. &ldquo;Oh! Oh, yes!&rdquo; he exclaimed. &ldquo;I thought
+      he acted a little queer, and once I thought I smelt&mdash;Oh, that was why
+      he was eating the peppermints!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Snow nodded. There was a moment of silence. Suddenly the housekeeper,
+      who had resumed her seat in compliance with Captain Zelotes' order,
+      slammed back her chair and stood up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I've hated the smell of peppermint for twenty-two year,&rdquo; she declared,
+      and went out into the kitchen. Albert, looking after her, felt his
+      grandmother's touch upon his sleeve.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wouldn't say any more about it before her,&rdquo; she whispered. &ldquo;She's awful
+      sensitive.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Why in the world the housekeeper should be particularly sensitive because
+      the man who had driven him from the station ate peppermint was quite
+      beyond the boy's comprehension. Nor could he thoroughly understand why the
+      suspicion of Mr. Keeler's slight inebriety should cause such a sensation
+      in the Snow household. He was inclined to think the tipsiness rather
+      funny. Of course alcohol was lectured against often enough at school and
+      on one occasion a member of the senior class&mdash;a twenty-year-old
+      &ldquo;hold-over&rdquo; who should have graduated the fall before&mdash;had been
+      expelled for having beer in his room; but during his long summer
+      vacations, spent precariously at hotels or in short visits to his father's
+      friends, young Speranza had learned to be tolerant. Tolerance was a
+      necessary virtue in the circle surrounding Speranza Senior, in his later
+      years. The popping of corks at all hours of the night and bottles full,
+      half full or empty, were sounds and sights to which Albert had been well
+      accustomed. When one has more than once seen his own father overcome by
+      conviviality and the affair treated as a huge joke, one is not inclined to
+      be too censorious when others slip. What if the queer old Keeler guy was
+      tight? Was that anything to raise such a row about?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Plainly, he decided, this was a strange place, this household of his
+      grandparents. His premonition that they might be &ldquo;Rubes&rdquo; seemed likely to
+      have been well founded. What would his father&mdash;his great,
+      world-famous father&mdash;have thought of them? &ldquo;Bah! these Yankee
+      bourgeoisie!&rdquo; He could almost hear him say it. Miguel Carlos Speranza
+      detested&mdash;in private&mdash;the Yankee bourgeoisie. He took their
+      money and he married one of their daughters, but he detested them. During
+      his last years, when the money had not flowed his way as copiously, the
+      detest grew.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You won't say anything about Laban before Mrs. Ellis, will you, Albert?&rdquo;
+       persisted Mrs. Snow. &ldquo;She's dreadful sensitive. I'll explain by and by.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He promised, repressing a condescending smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Both the housekeeper and Captain Snow returned in a few minutes. The
+      latter reported that the mare was safe and sound in her stall.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The harness was mostly on the floor, but Jess was all right, thank the
+      Lord,&rdquo; observed the captain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Jess is our horse's name, Albert,&rdquo; explained Mrs. Snow. &ldquo;That is, her
+      name's Jessamine, but Zelotes can't ever seem to say the whole of any
+      name. When we first bought Jessamine I named her Magnolia, but he called
+      her 'Mag' all the time and I COULDN'T stand that. Have some more
+      preserves, Albert, do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      All through the meal Albert was uneasily conscious that his grandfather
+      was looking at him from under the shaggy brows, measuring him, estimating
+      him, reading him through and through. He resented the scrutiny and the
+      twinkle of sardonic humor which, it seemed to him, accompanied it. His way
+      of handling his knife and fork, his clothes, his tie, his manner of eating
+      and drinking and speaking, all these Captain Zelotes seemed to note and
+      appraise. But whatever the results of his scrutiny and appraisal might be
+      he kept them entirely to himself. When he addressed his grandson directly,
+      which was not often, his remarks were trivial commonplaces and, although
+      pleasant enough, were terse and to the point.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Several times Mrs. Snow would have questioned Albert concerning the life
+      at school, but each time her husband interfered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not now, not now, Mother,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;The boy ain't goin' to run away
+      to-night. He'll be here to-morrow and a good many to-morrows, if&rdquo;&mdash;and
+      here again Albert seemed to detect the slight sarcasm and the twinkle&mdash;&ldquo;if
+      we old-fashioned 'down easters' ain't too common and every-day for a
+      high-toned young chap like him to put up with. No, no, don't make him talk
+      to-night. Can't you see he's so sleepy that it's only the exercise of
+      openin' his mouth to eat that keeps his eyes from shuttin'? How about
+      that, son?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was perfectly true. The long train ride, the excitement, the cold wait
+      on the station platform and the subsequent warmth of the room, the hearty
+      meal, all these combined to make for sleepiness so overpowering that
+      several times the boy had caught his nose descending toward his plate in a
+      most inelegant nod. But it hurt his pride to think his grandfather had
+      noticed his condition.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I'm all right,&rdquo; he said, with dignity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Somehow the dignity seemed to have little effect upon Captain Zelotes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Um&mdash;yes, I know,&rdquo; observed the latter dryly, &ldquo;but I guess likely
+      you'll be more all right in bed. Mother, you'll show Albert where to turn
+      in, won't you? There's your suitcase out there in the hall, son. I fetched
+      it in from the barn just now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Snow ventured a protest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Zelotes,&rdquo; she cried, &ldquo;ain't we goin' to talk with him at ALL? Why,
+      there is so much to say!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Twill say just as well to-morrow mornin', Mother; better, because we'll
+      have all day to say it in. Get the lamp.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert looked at his watch.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, it's only half-past nine,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Zelotes, who also had been looking at the watch, which was a very
+      fine and very expensive one, smiled slightly. &ldquo;Half-past nine some
+      nights,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;is equal to half-past twelve others. This is one of the
+      some. There, there, son, you're so sleepy this minute that you've got a
+      list to starboard. When you and I have that talk that's comin' to us we
+      want to be shipshape and on an even keel. Rachel, light that lamp.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The housekeeper brought in and lighted a small hand lamp. Mrs. Snow took
+      it and led the way to the hall and the narrow, breakneck flight of stairs.
+      Captain Zelotes laid a hand on his grandson's shoulder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good-night, son,&rdquo; he said quietly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert looked into the gray eyes. Their expression was not unkindly, but
+      there was, or he imagined there was, the same quizzical, sardonic twinkle.
+      He resented that twinkle more than ever; it made him feel very young
+      indeed, and correspondingly obstinate. Something of that obstinacy showed
+      in his own eyes as he returned his grandfather's look.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good-night&mdash;sir,&rdquo; he said, and for the life of him he could not
+      resist hesitating before adding the &ldquo;sir.&rdquo; As he climbed the steep stairs
+      he fancied he heard a short sniff or chuckle&mdash;he was not certain
+      which&mdash;from the big man in the dining-room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His bedroom was a good-sized room; that is, it would have been of good
+      size if the person who designed it had known what the term &ldquo;square&rdquo; meant.
+      Apparently he did not, and had built the apartment on the hit-or-miss,
+      higglety-pigglety pattern, with unexpected alcoves cut into the walls and
+      closets and chimneys built out from them. There were three windows, a big
+      bed, an old-fashioned bureau, a chest of drawers, a washstand, and several
+      old-fashioned chairs. Mrs. Snow put the lamp upon the bureau. She watched
+      him anxiously as he looked about the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do&mdash;do you like it?&rdquo; she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert replied that he guessed he did. Perhaps there was not too much
+      certainty in his tone. He had never before seen a room like it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I hope you will like it! It was your mother's room, Albert. She slept
+      here from the time she was seven until&mdash;until she went away.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The boy looked about him with a new interest, an odd thrill. His mother's
+      room. His mother. He could just remember her, but that was all. The
+      memories were childish and unsatisfactory, but they were memories. And she
+      had slept there; this had been her room when she was a girl, before she
+      married, before&mdash;long before such a person as Alberto Miguel Carlos
+      Speranza had been even dreamed of. That was strange, it was queer to think
+      about. Long before he was born, when she was years younger than he as he
+      stood there now, she had stood there, had looked from those windows, had&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His grandmother threw her arms about his neck and kissed him. Her cheek
+      was wet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good-night, Albert,&rdquo; she said chokingly, and hurried out of the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He undressed quickly, for the room was very cold. He opened the window,
+      after a desperate struggle, and climbed into bed. The wind, whistling in,
+      obligingly blew out the lamp for him. It shrieked and howled about the
+      eaves and the old house squeaked and groaned. Albert pulled the comforter
+      up about his neck and concentrated upon the business of going to sleep.
+      He, who could scarcely remember when he had had a real home, was
+      desperately homesick.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Downstairs in the dining-room Captain Zelotes stood, his hands in his
+      pockets, looking through the mica panes of the stove door at the fire
+      within. His wife came up behind him and laid a hand on his sleeve.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What are you thinkin' about, Father?&rdquo; she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her husband shook his head. &ldquo;I was wonderin',&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;what my granddad,
+      the original Cap'n Lote Snow that built this house, would have said if
+      he'd known that he'd have a great-great-grandson come to live in it who
+      was,&rdquo; scornfully, &ldquo;a half-breed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Olive's grip tightened on his arm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, DON'T talk so, Zelotes,&rdquo; she begged. &ldquo;He's our Janie's boy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The captain opened the stove door, regarded the red-hot coals for an
+      instant, and then slammed the door shut again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know, Mother,&rdquo; he said grimly. &ldquo;It's for the sake of Janie's half that
+      I'm takin' in the other.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But&mdash;but, Zelotes, don't you think he seems like a nice boy?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The twinkle reappeared in Captain Lote's eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think HE thinks he's a nice boy, Mother,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;There, there, let's
+      go to bed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER II
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      The story of the events which led up to the coming, on this December
+      night, of a &ldquo;half-breed&rdquo; grandson to the Snow homestead, was an old story
+      in South Harniss. The date of its beginning was as far back as the year
+      1892.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the fall of that year Captain Zelotes Snow was in Savannah. He was in
+      command of the coasting schooner Olive S. and the said schooner was then
+      discharging a general cargo, preparatory to loading with rice and cotton
+      for Philadelphia. With the captain in Savannah was his only daughter, Jane
+      Olivia, age a scant eighteen, pretty, charming, romantic and head over
+      heels in love with a handsome baritone then singing in a popular-priced
+      grand opera company. It was because of this handsome baritone, who, by the
+      way, was a Spaniard named Miguel Carlos Speranza, that Jane Snow was then
+      aboard her father's vessel. Captain Lote was not in the habit of taking
+      his women-folks on his voyages with him. &ldquo;Skirts clutter up the deck too
+      much,&rdquo; was his opinion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had taken Jane, however, not only on this voyage, but on that preceding
+      it, which had been to Rio. It was Captain Lote's belief, and his wife's
+      hope, that a succession of sea winds might blow away recollections of
+      Senor Speranza&mdash;&ldquo;fan the garlic out of her head,&rdquo; as the captain
+      inelegantly expressed it. Jane had spent her sixteenth and seventeenth
+      years at a school for girls near Boston. The opera company of which
+      Speranza was a member was performing at one of the minor theaters. A party
+      of the school girls, duly chaperoned and faculty-guarded, of course,
+      attended a series of matinees. At these matinees Jane first saw her hero,
+      brave in doublet and hose, and braver still in melody and romance. She and
+      her mates looked and listened and worshiped from afar, as is the habit of
+      maidenly youth under such circumstances. There is no particular danger in
+      such worship provided the worshiper remains always at a safely remote
+      distance from the idol. But in Jane's case this safety-bar was removed by
+      Fate. The wife of a friend of her father's, the friend being a Boston
+      merchant named Cole with whom Captain Zelotes had had business dealings
+      for many years, was a music lover. She was in the habit of giving what she
+      was pleased to call &ldquo;musical teas&rdquo; at her home. Jane, to whom Mr. and Mrs.
+      Cole had taken a marked fancy, was often invited to those teas and,
+      because the Coles were &ldquo;among our nicest people,&rdquo; she was permitted by the
+      school authorities to attend.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At one of those teas Senor Miguel Carlos Speranza was the brightest star.
+      The Senor, then in his twenty-ninth year, handsome, talented and
+      picturesque, shone refulgent. Other and far more experienced feminine
+      hearts than Jane Snow's were flutteringly disturbed by the glory of his
+      rays. Jane and he met, they shook hands, they conversed. And at subsequent
+      teas they met again, for Speranza, on his part, was strongly attracted to
+      the simple, unaffected Cape Cod schoolgirl. It was not her beauty alone&mdash;though
+      beauty she had and of an unusual type&mdash;it was something else, a
+      personality which attracted all who met her. The handsome Spaniard had had
+      many love affairs of a more or less perfunctory kind, but here was
+      something different, something he had not known. He began by exerting his
+      powers of fascination in a lazy, careless way. To his astonishment the
+      said powers were not overwhelming. If Jane was fascinated she was not
+      conquered. She remained sweet, simple, direct, charmingly aloof.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And Speranza was at first puzzled, then piqued, then himself madly
+      fascinated. He wrote fervid letters, he begged for interviews, he haunted
+      each one of Mrs. Cole's &ldquo;teas.&rdquo; And, at last, he wrung from Jane a
+      confession of her love, her promise to marry him. And that very week Miss
+      Donaldson, the head of the school, discovered and read a package of the
+      Senor's letters to her pupil.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Zelotes happened to be at home from a voyage. Being summoned from
+      South Harniss, he came to Boston and heard the tale from Miss Donaldson's
+      agitated lips. Jane was his joy, his pride; her future was the great hope
+      and dream of his life. WHEN she married&mdash;which was not to be thought
+      of for an indefinite number of years to come&mdash;she would of course
+      marry a&mdash;well, not a President of the United States, perhaps&mdash;but
+      an admiral possibly, or a millionaire, or the owner of a fleet of
+      steamships, or something like that. The idea that she should even think of
+      marrying a play-actor was unbelievable. The captain had never attended the
+      performance of an opera; what was more, he never expected to attend one.
+      He had been given to understand that a &ldquo;parcel of play-actin' men and
+      women hollered and screamed to music for a couple of hours.&rdquo; Olive, his
+      wife, had attended an opera once and, according to her, it was more like a
+      cat fight than anything else. Nobody but foreigners ever had anything to
+      do with operas. And for foreigners of all kinds&mdash;but the Latin
+      variety of foreigner in particular&mdash;Captain Zelotes Snow cherished a
+      detest which was almost fanatic.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And now his daughter, his own Janie, was receiving ardent love letters
+      from a play-acting foreigner, a Spaniard, a &ldquo;Portygee,&rdquo; a
+      &ldquo;macaroni-eater&rdquo;! When finally convinced that it was true, that the
+      letters had really been written to Jane, which took some time, he demanded
+      first of all to be shown the &ldquo;Portygee.&rdquo; Miss Donaldson could not, of
+      course, produce the latter forthwith, but she directed her irate visitor
+      to the theater where the opera company was then performing. To the theater
+      Captain Zelotes went. He did not find Speranza there, but from a
+      frightened attendant he browbeat the information that the singer was
+      staying at a certain hotel. So the captain went to the hotel. It was
+      eleven o'clock in the morning, Senor Speranza was in bed and could not be
+      disturbed. Couldn't, eh? By the great and everlasting et cetera and
+      continued he was going to be disturbed then and there. And unless some of
+      the hotel's &ldquo;hired help&rdquo; set about the disturbing it would be done for
+      them. So, rather than summon the police, the hotel management summoned its
+      guest, and the first, and only, interview between the father and lover of
+      Jane Snow took place.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was not a long interview, but it was spirited. Captain Zelotes began by
+      being what he considered diplomatic. Having assured his wife before
+      leaving home, and the alarmed Miss Donaldson subsequently, that there was
+      to be no trouble whatever&mdash;everything would be settled as smooth and
+      easy as slidin' downhill; &ldquo;that feller won't make any fuss, you'll see&rdquo;&mdash;having
+      thus prophesied, the captain felt it incumbent upon himself to see to the
+      fulfillment. So he began by condescendingly explaining that of course he
+      was kind of sorry for the young man before him, young folks were young
+      folks and of course he presumed likely 'twas natural enough, and the like
+      of that, you understand. But of course also Mr. Speranza must realize that
+      the thing could not go on any further. Jane was his daughter and her
+      people were nice people, and naturally, that being the case, her mother
+      and he would be pretty particular as to who she kept company with, to say
+      nothing of marrying, which event was not to be thought of for ten years,
+      anyway. Now he didn't want to be&mdash;er&mdash;personal or anything like
+      that, and of course he wouldn't think of saying that Mr. Speranza wasn't a
+      nice enough man for&mdash;well, for&mdash;for . . . You see, everybody
+      wasn't as particular as he and Mrs. Snow were. But&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Here Senor Speranza interrupted. He politely desired to know if the person
+      speaking was endeavoring to convey the idea that he, Miguel Carlos
+      Speranza, was not of sufficient poseetion, goodness, standing, what it is?
+      to be considered as suitor for that person's daughter's hand. Did Meester
+      Snow comprehend to whom he addressed himself?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The interview terminated not long after. The captain's parting remark was
+      in the nature of an ultimatum. It was to the effect that if Speranza, or
+      any other condemned undesirable like him, dared to so much as look in the
+      direction of Jane Olivia Snow, his daughter, he personally would see that
+      the return for that look was a charge of buckshot. Speranza, white-faced
+      and furiously gesticulative, commanded the astonished bellboy to put that
+      &ldquo;Bah! pig-idiot!&rdquo; out into the hall and air the room immediately
+      afterward.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Having, as he considered, satisfactorily attended to the presumptuous
+      lover, Captain Zelotes returned to the school and to what he believed
+      would be the comparatively easy task, the bringing of his daughter to
+      reason. Jane had always been an obedient girl, she was devoted to her
+      parents. Of course, although she might feel rather disappointed at first,
+      she would soon get over it. The idea that she might flatly refuse to get
+      over it, that she might have a will of her own, and a determination equal
+      to that of the father from whom she inherited it, did not occur to the
+      captain at all.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But his enlightenment was prompt and complete. Jane did not rage or become
+      hysterical, she did not even weep in his presence. But, quietly, with a
+      set of her square little chin, she informed Captain Zelotes that she loved
+      Speranza, that she meant to marry him and that she should marry him, some
+      day or other. The captain raged, commanded, pleaded, begged. What was the
+      matter with her? What had come over her? Didn't she love her father and
+      mother any more that she should set out to act this way? Yes, she declared
+      that she loved them as much as ever, but that she loved her lover more
+      than all the world, and no one&mdash;not even her parents&mdash;should
+      separate them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Zelotes gave it up at last. That is, he gave up the appeal to
+      reason and the pleadings. But he did not give up the idea of having his
+      own way in the matter; being Zelotes Snow, he certainly did not give that
+      up. Instead he took his daughter home with him to South Harniss, where a
+      tearful and heart-broken Olive added her persuasions to his. But, when she
+      found Jane obdurate, Mrs. Snow might have surrendered. Not her husband,
+      however. Instead he conceived a brilliant idea. He was about to start on a
+      voyage to Rio Janeiro; he would take his wife and daughter with him. Under
+      their immediate observation and far removed from the influence of &ldquo;that
+      Portygee,&rdquo; Jane would be in no danger and might forget.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Jane made no remonstrance. She went to Rio and returned. She was always
+      calm, outwardly pleasant and quiet, never mentioned her lover unless in
+      answer to a question; but she never once varied from her determination not
+      to give him up. The Snows remained at home for a month. Then Zelotes, Jane
+      accompanying him, sailed from Boston to Savannah. Olive did not go with
+      them; she hated the sea and by this time both she and her husband were
+      somewhat reassured. So far as they could learn by watchful observation of
+      their daughter, the latter had not communicated with Speranza nor received
+      communications from him. If she had not forgotten him it seemed likely
+      that he had forgotten her. The thought made the captain furiously angry,
+      but it comforted him, too.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      During the voyage to Savannah this sense of comfort became stronger. Jane
+      seemed in better spirits. She was always obedient, but now she began to
+      seem almost cheerful, to speak, and even laugh occasionally just as she
+      used to. Captain Zelotes patted himself on the back, figuratively. His
+      scheme had been a good one.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And in Savannah, one afternoon, Jane managed to elude her father's
+      observation, to leave the schooner and to disappear completely. And that
+      night came a letter. She and Miguel Carlos Speranza had been in
+      correspondence all the time, how or through whose connivance is a mystery
+      never disclosed. He had come to Savannah, in accordance with mutual
+      arrangement; they had met, were married, and had gone away together.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I love you, Father,&rdquo; Jane wrote in the letter. &ldquo;I love you and Mother so
+      very, VERY much. Oh, PLEASE believe that! But I love him, too. And I could
+      not give him up. You will see why when you know him, really know him. If
+      it were not for you I should be SO happy. I know you can't forgive me now,
+      but some day I am sure you will forgive us both.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Zelotes was far, far from forgiveness as he read that letter. His
+      first mate, who was beside him when he opened and read it, was actually
+      frightened when he saw the look on the skipper's face. &ldquo;He went white,&rdquo;
+       said the mate; &ldquo;not pale, but white, same as a dead man, or&mdash;or the
+      underside of a flatfish, or somethin'. 'For the Lord sakes, Cap'n,' says
+      I, 'what's the matter?' He never answered me, stood starin' at the letter.
+      Then he looked up, not at me, but as if somebody else was standin' there
+      on t'other side of the cabin table. 'Forgive him!' he says, kind of slow
+      and under his breath. 'I won't forgive his black soul in hell.' When I
+      heard him say it I give you my word my hair riz under my cap. If ever
+      there was killin' in a man's voice and in his looks 'twas in Cap'n Lote's
+      that night. When I asked him again what was the matter he didn't answer
+      any more than he had the first time. A few minutes afterwards he went into
+      his stateroom and shut the door. I didn't see him again until the next
+      mornin'.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Zelotes made no attempt to follow the runaway couple. He did take
+      pains to ascertain that they were legally married, but that was all. He
+      left his schooner in charge of the mate at Savannah and journeyed north to
+      South Harniss and his wife. A week he remained at home with her, then
+      returned to the Olive S. and took up his command and its duties as if
+      nothing had happened. But what had happened changed his whole life. He
+      became more taciturn, a trifle less charitable, a little harder and more
+      worldly. Before the catastrophe he had been interested in business success
+      and the making of money chiefly because of his plans for his daughter's
+      future. Now he worked even harder because it helped him to forget. He
+      became sole owner of the Olive S., then of other schooners. People spoke
+      of him as one destined to become a wealthy man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Jane lived only a few years after her marriage. She died at the birth of
+      her second child, who died with her. Her first, a boy, was born a year
+      after the elopement. She wrote her mother to tell that news and Olive
+      answered the letter. She begged permission of her husband to invite Jane
+      and the baby to visit the old home. At first Zelotes said no, flatly; the
+      girl had made her bed, let her lie in it. But a year later he had so far
+      relented as to give reluctant consent for Jane and the child to come,
+      provided her condemned husband did not accompany them. &ldquo;If that low-lived
+      Portygee sets foot on my premises, so help me God, I'll kill him!&rdquo;
+       declared the captain. In his vernacular all foreigners were &ldquo;Portygees.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But Jane was as proud and stubborn as he. Where her husband was not
+      welcome she would not go. And a little later she had gone on the longest
+      of all journeys. Speranza did not notify her parents except to send a
+      clipped newspaper account of her death and burial, which arrived a week
+      after the latter had taken place. The news prostrated Olive, who was ill
+      for a month. Captain Zelotes bore it, as he had borne the other great
+      shock, with outward calm and quiet. Yet a year afterward he suddenly
+      announced his determination of giving up the sea and his prosperous and
+      growing shipping business and of spending the rest of his days on the
+      Cape.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Olive was delighted, of course. Riches&mdash;that is, more than a
+      comfortable competency&mdash;had no temptations for her. The old house,
+      home of three generations of Snows, was painted, repaired and, to some
+      extent, modernized. For another year Captain Zelotes &ldquo;loafed,&rdquo; as he
+      called it, although others might have considered his activities about the
+      place anything but that. At the end of that year he surprised every one by
+      buying from the heirs of the estate the business equipment of the late
+      Eben Raymond, hardware dealer and lumber merchant of South Harniss, said
+      equipment comprising an office, a store and lumber yards near the railway
+      station. &ldquo;Got to have somethin' to keep me from gettin' barnacled,&rdquo;
+       declared Captain Lote. &ldquo;There's enough old hulks rottin' at their moorin's
+      down here as 'tis. I don't know anything about lumber and half as much
+      about hardware, but I cal'late I can learn.&rdquo; As an aid in the learning
+      process he retained as bookkeeper Laban Keeler, who had acted in that
+      capacity for the former proprietor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The years slipped away, a dozen of them, as smoothly and lazily as South
+      Harniss years have always slipped. Captain Zelotes was past sixty now, but
+      as vigorous as when forty, stubborn as ever, fond of using quarter-deck
+      methods on shore and especially in town-meeting, and very often in trouble
+      in consequence. He was a member of the Board of Selectmen and was in the
+      habit of characterizing those whose opinions differed from his as
+      &ldquo;narrow-minded.&rdquo; They retorted by accusing him of being &ldquo;pig-headed.&rdquo;
+       There was some truth on both sides. His detest of foreigners had not
+      abated in the least.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And then, in this December of the year 1910, fell as from a clear sky the
+      legacy of a grandson. From Senor Miguel Carlos Speranza the Snows had had
+      no direct word, had received nothing save the newspaper clipping already
+      mentioned. Olive had never seen him; her husband had seen him only on the
+      occasion of the memorable interview in the hotel room. They never spoke of
+      him, never mentioned him to each other. Occasionally, in the Boston
+      newspapers, his likeness in costume had appeared amid the music notes or
+      theatrical jottings. But these had not been as numerous of late. Of his
+      son, their own daughter's child, they knew nothing; he might be alive or
+      he might be dead. Sometimes Olive found herself speculating concerning
+      him, wondering if he was alive, and if he resembled Jane. But she put the
+      speculation from her thoughts; she could not bear to bring back memories
+      of the old hopes and their bitter ending. Sometimes Captain Lote at his
+      desk in the office of &ldquo;Z. Snow &amp; Co., Lumber and Builders' Hardware,&rdquo;
+       caught himself dreaming of his idolized daughter and thinking how
+      different the future might have been for him had she married a &ldquo;white
+      man,&rdquo; the kind of man he had meant for her to marry. There might be
+      grandchildren growing up now, fine boys and girls, to visit the old home
+      at South Harniss. &ldquo;Ah hum! Well! . . . Labe, how long has this bill of
+      Abner Parker's been hangin' on? For thunder sakes, why don't he pay up? He
+      must think we're runnin' a meetin'-house Christmas tree.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The letter from the lawyer had come first. It was written in New York, was
+      addressed to &ldquo;Captain Lotus Snow,&rdquo; and began by taking for granted the
+      fact that the recipient knew all about matters of which he knew nothing.
+      Speranza was dead, so much was plain, and the inference was that he had
+      been fatally injured in an automobile accident, &ldquo;particulars of which you
+      have of course read in the papers.&rdquo; Neither Captain Lote nor his wife had
+      read anything of the kind in the papers. The captain had been very busy of
+      late and had read little except political news, and Mrs. Snow never read
+      of murders and accidents, their details at least. She looked up from the
+      letter, which her husband had hastened home from the office to bring her,
+      with a startled face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Zelotes,&rdquo; she cried, &ldquo;he's dead!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The captain nodded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Seems so,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;That part's plain enough, but go on. The rest of it
+      is what I can't get a hand-hold on. See what you make of the rest of it,
+      Olive.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The rest of it was to the effect that the writer, being Mr. Speranza's
+      business adviser, &ldquo;that is to say, as much or more so than any one else,&rdquo;
+       had been called in at the time of the accident, had conferred with the
+      injured man, and had learned his last wishes. &ldquo;He expressed himself
+      coherently concerning his son,&rdquo; went on the letter, &ldquo;and it is in regard
+      to that son that I am asking an interview with you. I should have written
+      sooner, but have been engaged with matters pertaining to Mr. Speranza's
+      estate and personal debts. The latter seem to be large&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'LL bet you!&rdquo; observed Captain Zelotes, sententiously, interrupting his
+      wife's reading by pointing to this sentence with a big forefinger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'And the estate's affairs much tangled,'&rdquo; went on Olive, reading aloud.
+      &ldquo;'It seems best that I should see you concerning the boy at once. I don't
+      know whether or not you are aware that he is at school in &mdash;&mdash;,
+      New York. I am inclined to think that the estate itself will scarcely
+      warrant the expense of his remaining there. Could you make it convenient
+      to come to New York and see me at once? Or, if not, I shall be in Boston
+      on Friday of next week and can you meet me there? It seems almost
+      impossible for me to come to you just now, and, of course, you will
+      understand that I am acting as a sort of temporary executor merely because
+      Mr. Speranza was formerly my friend and not because I have any pecuniary
+      interest in the settlement of his affairs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Very truly yours,
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'MARCUS W. WEISSMANN.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Weissman! Another Portygee!&rdquo; snorted Captain Lote.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But&mdash;but what does it MEAN?&rdquo; begged Mrs. Snow. &ldquo;Why&mdash;why should
+      he want to see you, Zelotes? And the boy&mdash;why&mdash;why, that's HER
+      boy. It's Janie's boy he must mean, Zelotes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her husband nodded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hers and that blasted furriner's,&rdquo; he muttered. &ldquo;I suppose so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, DON'T speak that way, Zelotes! Don't! He's dead.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Lote's lips tightened. &ldquo;If he'd died twenty years ago 'twould have
+      been better for all hands,&rdquo; he growled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Janie's boy!&rdquo; repeated Olive slowly. &ldquo;Why&mdash;why, he must be a big boy
+      now. Almost grown up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her husband did not speak. He was pacing the floor, his hands in his
+      pockets.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And this man wants to see you about him,&rdquo; said Olive. Then, after a
+      moment, she added timidly: &ldquo;Are you goin', Zelotes?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Goin'? Where?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To New York? To see this lawyer man?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I? Not by a jugful! What in blazes should I go to see him for?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well&mdash;well, he wants you to, you know. He wants to talk with you
+      about the&mdash;the boy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Humph!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's her boy, Zelotes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Humph! Young Portygee!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't, Zelotes! Please! . . . I know you can't forgive that&mdash;that
+      man. We can't either of us forgive him; but&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The captain stopped in his stride. &ldquo;Forgive him!&rdquo; he repeated. &ldquo;Mother,
+      don't talk like a fool. Didn't he take away the one thing that I was
+      workin' for, that I was plannin' for, that I was LIVIN' for? I&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She interrupted, putting a hand on his sleeve.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not the only thing, dear,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;You had me, you know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His expression changed. He looked down at her and smiled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's right, old lady,&rdquo; he admitted. &ldquo;I had you, and thank the Almighty
+      for it. Yes, I had you . . . But,&rdquo; his anger returning, &ldquo;when I think how
+      that damned scamp stole our girl from us and then neglected her and killed
+      her&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;ZELOTES! How you talk! He DIDN'T kill her. How can you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I don't mean he murdered her, of course. But I'll bet all I've got
+      that he made her miserable. Look here, Mother, you and she used to write
+      back and forth once in a while. In any one of those letters did she ever
+      say she was happy?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Snow's answer was somewhat equivocal. &ldquo;She never said she was
+      unhappy,&rdquo; she replied. Her husband sniffed and resumed his pacing up and
+      down.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After a little Olive spoke again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;New York IS a good ways,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Maybe 'twould be better for you to
+      meet this lawyer man in Boston. Don't you think so?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bah!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Another interval. Then: &ldquo;Zelotes?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; impatiently. &ldquo;What is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's her boy, after all, isn't it? Our grandson, yours and mine. Don't
+      you think&mdash;don't you think it's your duty to go, Zelotes?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Lote stamped his foot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For thunderation sakes, Olive, let up!&rdquo; he commanded. &ldquo;You ought to know
+      by this time that there's one thing I hate worse than doin' my duty,
+      that's bein' preached to about it. Let up! Don't you say another word.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She did not, having learned much by years of experience. He said the next
+      word on the subject himself. At noon, when he came home for dinner, he
+      said, as they rose from the table: &ldquo;Where's my suitcase, up attic?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, yes, I guess likely 'tis. Why?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Instead of answering he turned to the housekeeper, Mrs. Ellis.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Rachel,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;go up and get that case and fetch it down to the
+      bedroom, will you? Hurry up! Train leaves at half-past two and it's 'most
+      one now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Both women stared at him. Mrs. Ellis spoke first.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, Cap'n Lote,&rdquo; she cried; &ldquo;be you goin' away?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her employer's answer was crisp and very much to the point. &ldquo;I am if I can
+      get that case time enough to pack it and make the train,&rdquo; he observed. &ldquo;If
+      you stand here askin' questions I probably shall stay to home.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The housekeeper made a hasty exit by way of the back stairs. Mrs. Snow
+      still gazed wonderingly at her husband.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Zelotes,&rdquo; she faltered, &ldquo;are you&mdash;are you&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm goin' to New York on to-night's boat. I've telegraphed that&mdash;that
+      Weiss&mdash;Weiss&mdash;what-do-you-call-it&mdash;that Portygee lawyer&mdash;that
+      I'll be to his office to-morrow mornin'.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, Zelotes, we haven't scarcely talked about it, you and I, at all. You
+      might have waited till he came to Boston. Why do you go so SOON?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The captain's heavy brows drew together.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You went to the dentist's last Friday,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Why didn't you wait
+      till next week?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why&mdash;why, what a question! My tooth ached and I wanted to have it
+      fixed quick as possible.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Um-m, yes. Well, this tooth aches and I want it fixed or hauled out, one
+      or t'other. I want the thing off my mind. . . . Don't TALK to me?&rdquo; he
+      added, irritably. &ldquo;I know I'm a fool. And,&rdquo; with a peremptory wave of the
+      hand, &ldquo;don't you DARE say anything about DUTY!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He was back again two days later. His wife did not question him, but
+      waited for him to speak. Those years of experience already mentioned had
+      taught her diplomacy. He looked at her and pulled his beard. &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; he
+      observed, when they were alone together, &ldquo;I saw him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The&mdash;the boy?&rdquo; eagerly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no! Course not! The boy's at school somewhere up in New York State;
+      how could I see him! I saw that lawyer and I found out about&mdash;about
+      the other scamp. He was killed in an auto accident, drunk at the time, I
+      cal'late. Nigh's I can gather he's been drinkin' pretty heavy for the last
+      six or seven years. Always lived high, same as his kind generally does,
+      and spent money like water, I judge&mdash;but goin' down hill fast lately.
+      His voice was givin' out on him and he realized it, I presume likely. Now
+      he's dead and left nothin' but trunks full of stage clothes and
+      photographs and,&rdquo; contemptuously, &ldquo;letters from fool women, and debts&mdash;Lord,
+      yes! debts enough.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But the boy, Zelotes. Janie's boy?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He's been at this school place for pretty nigh ten years, so the lawyer
+      feller said. That lawyer was a pretty decent chap, too, for a furriner.
+      Seems he used to know this&mdash;Speranza rascal&mdash;when Speranza was
+      younger and more decent&mdash;if he ever was really decent, which I doubt.
+      But this lawyer man was his friend then and about the only one he really
+      had when he was hurt. There was plenty of make-believe friends hangin' on,
+      like pilot-fish to a shark, for what they could get by spongin' on him,
+      but real friends were scarce.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And the boy&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For the Lord sakes, Mother, don't keep sayin' 'The boy,' 'the boy,' over
+      and over again like a talkin' machine! Let me finish about the father
+      first. This Weis&mdash;er&mdash;thingamajig&mdash;the lawyer, had quite a
+      talk with Speranza afore he died, or while he was dyin'; he only lived a
+      few hours after the accident and was out of his head part of that. But he
+      said enough to let Weiss&mdash;er&mdash;er&mdash;Oh, why CAN'T I remember
+      that Portygee's name?&mdash;to let him know that he'd like to have him
+      settle up what was left of his affairs, and to send word to us about&mdash;about
+      the boy. There! I hope you feel easier, Mother; I've got 'round to 'the
+      boy' at last.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But why did he want word sent to us, Zelotes? He never wrote a line to us
+      in his life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You bet he didn't!&rdquo; bitterly; &ldquo;he knew better. Why did he want word sent
+      now? The answer to that's easy enough. 'Cause he wanted to get somethin'
+      out of us, that's the reason. From what that lawyer could gather, and from
+      what he's found out since, there ain't money enough for the boy to stay
+      another six weeks at that school, or anywhere else, unless the young
+      feller earns it himself. And, leavin' us out of the count, there isn't a
+      relation this side of the salt pond. There's probably a million or so over
+      there in Portygee-land,&rdquo; with a derisive sniff; &ldquo;those foreigners breed
+      like flies. But THEY don't count.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But did he want word sent to us about the&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sshh! I'm tellin' you, Olive, I'm tellin' you. He wanted word sent
+      because he was in hopes that we&mdash;you and I, Mother&mdash;would take
+      that son of his in at our house here and give him a home. The cheek of it!
+      After what he'd done to you and me, blast him! The solid brass nerve of
+      it!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He stormed up and down the room. His wife did not seem nearly so much
+      disturbed as he at the thought of the Speranza presumption. She looked
+      anxious&mdash;yes, but she looked eager, too, and her gaze was fixed upon
+      her husband's face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; she said, softly. &ldquo;Oh! . . . And&mdash;and what did you say,
+      Zelotes?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What did I say? What do you suppose I said? I said no, and I said it good
+      and loud, too.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Olive made no comment. She turned away her head, and the captain, who now
+      in his turn was watching her, saw a suspicious gleam, as of moisture, on
+      her cheek. He stopped his pacing and laid a hand on her shoulder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There, there, Mother,&rdquo; he said, gently. &ldquo;Don't cry. He's comin'.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Comin'?&rdquo; She turned pale. &ldquo;Comin'?&rdquo; she repeated. &ldquo;Who?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That boy! . . . Sshh! shh!&rdquo; impatiently. &ldquo;Now don't go askin' me
+      questions or tellin' me what I just said I said. I SAID the right thing,
+      but&mdash;Well, hang it all, what else could I DO? I wrote the boy&mdash;Albert&mdash;a
+      letter and I wrote the boss of the school another one. I sent a check
+      along for expenses and&mdash;Well, he'll be here 'most any day now, I
+      shouldn't wonder. And WHAT in the devil are we goin' to do with him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His wife did not reply to this outburst. She was trembling with
+      excitement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is&mdash;is his name Albert?&rdquo; she faltered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Um-hm. Seems so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, that's your middle name! Do you&mdash;do you s'pose Janie could have
+      named him for&mdash;for you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course,&rdquo; with some hesitation, &ldquo;it may be she didn't. If she'd named
+      him Zelotes&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good heavens, woman! Isn't one name like that enough in the family? Thank
+      the Lord we're spared two of 'em! But there! he's comin'. And when he gets
+      here&mdash;then what?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Olive put her arm about her big husband.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope&mdash;yes, I'm sure you did right, Zelotes, and that all's goin'
+      to turn out to be for the best.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you? Well, <i>I</i> ain't sure, not by a thousand fathom.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He's Janie's boy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. And he's that play-actor's boy, too. One Speranza pretty nigh ruined
+      your life and mine, Olive. What'll this one do? . . . Well, God knows, I
+      suppose likely, but He won't tell. All we can do is wait and see. I tell
+      you honest I ain't very hopeful.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER III
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      A brisk rap on the door; then a man's voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hello, there! Wake up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert rolled over, opened one eye, then the other and raised himself on
+      his elbow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eh? Wh-what?&rdquo; he stammered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Seven o'clock! Time to turn out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The voice was his grandfather's. &ldquo;Oh&mdash;oh, all right!&rdquo; he answered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Understand me, do you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes&mdash;yes, sir. I'll be right down.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The stairs creaked as Captain Zelotes descended them. Albert yawned
+      cavernously, stretched and slid one foot out of bed. He drew it back
+      instantly, however, for the sensation was that of having thrust it into a
+      bucket of cold water. The room had been cold the previous evening; plainly
+      it was colder still now. The temptation was to turn back and go to sleep
+      again, but he fought against it. Somehow he had a feeling that to
+      disregard his grandfather's summons would be poor diplomacy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He set his teeth and, tossing back the bed clothes, jumped to the floor.
+      Then he jumped again, for the floor was like ice. The window was wide open
+      and he closed it, but there was no warm radiator to cuddle against while
+      dressing. He missed his compulsory morning shower, a miss which did not
+      distress him greatly. He shook himself into his clothes, soused his head
+      and neck in a basin of ice water poured from a pitcher, and, before
+      brushing his hair, looked out of the window.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a sharp winter morning. The wind had gone down, but before
+      subsiding it had blown every trace of mist or haze from the air, and from
+      his window-sill to the horizon every detail was clean cut and distinct. He
+      was looking out, it seemed, from the back of the house. The roof of the
+      kitchen extension was below him and, to the right, the high roof of the
+      barn. Over the kitchen roof and to the left he saw little rolling hills,
+      valleys, cranberry swamps, a pond. A road wound in and out and, scattered
+      along it, were houses, mostly white with green blinds, but occasionally
+      varied by the gray of unpainted, weathered shingles. A long, low-spreading
+      building a half mile off looked as if it might be a summer hotel, now
+      closed and shuttered. Beyond it was a cluster of gray shanties and a gleam
+      of water, evidently a wharf and a miniature harbor. And, beyond that, the
+      deep, brilliant blue of the sea. Brown and blue were the prevailing
+      colors, but, here and there, clumps and groves of pines gave splashes of
+      green.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was an exhilaration in the crisp air. He felt an unwonted liveliness
+      and a desire to be active which would have surprised some of his teachers
+      at the school he had just left. The depression of spirits of which he had
+      been conscious the previous night had disappeared along with his
+      premonitions of unpleasantness. He felt optimistic this morning. After
+      giving his curls a rake with the comb, he opened the door and descended
+      the steep stairs to the lower floor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His grandmother was setting the breakfast table. He was a little surprised
+      to see her doing it. What was the use of having servants if one did the
+      work oneself? But perhaps the housekeeper was ill.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good morning,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Snow, who had not heard him enter, turned and saw him. When he
+      crossed the room, she kissed him on the cheek.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good morning, Albert,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I hope you slept well.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert replied that he had slept very well indeed. He was a trifle
+      disappointed that she made no comment on his promptness in answering his
+      grandfather's summons. He felt such promptness deserved commendation. At
+      school they rang two bells at ten minute intervals, thus giving a fellow a
+      second chance. It had been a point of senior etiquette to accept nothing
+      but that second chance. Here, apparently, he was expected to jump at the
+      first. There was a matter of course about his grandmother's attitude which
+      was disturbing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She went on setting the table, talking as she did so.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm real glad you did sleep,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Some folks can hardly ever sleep
+      the first night in a strange room. Zelotes&mdash;I mean your grandpa&mdash;'s
+      gone out to see to the horse and feed the hens and the pig. He'll be in
+      pretty soon. Then we'll have breakfast. I suppose you're awful hungry.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As a matter of fact he was not very hungry. Breakfast was always a more or
+      less perfunctory meal with him. But he was surprised to see the variety of
+      eatables upon that table. There were cookies there, and doughnuts, and
+      even half an apple pie. Pie for breakfast! It had been a newspaper joke at
+      which he had laughed many times. But it seemed not to be a joke here,
+      rather a solemn reality.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The kitchen door opened and Mrs. Ellis put in her head. To Albert's
+      astonishment the upper part of the head, beginning just above the brows,
+      was swathed in a huge bandage. The lower part was a picture of hopeless
+      misery.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Has Cap'n Lote come in yet?&rdquo; inquired the housekeeper, faintly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not yet, Rachel,&rdquo; replied Mrs. Snow. &ldquo;He'll be here in a minute, though.
+      Albert's down, so you can begin takin' up the things.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The head disappeared. A sigh of complete wretchedness drifted in as the
+      door closed. Albert looked at his grandmother in alarm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is she sick?&rdquo; he faltered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who? Rachel? No, she ain't exactly sick . . . Dear me! Where did I put
+      that clean napkin?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The boy stared at the kitchen door. If his grandmother had said the
+      housekeeper was not exactly dead he might have understood. But to say she
+      was not exactly sick&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But&mdash;but what makes her look so?&rdquo; he stammered. &ldquo;And&mdash;and
+      what's she got that on her head for? And she groaned! Why, she MUST be
+      sick!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Snow, having found the clean napkin, laid it beside her husband's
+      plate.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; she said calmly. &ldquo;It's one of her sympathetic attacks; that's what
+      she calls 'em, sympathetic attacks. She has 'em every time Laban Keeler
+      starts in on one of his periodics. It's nerves, I suppose. Cap'n Zelotes&mdash;your
+      grandfather&mdash;says it's everlastin' foolishness. Whatever 'tis, it's a
+      nuisance. And she's so sensible other times, too.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert was more puzzled than ever. Why in the world Mrs. Ellis should tie
+      up her head and groan because the little Keeler person had gone on a spree
+      was beyond his comprehension.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His grandmother enlightened him a trifle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You see,&rdquo; she went on, &ldquo;she and Laban have been engaged to be married
+      ever since they were young folks. It's Laban's weakness for liquor that's
+      kept 'em apart so long. She won't marry him while he drinks and he keeps
+      swearin' off and then breaking down. He's a good man, too; an awful good
+      man and capable as all get-out when he's sober. Lately that is, for the
+      last seven or eight years, beginnin' with the time when that lecturer on
+      mesmerism and telegraphy&mdash;no, telepathy&mdash;thought-transfers and
+      such&mdash;was at the town hall&mdash;Rachel has been havin' these
+      sympathetic attacks of hers. She declares that alcohol-takin' is a disease
+      and that Laban suffers when he's tipsy and that she and he are so bound up
+      together that she suffers just the same as he does. I must say I never
+      noticed him sufferin' very much, not at the beginnin,' anyhow&mdash;acts
+      more as he was havin' a good time&mdash;but she seems to. I don't wonder
+      you smile,&rdquo; she added. &ldquo;'Tis funny, in a way, and it's queer that such a
+      practical, common-sense woman as Rachel Ellis is, should have such a
+      notion. It's hard on us, though. Don't say anything to her about it, and
+      don't laugh at her, whatever you do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert wanted to laugh very much. &ldquo;But, Mrs. Snow&mdash;&rdquo; he began.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mercy sakes alive! You ain't goin' to call me 'Mrs. Snow,' I hope.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, of course not. But, Grandmother why do you and Captain&mdash;you and
+      Grandfather keep her and Keeler if they are so much trouble? Why don't you
+      let them go and get someone else?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let 'em go? Get someone else! Why, we COULDN'T get anybody else, anyone
+      who would be like them. They're almost a part of our family; that is,
+      Rachel is, she's been here since goodness knows when. And, when he's sober
+      Laban almost runs the lumber business. Besides, they're nice folks&mdash;almost
+      always.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Plainly the ways of South Harniss were not the ways of the world he had
+      known. Certainly these people were &ldquo;Rubes&rdquo; and queer Rubes, too. Then he
+      remembered that two of them were his grandparents and that his immediate
+      future was, so to speak, in their hands. The thought was not entirely
+      comforting or delightful. He was still pondering upon it when his
+      grandfather came in from the barn.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The captain said good morning in the same way he had said good night, that
+      is, he and Albert shook hands and the boy was again conscious of the gaze
+      which took him in from head to foot and of the quiet twinkle in the gray
+      eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sleep well, son?&rdquo; inquired Captain Zelotes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes . . . Yes, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's good. I judged you was makin' a pretty good try at it when I
+      thumped on your door this mornin'. Somethin' new for you to be turned out
+      at seven, eh?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eh? It wasn't?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, sir. The rising bell rang at seven up at school. We were supposed to
+      be down at breakfast at a quarter past.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Humph! You were, eh? Supposed to be? Does that mean that you were there?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a surprised look in the gray eyes now, a fact which Albert
+      noticed with inward delight. He had taken one &ldquo;rise&rdquo; out of his
+      grandfather, at any rate. He waited, hoping for another opportunity, but
+      it did not come. Instead they sat down to breakfast.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Breakfast, in spite of the morning sunshine at the windows, was somewhat
+      gloomy. The homesickness, although not as acute as on the previous night,
+      was still in evidence. Albert felt lost, out of his element, lonely. And,
+      to add a touch of real miserableness, the housekeeper served and ate like
+      a near relative of the deceased at a funeral feast. She moved slowly, she
+      sighed heavily, and the bandage upon her forehead loomed large and
+      portentous. When spoken to she seldom replied before the third attempt.
+      Captain Zelotes lost patience.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have another egg?&rdquo; he roared, brandishing the spoon containing it at
+      arm's length and almost under her nose. &ldquo;Egg! Egg! EGG! If you can't hear
+      it, smell it. Only answer, for heaven sakes!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The effect of this outburst was obviously not what he had hoped. Mrs.
+      Ellis stared first at the egg quivering before her face, then at the
+      captain. Then she rose and marched majestically to the kitchen. The door
+      closed, but a heartrending sniff drifted in through the crack. Olive laid
+      down her knife and fork.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There!&rdquo; she exclaimed, despairingly. &ldquo;Now see what you've done. Oh,
+      Zelotes, how many times have I told you you've got to treat her tactful
+      when she's this way?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Lote put the egg back in the bowl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;DAMN!&rdquo; he observed, with intense enthusiasm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His wife shook her head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Swearin' don't help it a mite, either,&rdquo; she declared. &ldquo;Besides I don't
+      know what Albert here must think of you.&rdquo; Albert, who, between
+      astonishment and a wild desire to laugh, was in a critical condition,
+      appeared rather embarrassed. His grandfather looked at him and smiled
+      grimly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I cal'late one damn won't scare him to death,&rdquo; he observed. &ldquo;Maybe he's
+      heard somethin' like it afore. Or do they say, 'Oh, sugar!' up at that
+      school you come from?&rdquo; he added.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert, not knowing how to reply, looked more embarrassed than ever. Olive
+      seemed on the point of weeping.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Zelotes, how CAN you!&rdquo; she wailed. &ldquo;And to-day, of all days! His very
+      first mornin'!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Lote relented.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There, there, Mother!&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I'm sorry. Forget it. Sorry if I shocked
+      you, Albert. There's times when salt-water language is the only thing that
+      seems to help me out . . . Well, Mother, what next? What'll we do now?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You know just as well as I do, Zelotes. There's only one thing you can
+      do. That's go out and beg her pardon this minute. There's a dozen places
+      she could get right here in South Harniss without turnin' her hand over.
+      And if she should leave I don't know WHAT I'd do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Leave! She ain't goin' to leave any more'n than the ship's cat's goin' to
+      jump overboard. She's been here so long she wouldn't know how to leave if
+      she wanted to.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That don't make any difference. The pitcher that goes to the well&mdash;er&mdash;er&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She had evidently forgotten the rest of the proverb. Her husband helped
+      her out.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Flocks together or gathers no moss, or somethin', eh? All right, Mother,
+      don't fret. There ain't really any occasion to, considerin' we've been
+      through somethin' like this at least once every six months for ten years.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Zelotes, won't you PLEASE go and ask her pardon?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The captain pushed back his chair. &ldquo;I'll be hanged if it ain't a healthy
+      note,&rdquo; he grumbled, &ldquo;when the skipper has to go and apologize to the cook
+      because the cook's made a fool of herself! I'd like to know what kind of
+      rum Labe drinks. I never saw any but his kind that would go to somebody
+      else's head. Two people gettin' tight and only one of 'em drinkin' is
+      somethin'&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He disappeared into the kitchen, still muttering. Mrs. Snow smiled feebly
+      at her grandson.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I guess you think we're funny folks, Albert,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;But Rachel is
+      one hired help in a thousand and she has to be treated just so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Five minutes later Cap'n 'Lote returned. He shrugged his shoulders and sat
+      down at his place.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right, Mother, all right,&rdquo; he observed. &ldquo;I've been heavin' ile on the
+      troubled waters and the sea's smoothin' down. She'll be kind and
+      condescendin' enough to eat with us in a minute or so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She was. She came into the dining-room with the air of a saint going to
+      martyrdom and the remainder of the meal was eaten by the quartet almost in
+      silence. When it was over the captain said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Al, feel like walkin', do you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, why, yes, sir, I guess so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Humph! You don't seem very wild at the prospect. Walkin' ain't much in
+      your line, maybe. More used to autoin', perhaps?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Snow put in a word. &ldquo;Don't talk so, Zelotes,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;He'll think
+      you're makin' fun of him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who? Me? Not a bit of it. Well, Al, do you want to walk down to the
+      lumber yard with me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The boy hesitated. The quiet note of sarcasm in his grandfather's voice
+      was making him furiously angry once more, just as it had done on the
+      previous night.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you want me to?&rdquo; he asked, shortly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, yes, I cal'late I do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert, without another word, walked to the hat-rack in the hall and began
+      putting on his coat. Captain Lote watched him for a moment and then put on
+      his own.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We'll be back to dinner, Mother,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Heave ahead, Al, if you're
+      ready.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was little conversation between the pair during the half mile walk
+      to the office and yards of &ldquo;Z. Snow and Co., Lumber and Builders'
+      Hardware.&rdquo; Only once did the captain offer a remark. That was just as they
+      came out by the big posts at the entrance to the driveway. Then he said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Al, I don't want you to get the idea from what happened at the table just
+      now&mdash;that foolishness about Rachel Ellis&mdash;that your grandmother
+      ain't a sensible woman. She is, and there's no better one on earth. Don't
+      let that fact slip your mind.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert, somewhat startled by the abruptness of the observation, looked up
+      in surprise. He found the gray eyes looking down at him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I noticed you lookin' at her,&rdquo; went on his grandfather, &ldquo;as if you was
+      kind of wonderin' whether to laugh at her or pity her. You needn't do
+      either. She's kind-hearted and that makes her put up with Rachel's
+      silliness. Then, besides, Rachel herself is common sense and practical
+      nine-tenths of the time. It's always a good idea, son, to sail one v'yage
+      along with a person before you decide whether to class 'em as A. B. or
+      just roustabout.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The blood rushed to the boy's face. He felt guilty and the feeling made
+      him angrier than ever.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't see why,&rdquo; he burst out, indignantly, &ldquo;you should say I was
+      laughing at&mdash;at Mrs. Snow&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At your grandmother.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well&mdash;yes&mdash;at my grandmother. I don't see why you should say
+      that. I wasn't.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wasn't you? Good! I'm glad of it. I wouldn't, anyhow. She's liable to be
+      about the best friend you'll have in this world.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      To Albert's mind flashed the addition: &ldquo;Better than you, that means,&rdquo; but
+      he kept it to himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The lumber yards were on a spur track not very far from the railway
+      station where he had spent that miserable half hour the previous evening.
+      The darkness then had prevented his seeing them. Not that he would have
+      been greatly interested if he had seen them, nor was he more interested
+      now, although his grandfather took him on a personally conducted tour
+      between the piles of spruce and pine and hemlock and pointed out which was
+      which and added further details. &ldquo;Those are two by fours,&rdquo; he said. Or,
+      &ldquo;Those are larger joist, different sizes.&rdquo; &ldquo;This is good, clear stock, as
+      good a lot of white pine as we've got hold of for a long spell.&rdquo; He gave
+      particulars concerning the &ldquo;handiest way to drive a team&rdquo; to one or the
+      other of the piles. Albert found it rather boring. He longed to speak
+      concerning enormous lumber yards he had seen in New York or Chicago or
+      elsewhere. He felt almost a pitying condescension toward this provincial
+      grandparent who seemed to think his little piles of &ldquo;two by fours&rdquo; so
+      important.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was much the same, perhaps a little worse, when they entered the
+      hardware shop and the office. The rows and rows of little drawers and
+      boxes, each with samples of its contents&mdash;screws, or bolts, or hooks,
+      or knobs&mdash;affixed to its front, were even more boring than the lumber
+      piles. There was a countryfied, middle-aged person in overalls sweeping
+      out the shop and Captain Zelotes introduced him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Albert,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;this is Mr. Issachar Price, who works around the place
+      here. Issy, let me make you acquainted with my grandson, Albert.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Price, looking over his spectacles, extended a horny hand and
+      observed: &ldquo;Yus, yus. Pleased to meet you, Albert. I've heard tell of you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert's private appraisal of &ldquo;Issy&rdquo; was that the latter was another funny
+      Rube. Whatever Issy's estimate of his employer's grandson might have been,
+      he, also, kept it to himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Zelotes looked about the shop and glanced into the office.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Humph!&rdquo; he grunted. &ldquo;No sign or symptoms of Laban this mornin', I presume
+      likely?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Issachar went on with his sweeping.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nary one,&rdquo; was his laconic reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Humph! Heard anything about him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Price moistened his broom in a bucket of water. &ldquo;I see Tim Kelley on
+      my way down street,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Tim said he run afoul of Laban along about
+      ten last night. Said he cal'lated Labe was on his way. He was singin'
+      'Hyannis on the Cape' and so Tim figgered he'd got a pretty fair start
+      already.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The captain shook his head. &ldquo;Tut, tut, tut!&rdquo; he muttered. &ldquo;Well, that
+      means I'll have to do office work for the next week or so. Humph! I
+      declare it's too bad just now when I was countin' on him to&mdash;&rdquo; He did
+      not finish the sentence, but instead turned to his grandson and said: &ldquo;Al,
+      why don't you look around the hardware store here while I open the mail
+      and the safe. If there's anything you see you don't understand Issy'll
+      tell you about it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He went into the office. Albert sauntered listlessly to the window and
+      looked out. So far as not understanding anything in the shop was concerned
+      he was quite willing to remain in ignorance. It did not interest him in
+      the least. A moment later he felt a touch on his elbow. He turned, to find
+      Mr. Price standing beside him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm all ready to tell you about it now,&rdquo; volunteered the unsmiling Issy.
+      &ldquo;Sweepin's all finished up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert was amused. &ldquo;I guess I can get along,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't worry.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;<i>I</i> ain't worried none. I don't believe in worryin'; worryin' don't
+      do folks no good, the way I look at it. But long's Cap'n Lote wants me to
+      tell you about the hardware I'd ruther do it now, than any time. Henry
+      Cahoon's team'll be here for a load of lath in about ten minutes or so,
+      and then I'll have to leave you. This here's the shelf where we keep the
+      butts&mdash;hinges, you understand. Brass along here, and iron here. Got
+      quite a stock, ain't we.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He took the visitor's arm in his mighty paw and led him from shelves to
+      drawers and from drawers to boxes, talking all the time, so the boy
+      thought, &ldquo;like a catalogue.&rdquo; Albert tried gently to break away several
+      times and yawned often, but yawns and hints were quite lost on his guide,
+      who was intent only upon the business&mdash;and victim&mdash;in hand. At
+      the window looking across toward the main road Albert paused longest.
+      There was a girl in sight&mdash;she looked, at that distance, as if she
+      might be a rather pretty girl&mdash;and the young man was languidly
+      interested. He had recently made the discovery that pretty girls may be
+      quite interesting; and, moreover, one or two of them whom he had met at
+      the school dances&mdash;when the young ladies from the Misses Bradshaws'
+      seminary had come over, duly guarded and chaperoned, to one-step and
+      fox-trot with the young gentlemen of the school&mdash;one or two of these
+      young ladies had intimated a certain interest in him. So the feminine
+      possibility across the road attracted his notice&mdash;only slightly, of
+      course; the sophisticated metropolitan notice is not easily aroused&mdash;but
+      still, slightly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come on, come on,&rdquo; urged Issachar Price. &ldquo;I ain't begun to show ye the
+      whole of it yet . . . Eh? Oh, Lord, there comes Cahoon's team now! Well, I
+      got to go. Show you the rest some other time. So long . . . Eh? Cap'n
+      Lote's callin' you, ain't he?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert went into the office in response to his grandfather's call to find
+      the latter seated at an old-fashioned roll-top desk, piled with papers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I've got to go down to the bank, Al,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Some business about a
+      note that Laban ought to be here to see to, but ain't. I'll be back pretty
+      soon. You just stay here and wait for me. You might be lookin' over the
+      books, if you want to. I took 'em out of the safe and they're on Labe's
+      desk there,&rdquo; pointing to the high standing desk by the window. &ldquo;They're
+      worth lookin' at, if only to see how neat they're kept. A set of books
+      like that is an example to any young man. You might be lookin' 'em over.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He hurried out. Albert smiled condescendingly and, instead of looking over
+      Mr. Keeler's books, walked over to the window and looked out of that. The
+      girl was not in sight now, but she might be soon. At any rate watching for
+      her was as exciting as any amusement he could think of about that dull
+      hole. Ah hum! he wondered how the fellows were at school.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl did not reappear. Signs of animation along the main road were
+      limited. One or two men went by, then a group of children obviously on
+      their way to school. Albert yawned again, took the silver cigarette case
+      from his pocket and looked longingly at its contents. He wondered what his
+      grandfather's ideas might be on the tobacco question. But his grandfather
+      was not there then . . . and he might not return for some time . . . and .
+      . . He took a cigarette from the case, tapped, with careful carelessness,
+      its end upon the case&mdash;he would not have dreamed of smoking without
+      first going through the tapping process&mdash;lighted the cigarette and
+      blew a large and satisfying cloud. Between puffs he sang:
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+      &ldquo;To you, beautiful lady,
+       I raise my eyes.
+     My heart, beautiful lady,
+       To your heart cries:
+     Come, come, beautiful lady,
+       To Par-a-dise,
+     As the sweet, sweet&mdash;'&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      Some one behind him said: &ldquo;Excuse me.&rdquo; The appeal to the beautiful lady
+      broke off in the middle, and he whirled about to find the girl whom he had
+      seen across the road and for whose reappearance he had been watching at
+      the window, standing in the office doorway. He looked at her and she
+      looked at him. He was embarrassed. She did not seem to be.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Excuse me,&rdquo; she said: &ldquo;Is Mr. Keeler here?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She was a pretty girl, so his hasty estimate made when he had first
+      sighted her was correct. Her hair was dark, so were her eyes, and her
+      cheeks were becomingly colored by the chill of the winter air. She was a
+      country girl, her hat and coat proved that; not that they were in bad
+      taste or unbecoming, but they were simple and their style perhaps nearer
+      to that which the young ladies of the Misses Bradshaws' seminary had worn
+      the previous winter. All this Albert noticed in detail later on. Just then
+      the particular point which attracted his embarrassed attention was the
+      look in the dark eyes. They seemed to have almost the same disturbing
+      quality which he had noticed in his grandfather's gray ones. Her mouth was
+      very proper and grave, but her eyes looked as if she were laughing at him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now to be laughed at by an attractive young lady is disturbing and
+      unpleasant. It is particularly so when the laughter is from the provinces
+      and the laughee&mdash;so to speak&mdash;a dignified and sophisticated city
+      man. Albert summoned the said dignity and sophistication to his rescue,
+      knocked the ashes from his cigarette and said, haughtily:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I beg your pardon?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is Mr. Keeler here?&rdquo; repeated the girl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, he is out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will he be back soon, do you think?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Recollections of Mr. Price's recent remark concerning the missing
+      bookkeeper's &ldquo;good start&rdquo; came to Albert's mind and he smiled, slightly.
+      &ldquo;I should say not,&rdquo; he observed, with delicate irony.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is Issy&mdash;I mean Mr. Price, busy?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He's out in the yard there somewhere, I believe. Would you like to have
+      me call him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, yes&mdash;if you please&mdash;sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The &ldquo;sir&rdquo; was flattering, if it was sincere. He glanced at her. The
+      expression of the mouth was as grave as ever, but he was still uncertain
+      about those eyes. However, he was disposed to give her the benefit of the
+      doubt, so, stepping to the side door of the office&mdash;that leading to
+      the yards&mdash;he opened it and shouted: &ldquo;Price! . . . Hey, Price!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was no answer, although he could hear Issachar's voice and another
+      above the rattle of lath bundles.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Price!&rdquo; he shouted, again. &ldquo;Pri-i-ce!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The rattling ceased. Then, in the middle distance, above a pile of &ldquo;two by
+      fours,&rdquo; appeared Issachar's head, the features agitated and the forehead
+      bedewed with the moisture of honest toil.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Huh?&rdquo; yelled Issy. &ldquo;What's the matter? Be you hollerin' to me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. There's some one here wants to see you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hey?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I say there's some one here who wants to see you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What for?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, find out, can't ye? I'm busy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Was that a laugh which Albert heard behind him? He turned around, but the
+      young lady's face wore the same grave, even demure, expression.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you want to see him for?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wanted to buy something.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She wants to buy something,&rdquo; repeated Albert, shouting.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hey?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She wants to&mdash;BUY&mdash;something.&rdquo; It was humiliating to have to
+      scream in this way.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Buy? Buy what?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you want to buy?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A hook, that's all. A hook for our kitchen door. Would you mind asking
+      him to hurry? I haven't much time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She wants a hook.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eh? We don't keep books. What kind of a book?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not book&mdash;HOOK. H-O-O-K! Oh, great Scott! Hook! HOOK! Hook for a
+      door! And she wants you to hurry.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eh? Well, I can't hurry now for nobody. I got to load these laths and
+      that's all there is to it. Can't you wait on him?&rdquo; Evidently the
+      customer's sex had not yet been made clear to the Price understanding.
+      &ldquo;You can get a hook for him, can't ye? You know where they be, I showed
+      ye. Ain't forgot so soon, 'tain't likely.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The head disappeared behind the &ldquo;two by fours.&rdquo; Its face was red, but no
+      redder than Mr. Speranza's at that moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fool rube!&rdquo; he snorted, disgustedly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Excuse me, but you've dropped your cigarette,&rdquo; observed the young lady.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert savagely slammed down the window and turned away. The dropped
+      cigarette stump lay where it had fallen, smudging and smelling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His caller looked at it and then at him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'd pick it up, if I were you,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Cap'n Snow HATES cigarettes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert, his dignity and indignation forgotten, returned her look with one
+      of anxiety.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Does he, honest?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. He hates them worse than anything.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The cigarette stump was hastily picked up by its owner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where'll I put it?&rdquo; he asked, hurriedly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why don't you&mdash;Oh, don't put it in your pocket! It will set you on
+      fire. Put it in the stove, quick.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Into the stove it went, all but its fragrance, which lingered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you think you COULD find me that hook?&rdquo; asked the girl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll try. <i>I</i> don't know anything about the confounded things.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; innocently. &ldquo;Don't you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, of course I don't. Why should I?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aren't you working here?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here? Work HERE? ME? Well, I&mdash;should&mdash;say&mdash;NOT!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, excuse me. I thought you must be a new bookkeeper, or&mdash;or a new
+      partner, or something.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert regarded her intently and suspiciously for some seconds before
+      making another remark. She was as demurely grave as ever, but his
+      suspicions were again aroused. However, she WAS pretty, there could be no
+      doubt about that.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Maybe I can find the hook for you,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I can try, anyway.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, thank you ever so much,&rdquo; gratefully. &ldquo;It's VERY kind of you to take
+      so much trouble.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; airily, &ldquo;that's all right. Come on; perhaps we can find it
+      together.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They were still looking when Mr. Price came panting in.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Whew!&rdquo; he observed, with emphasis. &ldquo;If anybody tells you heavin' bundles
+      of laths aboard a truck-wagon ain't hard work you tell him for me he's a
+      liar, will ye. Whew! And I had to do the heft of everything, 'cause Cahoon
+      sent that one-armed nephew of his to drive the team. A healthy lot of good
+      a one-armed man is to help heave lumber! I says to him, says I: 'What in
+      time did&mdash;' Eh? Why, hello, Helen! Good mornin'. Land sakes! you're
+      out airly, ain't ye?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The young lady nodded. &ldquo;Good morning, Issachar,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Yes, I am
+      pretty early and I'm in a dreadful hurry. The wind blew our kitchen door
+      back against the house last night and broke the hook. I promised Father I
+      would run over here and get him a new one and bring it back to him before
+      I went to school. And it's quarter to nine now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Land sakes, so 'tis! Ain't&mdash;er&mdash;er&mdash;what's-his-name&mdash;Albert
+      here, found it for you yet? He ain't no kind of a hand to find things, is
+      he? We'll have to larn him better'n that. Yes indeed!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert laughed, sarcastically. He was about to make a satisfyingly
+      crushing reproof to this piece of impertinence when Mr. Price began to
+      sniff the air.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What in tunket?&rdquo; he demanded. &ldquo;Sn'f! Sn'f! Who's been smokin' in here?
+      And cigarettes, too, by crimus! Sn'f! Sn'f! Yes, sir, cigarettes, by
+      crimustee! Who's been smokin' cigarettes in here? If Cap'n Lote knew
+      anybody'd smoked a cigarette in here I don't know's he wouldn't kill 'em.
+      Who done it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert shivered. The girl with the dark blue eyes flashed a quick glance
+      at him. &ldquo;I think perhaps someone went by the window when it was open just
+      now,&rdquo; she suggested. &ldquo;Perhaps they were smoking and the smoke blew in.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eh? Well, maybe so. Must have been a mighty rank cigarette to smell up
+      the whole premises like this just goin' past a window. Whew! Gosh! no
+      wonder they say them things are rank pison. I'd sooner smoke skunk-cabbage
+      myself; 'twouldn't smell no worse and 'twould be a dum sight safer. Whew!
+      . . . Well, Helen, there's about the kind of hook I cal'late you need.
+      Fifteen cents 'll let you out on that. Cheap enough for half the money,
+      eh? Give my respects to your pa, will ye. Tell him that sermon he preached
+      last Sunday was fine, but I'd like it better if he'd laid it on to the
+      Univer'lists a little harder. Folks that don't believe in hell don't
+      deserve no consideration, 'cordin' to my notion. So long, Helen . . . Oh
+      say,&rdquo; he added, as an afterthought, &ldquo;I guess you and Albert ain't been
+      introduced, have ye? Albert, this is Helen Kendall, she's our Orthodox
+      minister's daughter. Helen, this young feller is Albert&mdash;er&mdash;er&mdash;Consarn
+      it, I've asked Cap'n Lote that name a dozen times if I have once! What is
+      it, anyway?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Speranza,&rdquo; replied the owner of the name.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's it, Sperandy. This is Albert Sperandy, Cap'n Lote's grandson.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert and Miss Kendall shook hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thanks,&rdquo; said the former, gratefully and significantly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The young lady smiled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, you're welcome,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I knew who you were all the time&mdash;or
+      I guessed who you must be. Cap'n Snow told me you were coming.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She went out. Issachar, staring after her, chuckled admiringly. &ldquo;Smartest
+      girl in THIS town,&rdquo; he observed, with emphasis. &ldquo;Head of her class up to
+      high school and only sixteen and three-quarters at that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Zelotes came bustling in a few minutes later. He went to his desk,
+      paying little attention to his grandson. The latter loitered idly up and
+      down the office and hardware shop, watching Issachar wait on customers or
+      rush shouting into the yard to attend to the wants of others there.
+      Plainly this was Issachar's busy day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Crimus!&rdquo; he exclaimed, returning from one such excursion and mopping his
+      forehead. &ldquo;This doin' two men's work ain't no fun. Every time Labe goes on
+      a time seem's if trade was brisker'n it's been for a month. Seems as if
+      all creation and part of East Harniss had been hangin' back waitin' till
+      he had a shade on 'fore they come to trade. Makes a feller feel like
+      votin' the Prohibition ticket. I WOULD vote it, by crimustee, if I thought
+      'twould do any good. 'Twouldn't though; Labe would take to drinkin' bay
+      rum or Florida water or somethin', same as Hoppy Rogers done when he was
+      alive. Jim Young says he went into Hoppy's barber-shop once and there was
+      Hoppy with a bottle of a new kind of hair-tonic in his hand. 'Drummer that
+      was here left it for a sample,' says Hoppy. 'Wanted me to try it and, if I
+      liked it, he cal'lated maybe I'd buy some. I don't think I shall, though,'
+      he says; 'don't taste right to me.' Yes, sir, Jim Young swears that's
+      true. Wan't enough snake-killer in that hair tonic to suit Hoppy. I&mdash;Yes,
+      Cap'n Lote, what is it? Want me, do ye?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But the captain did not, as it happened, want Mr. Price at that time. It
+      was Albert whose name he had called. The boy went into the office and his
+      grandfather rose and shut the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sit down, Al,&rdquo; he said, motioning toward a chair. When his grandson had
+      seated himself Captain Zelotes tilted back his own desk chair upon its
+      springs and looked at him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, son,&rdquo; he said, after a moment, &ldquo;what do you think of it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Think of it? I don't know exactly what&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of the place here. Shop, yards, the whole business. Z. Snow and Company&mdash;what
+      do you think of it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Privately Albert was inclined to classify the entire outfit as one-horse
+      and countrified, but he deemed it wiser not to express this opinion. So he
+      compromised and replied that it &ldquo;seemed to be all right.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His grandfather nodded. &ldquo;Thanks,&rdquo; he observed, dryly. &ldquo;Glad you find it
+      that way. Well, then, changin' the subject for a minute or two, what do
+      you think about yourself?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;About myself? About me? I don't understand?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I don't suppose you do. That's what I got you over here this mornin'
+      for, so as we could understand&mdash;you and me. Al, have you given any
+      thought to what you're goin' to do from this on? How you're goin' to
+      live?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert looked at him uncomprehendingly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How I'm going to live?&rdquo; he repeated. &ldquo;Why&mdash;why, I thought&mdash;I
+      supposed I was going to live with you&mdash;with you and Grandmother.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Um-hm, I see.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I just kind of took that for granted, I guess. You sent for me to come
+      here. You took me away from school, you know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, so I did. You know why I took you from school?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I&mdash;I guess I DON'T, exactly. I thought&mdash;I supposed it was
+      because you didn't want me to go there any more.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Twasn't that. I don't know whether I would have wanted you to go there
+      or not if things had been different. From what I hear it was a pretty
+      extravagant place, and lookin' at it from the outside without knowin' too
+      much about it, I should say it was liable to put a lot of foolish and
+      expensive notions into a boy's head. I may be wrong, of course; I have
+      been wrong at least a few times in my life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was evident that he considered the chances of his being wrong in this
+      instance very remote. His tone again aroused in the youth the feeling of
+      obstinacy, of rebellion, of desire to take the other side.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is one of the best schools in this country,&rdquo; he declared. &ldquo;My father
+      said so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Zelotes picked up a pencil on his desk and tapped his chin lightly
+      with the blunt end. &ldquo;Um,&rdquo; he mused. &ldquo;Well, I presume likely he knew all
+      about it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He knew as much as&mdash;most people,&rdquo; with a slight but significant
+      hesitation before the &ldquo;most.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Um-hm. Naturally, havin' been schooled there himself, I suppose.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He wasn't schooled there. My father was a Spaniard.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So I've heard. . . . Well, we're kind of off the subject, ain't we? Let's
+      leave your father's nationality out of it for a while. And we'll leave the
+      school, too, because no matter if it was the best one on earth you
+      couldn't go there. I shouldn't feel 'twas right to spend as much money as
+      that at any school, and you&mdash;well, son, you ain't got it to spend.
+      Did you have any idea what your father left you, in the way of tangible
+      assets?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. I knew he had plenty of money always. He was one of the most famous
+      singers in this country.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Maybe so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It WAS so,&rdquo; hotly. &ldquo;And he was paid enough in one week to buy this whole
+      town&mdash;or almost. Why, my father&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sshh! Sssh!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I'm not going to hush. I'm proud of my father. He was a&mdash;a great
+      man. And&mdash;and I'm not going to stand here and have you&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Between indignation and emotion he choked and could not finish the
+      sentence. The tears came to his eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm not going to have you or anyone else talk about him that way,&rdquo; he
+      concluded, fiercely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His grandfather regarded him with a steady, but not at all unkindly, gaze.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I ain't runnin' down your father, Albert,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, you are. You hated him. Anybody could see you hated him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The captain slowly rapped the desk with the pencil. He did not answer at
+      once.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; he said, after a moment, &ldquo;I don't know as I ought to deny that. I
+      don't know as I can deny it and be honest. Years ago he took away from me
+      what amounted to three-quarters of everything that made my life worth
+      while. Some day you'll know more about it than you do now, and maybe
+      you'll understand my p'int of view better. No, I didn't like your father&mdash;Eh?
+      What was you sayin'?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert, who had muttered something, was rather confused. However, he did
+      not attempt to equivocate. &ldquo;I said I guessed that didn't make much
+      difference to Father,&rdquo; he answered, sullenly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I presume likely it didn't. But we won't go into that question now. What
+      I'm tryin' to get at in this talk we're having is you and your future. Now
+      you can't go back to school because you can't afford it. All your father
+      left when he died was&mdash;this is the honest truth I'm tellin' you now,
+      and if I'm puttin' it pretty blunt it's because I always think it's best
+      to get a bad mess out of the way in a hurry&mdash;all your father left was
+      debts. He didn't leave money enough to bury him, hardly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The boy stared at him aghast. His grandfather, leaning a little toward
+      him, would have put a hand on his knee, but the knee was jerked out of the
+      way.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There, that's over, Al,&rdquo; went on Captain Zelotes. &ldquo;You know the worst now
+      and you can say, 'What of it?' I mean just that: What of it? Bein' left
+      without a cent, but with your health and a fair chance to make good&mdash;that,
+      at seventeen or eighteen ain't a bad lookout, by any manner of means. It's
+      the outlook <i>I</i> had at fifteen&mdash;exceptin' the chance&mdash;and I
+      ain't asked many favors of anybody since. At your age, or a month or two
+      older, do you know where I was? I was first mate of a three-masted
+      schooner. At twenty I was skipper; and at twenty-five, by the Almighty, I
+      owned a share in her. Al, all you need now is a chance to go to work. And
+      I'm goin' to give you that chance.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert gasped. &ldquo;Do you mean&mdash;do you mean I've got to be a&mdash;a
+      sailor?&rdquo; he stammered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Zelotes put back his head and laughed, laughed aloud.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A sailor!&rdquo; he repeated. &ldquo;Ho, ho! No wonder you looked scared. No, I wan't
+      cal'latin' to make a sailor out of you, son. For one reason, sailorin'
+      ain't what it used to be; and, for another, I have my doubts whether a
+      young feller of your bringin' up would make much of a go handlin' a bunch
+      of fo'mast hands the first day out. No, I wasn't figgerin' to send you to
+      sea . . . What do you suppose I brought you down to this place for this
+      mornin'?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And then Albert understood. He knew why he had been conducted through the
+      lumber yards, about the hardware shop, why his grandfather and Mr. Price
+      had taken so much pains to exhibit and explain. His heart sank.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I brought you down here,&rdquo; continued the captain, &ldquo;because it's a
+      first-rate idea to look a vessel over afore you ship aboard her. It's kind
+      of late to back out after you have shipped. Ever since I made up my mind
+      to send for you and have you live along with your grandmother and me I've
+      been plannin' what to do with you. I knew, if you was a decent, ambitious
+      young chap, you'd want to do somethin' towards makin' a start in life. We
+      can use&mdash;that is, this business can use that kind of a chap right
+      now. He could larn to keep books and know lumber and hardware and how to
+      sell and how to buy. He can larn the whole thing. There's a chance here,
+      son. It's your chance; I'm givin' it to you. How big a chance it turns out
+      to be 'll depend on you, yourself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He stopped. Albert was silent. His thoughts were confused, but out of
+      their dismayed confusion two or three fixed ideas reared themselves like
+      crags from a whirlpool. He was to live in South Hamiss always&mdash;always;
+      he was to keep books&mdash;Heavens, how he hated mathematics, detail work
+      of any kind!&mdash;for drunken old Keeler; he was to &ldquo;heave lumber&rdquo; with
+      Issy Price. He&mdash;Oh, it was dreadful! It was horrible. He couldn't! He
+      wouldn't! He&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Zelotes had been watching him, his heavy brows drawing closer
+      together as the boy delayed answering.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well?&rdquo; he asked, for another minute. &ldquo;Did you hear what I said?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Understood, did you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes&mdash;sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert was clutching at straws. &ldquo;I&mdash;I don't know how to keep books,&rdquo;
+       he faltered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I didn't suppose you did. Don't imagine they teach anything as practical
+      as bookkeepin' up at that school of yours. But you can larn, can't you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&mdash;I guess so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I guess so, too. Good Lord, I HOPE so! Humph! You don't seem to be
+      jumpin' for joy over the prospect. There's a half dozen smart young
+      fellers here in South Harniss that would, I tell you that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert devoutly wished they had jumped&mdash;and landed&mdash;before his
+      arrival. His grandfather's tone grew more brusque.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't you want to work?&rdquo; he demanded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, yes, I&mdash;I suppose I do. I&mdash;I hadn't thought much about
+      it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Humph! Then I think it's time you begun. Hadn't you had ANY notion of
+      what you wanted to do when you got out of that school of yours?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was going to college.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Humph! . . . Yes, I presume likely. Well, after you got out of college,
+      what was you plannin' to do then?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wasn't sure. I thought I might do something with my music. I can play a
+      little. I can't sing&mdash;that is, not well enough. If I could,&rdquo;
+       wistfully, &ldquo;I should have liked to be in opera, as father was, of course.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Zelotes' only comment was a sniff or snort, or combination of
+      both. Albert went on.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I had thought of writing&mdash;writing books and poems, you know. I've
+      written quite a good deal for the school magazine. And I think I should
+      like to be an actor, perhaps. I&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good God!&rdquo; His grandfather's fist came down upon the desk before him.
+      Slowly he shook his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A&mdash;a poetry writer and an actor!&rdquo; he repeated. &ldquo;Whew! . . . Well,
+      there! Perhaps maybe we hadn't better talk any more just now. You can have
+      the rest of the day to run around town and sort of get acquainted, if you
+      want to. Then to-morrow mornin' you and I'll come over here together and
+      we'll begin to break you in. I shouldn't wonder,&rdquo; he added, dryly, &ldquo;if you
+      found it kind of dull at first&mdash;compared to that school and poetry
+      makin' and such&mdash;but it'll be respectable and it'll pay for board and
+      clothes and somethin' to eat once in a while, which may not seem so
+      important to you now as 'twill later on. And some day I cal'late&mdash;anyhow
+      we'll hope&mdash;you'll be mighty glad you did it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Poor Albert looked and felt anything but glad just then. Captain Zelotes,
+      his hands in his pockets, stood regarding him. He, too, did not look
+      particularly happy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You'll remember,&rdquo; he observed, &ldquo;or perhaps you don't know, that when your
+      father asked us to look out for you&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert interrupted. &ldquo;Did&mdash;did father ask you to take care of me?&rdquo; he
+      cried, in surprise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Um-hm. He asked somebody who was with him to ask us to do just that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The boy drew a long breath. &ldquo;Well, then,&rdquo; he said, hopelessly, &ldquo;I'll&mdash;I'll
+      try.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thanks. Now you run around town and see the sights. Dinner's at half past
+      twelve prompt, so be on hand for that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      After his grandson had gone, the captain, hands still in his pockets,
+      stood for some time looking out of the window. At length he spoke aloud.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A play actor or a poetry writer!&rdquo; he exclaimed. &ldquo;Tut, tut, tut! No use
+      talkin', blood will tell!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Issachar, who was putting coal on the office fire, turned his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eh?&rdquo; he queried.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothin',&rdquo; said Captain Lote.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He would have been surprised if he could have seen his grandson just at
+      that moment. Albert, on the beach whither he had strayed in his desire to
+      be alone, safely hidden from observation behind a sand dune, was lying
+      with his head upon his arms and sobbing bitterly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A disinterested person might have decided that the interview which had
+      just taken place and which Captain Zelotes hopefully told his wife that
+      morning would probably result in &ldquo;a clear, comf'table understandin'
+      between the boy and me&rdquo;&mdash;such a disinterested person might have
+      decided that it had resulted in exactly the opposite. In calculating the
+      results to be obtained from that interview the captain had not taken into
+      consideration two elements, one his own and the other his grandson's.
+      These elements were prejudice and temperament.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER IV
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      The next morning, with much the same feeling that a convict must
+      experience when he enters upon a life imprisonment, Albert entered the
+      employ of &ldquo;Z. Snow and Co., Lumber and Builders' Hardware.&rdquo; The day, he
+      would have sworn it, was at least a year long. The interval between
+      breakfast and dinner was quite six months, yet the dinner hour itself was
+      the shortest sixty minutes he had ever known. Mr. Keeler had not yet
+      returned to his labors, so there was no instruction in bookkeeping; but
+      his grandfather gave him letters to file and long dreary columns of
+      invoice figures to add. Twice Captain Zelotes went out and then, just as
+      Albert settled back for a rest and breathing spell, Issachar Price
+      appeared, warned apparently by some sort of devilish intuition, and
+      invented &ldquo;checking up stock&rdquo; and similar menial and tiresome tasks to keep
+      him uncomfortable till the captain returned. The customers who came in
+      asked questions concerning him and he was introduced to at least a dozen
+      citizens of South Harniss, who observed &ldquo;Sho!&rdquo; and &ldquo;I want to know!&rdquo; when
+      told his identity and, in some instances, addressed him as &ldquo;Bub,&rdquo; which
+      was of itself a crime deserving capital punishment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That night, as he lay in bed in the back bedroom, he fell asleep facing
+      the dreary prospect of another monotonous imprisonment the following day,
+      and the next day, and the day after that, and after that&mdash;and after
+      that&mdash;and so on&mdash;and on&mdash;and on&mdash;forever and ever, as
+      long as life should last. This, then, was to be the end of all his dreams,
+      this drudgery in a country town among these commonplace country people.
+      This was the end of his dreams of some day writing deathless odes and
+      sonnets or thrilling romances; of treading the boards as the hero of
+      romantic drama while star-eyed daughters of multi-millionaires gazed from
+      the boxes in spellbound rapture. This . . . The thought of the star-eyed
+      ones reminded him of the girl who had come into the office the afternoon
+      of his first visit to that torture chamber. He had thought of her many
+      times since their meeting and always with humiliation and resentment. It
+      was his own foolish tongue which had brought the humiliation upon him.
+      When she had suggested that he might be employed by Z. Snow and Co. he had
+      replied: &ldquo;Me? Work HERE! Well, I should say NOT!&rdquo; And all the time she,
+      knowing who he was, must have known he was doomed to work there. He
+      resented that superior knowledge of hers. He had made a fool of himself
+      but she was to blame for it. Well, by George, he would NOT work there! He
+      would run away, he would show her, and his grandfather and all the rest
+      what was what. Night after night he fell asleep vowing to run away, to do
+      all sorts of desperate deeds, and morning after morning he went back to
+      that office.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On the fourth morning the prodigal came home, the stray lamb returned to
+      the fold&mdash;Mr. Keeler returned to his desk and his duties. There was a
+      premonition of his return at the Snow breakfast table. For three days Mrs.
+      Ellis had swathed her head in white and her soul in black. For three days
+      her favorite accompaniment to conversation had been a groan or a sigh.
+      Now, on this fourth morning, she appeared without the bandage on her brow
+      or the crape upon her spirit. She was not hilarious but she did not groan
+      once, and twice during the meal she actually smiled. Captain Lote
+      commented upon the change, she being absent from table momentarily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Whew!&rdquo; he observed, in an undertone, addressing his wife. &ldquo;If it ain't a
+      comfort to see the wrinkles on Rachel's face curvin' up instead of down.
+      I'm scared to death that she'll go out some time in a cold spell when
+      she's havin' one of them sympathetics of hers, and her face'll freeze that
+      way. Well, Albert,&rdquo; turning to his grandson, &ldquo;the colors'll be h'isted to
+      the truck now instead of half-mast and life'll be somethin' besides one
+      everlastin' 'last look at the remains.' Now we can take off the mournin'
+      till the next funeral.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Olive, &ldquo;and Laban'll be back, too. I'm sure you must have
+      missed him awfully, Zelotes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Missed him! I should say so. For one thing, I miss havin' him between me
+      and Issy. When Labe's there Is talks to him and Labe keeps on thinkin' of
+      somethin' else and so it don't worry him any. I can't do that, and my
+      eardrums get to wearin' thin and that makes me nervous. Maybe you've
+      noticed that Issy's flow of conversation ain't what you'd call a trickle,&rdquo;
+       he added, turning to Albert.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert had noticed it. &ldquo;But,&rdquo; he asked, &ldquo;what makes Rachel&mdash;Mrs.
+      Ellis&mdash;so cheerful this morning? Does she know that Mr. Keeler will
+      be back at work? How does she know? She hasn't seen him, has she?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; replied the captain. &ldquo;She ain't seen him. Nobody sees him, far's
+      that goes. He generally clears out somewheres and locks himself up in a
+      room, I judge, till his vacation's over. I suppose that's one way to have
+      fun, but it ain't what I'd call hilarious.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't, Zelotes,&rdquo; said Mrs. Snow. &ldquo;I do wish you wouldn't call it fun.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't, but Laban seems to. If he don't do it for fun I don't know what
+      he does it for. Maybe it's from a sense of duty. It ain't to oblige me, I
+      know that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert repeated his question. &ldquo;But how does she know he will be back
+      to-day?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His grandmother shook her head. &ldquo;That's the mysterious part about it,&rdquo; she
+      whispered. &ldquo;It makes a person think there may be somethin' in the
+      sympathetic notion she talks so much about. She don't see him at all and
+      yet we can always tell when he's comin' back to work by her spirits. If he
+      ain't back to-day he will be to-morrow, you'll see. She never misses by
+      more than a day. <i>I</i> think it's real sort of mysterious, but Zelotes
+      laughs at me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Lote's lip twitched. &ldquo;Yes, Mother,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;it's about as
+      mysterious as the clock's strikin' twelve when it's noon. <i>I</i> know
+      it's morally sartin that Labe'll be back aboard to-day or to-morrow
+      because his sprees don't ever last more than five days. I can't swear to
+      how she knows, but that's how <i>I</i> know&mdash;and I'm darned sure
+      there's no 'sympathy' about my part.&rdquo; Then, as if realizing that he had
+      talked more than usual, he called, brusquely: &ldquo;Come on, Al, come on. Time
+      we were on the job, boy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sure enough, as they passed the window of the office, there, seated on the
+      stool behind the tall desk, Albert saw the diminutive figure of the man
+      who had been his driver on the night of his arrival. He was curious to see
+      how the delinquent would apologize for or explain his absence. But Mr.
+      Keeler did neither, nor did Captain Snow ask a question. Instead the pair
+      greeted each other as if they had parted in that office at the close of
+      business on the previous day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mornin', Cap'n Lote,&rdquo; said Laban, quietly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mornin', Labe,&rdquo; replied the captain, just as calmly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He went on and opened his own desk, leaving his grandson standing by the
+      door, not knowing whether to speak or offer to shake hands. The situation
+      was a little difficult, particularly as Mr. Keeler gave no sign of
+      recognition, but, after a glance at his employer's companion, went on
+      making entries in the ledger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Zelotes looked up a moment later. His gray eyes inspected the pair
+      and the expression on Albert's face caused them to twinkle slightly.
+      &ldquo;Labe,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;this is my grandson, Albert, the one I told you was
+      comin' to live with us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Laban turned on the stool, regarded Albert over his spectacles, and
+      extended a hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pleased to meet you,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Yes, yes . . . Yes, yes, yes. . . Pleased
+      to meet you. Cap'n Lote said you was comin'&mdash;er&mdash;er&mdash;Alfred.
+      Howdy do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They shook hands. Mr. Keeler's hand trembled a little, but that was the
+      only symptom of his recent &ldquo;vacation&rdquo; which the youth could notice.
+      Certain vivid remembrances of his father's bad humor on mornings following
+      convivial evenings recurred to him. Was it possible that this odd,
+      precise, dried-up little man had been on a spree for four days? It did not
+      seem possible. He looked more as if he might be expected to rap on the
+      desk and ask the school to come to order.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Albert's goin' to take hold here with us in the office,&rdquo; went on Captain
+      Lote. &ldquo;You'll remember I spoke to you about that when we talked about his
+      comin'. Al, Labe&mdash;Mr. Keeler here&mdash;will start you in larnin' to
+      bookkeep. He'll be your first mate from now on. Don't forget you're a
+      fo'mast hand yet awhile and the way for a fo'mast hand to get ahead is to
+      obey orders. And don't,&rdquo; he added, with a quiet chuckle, &ldquo;do any
+      play-actin' or poetry-makin' when it's your watch on deck. Laban nor I
+      ain't very strong for play-actin', are we, Labe?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Laban, to whom the reference was anything but clear, replied rather
+      vaguely that he didn't know as he was, very. Albert's temper flared up
+      again. His grandfather was sneering at him once more; he was always
+      sneering at him. All right, let him sneer&mdash;now. Some day he would be
+      shown. He scowled and turned away. And Captain Zelotes, noticing the
+      scowl, was reminded of a scowl he had seen upon the face of a Spanish
+      opera singer some twenty years before. He did not like to be reminded of
+      that man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He went out soon afterward and then Laban, turning to Albert, asked a few
+      questions.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How do you think you're goin' to like South Harniss, Ansel?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert was tempted to reply that he, Keeler, had asked him that very
+      question before, but he thought it best not to do so.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know yet,&rdquo; he answered, carelessly. &ldquo;Well enough, I guess.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You'll like it fust-rate bimeby. Everybody does when they get used to it.
+      Takes some time to get used to a place, don't you know it does, Ansel?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My name is Albert.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eh? Yes, yes, so 'tis. Yes, yes, yes. I don't know why I called you
+      Ansel, 'less 'twas on account of my knowin' an Ansel Olsen once . . . Hum
+      . . . Yes, yes. Well, you'll like South Harniss when you get used to it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The boy did not answer. He was of the opinion that he should die long
+      before the getting used process was completed. Mr. Keeler continued.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come on yesterday's train, did you?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert looked at him. Was the fellow joking? He did not look as if he was.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why no,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;I came last Monday night. Don't you remember?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eh? Oh, yes . . . Yes, yes, yes . . . Last Monday night you come, eh? On
+      the night train, eh?&rdquo; He hesitated a moment and then asked. &ldquo;Cap'n Lote
+      fetch you down from the depot?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert stared at him open-mouthed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, no!&rdquo; he retorted. &ldquo;You drove me down yourself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      For the first time a slight shade of embarrassment crossed the
+      bookkeeper's features. He drew a long breath.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he mused. &ldquo;Yes, yes, yes. I kind of thought I&mdash;yes, yes,&mdash;I&mdash;I
+      thought likely I did . . . Yes, yes, course I did, course I did. Well, now
+      maybe we'd better be startin' you in to work&mdash;er&mdash;Augustus. Know
+      anything about double-entry, do you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert did not, nor had he the slightest desire to learn. But before the
+      first hour was over he foresaw that he was destined to learn, if he
+      remained in that office, whether he wanted to or not. Laban Keeler might
+      be, and evidently was, peculiar in his ways, but as a bookkeeper he was
+      thoroughness personified. And as a teacher of his profession he was just
+      as thorough. All that forenoon Albert practiced the first principles of
+      &ldquo;double entry&rdquo; and, after the blessed hour for dinner, came back to
+      practice the remainder of the working day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And so for many days. Little by little he learned to invoice and
+      journalize and &ldquo;post in the ledger&rdquo; and all the rest of the detail of
+      bookkeeping. Not that his instructor permitted him to do a great deal of
+      actual work upon the books of Z. Snow and Co. Those books were too
+      spotless and precious for that. Looking over them Albert was surprised and
+      obliged to admit a grudging admiration at the manner in which, for the
+      most part, they had been kept. Page after page of the neatest of minute
+      figures, not a blot, not a blur, not an erasure. So for months; then, in
+      the minor books, like the day-book or journal, would suddenly break out an
+      eruption of smudges and scrawls in the rugged handwriting of Captain
+      Zelotes. When he first happened upon one of these Albert unthinkingly
+      spoke to Mr. Keeler about it. He asked the latter what it meant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Laban slowly stroked his nose with his thumb and finger, a habit he had.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I cal'late I was away for a spell then,&rdquo; he said, gravely. &ldquo;Yes, yes . .
+      . Yes, yes, yes. I was away for a little spell.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He went soberly back to his desk. His new assistant, catching a glimpse of
+      his face, felt a pang of real pity for the little man. Of course the
+      reason for the hiatus in the books was plain enough. He knew about those
+      &ldquo;little spells.&rdquo; Oddly enough Laban seemed to feel sorry for them. He
+      remembered how funny the bookkeeper had appeared at their first meeting,
+      when one &ldquo;spell&rdquo; was just developing, and the contrast between the
+      singing, chirruping clown and the precise, grave little person at the desk
+      struck even his youthful mind as peculiar. He had read &ldquo;Doctor Jekyll and
+      Mr. Hyde,&rdquo; and now here was an example of something similar. He was
+      beginning to like Laban Keeler, although he was perfectly sure that he
+      should never like bookkeeping.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He did not slave at the books all the time, of course. For stretches,
+      sometimes lasting whole days, his slavery was of another sort. Then he was
+      working in the lumber yard with Issachar, or waiting on customers in the
+      hardware shop. The cold of winter set in in earnest now and handling &ldquo;two
+      by fours&rdquo; and other timber out where the raw winds swept piercingly
+      through one's overcoat and garments and flesh to the very bone was a
+      trying experience. His hands were chapped and cracked, even though his
+      grandmother had knit him a pair of enormous red mittens. He appreciated
+      the warmth of the mittens, but he hated the color. Why in the name of all
+      that was inartistic did she choose red; not a deep, rich crimson, but a
+      screeching vermilion, like a fireman's shirt?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Issachar, when he had the opportunity, was a hard boss. It suited Mr.
+      Price to display his superior knowledge and to find fault with his
+      helper's lack of skill. Albert's hot temper was at the boiling point many
+      times, but he fought it down. Occasionally he retorted in kind, but his
+      usual and most effective weapon was a more or less delicate sarcasm.
+      Issachar did not understand sarcasm and under rapid fire he was inclined
+      to lose his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Consarn it!&rdquo; he snapped, irritably, on one occasion. &ldquo;Consarn it, Al, why
+      don't you h'ist up on t'other end of that j'ist? What do you cal'late
+      you're out here along of me for; to look harnsome?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert shook his head. &ldquo;No, Is,&rdquo; he answered, gravely. &ldquo;No, that wouldn't
+      be any use. With you around nobody else has a look-in at the 'handsome'
+      game. Issy, what do you do to your face?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do to it? What do you mean by do to it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you do to it to make it look the way it does? Don't tell me it
+      grew that way naturally.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Grew! Course it grew! What kind of talk's that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Issy, with a face like yours how do you keep the birds away?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eh? Keep the birds away! Now look here, just&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Excuse me. Did I say 'birds,' Issy? I didn't mean birds like&mdash;like
+      crows. Of course a face like yours would keep the crows away all right
+      enough. I meant girls. How do you keep the girls away? I should think they
+      would be making love all the time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aw, you shut up! Just 'cause you're Cap'n Lote's grandson I presume
+      likely you think you can talk any kind of talk, don't ye?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not any kind, Is. I can't talk like you. Will you teach me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shut up! Now, by Crimus, you&mdash;you furriner&mdash;you Speranzy&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Keeler appeared at the office window. His shrill voice rose pipingly
+      in the wintry air as he demanded to know what was the trouble out there.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Price, still foaming, strode toward the window; Albert laughingly
+      followed him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's the matter?&rdquo; repeated Laban. &ldquo;There's enough noise for a sewin'
+      circle. Be still, Is, can't you, for a minute. Al, what's the trouble?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Issy's been talking about his face,&rdquo; explained Albert, soberly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I ain't neither. I was h'istin' up my end of a j'ist, same as I'm paid to
+      do, and, 'stead of helpin' he stands there and heaves out talk about&mdash;about&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, about what?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aw, about&mdash;about me and&mdash;and girls&mdash;and all sorts of dum
+      foolishness. I tell ye, I've got somethin' else to do beside listen to
+      that kind of cheap talk.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Um. Yes, yes. I see. Well, Al, what have you got to say?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing. I'm sure I don't know what it is all about. I was working as
+      hard as I could and all at once he began pitching into me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pitchin' into you? How?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I don't know. Something about my looks he didn't like, I guess.
+      Wanted to know if I thought I was as handsome as he was, or something like
+      that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eh? I never neither! All I said was&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Keeler raised his hand. &ldquo;Seems to be a case for an umpire,&rdquo; he
+      observed. &ldquo;Um. Seem's if 'twas, seems so, seems so. Well, Captain Lote's
+      just comin' across the road and, if you say the word, I'll call him in to
+      referee. What do you say?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They said nothing relevant to the subject in hand. Issachar made the only
+      remark. &ldquo;Crimus-TEE!&rdquo; he ejaculated. &ldquo;Come on, Al, come on.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The pair hurried away to resume lumber piling. Laban smiled slightly and
+      closed the window. It may be gathered from this incident that when the
+      captain was in charge of the deck there was little idle persiflage among
+      the &ldquo;fo'mast hands.&rdquo; They, like others in South Harniss, did not presume
+      to trifle with Captain Lote Snow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So the business education of Alberto Miguel Carlos Speranza progressed. At
+      the end of the first six weeks in South Harniss he had learned a little
+      about bookkeeping, a little about selling hardware, a little about
+      measuring and marking lumber. And it must be admitted that that little had
+      been acquired, not because of vigorous application on the part of the
+      pupil, but because, being naturally quick and intelligent, he could not
+      help learning something. He liked the work just as little as he had in the
+      beginning of his apprenticeship. And, although he was forgetting his
+      thoughts of running away, of attempting fortune on his own hook, he was
+      just as rebellious as ever against a future to be spent in that office and
+      at that work.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Outside the office and the hateful bookkeeping he was beginning to find
+      several real interests. At the old house which had for generations been
+      called &ldquo;the Snow place,&rdquo; he was beginning to feel almost at home. He and
+      his grandmother were becoming close friends. She was not looking for
+      trouble, she never sat for long intervals gazing at him as if she were
+      guessing, guessing, guessing concerning him. Captain Zelotes did that, but
+      Olive did not. She had taken the boy, her &ldquo;Janie's boy,&rdquo; to her heart from
+      the moment she saw him and she mothered him and loved him in a way which&mdash;so
+      long as it was not done in public&mdash;comforted his lonely soul. They
+      had not yet reached the stage where he confided in her to any great
+      extent, but that was certain to come later. It was his grandmother's love
+      and the affection he was already beginning to feel for her which, during
+      these first lonesome, miserable weeks, kept him from, perhaps, turning the
+      running away fantasy into a reality.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Another inmate of the Snow household with whom Albert was becoming better
+      acquainted with was Mrs. Rachel Ellis. Their real acquaintanceship began
+      one Sunday forenoon when Captain Zelotes and Olive had gone to church.
+      Ordinarily he would have accompanied them, to sit in the straight-backed
+      old pew on a cushion which felt lumpy and smelt ancient and musty, and
+      pretend to listen while old Mr. Kendall preached a sermon which was
+      ancient and musty likewise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But this Sunday morning he awoke with a headache and his grandmother had
+      pleaded for him, declaring that he ought to &ldquo;lay to bed&rdquo; a while and get
+      over it. He got over it with surprising quickness after the church bell
+      ceased ringing, and came downstairs to read Ivanhoe in the sitting room.
+      He had read it several times before, but he wanted to read something and
+      the choice of volumes in the Snow bookcase was limited. He was stretched
+      out on the sofa with the book in his hand when the housekeeper entered,
+      armed with a dust-cloth. She went to church only &ldquo;every other&rdquo; Sunday.
+      This was one of the others without an every, and she was at home.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What are you readin', Albert?&rdquo; she asked, after a few' minutes vigorous
+      wielding of the dust-cloth. &ldquo;It must be awful interestin', you stick at it
+      so close.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Black Knight was just then hammering with his battle-axe at the gate
+      of Front de Buef's castle, not minding the stones and beams cast down upon
+      him from above &ldquo;no more than if they were thistle-down or feathers.&rdquo;
+       Albert absently admitted that the story was interesting. The housekeeper
+      repeated her request to be told its name.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ivanhoe,&rdquo; replied the boy; adding, as the name did not seem to convey any
+      definite idea to his interrogator's mind: &ldquo;It's by Walter Scott, you
+      know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Ellis made no remark immediately. When she did it was to the effect
+      that she used to know a colored man named Scott who worked at the hotel
+      once. &ldquo;He swept out and carried trunks and such things,&rdquo; she explained.
+      &ldquo;He seemed to be a real nice sort of colored man, far as ever I heard.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert was more interested in the Black Knight of Ivanhoe than the black
+      man of the hotel, so he went on reading. Rachel sat down in a chair by the
+      window and looked out, twisting and untwisting the dust-cloth in her lap.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I presume likely lots and lots of folks have read that book, ain't they?&rdquo;
+       she asked, after another interval.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What? Oh, yes, almost everybody. It's a classic, I suppose.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's what?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What you said the book was. A class-somethin' or other?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, a classic. Why, it's&mdash;it's something everybody knows about, or&mdash;or
+      ought to know about. One of the big things, you know. Like&mdash;like
+      Shakespeare or&mdash;or Robinson Crusoe or Paradise Lost or&mdash;lots of
+      them. It's a book everybody reads and always will.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see. Humph! Well, I never read it. . . . I presume likely you think
+      that's pretty funny, don't you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert tore himself away from the fight at the gate.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, I don't know,&rdquo; he replied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, you do. You think it's awful funny. Well, you wouldn't if you knew
+      more about how busy I've been all my life. I ain't had time to read the
+      way I'd ought to. I read a book once though that I'll never forget. Did
+      you ever read a book called Foul Play?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. . . . Why, hold on, though; I think I have. By Charles Reade, wasn't
+      it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, that's who wrote it, a man named Charles Reade. Laban told me that
+      part of it; he reads a lot, Laban does. I never noticed who wrote it,
+      myself. I was too interested in it to notice little extry things like
+      that. But ain't that a WONDERFUL book? Ain't that the best book you ever
+      read in all your LIFE?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She dropped the dust-cloth and was too excited and enthusiastic to pick it
+      up. Albert did his best to recall something definite concerning Foul Play.
+      The book had been in the school library and he, who read almost
+      everything, had read it along with the others.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let me see,&rdquo; he said musingly. &ldquo;About a shipwreck&mdash;something about a
+      shipwreck in it, wasn't there?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should say there was! My stars above! Not the common kind of shipwreck,
+      neither, the kind they have down to Setuckit P'int on the shoals. No
+      sir-ee! This one was sunk on purpose. That Joe Wylie bored holes right
+      down through her with a gimlet, the wicked thing! And that set 'em afloat
+      right out on the sea in a boat, and there wan't anything to eat till
+      Robert Penfold&mdash;oh, HE was the smart one; he'd find anything, that
+      man!&mdash;he found the barnacles on the bottom of the boat, just the same
+      as he found out how to diffuse intelligence tied onto a duck's leg over
+      land knows how many legs&mdash;leagues, I mean&mdash;of ocean. But that
+      come later. Don't you remember THAT?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert laughed. The story was beginning to come back to him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, sure!&rdquo; he exclaimed. &ldquo;I remember now. He&mdash;the Penfold fellow&mdash;and
+      the girl landed on this island and had all sorts of adventures, and fell
+      in love and all that sort of stuff, and then her dad came and took her
+      back to England and she&mdash;she did something or other there to&mdash;to
+      get the Penfold guy out of trouble.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did somethin'! I should say she did! Why, she found out all about who
+      forged the letter&mdash;the note, I mean&mdash;that's what she done. 'Twas
+      Arthur Wardlaw, that's who 'twas. And he was tryin' to get Helen all the
+      time for himself, the skinner! Don't talk to me about that Arthur Wardlaw!
+      I never could bear HIM.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She spoke as if she had known the detested Wardlaw intimately from
+      childhood. Young Speranza was hugely amused. Ivanhoe was quite forgotten.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Foul Play was great stuff,&rdquo; he observed. &ldquo;When did you read it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eh? When? Oh, ever and ever so long ago. When I was about twenty, I
+      guess, and laid up with the measles. That's the only time I ever was real
+      what you might call down sick in my life, and I commenced with measles.
+      That's the way a good many folks commence, I know, but they don't
+      generally wait till they're out of their 'teens afore they start. I was
+      workin' for Mrs. Philander Bassett at the time, and she says to me:
+      'Rachel,' she says, 'you're on the mendin' hand now, wouldn't you like a
+      book to read?' I says, 'Why, maybe I would.' And she fetched up three of
+      'em. I can see 'em now, all three, plain as day. One was Barriers Burned
+      Away. She said that was somethin' about a big fire. Well, I'm awful
+      nervous about fires, have been from a child, so I didn't read that. And
+      another had the queerest kind of a name, if you'd call it a name at all;
+      'twas She.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert nodded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I've read that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you? Well, I begun to, but my stars, THAT wasn't any book to give to
+      a person with nerve symptoms. I got as far as where those Indians or
+      whatever they was started to put red-hot kettles on folks's heads, and
+      that was enough for ME. 'Give me somethin' civilized,' says I, 'or not at
+      all.' So I commenced Foul Play, and I tell you I kept right on to the end.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't suppose,&rdquo; she went on, &ldquo;that there ever was a much better book
+      than that wrote, was there?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert temporized. &ldquo;It is a good one,&rdquo; he admitted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't seem to me there could be much better. Laban says it's good, though
+      he won't go so far as to say it's the very best. He's read lots and lots
+      of books, Laban has. Reads an awful lot in his spare time. He's what you'd
+      call an educated person, which is what I ain't. And I guess you'll say
+      that last is plain enough without bein' told,&rdquo; she added.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her companion, not exactly knowing how to answer, was silent for a moment.
+      Rachel, who had picked up and was again twisting the dust-cloth, returned
+      to the subject she so delighted in.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But that Foul Play book,&rdquo; she continued, &ldquo;I've read till I've pretty nigh
+      wore the covers off. When Mrs. Bassett saw how much I liked it she gave it
+      to me for a present. I read a little bit in it every little while. I kind
+      of fit the folks in that book to folks in real life, sort of compare 'em,
+      you know. Do you ever do that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert, repressing a chuckle, said, &ldquo;Sure!&rdquo; again. She nodded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now there's General Rolleson in that book,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Do you know who he
+      makes me think of? Cap'n Lote, your grandpa, that's who.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      General Rolleson, as Albert remembered him, was an extremely dignified,
+      cultured and precise old gentleman. Just what resemblance there might be
+      between him and Captain Zelotes Snow, ex-skipper of the Olive S., he could
+      not imagine. He could not repress a grin, and the housekeeper noticed it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Seems funny to you, I presume likely,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Well, now you think
+      about it. This General Rolleson man was kind of proud and sot in his ways
+      just as your grandpa is, Albert. He had a daughter he thought all the
+      world of; so did Cap'n Lote. Along come a person that wanted to marry the
+      daughter. In the book 'twas Robert Penfold, who had been a convict. In
+      your grandpa's case, 'twas your pa, who had been a play-actor. So you see&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert sat up on the sofa. &ldquo;Hold on!&rdquo; he interrupted indignantly. &ldquo;Do you
+      mean to compare my father with a&mdash;with a CONVICT? I want you to
+      understand&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Ellis held up the dust-cloth. &ldquo;Now, now, now,&rdquo; she protested. &ldquo;Don't
+      go puttin' words in my mouth that I didn't say. I don't doubt your pa was
+      a nice man, in his way, though I never met him. But 'twan't Cap'n Lote's
+      way any more than Robert Penfold's was General Rolleson's.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My father was famous,&rdquo; declared the youth hotly. &ldquo;He was one of the most
+      famous singers in this country. Everybody knows that&mdash;that is,
+      everybody but Grandfather and the gang down here,&rdquo; he added, in disgust.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't say you're wrong. Laban tells me that some of those singin' folks
+      get awful high wages, more than the cap'n of a steamboat, he says, though
+      that seems like stretchin' it to me. But, as I say, Cap'n Lote was proud,
+      and nobody but the best would satisfy him for Janie, your mother. Well, in
+      that way, you see, he reminds me of General Rolleson in the book.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look here, Mrs. Ellis. Tell me about this business of Dad's marrying my
+      mother. I never knew much of anything about it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You didn't? Did your pa never tell you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Humph! That's funny. Still, I don't know's as 'twas, after all,
+      considerin' you was only a boy. Probably he'd have told you some day.
+      Well, I don't suppose there's any secret about it. 'Twas town talk down
+      here when it happened.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She told him the story of the runaway marriage. Albert listened with
+      interest and the almost incredulous amazement with which the young always
+      receive tales of their parents' love affairs. Love, for people of his age
+      or a trifle older, was a natural and understandable thing, but for his
+      father, as he remembered him, to have behaved in this way was
+      incomprehensible.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So,&rdquo; said Rachel, in conclusion, &ldquo;that's how it happened. That's why
+      Cap'n Lote couldn't ever forgive your father.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He tossed his head. &ldquo;Well, he ought to have forgiven him,&rdquo; he declared.
+      &ldquo;He was dead lucky to get such a man for a son-in-law, if you ask me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He didn't think so. And he wouldn't ever mention your pa's name.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I don't doubt that. Anybody can see how he hated Father. And he hates
+      me the same way,&rdquo; he added moodily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Ellis was much disturbed. &ldquo;Oh, no, he don't,&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;You mustn't
+      think that, Albert. He don't hate you, I'm sure of it. He's just kind of
+      doubtful about you, that's all. He remembers how your pa acted&mdash;or
+      how he thinks he acted&mdash;and so he can't help bein' the least mite
+      afraid the same thing may crop out in you. If you just stick to your job
+      over there at the lumber yards and keep on tryin' to please him, he'll get
+      all over that suspicion, see if he don't. Cap'n Lote Snow is stubborn
+      sometimes and hard to turn, but he's square as a brick. There's some that
+      don't like him, and a good many that don't agree with him&mdash;but
+      everybody respects him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert did not answer. The housekeeper rose from her chair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There!&rdquo; she exclaimed. &ldquo;I don't know when I've set down for so long.
+      Goodness knows I've got work enough to do without settin' around talkin'.
+      I can't think what possessed me to do it this time, unless 'twas seein'
+      you readin' that book.&rdquo; She paused a moment and then said: &ldquo;Albert, I&mdash;I
+      don't want you and your grandpa to have any quarrels. You see&mdash;well,
+      you see, I used to know your mother real well, and&mdash;and I thought an
+      awful sight of her. I wish&mdash;I do wish when you and the cap'n have any
+      trouble or anything, or when you think you're liable to have any, you'd
+      come and talk it over with me. I'm like the feller that Laban tells about
+      in his dog-fight yarn. This feller was watchin' the fight and when they
+      asked him to stop it afore one or t'other of the dogs was killed, he just
+      shook his head. 'No-o,' he says, kind of slow and moderate, 'I guess I
+      shan't interfere. One of 'em's been stealin' my chickens and the other one
+      bit me. I'm a friend to both parties,' he says. Course I don't mean it
+      exactly that way,&rdquo; she added, with a smile, &ldquo;but you know what I do mean,
+      I guess. WILL you talk things over with me sometimes, Albert?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His answer was not very enthusiastic, but he said he guessed so, and
+      Rachel seemed satisfied with that. She went on with her dusting, and he
+      with his reading, but the conversation was the first of many between the
+      pair. The housekeeper appeared to consider his having read her beloved
+      Foul Play a sort of password admitting him to her lodge and that
+      thereafter they were, in consequence, to be confidants and comrades. She
+      never hesitated to ask him the most personal questions concerning his
+      work, his plans, the friends or acquaintances he was making in the
+      village. Some of those questions he answered honestly and fully, some he
+      dodged, some he did not answer at all. Mrs. Ellis never resented his not
+      answering. &ldquo;I presume likely that ain't any of my business, is it?&rdquo; she
+      would say, and ask about something else.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On the other hand, she was perfectly outspoken concerning her own affairs.
+      He was nearly overcome with hilarious joy when, one day, she admitted
+      that, in her mind, Robert Penfold, the hero of Foul Play, lived again in
+      the person of Laban Keeler.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, Mrs. Ellis,&rdquo; he cried, as soon as he could trust himself to speak at
+      all, &ldquo;I don't see THAT. Penfold was a six-footer, wasn't he? And&mdash;and
+      athletic, you know, and&mdash;and a minister, and young&mdash;younger, I
+      mean&mdash;and&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rachel interrupted. &ldquo;Yes, yes, I know,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;And Laban is little,
+      and not very young, and, whatever else he is, he ain't a minister. I know
+      all that. I know the outside of him don't look like Robert Penfold at all.
+      But,&rdquo; somewhat apologetically, &ldquo;you see I've been acquainted with him so
+      many years I've got into the habit of seein' his INSIDE. Now that sounds
+      kind of ridiculous, I know,&rdquo; she added. &ldquo;Sounds as if I&mdash;I&mdash;well,
+      as if I was in the habit of takin' him apart, like a watch or somethin'.
+      What I mean is that I know him all through. I've known him for a long,
+      long while. He ain't much to look at, bein' so little and sort of dried
+      up, but he's got a big, fine heart and big brains. He can do 'most
+      anything he sets his hand to. When I used to know him, when I was a girl,
+      folks was always prophesyin' that Laban Keeler would turn out to be a
+      whole lot more'n the average. He would, too, only for one thing, and you
+      know what that is. It's what has kept me from marryin' him all this time.
+      I swore I'd never marry a man that drinks, and I never will. Why, if it
+      wasn't for liquor Labe would have been runnin' his own business and
+      gettin' rich long ago. He all but runs Cap'n Lote's place as 'tis. The
+      cap'n and a good many other folks don't realize that, but it's so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was plain that she worshiped the little bookkeeper and, except during
+      the periods of &ldquo;vacation&rdquo; and &ldquo;sympathetics,&rdquo; was tremendously proud of
+      him. Albert soon discovered that Mr. Keeler's feeling for her was equally
+      strong. In his case, though, there was also a strong strain of gratitude.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She's a fine woman, Al,&rdquo; he confided to his assistant on one occasion. &ldquo;A
+      fine woman. . . . Yes, yes, yes. They don't make 'em any finer. Ah hum!
+      And not so long ago I read about a passel of darn fools arguin' that the
+      angels in heaven was all he-ones. . . . Umph! . . . Sho, sho! If men was
+      as good as women, Ansel&mdash;Alfred&mdash;Albert, I mean&mdash;we could
+      start an opposition heaven down here most any time. 'Most any time&mdash;yes,
+      yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was considerable for him to say. Except when on a vacation, Laban was
+      not loquacious.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Each Sunday afternoon, when the weather was pleasant, he came, dressed in
+      his best black cutaway, shiny at elbows and the under part of the sleeves,
+      striped trousers and a pearl gray soft hat with a black band, a hat which
+      looked as much out of place above his round, withered little face as a red
+      roof might have looked on a family vault, and he and the housekeeper went
+      for a walk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rachel, in her Sunday black, bulked large beside him. As Captain Zelotes
+      said, the pair looked like &ldquo;a tug takin' a liner out to sea.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER V
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Outside of the gates of the Snow place Albert was making many
+      acquaintances and a few friends. After church on Sundays his grandmother
+      had a distressful habit of suddenly seizing his arm or his coat-tail as he
+      was hurrying toward the vestibule and the sunshine of outdoors, and
+      saying: &ldquo;Oh, Albert, just a minute! Here's somebody you haven't met yet, I
+      guess. Elsie&rdquo;&mdash;or Nellie or Mabel or Henry or Charlie or George,
+      whichever it happened to be&mdash;&ldquo;this is my grandson, Albert Speranza.&rdquo;
+       And the young person to whom he was thus introduced would, if a male,
+      extend a hesitating hand, give his own an embarrassed shake, smile
+      uncertainly and say, &ldquo;Yes&mdash;er&mdash;yes. Pleased to meet you.&rdquo; Or, if
+      of the other sex, would blush a little and venture the observation that it
+      was a lovely morning, and wasn't the sermon splendid.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      These Sabbath introductions led to week-day, or rather week-evening,
+      meetings. The principal excitement in South Harniss was &ldquo;going for the
+      mail.&rdquo; At noon and after supper fully one-half of the village population
+      journeyed to the post office. Albert's labors for Z. Snow and Co.
+      prevented his attending the noon gatherings&mdash;his grandfather usually
+      got the morning mail&mdash;but he early formed the habit of sauntering
+      &ldquo;down street&rdquo; in the evening if the weather was not too cold or
+      disagreeable. There he was certain to find groups of South Harniss youth
+      of both sexes, talking, giggling, skylarking and flirting. Sometimes he
+      joined one or the other of these groups; quite as often he did not, but
+      kept aloof and by himself, for it may as well be acknowledged now, if it
+      is not already plain, that the son of Miguel Carlos Speranza had inherited
+      a share of his father's temperament and self-esteem. The whim of the
+      moment might lead him to favor these young people with his society, but he
+      was far from considering himself under obligation to do so. He had not the
+      least idea that he was in any way a snob, he would have hotly resented
+      being called one, but he accepted his estimate of his own worth as
+      something absolute and certain, to be taken for granted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now this attitude of mind had its dangers. Coupled with its possessor's
+      extraordinary good looks, it was fascinating to a large percentage of the
+      village girls. The Speranza eyes and the Speranza curls and nose and chin
+      were, when joined with the easy condescension of the Speranza manner, a
+      combination fatal to the susceptible. The South Harniss &ldquo;flappers,&rdquo; most
+      of them, enthused over the new bookkeeper in the lumber office. They ogled
+      and giggled and gushed in his presence, and he was tolerant or bored, just
+      as he happened to be feeling at the moment. But he never displayed a
+      marked interest in any one of them, for the very good reason that he had
+      no such interest. To him they were merely girls, nice enough in their way,
+      perhaps, but that way not his. Most of the town young fellows of his age
+      he found had a &ldquo;girl&rdquo; and almost every girl had a &ldquo;fellow&rdquo;; there was calf
+      love in abundance, but he was a different brand of veal.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      However, a great man must amuse himself, and so he accepted invitations to
+      church socials and suppers and to an occasional dance or party. His style
+      of dancing was not that of South Harniss in the winter. It was common
+      enough at the hotel or the &ldquo;tea house&rdquo; in July and August when the summer
+      people were there, but not at the town hall at the Red Men's Annual Ball
+      in February. A fellow who could foxtrot as he could swept all before him.
+      Sam Thatcher, of last year's class in the high school, but now clerking in
+      the drug store, who had hitherto reigned as the best &ldquo;two-stepper&rdquo; in
+      town, suddenly became conscious of his feet. Then, too, the contents of
+      the three trunks which had been sent on from school were now in evidence.
+      No Boston or Brockton &ldquo;Advanced Styles&rdquo; held a candle to those suits which
+      the tailor of the late Miguel Carlos had turned out for his patron's only
+      son. No other eighteen-year-older among the town's year-around residents
+      possessed a suit of evening clothes. Albert wore his &ldquo;Tux&rdquo; at the Red
+      Men's Ball and hearts palpitated beneath new muslin gowns and bitter envy
+      stirred beneath the Brockton &ldquo;Advanced Styles.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In consequence, by spring the social status of Albert Speranza among those
+      of his own age in the village had become something like this: He was in
+      high favor with most of the girls and in corresponding disfavor with most
+      of the young fellows. The girls, although they agreed that he was
+      &ldquo;stand-offish and kind of queer,&rdquo; voted him &ldquo;just lovely, all the same.&rdquo;
+       Their envious beaux referred to him sneeringly among themselves as a
+      &ldquo;stuck-up dude.&rdquo; Some one of them remembered having been told that Captain
+      Zelotes, years before, had been accustomed to speak of his hated
+      son-in-law as &ldquo;the Portygee.&rdquo; Behind his back they formed the habit of
+      referring to their new rival in the same way. The first time Albert heard
+      himself called a &ldquo;Portygee&rdquo; was after prayer meeting on Friday evening,
+      when, obeying a whim, he had walked home with Gertie Kendrick, quite
+      forgetful of the fact that Sam Thatcher, who aspired to be Gertie's
+      &ldquo;steady,&rdquo; was himself waiting on the church steps for that privilege.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Even then nothing might have come of it had he and Sam not met in the path
+      as he was sauntering back across lots to the main road and home. It was a
+      brilliant moonlight night and the pair came together, literally, at the
+      bend where the path turns sharply around the corner of Elijah Doane's
+      cranberry shanty. Sam, plowing along, head down and hands in his pockets,
+      swung around that corner and bumped violently into Albert, who, a
+      cigarette between his lips&mdash;out here in the fields, away from
+      civilization and Captain Zelotes, was a satisfyingly comfortable place to
+      smoke a cigarette&mdash;was dreaming dreams of a future far away from
+      South Harniss. Sam had been thinking of Gertie. Albert had not. She had
+      been a mere incident of the evening; he had walked home with her because
+      he happened to be in the mood for companionship and she was rather pretty
+      and always talkative. His dreams during the stroll back alone in the
+      moonlight had been of lofty things, of poetry and fame and high emprise;
+      giggling Gerties had no place in them. It was distinctly different with
+      Sam Thatcher.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They crashed together, gasped and recoiled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I'm sorry!&rdquo; exclaimed Albert.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can't you see where you're goin', you darned Portygee half-breed?&rdquo;
+       demanded Sam.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert, who had stepped past him, turned and came back.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What did you say?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I said you was a darned half-breed, and you are. You're a no-good
+      Portygee, like your father.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was all he had time to say. For the next few minutes he was too busy to
+      talk. The Speranzas, father and son, possessed temperament; also they
+      possessed temper. Sam's face, usually placid and good-natured, for Sam was
+      by no means a bad fellow in his way, was fiery red. Albert's, on the
+      contrary, went perfectly white. He seemed to settle back on his heels and
+      from there almost to fly at his insulter. Five minutes or so later they
+      were both dusty and dirty and dishevelled and bruised, but Sam was pretty
+      thoroughly licked. For one thing, he had been taken by surprise by his
+      adversary's quickness; for another, Albert's compulsory training in
+      athletics at school gave him an advantage. He was by no means an unscarred
+      victor, but victor he was. Sam was defeated, and very much astonished. He
+      leaned against the cranberry house and held on to his nose. It had been a
+      large nose in the beginning, it was larger now.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert stood before him, his face&mdash;where it was not a pleasing
+      combination of black and blue&mdash;still white.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you&mdash;if you speak of my father or me again like that,&rdquo; he panted,
+      &ldquo;I'll&mdash;I'll kill you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he strode off, a bit wobbly on his legs, but with dignity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Oddly enough, no one except the two most interested ever knew of this
+      encounter. Albert, of course, did not tell. He was rather ashamed of it.
+      For the son of Miguel Carlos Speranza to conquer dragons was a worthy and
+      heroic business, but there seemed to be mighty little heroism in licking
+      Sam Thatcher behind 'Lije Doane's cranberry shack. And Sam did not tell.
+      Gertie next day confided that she didn't care two cents for that stuck-up
+      Al Speranza, anyway; she had let him see her home only because Sam had
+      danced so many times with Elsie Wixon at the ball that night. So Sam said
+      nothing concerning the fight, explaining the condition of his nose by
+      saying that he had run into something in the dark. And he did not appear
+      to hold a grudge against his conqueror; on the contrary when others spoke
+      of the latter as a &ldquo;sissy,&rdquo; Sam defended him. &ldquo;He may be a dude,&rdquo; said
+      Sam; &ldquo;I don't say he ain't. But he ain't no sissy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When pressed to tell why he was so certain, his answer was: &ldquo;Because he
+      don't act like one.&rdquo; It was not a convincing answer, the general opinion
+      being that that was exactly how Al Speranza did act.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was one young person in the village toward whom Albert found himself
+      making exceptions in his attitude of serenely impersonal tolerance. That
+      person was Helen Kendall, the girl who had come into his grandfather's
+      office the first morning of his stay in South Harniss. He was forced to
+      make these exceptions by the young lady herself. When he met her the
+      second time&mdash;which was after church on his first Sunday&mdash;his
+      manner was even more loftily reserved than usual. He had distinct
+      recollections of their first conversation. His own part in it had not been
+      brilliant, and in it he had made the absurd statement&mdash;absurd in the
+      light of what came after&mdash;that he was certainly NOT employed by Z.
+      Snow and Co.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So he was cool and superior when his grandmother brought them together
+      after the meeting was over. If Helen noticed the superiority, she was
+      certainly not over-awed by it, for she was so simple and natural and
+      pleasant that he was obliged to unbend and be natural too. In fact, at
+      their third meeting he himself spoke of the interview in the lumber office
+      and again expressed his thanks for warning him of his grandfather's
+      detestation of cigarettes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gee!&rdquo; he exclaimed, &ldquo;I'm certainly glad that you put me on to the old
+      boy's feelings. I think he'd have murdered me if he had come back and
+      found me puffing a Pall Mall in there.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She smiled. &ldquo;He does hate them, doesn't he?&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hate them! I should say he did. Hating cigarettes is about the only point
+      where he and Issy get along without an argument. If a traveler for a
+      hardware house comes into the office smoking a cig, Issy opens all the
+      windows to let the smell out, and Grandfather opens the door to throw the
+      salesman out. Well, not exactly to throw him out, of course, but he never
+      buys a single cent's worth of a cigarette smoker.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen glanced at him. &ldquo;You must be awfully glad you're not a traveling
+      salesman,&rdquo; she said demurely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert did not know exactly what to make of that remark. He, in his turn,
+      looked at her, but she was grave and quite unconcerned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo; he asked, after a moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why&mdash;what?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why ought I to be glad I'm not a traveling salesman?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I don't know. It just seemed to me that you ought, that's all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But why?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, if you were you wouldn't make a great hit with your grandfather,
+      would you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eh? . . . Oh, you mean because I smoke. Say, YOU'RE not silly enough to
+      be down on cigarettes the way grandfather is, are you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No-o, I'm not down on them, especially. I'm not very well acquainted with
+      them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Neither is he. He never smoked one in his life. It's just country
+      prejudice, that's all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I live in the country, too, you know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, but you're different.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How do you know I am?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, because any one can see you are.&rdquo; The manner in which this remark was
+      made, a manner implying a wide knowledge of humanity and a hint of
+      personal interest and discriminating appreciation, had been found quite
+      effective by the precocious young gentleman uttering it. With variations
+      to suit the case and the individual it had been pleasantly received by
+      several of the Misses Bradshaw's pupils. He followed it with another
+      equally tried and trustworthy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Say,&rdquo; he added, &ldquo;would YOU rather I didn't smoke?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The obvious reply should have been, &ldquo;Oh, would you stop if I asked you
+      to?&rdquo; But Helen Kendall was a most disconcerting girl. Instead of purring a
+      pleased recognition of the implied flattery, she laughed merrily. The
+      Speranza dignity was hurt.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is there to laugh at?&rdquo; he demanded. &ldquo;Are you laughing at me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The answer was as truthful as truth itself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, of course I am,&rdquo; she replied; and then completed his discomfiture by
+      adding, &ldquo;Why should I care whether you smoke or not? You had better ask
+      your grandfather that question, I should think.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Now Alberto Miguel Carlos Speranza had not been accustomed to this sort of
+      treatment from young persons of the other sex, and he walked away in a
+      huff. But the unusual is always attractive, and the next time he and Miss
+      Kendall met he was as gracious and cordial as ever. But it was not long
+      before he learned that the graciousness was, in her case, a mistake.
+      Whenever he grew lofty, she took him down, laughed at him with complete
+      frankness, and refused to treat him as anything but a boy. So they
+      gradually grew friendly, and when they met at parties or church socials he
+      spent most of the time in her company, or, rather, he would have so spent
+      it had she permitted. But she was provokingly impartial and was quite as
+      likely to refuse a dance with him to sit out one with Sam Thatcher or Ben
+      Hammond or any other village youth of her acquaintance. However, although
+      she piqued and irritated him, he was obliged to admit to his inner
+      consciousness that she was the most interesting person he had yet
+      discovered in South Harniss, also that even in the eyes of such
+      connoisseurs as his fellow members of the senior class at school she would
+      have been judged a &ldquo;good looker,&rdquo; in spite of her country clothes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He met her father, of course. The Reverend Mr. Kendall was a dreamy little
+      old gentleman with white hair and the stooped shoulders of a student.
+      Everybody liked him, and it was for that reason principally that he was
+      still the occupant of the Congregational pulpit, for to quote Captain
+      Zelotes, his sermons were inclined to be like the sandy road down to
+      Setuckit Point, &ldquo;ten mile long and dry all the way.&rdquo; He was a widower and
+      his daughter was his companion and managing housekeeper. There was a
+      half-grown girl, one of the numerous Price family, a cousin of Issachar's,
+      who helped out with the sweeping, dish-washing and cooking, but Helen was
+      the real head of the household.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And she's a capable one, too,&rdquo; declared Mrs. Snow, when at supper one
+      evening Helen's name had come into the conversation. &ldquo;I declare when I was
+      there yesterday to see the minister about readin' poetry to us at
+      sewin'-circle next Monday that parlor was as neat as wax. And 'twas all
+      Helen's work that kept it so, that was plain enough. You could see her way
+      of settin' a vase or puttin' on a table cloth wherever you looked. Nobody
+      else has just that way. And she does it after school or before school or
+      'most any odd time. And whatever 'tis is done right.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The housekeeper put in a word. &ldquo;There's no doubt about that,&rdquo; she said,
+      &ldquo;and there ain't any more doubt that she don't get much help from her pa
+      or that Maria B.&rdquo; There were so many Prices within the township limits
+      that individuals were usually distinguished by their middle initial. &ldquo;As
+      for Mr. Kendall,&rdquo; went on Rachel, &ldquo;he moves with his head in the clouds
+      and his feet cruisin' with nobody at the wheel two-thirds of the time.
+      Emma Smith says to me yesterday, says she, 'Mr. Kendall is a saint on
+      earth, ain't he,' says she. 'Yes,' says I, 'and he'll be one in heaven any
+      minute if he goes stumblin' acrost the road in front of Doctor Holliday's
+      automobile the way I see him yesterday.' The doctor put on the brakes with
+      a slam and a yell. The minister stopped right there in the middle of the
+      road with the front wheels of that auto not MORE'N two foot from his old
+      baggy trousers' knees, and says he, 'Eh? Did you want me, Doctor?' The
+      doctor fetched a long breath. 'Why, no, Mr. Kendall,' he says, 'I didn't,
+      but I come darn nigh gettin' you.' I don't know what WOULD become of him
+      if he didn't have Helen to look out for him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As they came to know each other better their conversation dealt with
+      matters more personal. They sometimes spoke of plans for the future.
+      Albert's plans and ambitions were lofty, but rather vague. Helen's were
+      practical and definite. She was to graduate from high school that spring.
+      Then she was hoping to teach in the primary school there in the village;
+      the selectmen had promised her the opportunity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, of course,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;I don't mean to stay here always. When I can,
+      after I have saved some money and if Father doesn't need me too badly, I
+      shall go away somewhere, to Bridgewater, or perhaps to Radcliffe, and
+      study. I want to specialize in my teaching, you know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert regarded her with amused superiority.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't see why on earth you are so anxious to be a school-marm,&rdquo; he
+      said. &ldquo;That's the last job I'd want.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her answer was given promptly, but without the least trace of temper. That
+      was one of the most provoking things about this girl, she would not lose
+      her temper. He usually lost his trying to make her. She spoke now,
+      pleasantly, and deliberately, but as if she were stating an undesirable
+      fact.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think it would be the last one you would get,&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why? Great Scott! I guess I could teach school if I wanted to. But you
+      bet I wouldn't want to! . . . NOW what are you laughing at?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm not laughing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, you are. I can always tell when you're laughing; you get that look
+      in your eyes, that sort of&mdash;of&mdash;Oh, I can't tell you what kind
+      of look it is, but it makes me mad. It's the same kind of look my
+      grandfather has, and I could punch him for it sometimes. Why should you
+      and he think I'm not going to amount to anything?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't think so. And I'm sure he doesn't either. And I wasn't laughing
+      at you. Or, if I was, it&mdash;it was only because&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, because what?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, because you are so AWFULLY sure you know&mdash;well, know more than
+      most people.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Meaning I'm stuck on myself, I suppose. Well, now I tell you I'm not
+      going to hang around in this one-horse town all my life to please
+      grandfather or any one else.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When he mentioned his determination to win literary glory she was always
+      greatly interested. Dreams of histrionic achievement were more coldly
+      received. The daughter of a New England country clergyman, even in these
+      days of broadening horizons, could scarcely be expected to look with favor
+      upon an actor's career.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      June came and with it the first of the summer visitors. For the next three
+      months Albert was happy with a new set of acquaintances. They were HIS
+      kind, these young folks from the city, and his spare moments were for the
+      most part spent in their society. He was popular with them, too. Some of
+      them thought it queer that he should be living all the year in the village
+      and keeping books for a concern like Z. Snow and Co., but juvenile society
+      is tolerant and a youth who could sing passably, dance wonderfully and,
+      above all, was as beautifully picturesque as Albert Speranza, was
+      welcomed, especially by the girls. So the Saturdays and Sundays and
+      evenings of that summer were pleasant for him. He saw little of Helen or
+      Gertie Kendrick while the hotel or the cottages remained open.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then came the fall and another long, dreary winter. Albert plodded on at
+      his desk or in the yard, following Mr. Keeler's suggestions, obeying his
+      grandfather's orders, tormenting Issy, doing his daily stint because he
+      had to, not because he liked it. For amusement he read a good deal, went
+      to the usual number of sociables and entertainments, and once took part in
+      amateur theatricals, a play given by the church society in the town hall.
+      There was where he shone. As the dashing young hero he was resplendent.
+      Gertie Kendrick gazed upon him from the third settee center with shining
+      eyes. When he returned home after it was over his grandmother and Mrs.
+      Ellis overwhelmed him with praises.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I declare you was perfectly splendid, Albert!&rdquo; exclaimed Olive. &ldquo;I was so
+      proud of you I didn't know what to do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rachel looked upon him as one might look upon a god from Olympus.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All I could think of was Robert Penfold,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I says so to Laban:
+      'Laban,' says I, ain't he Robert Penfold and nobody else?' There you was,
+      tellin' that Hannibal Ellis that you was innocent and some day the world
+      would know you was, just the way Robert Penfold done in the book. I never
+      did like that Hannie Ellis!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Snow smiled. &ldquo;Mercy, Rachel,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;I hope you're not blamin'
+      Hannie because of what he did in that play. That was his part, he had to
+      do it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But Rachel was not convinced. &ldquo;He didn't have to be so everlastin' mean
+      and spiteful about it, anyhow,&rdquo; she declared. &ldquo;But there, that family of
+      Ellises never did amount to nothin' much. But, as I said to Laban, Albert,
+      you was Robert Penfold all over.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What did Labe say to that?&rdquo; asked Albert, laughing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He never had a chance to say nothin'. Afore he could answer, that Maria
+      B. Price&mdash;she was settin' right back of me and eatin' molasses candy
+      out of a rattly paper bag till I thought I SHOULD die&mdash;she leaned
+      forward and she whispered: 'He looks more to me like that Stevie D. that
+      used to work for Cap'n Crowell over to the Center. Stevie D. had curly
+      hair like that and HE was part Portygee, you remember; though there was a
+      little nigger blood in him, too,' she says. I could have shook her! And
+      then she went to rattlin' that bag again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Even Mr. Keeler congratulated him at the office next morning. &ldquo;You done
+      well, Al,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Yes&mdash;yes&mdash;yes. You done fust-rate,
+      fust-rate.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His grandfather was the only one who refused to enthuse.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; inquired Captain Zelotes, sitting down at his desk and glancing at
+      his grandson over his spectacles, &ldquo;do you cal'late to be able to get down
+      to earth this mornin' far enough to figger up the payroll? You can put
+      what you made from play-actin' on a separate sheet. It's about as much as
+      the average person makes at that job,&rdquo; he added.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert's face flushed. There were times when he hated his grandfather. Mr.
+      Keeler, a moment later, put a hand on his shoulder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mustn't mind the old man, Al,&rdquo; he whispered. &ldquo;I expect that seein'
+      you last night brought your dad's job back to him strong. He can't bear
+      play-actin', you know, on your dad's account. Yes&mdash;yes. That was it.
+      Yes&mdash;yes&mdash;yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It may have been a truthful explanation, but as an apology it was a
+      limited success.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My father was a gentleman, at any rate,&rdquo; snapped Albert. Laban opened his
+      mouth to reply, but closed it again and walked back to his books.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In May, which was an unusually balmy month, the Congregational Sunday
+      School gave an automobile excursion and box-luncheon party at High Point
+      Light down at Trumet. As Rachel Ellis said, it was pretty early for
+      picnickin', but if the Almighty's season was ahead of time there didn't
+      seem to be any real good reason why one of his Sunday schools shouldn't
+      be. And, which was the principal excuse for the hurry, the hotel busses
+      could be secured, which would not be the case after the season opened.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert went to the picnic. He was not very keen on going, but his
+      grandfather had offered him a holiday for the purpose, and it was one of
+      his principles never to refuse a chance to get away from that office.
+      Besides, a number of the young people of his age were going, and Gertie
+      Kendrick had been particularly insistent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You just MUST come, Al,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;It won't be any fun at all if you
+      don't come.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It is possible that Gertie found it almost as little fun when he did come.
+      He happened to be in one of his moods that day; &ldquo;Portygee streaks,&rdquo; his
+      grandfather termed these moods, and told Olive that they were &ldquo;that
+      play-actor breakin' out in him.&rdquo; He talked but little during the ride down
+      in the bus, refused to sing when called upon, and, after dinner, when the
+      dancing in the pavilion was going on, stepped quietly out of the side door
+      and went tramping along the edge of the bluff, looking out over the sea or
+      down to the beach, where, one hundred and fifty feet below, the big waves
+      were curling over to crash into a creamy mass of froth and edge the strand
+      with lacy ripples.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The high clay bluffs of Trumet are unique. No other part of the Cape shows
+      anything just like them. High Point Light crowns their highest and
+      steepest point and is the flashing beacon the rays of which spell
+      &ldquo;America&rdquo; to the incoming liner Boston bound.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Along the path skirting the edge of the bluff Albert strolled, his hands
+      in his pockets and his thoughts almost anywhere except on the picnic and
+      the picnickers of the South Harniss Congregational Church. His particular
+      mood on this day was one of discontent and rebellion against the fate
+      which had sentenced him to the assistant bookkeeper's position in the
+      office of Z. Snow and Co. At no time had he reconciled himself to the idea
+      of that position as a permanent one; some day, somehow he was going to
+      break away and do&mdash;marvelous things. But occasionally, and usually
+      after a disagreeable happening in the office, he awoke from his youthful
+      day dreams of glorious futures to a realization of the dismal to-day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The happening which had brought about realization in this instance was
+      humorous in the eyes of two-thirds of South Harniss's population. They
+      were chuckling over it yet. The majority of the remaining third were
+      shocked. Albert, who was primarily responsible for the whole affair, was
+      neither amused nor shocked; he was angry and humiliated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Reverend Seabury Calvin, of Providence, R. I., had arrived in town and
+      opened his summer cottage unusually early in the season. What was quite as
+      important, Mrs. Seabury Calvin had arrived with him. The Reverend Calvin,
+      whose stay was in this case merely temporary, was planning to build an
+      addition to his cottage porch. Mrs. Calvin, who was the head of the summer
+      &ldquo;Welfare Workers,&rdquo; whatever they were, had called a meeting at the Calvin
+      house to make Welfare plans for the season.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The lumber for the new porch was ordered of Z. Snow and Co. The Reverend
+      Calvin ordered it himself in person. Albert received the order.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish this delivered to-morrow without fail,&rdquo; said Mr. Calvin. Albert
+      promised.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But promises are not always easy to keep. One of Z. Snow and Co.'s teams
+      was busy hauling lumber for the new schoolhouse at Bayport. The other
+      Issachar had commandeered for deliveries at Harniss Center and refused to
+      give up his claim. And Laban Keeler, as it happened, was absent on one of
+      his &ldquo;vacations.&rdquo; Captain Zelotes was attending a directors' meeting at
+      Osham and from there was going to Boston for a day's stay.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The ship's in your hands, Al,&rdquo; he had said to his grandson. &ldquo;Let me see
+      how you handle her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So, in spite of Albert's promise, the Calvin lumber was not delivered on
+      time. The Reverend gentleman called to ask why. His manner was anything
+      but receptive so far as excuses were concerned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Young man,&rdquo; he said loftily, &ldquo;I am accustomed to do business with
+      business people. Did you or did you not promise to deliver my order
+      yesterday?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, yes sir, I promised, but we couldn't do it. We&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't care to know why you didn't do it. The fact that you did not is
+      sufficient. Will that order of mine be delivered to-day?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If it is a possible thing, Mr. Calvin, it&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pardon me. Will it be delivered?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Speranza temper was rising. &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said the owner of that temper,
+      succinctly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Does yes mean yes, in this case; or does it mean what it meant before?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have told you why&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never mind. Young man, if that lumber is not delivered to-day I shall
+      cancel the order. Do you understand?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert swallowed hard. &ldquo;I tell you, Mr. Calvin, that it shall be
+      delivered,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;And it will be.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But delivering it was not so easy. The team simply could NOT be taken off
+      the schoolhouse job, fulfillment of a contract was involved there. And the
+      other horse had gone lame and Issachar swore by all that was solemn that
+      the animal must not be used.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let old Calvin wait till to-morrow,&rdquo; said Issy. &ldquo;You can use the big team
+      then. And Cap'n Lote'll be home, besides.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But Albert was not going to let &ldquo;old Calvin&rdquo; wait. That lumber was going
+      to be delivered, if he had to carry it himself, stick by stick. He asked
+      Mr. Price if an extra team might not be hired.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ain't none,&rdquo; said Issy. &ldquo;Besides, where'd your granddad's profits be if
+      you spent money hirin' extry teams to haul that little mite of stuff? I've
+      been in this business a good long spell, and I tell you&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He did not get a chance to tell it, for Albert walked off and left him. At
+      half-past twelve that afternoon he engaged &ldquo;Vessie&rdquo; Young&mdash;christened
+      Sylvester Young and a brother to the driver of the depot wagon&mdash;to
+      haul the Calvin lumber in his rickety, fragrant old wagon. Simpson Mullen&mdash;commonly
+      called &ldquo;Simp&rdquo;&mdash;was to help in the delivery.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Against violent protests from Issy, who declared that Ves Young's
+      rattle-trap wan't fit to do nothin' but haul fish heads to the fertilizer
+      factory, the Calvin beams and boards were piled high on the wagon and with
+      Ves on the driver's seat and Simp perched, like a disreputable carrion
+      crow on top of the load, the equipage started.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There!&rdquo; exclaimed Albert, with satisfaction. &ldquo;He can't say it wasn't
+      delivered this time according to promise.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Godfreys!&rdquo; snorted Issy, gazing after the departing wagon. &ldquo;He won't be
+      able to say nothin' when he sees that git-up&mdash;and smells it. Ves
+      carts everything in that cart from dead cows to gurry barrels. Whew! I'd
+      hate to have to set on that porch when 'twas built of that lumber. And,
+      unless I'm mistook, Ves and Simp had been havin' a little somethin' strong
+      to take, too.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Price, as it happened, was not &ldquo;mistook.&rdquo; Mr. Young had, as the South
+      Harniss saying used to be, &ldquo;had a jug come down&rdquo; on the train from Boston
+      that very morning. The jug was under the seat of his wagon and its
+      contents had already been sampled by him and by Simp. The journey to the
+      Calvin cottage was enlivened by frequent stops for refreshment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Consequently it happened that, just as Mrs. Calvin's gathering of Welfare
+      Workers had reached the cake and chocolate stage in their proceedings and
+      just as the Reverend Mr. Calvin had risen by invitation to say a few words
+      of encouragement, the westerly wind blowing in at the open windows bore to
+      the noses and ears of the assembled faithful a perfume and a sound neither
+      of which was sweet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Above the rattle and squeak of the Young wagon turning in at the Calvin
+      gate arose the voices of Vessie and Simp uplifted in song.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Here's to the good old whiskey, drink 'er daown,'&rdquo; sang Mr. Young.
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     &ldquo;'Here's to the good old whiskey,
+         Drink 'er daown!
+       Here's to the good old whiskey,
+       It makes you feel so frisky,
+         Drink 'er&mdash;'
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      Git up there, blank blank ye! What the blankety blank you stoppin' here
+      for? Git up!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The horse was not the only creature that got up. Mrs. Calvin rose from her
+      chair and gazed in horror at the window. Her husband, being already on his
+      feet, could not rise but he broke off short the opening sentence of his
+      &ldquo;few words&rdquo; and stared and listened. Each Welfare Worker stared and
+      listened also.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Git up, you blankety blank blank,&rdquo; repeated Ves Young, with cheerful
+      enthusiasm. Mr. Mullen, from the top of the load of lumber, caroled
+      dreamily on:
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     &ldquo;'Here's to the good old rum,
+         Drink 'er daown!
+       Here's to the good old rum,
+         Drink 'er daown!
+       Here's to the good old rum,
+       Ain't you glad that you've got some?
+       Drink 'er daown!  Drink 'er daown!
+         Drink 'er daown!'&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      And floating, as it were, upon the waves of melody came the odor of the
+      Young wagon, an odor combining deceased fish and late lamented cow and
+      goodness knows what beside.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The dissipated vehicle stopped beneath the parlor windows of the Calvin
+      cottage. Mr. Young called to his assistant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here we be, Simp!&rdquo; he yelled. &ldquo;A-a-ll ashore that's goin' ashore! Wake up
+      there, you unmentionably described old rum barrel and help unload this
+      everlastingly condemned lumber.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Calvin rushed to the window. &ldquo;What does this mean?&rdquo; he demanded, in
+      frothing indignation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Vessie waved at him reassuringly. &ldquo;'Sall right, Mr. Calvin,&rdquo; he shouted.
+      &ldquo;Here's your lumber from Ze-lotes Snow and Co., South Harniss, Mass., U.
+      S. A. 'Sall right. Let 'er go, Simp! Let 'er blankety-blank go!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Mullen responded with alacrity and a whoop. A half dozen boards
+      crashed to the ground beneath the parlor windows. Mrs. Calvin rushed to
+      her husband's side.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is DREADFUL, Seabury!&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;Send those creatures and&mdash;and
+      that horrible wagon away at once.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Reverend Calvin tried to obey orders. He commanded Mr. Young to go
+      away from there that very moment. Vessie was surprised.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ain't this your lumber?&rdquo; he demanded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It doesn't make any difference whether it is or not, I&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Didn't you tell Z. Snow and Co. that this lumber'd got to be delivered
+      to-day or you'd cancel the order?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never mind. That is my business, sir. You&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hold on! Ho-o-ld on! <i>I</i> got a business, too. My business is
+      deliverin' what I'm paid to deliver. Al Speranzy he says to me: 'Ves,' he
+      says, 'if you don't deliver that lumber to old man Calvin to-day you don't
+      get no money, see. Will you deliver it?' Says I, 'You bet your
+      crashety-blank life I'll (hic) d'liver it! What I say I'll do, I'll do!'
+      And I'm deliverin' it, ain't I? Hey? Ain't I? Well, then, what the&mdash;&rdquo;
+       And so forth and at length, while Mrs. Calvin collapsed half fainting in
+      an easy-chair, and horrified Welfare Workers covered their ears&mdash;and
+      longed to cover their noses.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The lumber was delivered that day. Its delivery was, from the viewpoint of
+      Messrs. Young and Mullen, a success. The spring meeting of the Welfare
+      Workers was not a success.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The following day Mr. Calvin called at the office of Z. Snow and Co. He
+      had things to say and said them. Captain Zelotes, who had returned from
+      Boston, listened. Then he called his grandson.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell him what you've just told me, Mr. Calvin,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The reverend gentleman told it, with added details.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And in my opinion, if you'll excuse me, Captain Snow,&rdquo; he said, in
+      conclusion, &ldquo;this young man knew what he was doing when he sent those
+      drunken scoundrels to my house. He did it purposely, I am convinced.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Zelotes looked at him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, because&mdash;because of&mdash;of what I said to him&mdash;er&mdash;er&mdash;when
+      I called here yesterday morning. He&mdash;I presume he took offense and&mdash;and
+      this outrage is the result. I am convinced that&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wait a minute. What did you say for him to take offense at?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I demanded that order should be delivered as promised. I am accustomed to
+      do business with business men and&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hold on just a minute more, Mr. Calvin. We don't seem to be gettin' at
+      the clam in this shell as fast as we'd ought to. Al, what have you got to
+      say about all this business?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert was white, almost as white as when he fought Sam Thatcher, but as
+      he stood up to Sam so also did he face the irate clergyman. He told of the
+      latter's visit to the office, of the threat to cancel the order unless
+      delivery was promised that day, of how his promise to deliver was exacted,
+      of his effort to keep that promise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I HAD to deliver it, Grandfather,&rdquo; he said hotly. &ldquo;He had all but called
+      me a liar and&mdash;and by George, I wasn't going to&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His grandfather held up a warning hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sshh! Ssh!&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Go on with your yarn, boy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert told of the lame horse, of his effort to hire another team, and
+      finally how in desperation he had engaged Ves Young as a last resort. The
+      captain's face was serious but there was the twinkle under his heavy
+      brows. He pulled at his beard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Humph!&rdquo; he grunted. &ldquo;Did you know Ves and Simp had been drinkin' when you
+      hired 'em?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course I didn't. After they had gone Issy said he suspected that they
+      had been drinking a little, but <i>I</i> didn't know it. All I wanted was
+      to prove to HIM,&rdquo; with a motion toward Mr. Calvin, &ldquo;that I kept my word.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Zelotes pulled at his beard. &ldquo;All right, Al,&rdquo; he said, after a
+      moment; &ldquo;you can go.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert went out of the private office. After he had gone the captain
+      turned to his irate customer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm sorry this happened, Mr. Calvin,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;and if Keeler or I had
+      been here it probably wouldn't. But,&rdquo; he added, &ldquo;as far as I can see, the
+      boy did what he thought was the best thing to do. And,&rdquo; the twinkle
+      reappeared in the gray eyes, &ldquo;you sartinly did get your lumber when 'twas
+      promised.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Calvin stiffened. He had his good points, but he suffered from what
+      Laban Keeler once called &ldquo;ingrowin' importance,&rdquo; and this ailment often
+      affected his judgment. Also he had to face Mrs. Calvin upon his return
+      home.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do I understand,&rdquo; he demanded, &ldquo;that you are excusing that young man for
+      putting that outrage upon me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We-ll, as I say, I'm sorry it happened. But, honest, Mr. Calvin, I don't
+      know's the boy's to blame so very much, after all. He delivered your
+      lumber, and that's somethin'.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is that all you have to say, Captain Snow? Is that&mdash;that impudent
+      young clerk of yours to go unpunished?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, yes, I guess likely he is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I shall NEVER buy another dollar's worth of your house again, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Zelotes bowed. &ldquo;I'm sorry to lose your trade, Mr. Calvin,&rdquo; he
+      said. &ldquo;Good mornin'.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert, at his desk in the outer office, was waiting rebelliously to be
+      called before his grandfather and upbraided. And when so called he was in
+      a mood to speak his mind. He would say a few things, no matter what
+      happened in consequence. But he had no chance to say them. Captain Zelotes
+      did not mention the Calvin affair to him, either that day or afterward.
+      Albert waited and waited, expecting trouble, but the trouble, so far as
+      his grandfather was concerned, did not materialize. He could not
+      understand it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But if in that office there was silence concerning the unusual delivery of
+      the lumber for the Calvin porch, outside there was talk enough and to
+      spare. Each Welfare Worker talked when she reached home and the story
+      spread. Small boys shouted after Albert when he walked down the main
+      street, demanding to know how Ves Young's cart was smellin' these days.
+      When he entered the post office some one in the crowd was almost sure to
+      hum, &ldquo;Here's to the good old whiskey, drink her down.&rdquo; On the train on the
+      way to the picnic, girls and young fellows had slyly nagged him about it.
+      The affair and its consequence were the principal causes of his mood that
+      day; this particular &ldquo;Portygee streak&rdquo; was due to it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The path along the edge of the high bluff entered a grove of scraggy pitch
+      pines about a mile from the lighthouse and the picnic ground. Albert
+      stalked gloomily through the shadows of the little grove and emerged on
+      the other side. There he saw another person ahead of him on the path. This
+      other person was a girl. He recognized her even at this distance. She was
+      Helen Kendall.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She and he had not been quite as friendly of late. Not that there was any
+      unfriendliness between them, but she was teaching in the primary school
+      and, as her father had not been well, spent most of her evenings at home.
+      During the early part of the winter he had called occasionally but,
+      somehow, it had seemed to him that she was not quite as cordial, or as
+      interested in his society and conversation as she used to be. It was but a
+      slight indifference on her part, perhaps, but Albert Speranza was not
+      accustomed to indifference on the part of his feminine acquaintances. So
+      he did not call again. He had seen her at the picnic ground and they had
+      spoken, but not at any length.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And he did not care to speak with her now. He had left the pavilion
+      because of his desire to be alone, and that desire still persisted.
+      However, she was some little distance ahead of him and he waited in the
+      edge of the grove until she should go over the crest of the little hill at
+      the next point.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But she did not go over the crest. Instead, when she reached it, she
+      walked to the very edge of the bluff and stood there looking off at the
+      ocean. The sea breeze ruffled her hair and blew her skirts about her and
+      she made a pretty picture. But to Albert it seemed that she was standing
+      much too near the edge. She could not see it, of course, but from where he
+      stood he could see that the bank at that point was much undercut by the
+      winter rains and winds, and although the sod looked firm enough from
+      above, in reality there was little to support it. Her standing there made
+      him a trifle uneasy and he had a mind to shout and warn her. He hesitated,
+      however, and as he watched she stepped back of her own accord. He turned,
+      re-entered the grove and started to walk back to the pavilion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had scarcely done so when he heard a short scream followed by a thump
+      and a rumbling, rattling sound. He turned like a flash, his heart pounding
+      violently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The bluff edge was untenanted. A semi-circular section of the sod where
+      Helen had stood was missing. From the torn opening where it had been rose
+      a yellow cloud of dust.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER VI
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      A goodly number of the South Harniss &ldquo;natives,&rdquo; those who had not seen him
+      play tennis, would have been willing to swear that running was, for Albert
+      Speranza, an impossibility. His usual gait was a rather languid saunter.
+      They would have changed their minds had they seen him now.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He ran along that path as he had run in school at the last track meet,
+      where he had been second in the hundred-yard dash. He reached the spot
+      where the sod had broken and, dropping on his knees, looked fearfully
+      over. The dust was still rising, the sand and pebbles were still rattling
+      in a diminishing shower down to the beach so far below. But he did not see
+      what he had so feared to see.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      What he did see, however, was neither pleasant nor altogether reassuring.
+      The bluff below the sod at its top dropped sheer and undercut for perhaps
+      ten feet. Then the sand and clay sloped outward and the slope extended
+      down for another fifty feet, its surface broken by occasional clinging
+      chunks of beach grass. Then it broke sharply again, a straight drop of
+      eighty feet to the mounds and dunes bordering the beach.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen had of course fallen straight to the upper edge of the slope, where
+      she had struck feet first, and from there had slid and rolled to the very
+      edge of the long drop to the beach. Her skirt had caught in the branches
+      of an enterprising bayberry bush which had managed to find roothold there,
+      and to this bush and a clump of beach grass she was clinging, her hands
+      outstretched and her body extended along the edge of the clay precipice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert gasped.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Helen!&rdquo; he called breathlessly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She turned her head and looked up at him. Her face was white, but she did
+      not scream.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Helen!&rdquo; cried Albert, again. &ldquo;Helen, do you hear me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you badly hurt?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. No, I don't think so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can you hold on just as you are for a few minutes?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I&mdash;I think so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You've got to, you know. Here! You're not going to faint, are you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I&mdash;I don't think I am.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You can't! You mustn't! Here! Don't you do it! Stop!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was just a trace of his grandfather in the way he shouted the order.
+      Whether or not the vigor of the command produced the result is a question,
+      but at any rate she did not faint.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now you stay right where you are,&rdquo; he ordered again. &ldquo;And hang on as
+      tight as you can. I'm coming down.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Come down he did, swinging over the brink with his face to the bank,
+      dropping on his toes to the upper edge of the slope and digging boots and
+      fingers into the clay to prevent sliding further.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hang on!&rdquo; he cautioned, over his shoulder. &ldquo;I'll be there in a second.
+      There! Now wait until I get my feet braced. Now give me your hand&mdash;your
+      left hand. Hold on with your right.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Slowly and cautiously, clinging to his hand, he pulled her away from the
+      edge of the precipice and helped her to scramble up to where he clung.
+      There she lay and panted. He looked at her apprehensively.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't go and faint now, or any foolishness like that,&rdquo; he ordered
+      sharply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no, I won't. I'll try not to. But how are we ever going to climb up&mdash;up
+      there?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Above them and at least four feet out of reach, even if they stood up, and
+      that would be a frightfully risky proceeding, the sod projected over their
+      heads like the eaves of a house.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen glanced up at it and shuddered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, how CAN we?&rdquo; she gasped.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We can't. And we won't try.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shall we call for help?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not much use. Nobody to hear us. Besides, we can always do that if we
+      have to. I think I see a way out of the mess. If we can't get up, perhaps
+      we can get down.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Get DOWN?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, it isn't all as steep as it is here. I believe we might sort of
+      zig-zag down if we were careful. You hold on here just as you are; I'm
+      going to see what it looks like around this next point.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The &ldquo;point&rdquo; was merely a projection of the bluff about twenty feet away.
+      He crawfished along the face of the slope, until he could see beyond it.
+      Helen kept urging him to be careful&mdash;oh, be careful!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course I'll be careful,&rdquo; he said curtly. &ldquo;I don't want to break my
+      neck. Yes&mdash;yes, by George, it IS easier around there! We could get
+      down a good way. Here, here; don't start until you take my hand. And be
+      sure your feet are braced before you move. Come on, now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&mdash;I don't believe I can.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course you can. You've GOT to. Come on. Don't look down. Look at the
+      sand right in front of you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Getting around that point was a decidedly ticklish operation, but they
+      managed it, he leading the way, making sure of his foothold before moving
+      and then setting her foot in the print his own had made. On the other side
+      of the projection the slope was less abrupt and extended much nearer to
+      the ground below. They zigzagged down until nearly to the edge of the
+      steep drop. Then Albert looked about for a new path to safety. He found it
+      still farther on.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It takes us down farther,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;and there are bushes to hold on to
+      after we get there. Come on, Helen! Brace up now, be a sport!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She was trying her best to obey orders, but being a sport was no slight
+      undertaking under the circumstances. When they reached the clump of bushes
+      her guide ordered her to rest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just stop and catch your breath,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;The rest is going to be
+      easier, I think. And we haven't so very far to go.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He was too optimistic. It was anything but easy; in fact, the last thirty
+      feet was almost a tumble, owing to the clay giving way beneath their feet.
+      But there was soft sand to tumble into and they reached the beach safe,
+      though in a dishevelled, scratched and thoroughly smeared condition. Then
+      Helen sat down and covered her face with her hands. Her rescuer gazed
+      triumphantly up at the distant rim of broken sod and grinned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There, by George!&rdquo; he exclaimed. &ldquo;We did it, didn't we? Say, that was
+      fun!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She removed her hands and looked at him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;WHAT did you say it was?&rdquo; she faltered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I said it was fun. It was great! Like something out of a book, eh?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She began to laugh hysterically. He turned to her in indignant surprise.
+      &ldquo;What are you laughing at?&rdquo; he demanded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh&mdash;oh, don't, please! Just let me laugh. If I don't laugh I shall
+      cry, and I don't want to do that. Just don't talk to me for a few minutes,
+      that's all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When the few minutes were over she rose to her feet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now we must get back to the pavilion, I suppose,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;My, but we
+      are sights, though! Do let's see if we can't make ourselves a little more
+      presentable.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She did her best to wipe off the thickest of the clay smears with her
+      handkerchief, but the experiment was rather a failure. As they started to
+      walk back along the beach she suddenly turned to him and said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I haven't told you how&mdash;how much obliged I am for&mdash;for what you
+      did. If you hadn't come, I don't know what would have happened to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, that's all right,&rdquo; he answered lightly. He was reveling in the
+      dramatic qualities of the situation. She did not speak again for some time
+      and he, too, walked on in silence enjoying his day dream. Suddenly he
+      became aware that she was looking at him steadily and with an odd
+      expression on her face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is it?&rdquo; he asked. &ldquo;Why do you look at me that way?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her answer was, as usual, direct and frank.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was thinking about you,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I was thinking that I must have
+      been mistaken, partly mistaken, at least.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mistaken? About me, do you mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; I had made up my mind that you were&mdash;well, one sort of fellow,
+      and now I see that you are an entirely different sort. That is, you've
+      shown that you can be different.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What on earth do you mean by that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, I mean&mdash;I mean&mdash;Oh, I'm sure I had better not say it. You
+      won't like it, and will think I had better mind my own affairs&mdash;which
+      I should do, of course.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Go on; say it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She looked at him again, evidently deliberating whether or not to speak
+      her thought. Then she said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I will say it. Not that it is really my business, but because in a
+      way it is begging your pardon, and I ought to do that. You see, I had
+      begun to believe that you were&mdash;that you were&mdash;well, that you
+      were not very&mdash;very active, you know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Active? Say, look here, Helen! What&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I don't wonder you don't understand. I mean that you were rather&mdash;rather
+      fond of not doing much&mdash;of&mdash;of&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eh? Not doing much? That I was lazy, do you mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, not exactly lazy, perhaps, but&mdash;but&mdash;Oh, how CAN I say
+      just what I mean! I mean that you were always saying that you didn't like
+      the work in your grandfather's office.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Which I don't.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And that some day you were going to do something else.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Which I am.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Write or act or do something&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, and that's true, too.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you don't, you know. You don't do anything. You've been talking that
+      way ever since I knew you, calling this a one-horse town and saying how
+      you hated it, and that you weren't going to waste your life here, and all
+      that, but you keep staying here and doing just the same things. The last
+      long talk we had together you told me you knew you could write poems and
+      plays and all sorts of things, you just felt that you could. You were
+      going to begin right away. You said that some months ago, and you haven't
+      done any writing at all. Now, have you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No-o. No, but that doesn't mean I shan't by and by.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you didn't begin as you said you would. That was last spring, more
+      than a year ago, and I don't believe you have tried to write a single
+      poem. Have you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He was beginning to be ruffled. It was quite unusual for any one, most of
+      all for a girl, to talk to him in this way.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know that I have,&rdquo; he said loftily. &ldquo;And, anyway, I don't see
+      that it is&mdash;is&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My business whether you have or not. I know it isn't. I'm sorry I spoke.
+      But, you see, I&mdash;Oh, well, never mind. And I do want you to know how
+      much I appreciate your helping me as you did just now. I don't know how to
+      thank you for that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But thanks were not exactly what he wanted at that moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Go ahead and say the rest,&rdquo; he ordered, after a short pause. &ldquo;You've said
+      so much that you had better finish it, seems to me. I'm lazy, you think.
+      What else am I?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You're brave, awfully brave, and you are so strong and quick&mdash;yes,
+      and&mdash;and&mdash;masterful; I think that is the right word. You ordered
+      me about as if I were a little girl. I didn't want to keep still, as you
+      told me to; I wanted to scream. And I wanted to faint, too, but you
+      wouldn't let me. I had never seen you that way before. I didn't know you
+      could be like that. That is what surprises me so. That is why I said you
+      were so different.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Here was balm for wounded pride. Albert's chin lifted. &ldquo;Oh, that was
+      nothing,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Whatever had to be done must be done right off, I
+      could see that. You couldn't hang on where you were very long.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She shuddered. &ldquo;No,&rdquo; she replied, &ldquo;I could not. But <i>I</i> couldn't
+      think WHAT to do, and you could. Yes, and did it, and made me do it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The chin lifted still more and the Speranza chest began to expand. Helen's
+      next remark was in the natures of a reducer for the said expansion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you could be so prompt and strong and&mdash;and energetic then,&rdquo; she
+      said, &ldquo;I can't help wondering why you aren't like that all the time. I had
+      begun to think you were just&mdash;just&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lazy, eh?&rdquo; he suggested.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why&mdash;why, no-o, but careless and indifferent and with not much
+      ambition, certainly. You had talked so much about writing and yet you
+      never tried to write anything, that&mdash;that&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That you thought I was all bluff. Thanks! Any more compliments?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She turned on him impulsively. &ldquo;Oh, don't!&rdquo; she exclaimed. &ldquo;Please don't!
+      I know what I am saying sounds perfectly horrid, and especially now when
+      you have just saved me from being badly hurt, if not killed. But don't you
+      see that&mdash;that I am saying it because I am interested in you and sure
+      you COULD do so much if you only would? If you would only try.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This speech was a compound of sweet and bitter. Albert characteristically
+      selected the sweet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Helen,&rdquo; he asked, in his most confidential tone, &ldquo;would you like to have
+      me try and write something? Say, would you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course I would. Oh, will you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, if YOU asked me I might. For your sake, you know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She stopped and stamped her foot impatiently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, DON'T be silly!&rdquo; she exclaimed. &ldquo;I don't want you to do it for my
+      sake. I want you to do it for your own sake. Yes, and for your
+      grandfather's sake.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My grandfather's sake! Great Scott, why do you drag him in? HE doesn't
+      want me to write poetry.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He wants you to do something, to succeed. I know that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He wants me to stay here and help Labe Keeler and Issy Price. He wants me
+      to spend all my life in that office of his; that's what HE wants. Now hold
+      on, Helen! I'm not saying anything against the old fellow. He doesn't like
+      me, I know, but&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You DON'T know. He does like you. Or he wants to like you very much
+      indeed. He would like to have you carry on the Snow Company's business
+      after he has gone, but if you can't&mdash;or won't&mdash;do that, I know
+      he would be very happy to see you succeed at anything&mdash;anything.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert laughed scornfully. &ldquo;Even at writing poetry?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, yes, at writing; although of course he doesn't know a thing about it
+      and can't understand how any one can possibly earn a living that way. He
+      has read or heard about poets and authors starving in garrets and he
+      thinks they're all like that. But if you could only show him and prove to
+      him that you could succeed by writing, he would be prouder of you than any
+      one else would be. I know it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He regarded her curiously. &ldquo;You seem to know a lot about my grandfather,&rdquo;
+       he observed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do know something about him. He and I have been friends ever since I
+      was a little girl, and I like him very much indeed. If he were my
+      grandfather I should be proud of him. And I think you ought to be.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She flashed the last sentence at him in a sudden heat of enthusiasm. He
+      was surprised at her manner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gee! You ARE strong for the old chap, aren't you?&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Well,
+      admitting that he is all right, just why should I be proud of him? I AM
+      proud of my father, of course; he was somebody in the world.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mean he was somebody just because he was celebrated and lots of
+      people knew about him. Celebrated people aren't the only ones who do worth
+      while things. If I were you, I should be proud of Captain Zelotes because
+      he is what he has made himself. Nobody helped him; he did it all. He was a
+      sea captain and a good one. He has been a business man and a good one,
+      even if the business isn't so very big. Everybody here in South Harniss&mdash;yes,
+      and all up and down the Cape&mdash;knows of him and respects him. My
+      father says in all the years he has preached in his church he has never
+      heard a single person as much as hint that Captain Snow wasn't absolutely
+      honest, absolutely brave, and the same to everybody, rich or poor. And all
+      his life he has worked and worked hard. What HE has belongs to him; he has
+      earned it. That's why I should be proud of him if he were my grandfather.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her enthusiasm had continued all through this long speech. Albert
+      whistled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Whew!&rdquo; he exclaimed. &ldquo;Regular cheer for Zelotes, fellows! One&mdash;two&mdash;!
+      Grandfather's got one person to stand up for him, I'll say that. But why
+      this sudden outbreak about him, anyhow? It was me you were talking about
+      in the beginning&mdash;though I didn't notice any loud calls for cheers in
+      that direction,&rdquo; he added.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She ignored the last part of the speech. &ldquo;I think you yourself made me
+      think of him,&rdquo; she replied. &ldquo;Sometimes you remind me of him. Not often,
+      but once in a while. Just now, when we were climbing down that awful place
+      you seemed almost exactly like him. The way you knew just what to do all
+      the time, and your not hesitating a minute, and the way you took command
+      of the situation and,&rdquo; with a sudden laugh, &ldquo;bossed me around; every bit
+      of that was like him, and not like you at all. Oh, I don't mean that,&rdquo; she
+      added hurriedly. &ldquo;I mean it wasn't like you as you usually are. It was
+      different.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Humph! Well, I must say&mdash;See here, Helen Kendall, what is it you
+      expect me to do; sail in and write two or three sonnets and a 'Come Into
+      the Garden, Maud,' some time next week? You're terribly keen about
+      Grandfather, but he has rather got the edge on me so far as age goes. He's
+      in the sixties, and I'm just about nineteen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When he was nineteen he was first mate of a ship.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, so I've heard him say. Maybe first-mating is a little bit easier
+      than writing poetry.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And maybe it isn't. At any rate, he didn't know whether it was easy or
+      not until he tried. Oh, THAT'S what I would like to see you do&mdash;TRY
+      to do something. You could do it, too, almost anything you tried, I do
+      believe. I am confident you could. But&mdash;Oh, well, as you said at the
+      beginning, it isn't my business at all, and I've said ever and ever so
+      much more than I meant to. Please forgive me, if you can. I think my
+      tumble and all the rest must have made me silly. I'm sorry, Albert. There
+      are the steps up to the pavilion. See them!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He was tramping on beside her, his hands in his pockets. He did not look
+      at the long flight of steps which had suddenly come into view around the
+      curve of the bluff. When he did look up and speak it was in a different
+      tone, some such tone as she had heard him use during her rescue.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right,&rdquo; he said, with decision, &ldquo;I'll show you whether I can try or
+      not. I know you think I won't, but I will. I'm going up to my room
+      to-night and I'm going to try to write something or other. It may be the
+      rottenest poem that ever was ground out, but I'll grind it if it kills
+      me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She was pleased, that was plain, but she shook her head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not to-night, Albert,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;To-night, after the picnic, is Father's
+      reception at the church. Of course you'll come to that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course I won't. Look here, you've called me lazy and indifferent and a
+      hundred other pet names this afternoon. Well, this evening I'll make you
+      take some of 'em back. Reception be hanged! I'm going to write to-night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      That evening both Mrs. Snow and Rachel Ellis were much disturbed because
+      Albert, pleading a headache, begged off from attendance at the reception
+      to the Reverend Mr. Kendall. Either, or both ladies would have been only
+      too willing to remain at home and nurse the sufferer through his attack,
+      but he refused to permit the sacrifice on their part. After they had gone
+      his headache disappeared and, supplied with an abundance of paper, pens
+      and ink, he sat down at the table in his room to invoke the Muse. The
+      invocation lasted until three A. M. At that hour, with a genuine headache,
+      but a sense of triumph which conquered pain, Albert climbed into bed. Upon
+      the table lay a poem, a six stanza poem, having these words at its head:
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+        TO MY LADY'S SPRING HAT
+           By A. M. Speranza.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      The following forenoon he posted that poem to the editor of The Cape Cod
+      Item. And three weeks later it appeared in the pages of that journal. Of
+      course there was no pecuniary recompense for its author, and the fact was
+      indisputable that the Item was generally only too glad to publish
+      contributions which helped to fill its columns. But, nevertheless, Albert
+      Speranza had written a poem and that poem had been published.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER VII
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      It was Rachel who first discovered &ldquo;To My Lady's Spring Hat&rdquo; in the Item
+      three weeks later. She came rushing into the sitting room brandishing the
+      paper.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My soul! My soul! My soul!&rdquo; she cried.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Olive, sitting sewing by the window, was, naturally, somewhat startled.
+      &ldquo;Mercy on us, Rachel!&rdquo; she exclaimed. &ldquo;What IS it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look!&rdquo; cried the housekeeper, pointing to the contribution in the &ldquo;Poets'
+      Corner&rdquo; as Queen Isabella may have pointed at the evidence of her proteges
+      discovery of a new world. &ldquo;LOOK!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Snow looked, read the verses to herself, and then aloud.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, I declare, they're real sort of pretty, ain't they?&rdquo; she exclaimed,
+      in astonished admiration.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pretty! They're perfectly elegant! And right here in the paper for all
+      hands to see. Ain't you PROUD of him, Mrs. Snow?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Olive had been growing more and more proud of her handsome grandson ever
+      since his arrival. She was prouder still now and said so. Rachel nodded,
+      triumphantly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He'll be a Robert Penfold afore he dies, or I miss MY guess!&rdquo; she
+      declared.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She showed it to feminine acquaintances all over town, and Olive, when
+      callers came, took pains to see that a copy of the Item, folded with the
+      &ldquo;Poets' Corner&rdquo; uppermost, lay on the center table. Customers, dropping in
+      at the office, occasionally mentioned the poem to its author.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;See you had a piece in the Item, Al,&rdquo; was their usual way of referring to
+      it. &ldquo;Pretty cute piece 'twas, too, seemed to me. Say, that girl of yours
+      must have SOME spring bunnit. Ho, ho!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Issachar deigned to express approval, approval qualified with discerning
+      criticism of course, but approval nevertheless.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pretty good piece, Al,&rdquo; he observed. &ldquo;Pretty good. Glad to see you done
+      so well. Course you made one little mistake, but 'twan't a very big one.
+      That part where you said&mdash;What was it, now? Where'd I put that piece
+      of poetry? Oh, yes, here 'tis! Where you said&mdash;er&mdash;er&mdash;
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     'It floats upon her golden curls
+      As froth upon the wave.'
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      Now of course nothin'&mdash;a hat or nothin' else&mdash;is goin' to float
+      on top of a person's head. Froth floatin', that's all right, you
+      understand; but even if you took froth right out of the water and slapped
+      it up onto anybody's hair 'twouldn't FLOAT up there. If you'd said,
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     'It SETS up onto her golden curls,
+      Same as froth sets on top of a wave.'
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      that would have been all right and true. But there, don't feel bad about
+      it. It's only a little mistake, same as anybody's liable to make. Nine
+      persons out of ten wouldn't have noticed it. I'm extry partic'lar, I
+      presume likely. I'm findin' mistakes like that all the time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Laban's comment was less critical, perhaps, but more reserved.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's pretty good, Al,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Yes&mdash;er&mdash;yes, sir, it's pretty
+      good. It ain't all new, there's some of it that's been written before, but
+      I rather guess that might have been said about Shakespeare's poetry when
+      he fust commenced. It's pretty good, Al. Yes&mdash;yes, yes. It is so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert was inclined to resent the qualified strain in the bookkeeper's
+      praise. He was tempted to be sarcastic.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; he observed, &ldquo;of course you've read so much real poetry that you
+      ought to know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Laban nodded, slowly. &ldquo;I've read a good deal,&rdquo; he said quietly. &ldquo;Readin'
+      is one of the few things I ain't made a failure of in this life. Um-hm.
+      One of the few. Yes yes&mdash;yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He dipped his pen in the inkwell and carefully made an entry in the
+      ledger. His assistant felt a sudden pang of compunction.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I beg your pardon, Mr. Keeler,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;That was pretty fresh of me.
+      I'm sorry.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Laban looked up in mild surprise. &ldquo;Sorry?&rdquo; he repeated. &ldquo;What for? . . .
+      Oh, that's all right, Al, that's all right. Lord knows I'm the last one on
+      earth who'd ought to criticize anybody. All I had in mind in sayin' what I
+      did was to&mdash;well, to kind of keep you from bein' too well satisfied
+      and not try harder on the next one. It don't pay to be too well satisfied.
+      . . . Years ago, I can remember, <i>I</i> was pretty well satisfied&mdash;with
+      myself and my work. Sounds like a joke, I know, but 'twas so. . . . Well,
+      I've had a nice long chance to get over it. Um-hm. Yes&mdash;yes. So I
+      have, so I have.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Only Captain Zelotes at first said nothing about the poem. He read it, his
+      wife saw to that, but his comment even to her was a non-committal grunt.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But don't you think it's real sort of pretty, Zelotes?&rdquo; she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The captain grunted again. &ldquo;Why, I guess likely 'tis if you say so,
+      Mother. I don't know much about such things.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But everybody says it is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Want to know! Well, then 'twon't make much difference whether I say it or
+      not.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But ain't you goin' to say a word to Albert about it, Zelotes?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Humph! I don't know's I know what to say.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, say you like it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ye-es, and if I do he'll keep on writin' more. That's exactly what I
+      don't want him to do. Come now, Mother, be sensible. This piece of his may
+      be good or it may not, <i>I</i> wouldn't undertake to say. But this I do
+      know: I don't want the boy to spend his time writin' poetry slush for that
+      'Poets' Corner.' Letitia Makepeace did that&mdash;she had a piece in there
+      about every week&mdash;and she died in the Taunton asylum.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, Zelotes, it wasn't her poetry got her into the asylum.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wan't it? Well, she was in the poorhouse afore that. I don't know whether
+      'twas her poetryin' that got her in there, but I know darned well it
+      didn't get her out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But ain't you goin' to say one word? 'Twould encourage him so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good Lord! We don't want to encourage him, do we? If he was takin' to
+      thievin' you wouldn't encourage him in that, would you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thievin'! Zelotes Snow, you don't mean to say you compare a poet to a
+      THIEF!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The captain grinned. &ldquo;No-o, Mother,&rdquo; he observed drily. &ldquo;Sometimes a thief
+      can manage to earn a livin' at his job. But there, there, don't feel bad.
+      I'll say somethin' to Al, long's you think I ought to.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The something was not much, and yet Captain Zelotes really meant it to be
+      kindly and to sound like praise. But praising a thing of which you have
+      precious little understanding and with which you have absolutely no
+      sympathy is a hard job.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;See you had a piece in the Item this week, Al,&rdquo; observed the captain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why&mdash;yes, sir,&rdquo; said Albert.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Um-hm. I read it. I don't know much about such things, but they tell me
+      it is pretty good.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eh? Oh, you're welcome.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      That was all. Perhaps considering its source it was a good deal, but
+      Albert was not of the age where such considerations are likely to be made.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen's praise was warm and enthusiastic. &ldquo;I knew you could do it if you
+      only would,&rdquo; she declared. &ldquo;And oh, I'm SO glad you did! Now you must keep
+      on trying.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      That bit of advice was quite superfluous. Young Speranza having sampled
+      the sublime intoxication of seeing himself in print, was not ready to
+      sober off yet a while. He continued to bombard the Item with verses. They
+      were invariably accepted, but when he sent to a New York magazine a poem
+      which he considered a gem, the promptness with which it was returned
+      staggered his conceit and was in that respect a good thing for him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      However, he kept on trying. Helen would not have permitted him to give up
+      even if he had wished. She was quite as much interested in his literary
+      aspirations as he was himself and her encouragement was a great help to
+      him. After months of repeated trial and repeated rejection he opened an
+      envelope bearing the name of a fairly well-known periodical to find
+      therein a kindly note stating that his poem, &ldquo;Sea Spaces&rdquo; had been
+      accepted. And a week later came a check for ten dollars. That was a day of
+      days. Incidentally it was the day of a trial balance in the office and the
+      assistant bookkeeper's additions and multiplications contained no less
+      than four ghastly errors.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The next afternoon there was an interview in the back office. Captain
+      Zelotes and his grandson were the participants. The subject discussed was
+      &ldquo;Business versus Poetry,&rdquo; and there was a marked difference of opinion.
+      Albert had proclaimed his triumph at home, of course, had exhibited his
+      check, had been the recipient of hugs and praises from his grandmother and
+      had listened to paeans and hallelujahs from Mrs. Ellis. When he hurried
+      around to the parsonage after supper, Helen had been excited and delighted
+      at the good news. Albert had been patted on the back quite as much as was
+      good for a young man whose bump of self-esteem was not inclined toward
+      under-development. When he entered the private office of Z. Snow and Co.
+      in answer to his grandfather's summons, he did so light-heartedly,
+      triumphantly, with self-approval written large upon him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But though he came like a conquering hero, he was not received like one.
+      Captain Zelotes sat at his desk, the copy of the Boston morning paper
+      which he had been reading sticking out of the waste basket into which it
+      had been savagely jammed a half hour before. The news had not been to the
+      captain's liking. These were the September days of 1914; the German Kaiser
+      was marching forward &ldquo;mit Gott&rdquo; through Belgium, and it began to look as
+      if he could not be stopped short of Paris. Consequently, Captain Zelotes,
+      his sympathies from the first with England and the Allies, was not happy
+      in his newspaper reading.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert entered, head erect and eyes shining. If Gertie Kendrick could have
+      seen him then she would have fallen down and worshiped. His grandfather
+      looked at him in silence for a moment, tapping his desk with the stump of
+      a pencil. Albert, too, was silent; he was already thinking of another poem
+      with which to dazzle the world, and his head was among the rosy clouds.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sit down, Al,&rdquo; said Captain Zelotes shortly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert reluctantly descended to earth and took the battered armchair
+      standing beside the desk. The captain tapped with his pencil upon the
+      figure-covered sheet of paper before him. Then he said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Al, you've been here three years come next December, ain't you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why&mdash;yes, sir, I believe I have.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Um-hm, you have. And for the heft of that time you've been in this
+      office.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. And Labe Keeler and I have been doin' our best to make a business
+      man out of you. You understand we have, don't you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert looked puzzled and a little uneasy. Into his roseate dreams was
+      just beginning to filter the idea that his grandfather's tone and manner
+      were peculiar.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, yes, sir, of course I understand it,&rdquo; he replied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I asked you because I wasn't quite sure whether you did or not. Can
+      you guess what this is I've got on my desk here?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He tapped the figure-covered sheet of paper once more. Before Albert could
+      speak the captain answered his own question.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll tell you what it is,&rdquo; he went on. &ldquo;It's one of the latest samples of
+      your smartness as a business man. I presume likely you know that Laban
+      worked here in this office until three o'clock this mornin', didn't you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert did not know it. Mr. Keeler had told him nothing of the sort.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, no,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;Did he? What for?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ye-es, he did. And what for? Why, just to find out what was the matter
+      with his trial balance, that's all. When one of Labe's trial balances
+      starts out for snug harbor and ends up on a reef with six foot of water in
+      her hold, naturally Labe wants to get her afloat and pumped dry as quick
+      as possible. He ain't used to it, for one thing, and it makes him
+      nervous.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert's uneasiness grew. When his grandfather's speech became sarcastic
+      and nautical, the young man had usually found that there was trouble
+      coming for somebody.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&mdash;I'm sorry Laban had to stay so late,&rdquo; he stammered. &ldquo;I should
+      have been glad to stay and help him, but he didn't ask me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No-o. Well, it may possibly be that he cal'lated he was carryin' about
+      all your help that the craft would stand, as 'twas. Any more might sink
+      her. See here, young feller&mdash;&rdquo; Captain Zelotes dropped his quiet
+      sarcasm and spoke sharp and brisk: &ldquo;See here,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;do you realize
+      that this sheet of paper I've got here is what stands for a day's work
+      done by you yesterday? And on this sheet there was no less than four silly
+      mistakes that a child ten years old hadn't ought to make, that an
+      able-bodied idiot hadn't ought to make. But YOU made 'em, and they kept
+      Labe Keeler here till three o'clock this mornin'. Now what have you got to
+      say for yourself?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As a matter of fact, Albert had very little to say, except that he was
+      sorry, and that his grandfather evidently did not consider worth the
+      saying. He waved the protestation aside.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sorry!&rdquo; he repeated impatiently. &ldquo;Of course you're sorry, though even at
+      that I ain't sure you're sorry enough. Labe was sorry, too, I don't doubt,
+      when his bedtime went by and he kept runnin' afoul of one of your mistakes
+      after another. I'm sorry, darned sorry, to find out that you can make such
+      blunders after three years on board here under such teachin' as you've
+      had. But bein' sorry don't help any to speak of. Any fool can be sorry for
+      his foolishness, but if that's all, it don't help a whole lot. Is bein'
+      sorry the best excuse you've got to offer? What made you make the mistakes
+      in the first place?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert's face was darkly red under the lash of his grandfather's tongue.
+      Captain Zelotes and he had had disagreements and verbal encounters before,
+      but never since they had been together had the captain spoken like this.
+      And the young fellow was no longer seventeen, he was twenty. The flush
+      began to fade from his cheeks and the pallor which meant the rise of the
+      Speranza temper took its place.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What made you make such fool blunders?&rdquo; repeated the captain. &ldquo;You knew
+      better, didn't you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; sullenly, &ldquo;I suppose I did.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You know mighty well you did. And as nigh as I can larn from what I got
+      out of Laban&mdash;which wasn't much; I had to pump it out of him word by
+      word&mdash;this ain't the first set of mistakes you've made. You make 'em
+      right along. If it wasn't for him helpin' you out and coverin' up your
+      mistakes, this firm would be in hot water with its customers two-thirds of
+      the time and the books would be fust-rate as a puzzle, somethin' to use
+      for a guessin' match, but plaguey little good as straight accounts of a
+      goin' concern. Now what makes you act this way? Eh? What makes you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I don't know. See here, Grandfather&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hold on a minute. You don't know, eh? Well, I know. It ain't because you
+      ain't smart enough to keep a set of books and keep 'em well. I don't
+      expect you to be a Labe Keeler; there ain't many bookkeepers like him on
+      this earth. But I do know you're smart enough to keep my books and keep
+      'em as they'd ought to be, if you want to keep 'em. The trouble with you
+      is that you don't want to. You've got too much of your good-for-nothin&mdash;&rdquo;
+       Captain Lote pulled up short, cleared his throat, and went on: &ldquo;You've got
+      too much 'poet' in you,&rdquo; he declared, &ldquo;that's what's the matter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert leaned forward. &ldquo;That wasn't what you were going to say,&rdquo; he said
+      quickly. &ldquo;You were going to say that I had too much of my father in me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was the captain's turn to redden. &ldquo;Eh?&rdquo; he stammered. &ldquo;Why, I&mdash;I&mdash;How
+      do you know what I was goin' to say?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because I do. You say it all the time. Or, if you don't say it, you look
+      it. There is hardly a day that I don't catch you looking at me as if you
+      were expecting me to commit murder or do some outrageous thing or other.
+      And I know, too, that it is all because I'm my father's son. Well, that's
+      all right; feel that way about me if you want to, I can't help it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here, here, Al! Hold on! Don't&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I won't hold on. And I tell you this: I hate this work here. You say I
+      don't want to keep books. Well, I don't. I'm sorry I made the errors
+      yesterday and put Keeler to so much trouble, but I'll probably make more.
+      No,&rdquo; with a sudden outburst of determination, &ldquo;I won't make any more. I
+      won't, because I'm not going to keep books any more. I'm through.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Zelotes leaned back in his chair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You're what?&rdquo; he asked slowly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm through. I'll never work in this office another day. I'm through.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The captain's brows drew together as he stared steadily at his grandson.
+      He slowly tugged at his beard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Humph!&rdquo; he grunted, after a moment. &ldquo;So you're through, eh? Goin' to quit
+      and go somewheres else, you mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Um-hm. I see. Where are you goin' to go?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know. But I'm not going to make a fool of myself at this job any
+      longer. I can't keep books, and I won't keep them. I hate business. I'm no
+      good at it. And I won't stay here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see. I see. Well, if you won't keep on in business, what will you do
+      for a livin'? Write poetry?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Um-m. Be kind of slim livin', won't it? You've been writin' poetry for
+      about a year and a half, as I recollect, and so far you've made ten
+      dollars.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's all right. If I don't make it I may starve, as you are always
+      saying that writers do. But, starve or not, I shan't ask YOU to take care
+      of me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I've taken care of you for three years or so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. But you did it because&mdash;because&mdash;Well, I don't know why
+      you did, exactly, but you won't have to do it any longer. I'm through.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The captain still stared steadily, and what he saw in the dark eyes which
+      flashed defiance back at him seemed to trouble him a little. His tugs at
+      his beard became more strenuous.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Humph!&rdquo; he muttered. &ldquo;Humph! . . . Well, Al, of course I can't make you
+      stay by main force. Perhaps I could&mdash;you ain't of age yet&mdash;but I
+      shan't. And you want to quit the ship altogether, do you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you mean this office&mdash;yes, I do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see, I see. Want to quit South Harniss and your grandmother&mdash;and
+      Rachel&mdash;and Labe&mdash;and Helen&mdash;and all the rest of 'em?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not particularly. But I shall have to, of course.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. . . . Um-hm. . . . Yes. Have you thought how your grandmother's
+      liable to feel when she hears you are goin' to clear out and leave her?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert had not thought in that way, but he did now. His tone was a trifle
+      less combative as he answered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She'll be sorry at first, I suppose,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;but she'll get over it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Um-hm. Maybe she will. You can get over 'most anything in time&mdash;'MOST
+      anything. Well, and how about me? How do you think I'll feel?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert's chin lifted. &ldquo;You!&rdquo; he exclaimed. &ldquo;Why, you'll be mighty glad of
+      it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Zelotes picked up the pencil stump and twirled it in his fingers.
+      &ldquo;Shall I?&rdquo; he asked. &ldquo;You think I will, do you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course you will. You don't like me, and never did.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So I've heard you say. Well, boy, don't you cal'late I like you at least
+      as much as you like me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. What do you mean? I like you well enough. That is, I should if you
+      gave me half a chance. But you don't do it. You hate me because my father&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The captain interrupted. His big palm struck the desk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;DON'T say that again!&rdquo; he commanded. &ldquo;Look here, if I hated you do you
+      suppose I'd be talkin' to you like this? If I hated you do you cal'late
+      I'd argue when you gave me notice? Not by a jugful! No man ever came to me
+      and said he was goin' to quit and had me beg him to stay. If we was at sea
+      he stayed until we made port; then he WENT, and he didn't hang around
+      waitin' for a boat to take him ashore neither. I don't hate you, son. I'd
+      ask nothin' better than a chance to like you, but you won't give it to
+      me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert's eyes and mouth opened.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;<i>I</i> won't give YOU a chance?&rdquo; he repeated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sartin. DO you give me one? I ask you to keep these books of mine. You
+      could keep 'em A Number One. You're smart enough to do it. But you won't.
+      You let 'em go to thunder and waste your time makin' up fool poetry and
+      such stuff.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I like writing, and I don't like keeping books.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Keepin' books is a part of l'arnin' the business, and business is the way
+      you're goin' to get your livin' by and by.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, it isn't. I am going to be a writer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now DON'T say that silly thing again! I don't want to hear it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall say it because it is true.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look here, boy: When I tell you or anybody else in this office to do or
+      not to do a thing, I expect 'em to obey orders. And I tell you not to talk
+      any more of that foolishness about bein' a writer. D'you understand?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, of course I understand.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right, then, that much is settled. . . . Here! Where are you goin'?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert had turned and was on his way out of the office. He stopped and
+      answered over his shoulder, &ldquo;I'm going home,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Goin' HOME? Why, you came from home not more than an hour and a half ago!
+      What are you goin' there again now for?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To pack up my things.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To pack up your things! To pack up&mdash;Humph! So you really mean it!
+      You're really goin' to quit me like this? And your grandma, too!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The young man felt a sudden pang of compunction, a twinge of conscience.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Grandfather,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I'm sorry. I&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But the change in his attitude and tone came too late. Captain Lote's
+      temper was boiling now, contradiction was its worst provocative.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Goin' to quit!&rdquo; he sneered. &ldquo;Goin' to quit because you don't like to
+      work. All right, quit then! Go ahead! I've done all I can to make a man of
+      you. Go to the devil in your own way.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Grandfather, I&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Go ahead! <i>I</i> can't stop you. It's in your breed, I cal'late.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      That was sufficient. Albert strode out of the private office, head erect.
+      Captain Zelotes rose and slammed the door after his departing grandson.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At ten that evening Albert was in his room, sitting in a chair by the
+      window, gloomily looking out. The packing, most of it, had been done. He
+      had not, as he told his grandfather he intended doing, left the office
+      immediately and come straight home to pack. As he emerged from the inner
+      office after the stormy interview with the captain he found Laban Keeler
+      hard at work upon the books. The sight of the little man, so patiently and
+      cheerfully pegging away, brought another twinge of conscience to the
+      assistant bookkeeper. Laban had been such a brick in all their
+      relationships. It must have been a sore trial to his particular,
+      business-like soul, those errors in the trial balance. Yet he had not
+      found fault nor complained. Captain Zelotes himself had said that every
+      item concerning his grandson's mistakes and blunders had been dragged from
+      Mr. Keeler much against the latter's will. Somehow Albert could not bear
+      to go off and leave him at once. He would stay and finish his day's work,
+      for Labe Keeler's sake.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So stay he did and when Captain Zelotes later came out of his private
+      office and found him there neither of them spoke. At home, during supper,
+      nothing was said concerning the quarrel of the afternoon. Yet Albert was
+      as determined to leave as ever, and the Captain, judging by the expression
+      of his face, was just as determined to do nothing more to prevent him.
+      After supper the young man went to his room and began the packing. His
+      grandfather went out, an unusual proceeding for him, saying that he
+      guessed he would go down street for a spell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now Albert, as he sat there by the window, was gloomy enough. The wind,
+      howling and wailing about the gables of the old house, was not an aid to
+      cheerfulness and he needed every aid. He had sworn to go away, he was
+      going away&mdash;but where should he go? He had a little money put by, not
+      much but a little, which he had been saving for quite another purpose.
+      This would take him a little way, would pay his bills for a short time,
+      but after that&mdash;Well, after that he could earn more. With the
+      optimism of youth and the serene self-confidence which was natural to him
+      he was sure of succeeding sooner or later. It was not the dread of failure
+      and privation which troubled him. The weight which was pressing upon his
+      spirit was not the fear of what might happen to him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a rap upon the door. Then a voice, the housekeeper's voice,
+      whispered through the crack.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's me, Al,&rdquo; whispered Mrs. Ellis. &ldquo;You ain't in bed yet, are you? I'd
+      like to talk with you a minute or two, if I might.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He was not anxious to talk to her or anyone else just then, but he told
+      her to come in. She entered on tiptoe, with the mysterious air of a
+      conspirator, and shut the door carefully after her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;May I set down just a minute?&rdquo; she asked. &ldquo;I can generally talk better
+      settin'.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He pulled forward the ancient rocker with the rush seat. The cross-stitch
+      &ldquo;tidy&rdquo; on the back was his mother's handiwork, she had made it when she
+      was fifteen. Rachel sat down in the rocker.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Al&rdquo; she began, still in the same mysterious whisper, &ldquo;I know all about
+      it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He looked at her. &ldquo;All about what?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;About the trouble you and Cap'n Lote had this afternoon. I know you're
+      plannin' to leave us all and go away somewheres and that he told you to
+      go, and all that. I know what you've been doin' up here to-night. Fur's
+      that goes,&rdquo; she added, with a little catch in her breath and a wave of her
+      hand toward the open trunk and suitcase upon the floor, &ldquo;I wouldn't need
+      to know, I could SEE.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert was surprised and confused. He had supposed the whole affair to be,
+      so far, a secret between himself and his grandfather.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You know?&rdquo; he stammered. &ldquo;You&mdash;How did you know?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Laban told me. Labe came hurryin' over here just after supper and told me
+      the whole thing. He's awful upset about it, Laban is. He thinks almost as
+      much of you as he does of Cap'n Lote or&mdash;or me,&rdquo; with an apologetic
+      little smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert was astonished and troubled. &ldquo;How did Labe know about it?&rdquo; he
+      demanded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He heard it all. He couldn't help hearin'.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But he couldn't have heard. The door to the private office was shut.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, but the window at the top&mdash;the transom one, you know&mdash;was
+      wide open. You and your grandpa never thought of that, I guess, and Laban
+      couldn't hop up off his stool and shut it without givin' it away that he'd
+      been hearin'. So he had to just set and listen and I know how he hated
+      doin' that. Laban Keeler ain't the listenin' kind. One thing about it all
+      is a mercy,&rdquo; she added, fervently. &ldquo;It's the Lord's own mercy that that
+      Issy Price wasn't where HE could hear it, too. If Issy heard it you might
+      as well paint it up on the town-hall fence; all creation and his wife
+      wouldn't larn it any sooner.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert drew a long breath. &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; he said, after a moment, &ldquo;I'm sorry
+      Labe heard, but I don't suppose it makes much difference. Everyone will
+      know all about it in a day or two . . . I'm going.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rachel leaned forward.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, you ain't, Al,&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm not? Indeed I am! Why, what do you mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I mean just what I say. You ain't goin'. You're goin' to stay right here.
+      At least I hope you are, and I THINK you are. . . . Oh, I know,&rdquo; she
+      added, quickly, &ldquo;what you are goin' to say. You're goin' to tell me that
+      your grandpa is down on you on account of your father, and that you don't
+      like bookkeepin', and that you want to write poetry and&mdash;and such.
+      You'll say all that, and maybe it's all true, but whether 'tis or not
+      ain't the point at all just now. The real point is that you're Janie
+      Snow's son and your grandpa's Cap'n Lote Snow and your grandma's Olive
+      Snow and there ain't goin' to be another smash-up in this family if I can
+      help it. I've been through one and one's enough. Albert, didn't you
+      promise me that Sunday forenoon three years ago when I came into the
+      settin'-room and we got talkin' about books and Robert Penfold and
+      everything&mdash;didn't you promise me then that when things between you
+      and your grandpa got kind of&mdash;of snarled up and full of knots you'd
+      come to me with 'em and we'd see if we couldn't straighten 'em out
+      together? Didn't you promise me that, Albert?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert remembered the conversation to which she referred. As he remembered
+      it, however, he had not made any definite promise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You asked me to talk them over with you, Rachel,&rdquo; he admitted. &ldquo;I think
+      that's about as far as it went.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, maybe so, but now I ask you again. Will you talk this over with me,
+      Albert? Will you tell me every bit all about it, for my sake? And for your
+      grandma's sake. . . . Yes, more'n that, for your mother's sake, Albert;
+      she was pretty nigh like my own sister, Jane Snow was. Different as night
+      from day of course, she was pretty and educated and all that and I was
+      just the same then as I am now, but we did think a lot of each other,
+      Albert. Tell me the whole story, won't you, please. Just what Cap'n Lote
+      said and what you said and what you plan to do&mdash;and all? Please,
+      Albert.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There were tears in her eyes. He had always liked her, but it was a liking
+      with a trace of condescension in it. She was peculiar, her &ldquo;sympathetic
+      attacks&rdquo; were funny, and she and Laban together were an odd pair. Now he
+      saw her in a new light and he felt a sudden rush of real affection for
+      her. And with this feeling, and inspired also by his loneliness, came the
+      impulse to comply with her request, to tell her all his troubles.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He began slowly at first, but as he went on the words came quicker. She
+      listened eagerly, nodding occasionally, but saying nothing. When he had
+      finished she nodded again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;'Twas almost what Laban said and about what he and I
+      expected. Well, Albert, I ain't goin' to be the one to blame you, not very
+      much anyhow. I don't see as you are to blame; you can't help the way
+      you're made. But your grandfather can't help bein' made his way, either.
+      He can't see with your spectacles and you can't see with his.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He stirred rebelliously. &ldquo;Then we had better go our own ways, I should
+      say,&rdquo; he muttered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, you hadn't. That's just what you mustn't do, not now, anyhow. As I
+      said before, there's been enough of all hands goin' their own ways in this
+      family and look what came of it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But what do you expect me to do? I will not give up every plan I've made
+      and my chance in the world just because he is too stubborn and cranky to
+      understand them. I will NOT do it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't want you to. But I don't want you to upset the whole kettle just
+      because the steam has scalded your fingers. I don't want you to go off and
+      leave your grandma to break her heart a second time and your grandpa to
+      give up all his plans and hopes that he's been makin' about you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Plans about me? He making plans about me? What sort of plans?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All sorts. Oh, he don't say much about 'em, of course; that ain't his
+      way. But from things he's let drop I know he has hoped to take you in with
+      him as a partner one of these days, and to leave you the business after
+      he's gone.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nonsense, Rachel!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, it ain't nonsense. It's the one big dream of Cap'n Lote's life. That
+      Z. Snow and Co. business is his pet child, as you might say. He built it
+      up, he and Labe together, and when he figgered to take you aboard with him
+      'twas SOME chance for you, 'cordin' to his lookout. Now you can't hardly
+      blame him for bein' disappointed when you chuck that chance away and take
+      to writin' poetry pieces, can you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But&mdash;but&mdash;why, confound it, Rachel, you don't understand!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I do, but your grandpa don't. And you don't understand him. . . .
+      Oh, Albert, DON'T be as stubborn as he is, as your mother was&mdash;the
+      Lord and she forgive me for sayin' it. She was partly right about marryin'
+      your pa and Cap'n Lote was partly right, too. If they had met half way and
+      put the two 'partlys' together the whole thing might have been right in
+      the end. As 'twas, 'twas all wrong. Don't, don't, DON'T, Albert, be as
+      stubborn as that. For their sakes, Al,&mdash;yes, and for my sake, for I'm
+      one of your family, too, or seems as if I was&mdash;don't.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She hastily wiped her eyes with her apron. He, too was greatly moved.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't cry, Rachel,&rdquo; he muttered, hurriedly. &ldquo;Please don't. . . . I didn't
+      know you felt this way. I didn't know anybody did. I don't want to make
+      trouble in the family&mdash;any more trouble. Grandmother has been awfully
+      good to me; so, too, has Grandfather, I suppose, in his way. But&mdash;oh,
+      what am I going to do? I can't stay in that office all my life. I'm not
+      good at business. I don't like it. I can't give up&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no, course you mustn't. I don't want you to give up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then what do you want me to do?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I want you to go to your grandpa and talk to him once more. Not givin' up
+      your plans altogether but not forcin' him to give up his either, not right
+      away. Tell him you realize he wants you to go on with Z. Snow and Company
+      and that you will&mdash;for a while&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For a while, I said; three or four years, say. You won't be so dreadful
+      old then, not exactly what you'd call a Methusalem. Tell him you'll do
+      that and on his side he must let you write as much as you please, provided
+      you don't let the writin' interfere with the Z. Snow and Co. work. Then,
+      at the end of the three or four years, if you still feel the same as you
+      do now, you can tackle your poetry for keeps and he and you'll still be
+      friends. Tell him that, Albert, and see what he says. . . . Will you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert took some moments to consider. At length he said: &ldquo;If I did I doubt
+      if he would listen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes he would. He'd more than listen, I'm pretty sartin. I think he'd
+      agree.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You do?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I do. You see,&rdquo; with a smile, &ldquo;while I've been talkin' to you
+      there's been somebody else talkin' to him. . . . There, there! don't you
+      ask any questions. I promised not to tell anybody and if I ain't exactly
+      broke that promise, I've sprained its ankle, I'm afraid. Good night,
+      Albert, and thank you ever and ever so much for listenin' so long without
+      once tellin' me to mind my own business.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good night, Rachel. . . . And thank you for taking so much interest in my
+      affairs. You're an awfully good friend, I can see that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't&mdash;don't talk that way. And you WILL have that talk with your
+      grandpa?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I will.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I'm SO glad! There! Good night. I come pretty nigh kissin' you then
+      and for a woman that's been engaged to be married for upwards of eighteen
+      years that's a nice way to act, ain't it! Good night, good night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She hurried out of the room. Albert sat down again in his chair by the
+      window. He had promised to go to his grandfather and talk to him. As he
+      sat there, thinking of the coming interview, he realized more and more
+      that the keeping of that promise was likely to be no easy matter. He must
+      begin the talk, he must break the ice&mdash;and how should he break it?
+      Timid and roundabout approaches would be of little use; unless his
+      grandfather's state of mind had changed remarkably since their parting in
+      the Z. Snow and Co. office they and their motive would be misunderstood.
+      No, the only way to break the ice was to break it, to plunge immediately
+      into the deepest part of the subject. It promised to be a chilly plunge.
+      He shivered at the prospect.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A half hour later he heard the door of the hall open and shut and knew
+      that Captain Zelotes had returned. Rising, he descended the stairs. He
+      descended slowly. Just as he reached the foot of the narrow flight Captain
+      Zelotes entered the hall from the dining-room and turned toward him. Both
+      were surprised at the meeting. Albert spoke first.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good evening, Grandfather,&rdquo; he stammered. &ldquo;I&mdash;I was just coming down
+      to see you. Were you going to bed?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Lote shook his head. &ldquo;No-o,&rdquo; he said, slowly, &ldquo;not exactly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you mind waiting a minute? I have a few things&mdash;I have something
+      to say to you and&mdash;and I guess I shall sleep better if I say it
+      to-night. I&mdash;I won't keep you long.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The captain regarded him intently for an instant, then he turned and led
+      the way to the dining-room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Go ahead,&rdquo; he ordered, laconically. Albert squared his shoulders,
+      preparatory to the plunge.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Grandfather,&rdquo; he began, &ldquo;first of all I want to tell you I am sorry for&mdash;for
+      some of the things I said this afternoon.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He had rehearsed this opening speech over and over again, but in spite of
+      the rehearsals it was dreadfully hard to make. If his grandfather had
+      helped him even a little it might have been easier, but the captain merely
+      stood there, expressionless, saying nothing, waiting for him to continue.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert swallowed, clenched his fists, and took a new start.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course,&rdquo; he began, &ldquo;I am sorry for the mistakes I made in my
+      bookkeeping, but that I have told you before. Now&mdash;now I want to say
+      I am sorry for being so&mdash;well, so pig-headed about the rest of it. I
+      realize that you have been mighty kind to me and that I owe you about
+      everything that I've got in this world.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He paused again. It had seemed to him that Captain Zelotes was about to
+      speak. However, he did not, so the young man stumbled on.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And&mdash;and I realize, too,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;that you have, I guess, been
+      trying to give me a real start in business, the start you think I ought to
+      have.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The captain nodded slowly. &ldquo;That was my idea in startin' you,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes&mdash;and fact that I haven't done more with the chance is because
+      I'm made that way, I guess. But I do want to&mdash;yes, and I MEAN to try
+      to succeed at writing poetry or stories or plays or something. I like that
+      and I mean to give it a trial. And so&mdash;and so, you see, I've been
+      thinking our talk over and I've concluded that perhaps you may be right,
+      maybe I'm not old enough to know what I really am fitted for, and yet
+      perhaps <i>I</i> may be partly right, too. I&mdash;I've been thinking that
+      perhaps some sort of&mdash;of&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of what?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, of half-way arrangement&mdash;some sort of&mdash;of compromise, you
+      know, might be arranged. I might agree to stay in the office and do my
+      very best with bookkeeping and business for&mdash;well, say, three years
+      or so. During that time I should be trying to write of course, but I would
+      only do that sort of writing evenings or on Saturdays and holidays. It
+      shouldn't interfere with your work nor be done in the time you pay me for.
+      And at the end of the three or four years&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He paused again. This time the pause was longer than ever. Captain Lote
+      broke the silence. His big right hand had wandered upward and was tugging
+      at his beard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well? . . . And then?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, then&mdash;if&mdash;if&mdash;Well, then we could see. If business
+      seemed to be where I was most likely to succeed we'd call it settled and I
+      would stay with Z. Snow and Co. If poetry-making or&mdash;or&mdash;literature
+      seemed more likely to be the job I was fitted for, that would be the job
+      I'd take. You&mdash;you see, don't you, Grandfather?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The captain's beard-pulling continued. He was no longer looking his
+      grandson straight in the eye. His gaze was fixed upon the braided mat at
+      his feet and he answered without looking up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ye-es,&rdquo; he drawled, &ldquo;I cal'late I see. Well, was that all you had to
+      say?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No-o, not quite. I&mdash;I wanted to say that which ever way it turned
+      out, I&mdash;I hoped we&mdash;you and I, you know&mdash;would agree to be&mdash;to
+      be good-natured about it and&mdash;and friends just the same. I&mdash;I&mdash;Well,
+      there! That's all, I guess. I haven't put it very well, I'm afraid, but&mdash;but
+      what do you think about it, Grandfather?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And now Captain Zelotes did look up. The old twinkle was in his eye. His
+      first remark was a question and that question was rather surprising.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Al,&rdquo; he asked, &ldquo;Al, who's been talkin' to you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The blood rushed to his grandson's face. &ldquo;Talking to me?&rdquo; he stammered.
+      &ldquo;Why&mdash;why, what do you mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I mean just that. You didn't think out this scheme all by yourself.
+      Somebody's been talkin' to you and puttin' you up to it. Haven't they?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why&mdash;why, Grandfather, I&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Haven't they?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why&mdash;Well, yes, someone has been talking to me, but the whole idea
+      isn't theirs. I WAS sorry for speaking to you as I did and sorry to think
+      of leaving you and grandmother. I&mdash;I was sitting up there in my room
+      and feeling blue and mean enough and&mdash;and&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And then Rachel came aboard and gave you your sailin' orders; eh?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert gasped. &ldquo;For heaven's sake how did you know that?&rdquo; he demanded.
+      &ldquo;She&mdash;Why, she must have told you, after all! But she said&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hold on, boy, hold on!&rdquo; Captain Lote chuckled quietly. &ldquo;No,&rdquo; he said,
+      &ldquo;Rachel didn't tell me; I guessed she was the one. And it didn't take a
+      Solomon in all his glory to guess it, neither. Labe Keeler's been talkin'
+      to ME, and when you come down here and began proposin' the same scheme
+      that I was just about headin' up to your room with to propose to you, then&mdash;well,
+      then the average whole-witted person wouldn't need more'n one guess. It
+      couldn't be Labe, 'cause he'd been whisperin' in MY ear, so it must have
+      been the other partner in the firm. That's all the miracle there is to
+      it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert's brain struggled with the situation. &ldquo;I see,&rdquo; he said, after a
+      moment. &ldquo;She hinted that someone had been talking to you along the same
+      line. Yes, and she was so sure you would agree. I might have known it was
+      Laban.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Um-hm, so you might. . . . Well, there have been times when if a man had
+      talked to me as Labe did to-night I'd have knocked him down, or told him
+      to go to&mdash;um&mdash;well, the tropics&mdash;told him to mind his own
+      business, at least. But Labe is Labe, and besides MY conscience was
+      plaguin' me a little mite, maybe . . . maybe.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The young man shook his head. &ldquo;They must have talked it over, those two,
+      and agreed that one should talk to you and the other to me. By George, I
+      wonder they had the nerve. It wasn't their business, really.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not a darn bit.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yet&mdash;yet I&mdash;I'm awfully glad she said it to me. I&mdash;I
+      needed it, I guess.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Maybe you did, son. . . . And&mdash;humph&mdash;well, maybe I needed it,
+      too. . . . Yes, I know that's consider'ble for me to say,&rdquo; he added dryly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert was still thinking of Laban and Rachel.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They're queer people,&rdquo; he mused. &ldquo;When I first met them I thought they
+      were about the funniest pair I ever saw. But&mdash;but now I can't help
+      liking them and&mdash;and&mdash;Say, Grandfather, they must think a lot of
+      your&mdash;of our family.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Cal'late they do, son. . . . Well, boy, we've had our sermon, you and me,
+      what shall we do? Willin' to sign for the five years trial cruise if I
+      will, are you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert couldn't help smiling. &ldquo;It was three years Rachel proposed, not
+      five,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Was, eh? Suppose we split the difference and make it four? Willin' to try
+      that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Agreement bein' that you shall stick close to Z. Snow and Co. durin' work
+      hours and write as much poetry as you darned please other times, neither
+      side to interfere with those arrangements? That right?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good! Shall we shake hands on it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They shook, solemnly. Captain Lote was the first to speak after
+      ratification of the contract.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There, now I cal'late I'll go aloft and turn in,&rdquo; he observed. Then he
+      added, with a little hesitation, &ldquo;Say, Al, maybe we'd better not trouble
+      your grandma about all this fool business&mdash;the row this afternoon and
+      all. 'Twould only worry her and&mdash;&rdquo; he paused, looked embarrassed,
+      cleared his throat, and said, &ldquo;to tell you the truth, I'm kind of ashamed
+      of my part&mdash;-er&mdash;er&mdash;that is, some of it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His grandson was very much astonished. It was not often that Captain
+      Zelotes Snow admitted having been in the wrong. He blurted out the
+      question he had been dying to ask.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Grandfather,&rdquo; he queried, &ldquo;had you&mdash;did you really mean what you
+      said about starting to come to my room and&mdash;and propose this scheme
+      of ours&mdash;I mean of Rachel's and Labe's&mdash;to me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eh? . . . Ye-es&mdash;yes. I was on my way up there when I met you just
+      now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Grandfather, I&mdash;I&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's all right, boy, that's all right. Don't let's talk any more about
+      it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We won't. And&mdash;and&mdash;But, Grandfather, I just want you to know
+      that I guess I understand things a little better than I did, and&mdash;and
+      when my father&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The captain's heavy hand descended upon his shoulder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Heave short, Al!&rdquo; he commanded. &ldquo;I've been doin' consider'ble thinkin'
+      since Labe finished his&mdash;er&mdash;discourse and pronounced the
+      benediction, and I've come to a pretty definite conclusion on one matter.
+      I've concluded that you and I had better cut out all the bygones from this
+      new arrangement of ours. We won't have fathers or&mdash;or&mdash;elopements&mdash;or
+      past-and-done-with disapp'intments in it. This new deal&mdash;this four
+      year trial v'yage of ours&mdash;will be just for Albert Speranza and
+      Zelotes Snow, and no others need apply. . . . Eh? . . . Well, good night,
+      Al.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER VIII
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      So the game under the &ldquo;new deal&rdquo; began. At first it was much easier than
+      the old. And, as a matter of fact, it was never as hard as before. The
+      heart to heart talk between Captain Zelotes and his grandson had given
+      each a glimpse of the other's inner self, a look from the other's point of
+      view, and thereafter it was easier to make allowances. But the necessity
+      for the making of those allowances was still there and would continue to
+      be there. At first Albert made almost no mistakes in his bookkeeping, was
+      almost painfully careful. Then the carefulness relaxed, as it was bound to
+      do, and some mistakes occurred. Captain Lote found little fault, but at
+      times he could not help showing some disappointment. Then his grandson
+      would set his teeth and buckle down to painstaking effort again. He was
+      resolved to live up to the very letter of the agreement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In his spare time he continued to write and occasionally he sold
+      something. Whenever he did so there was great rejoicing among the feminine
+      members of the Snow household; his grandmother and Rachel Ellis were
+      enraptured. It was amusing to see Captain Zelotes attempt to join the
+      chorus. He evidently felt that he ought to praise, or at least that praise
+      was expected from him, but it was also evident that he did not approve of
+      what he was praising.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your grandma says you got rid of another one of your poetry pieces, Al,&rdquo;
+       he would say. &ldquo;Pay you for it, did they?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not yet, but they will, I suppose.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see, I see. How much, think likely?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I don't know. Ten dollars, perhaps.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Um-hm . . . I see. . . . Well, that's pretty good, considerin', I
+      suppose. . . . We did first-rate on that Hyannis school-house contract,
+      didn't we. Nigh's I can figger it we cleared over fourteen hundred and
+      eighty dollars on that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He invariably followed any reference to the profit from the sale of verses
+      by the casual mention of a much larger sum derived from the sale of lumber
+      or hardware. This was so noticeable that Laban Keeler was impelled to
+      speak of it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The old man don't want you to forget that you can get more for hard pine
+      than you can for soft sonnets, sellin' 'em both by the foot,&rdquo; observed
+      Labe, peering over his spectacles. &ldquo;More money in shingles than there is
+      in jingles, he cal'lates. . . . Um. . . . Yes, yes. . . . Consider'ble
+      more, consider'ble.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert smiled, but it astonished him to find that Mr. Keeler knew what a
+      sonnet was. The little bookkeeper occasionally surprised him by breaking
+      out unexpectedly in that way.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      From the indiscriminate praise at home, or the reluctant praise of his
+      grandfather, he found relief when he discussed his verses with Helen
+      Kendall. Her praise was not indiscriminate, in fact sometimes she did not
+      praise at all, but expressed disapproval. They had some disagreements,
+      marked disagreements, but it did not affect their friendship. Albert was a
+      trifle surprised to find that it did not.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So as the months passed he ground away at the books of Z. Snow and Company
+      during office hours and at the poetry mill between times. The seeing of
+      his name in print was no longer a novelty and he poetized not quite as
+      steadily. Occasionally he attempted prose, but the two or three short
+      stories of his composition failed to sell. Helen, however, urged him to
+      try again and keep trying. &ldquo;I know you can write a good story and some day
+      you are going to,&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His first real literary success, that which temporarily lifted him into
+      the outer circle of the limelight of fame, was a poem written the day
+      following that upon which came the news of the sinking of the Lusitania.
+      Captain Zelotes came back from the post-office that morning, a crumpled
+      newspaper in his hand, and upon his face the look which mutinous foremast
+      hands had seen there just before the mutiny ended. Laban Keeler was the
+      first to notice the look. &ldquo;For the land sakes, Cap'n, what's gone wrong?&rdquo;
+       he asked. The captain flung the paper upon the desk. &ldquo;Read that,&rdquo; he
+      grunted. Labe slowly spread open the paper; the big black headlines
+      shrieked the crime aloud.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good God Almighty!&rdquo; exclaimed the little bookkeeper. Captain Zelotes
+      snorted. &ldquo;He didn't have anything to do with it,&rdquo; he declared. &ldquo;The bunch
+      that pulled that off was handled from the other end of the line. And I
+      wish to thunder I was young enough to help send 'em back there,&rdquo; he added,
+      savagely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That evening Albert wrote his poem. The next day he sent it to a Boston
+      paper. It was published the following morning, spread across two columns
+      on the front page, and before the month was over had been copied widely
+      over the country. Within the fortnight its author received his first
+      request, a bona fida request for verse from a magazine. Even Captain
+      Lote's praise of the Lusitania poem was whole-hearted and ungrudging.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That summer was a busy one in South Harniss. There was the usual amount of
+      summer gaiety, but in addition there were the gatherings of the various
+      committees for war relief work. Helen belonged to many of these
+      committees. There were dances and theatrical performances for the
+      financial benefit of the various causes and here Albert shone. But he did
+      not shine alone. Helen Kendall was very popular at the social gatherings,
+      popular not only with the permanent residents but with the summer youth as
+      well. Albert noticed this, but he did not notice it so particularly until
+      Issy Price called his attention to it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Say, Al,&rdquo; observed Issy, one afternoon in late August of that year, &ldquo;how
+      do YOU like that Raymond young feller?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert looked up absently from the page of the daybook.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eh? What?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I say how do YOU like that Eddie Raymond, the Down-at-the-Neck one?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Down at the neck? There's nothing the matter with his neck that I know
+      of.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who said there was? He LIVES down to the Neck, don't he? I mean that
+      young Raymond, son of the New York bank man, the ones that's had the
+      Cahoon house all summer. How do you like him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert's attention was still divided between the day-book and Mr. Price.
+      &ldquo;Oh, I guess he's all right,&rdquo; he answered, carelessly. &ldquo;I don't know him
+      very well. Don't bother me, Issy, I'm busy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Issachar chuckled. &ldquo;He's busy, too,&rdquo; he observed. &ldquo;He, he, he! He's busy
+      trottin' after Helen Kendall. Don't seem to have time for much else these
+      days. Noticed that, ain't you, Al? He, he!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert had not noticed it. His attention left the day-book altogether.
+      Issachar chuckled again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Noticed it, ain't you, Al?&rdquo; he repeated. &ldquo;If you ain't you're the only
+      one. Everybody's cal'latin' you'll be cut out if you ain't careful. Folks
+      used to figger you was Helen's steady comp'ny, but it don't look as much
+      so as it did. He, he! That's why I asked you how you liked the Raymond
+      one. Eh? How do you, Al? Helen, SHE seems to like him fust-rate. He, he,
+      he!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert was conscious of a peculiar feeling, partly of irritation at
+      Issachar, partly something else. Mr. Price crowed delightedly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hi!&rdquo; he chortled. &ldquo;Why, Al, your face is gettin' all redded up. Haw, haw!
+      Blushin', ain't you, Al? Haw, haw, haw! Blushin', by crimustee!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert laid down his pen. He had learned by experience that, in Issy's
+      case, the maxim of the best defensive being a strong offensive was
+      absolutely true. He looked with concern about the office.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There's a window open somewhere, isn't there, Is?&rdquo; he inquired. &ldquo;There's
+      a dreadful draught anyhow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eh? Draught? I don't feel no draught. Course the window's open; it's
+      generally open in summer time, ain't it. Haw, haw!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There it is again! Where&mdash;Oh, <i>I</i> see! It's your mouth that's
+      open, Issy. That explains the draught, of course. Yes, yes, of course.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eh? My mouth! Never you mind my mouth. What you've got to think about is
+      that Eddie Raymond. Yes sir-ee! Haw, haw!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Issy, what makes you make that noise?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What noise?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That awful cawing. If you're trying to make me believe you're a crow
+      you're wasting your time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Say, look here, Al Speranzy, be you crazy?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No-o, I'M not. But in your case&mdash;well, I'll leave it to any
+      fair-minded person&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And so on until Mr. Price stamped disgustedly out of the office. It was
+      easy enough, and required nothing brilliant in the way of strategy or
+      repartee, to turn Issachar's attack into retreat. But all the rest of that
+      afternoon Albert was conscious of that peculiar feeling of uneasiness.
+      After supper that night he did not go down town at once but sat in his
+      room thinking deeply. The subjects of his thoughts were Edwin Raymond, the
+      young chap from New York, Yale, and &ldquo;The Neck&rdquo;&mdash;and Helen Kendall. He
+      succeeded only in thinking himself into an even more uneasy and unpleasant
+      state of mind. Then he walked moodily down to the post-office. He was a
+      little late for the mail and the laughing and chatting groups were already
+      coming back after its distribution. One such group he met was made up of
+      half a dozen young people on their way to the drug store for ices and
+      sodas. Helen was among them and with her was young Raymond. They called to
+      him to join them, but he pretended not to hear.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now, in all the years of their acquaintance it had not once occurred to
+      Albert Speranza that his interest in Helen Kendall was anything more than
+      that of a friend and comrade. He liked her, had enjoyed her society&mdash;when
+      he happened to be in the mood to wish society&mdash;and it pleased him to
+      feel that she was interested in his literary efforts and his career. She
+      was the only girl in South Harniss who would have &ldquo;talked turkey&rdquo; to him
+      as she had on the day of their adventure at High Point Light and he rather
+      admired her for it. But in all his dreams of romantic attachments and
+      sentimental adventure, and he had such dreams of course, she had never
+      played a part. The heroines of these dreams were beautiful and mysterious
+      strangers, not daughters of Cape Cod clergymen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But now, thanks to Issy's mischievous hints, his feelings were in a
+      puzzled and uncomfortable state. He was astonished to find that he did not
+      relish the idea of Helen's being particularly interested in Ed Raymond.
+      He, himself, had not seen her as frequently of late, she having been busy
+      with her war work and he with his own interests. But that, according to
+      his view, was no reason why she should permit Raymond to become friendly
+      to the point of causing people to talk. He was not ready to admit that he
+      himself cared, in a sentimental way, for Helen, but he resented any other
+      fellow's daring to do so. And she should not have permitted it, either. As
+      a matter of fact, Alberto Miguel Carlos Speranza, hitherto reigning
+      undisputed king of hearts in South Harniss, was for the first time in his
+      imperial life feeling the pangs of jealousy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He stalked gloomily on to the post-office. Gertie Kendrick, on the arm of
+      Sam Thatcher, passed him and he did not even notice her. Gertie whispered
+      to Sam that he, Albert, was a big stuck-up nothing, but she looked back
+      over Sam's shoulder, nevertheless. Albert climbed the post-office steps
+      and walked over to the rack of letter boxes. The Snow box contained little
+      of interest to him, and he was turning away when he heard his name spoken.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good evening, Mr. Speranza,&rdquo; said a feminine voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert turned again, to find Jane Kelsey and another young lady, a
+      stranger, standing beside him. Miss Kelsey was one of South Harniss's
+      summer residents. The Kelsey &ldquo;cottage,&rdquo; which was larger by considerable
+      than the Snow house, was situated on the Bay Road, the most exclusive
+      section of the village. Once, and not so many years before, the Bay Road
+      was contemptuously referred to as &ldquo;Poverty Lane&rdquo; and dwellers along its
+      winding, weed-grown track vied with one another in shiftless shabbiness.
+      But now all shabbiness had disappeared and many-gabled &ldquo;cottages&rdquo; proudly
+      stood where the shanties of the Poverty Laners once humbly leaned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert had known Jane Kelsey for some time. They had met at one of the
+      hotel tea-dances during his second summer in South Harniss. He and she
+      were not intimate friends exactly, her mother saw to that, but they were
+      well acquainted. She was short and piquant, had a nose which freckled in
+      the Cape Cod sunshine, and she talked and laughed easily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good evening, Mr. Speranza,&rdquo; she said, again. &ldquo;You looked so very forlorn
+      I couldn't resist speaking. Do tell us why you are so sad; we're dying to
+      know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert, taken by surprise, stammered that he didn't know that he was sad.
+      Miss Kelsey laughed merrily and declared that everyone who saw him knew it
+      at once. &ldquo;Oh, excuse me, Madeline,&rdquo; she added. &ldquo;I forgot that you and Mr.
+      Speranza had not met. Of course as you're going to live in South Harniss
+      you must know him without waiting another minute. Everybody knows
+      everybody down here. He is Albert Speranza&mdash;and we sometimes call him
+      Albert because here everybody calls everyone else by their first names.
+      There, now you know each other and it's all very proper and formal.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The young lady who was her companion smiled. The smile was distinctly
+      worth looking at, as was the young lady herself, for that matter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I doubt if Mr. Speranza knows me very well, Jane,&rdquo; she observed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Doesn't know you! Why, you silly thing, haven't I just introduced you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I don't know much about South Harniss introductions, but isn't it
+      customary to mention names? You haven't told him mine.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Kelsey laughed in high delight. &ldquo;Oh, how perfectly ridiculous!&rdquo; she
+      exclaimed. &ldquo;Albert&mdash;Mr. Speranza, I mean&mdash;this is my friend Miss
+      Madeline Fosdick. She is from New York and she has decided to spend her
+      summers in South Harniss&mdash;which <i>I</i> consider very good judgment.
+      Her father is going to build a cottage for her to spend them in down on
+      the Bay Road on the hill at the corner above the Inlet. But of course
+      you've heard of THAT!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Of course he had. The purchase of the Inlet Hill land by Fletcher Fosdick,
+      the New York banker, and the price paid Solomon Dadgett for that land, had
+      been the principal topics of conversation around South Harniss supper
+      tables for the past ten days. Captain Lote Snow had summed up local
+      opinion of the transaction when he said: &ldquo;We-ll, Sol Dadgett's been
+      talkin' in prayer-meetin' ever since I can remember about the comin' of
+      Paradise on earth. Judgin' by the price he got for the Inlet Hill sand
+      heap he must have cal'lated Paradise had got here and he was sellin' the
+      golden streets by the runnin' foot.&rdquo; Or, as Laban Keeler put it: &ldquo;They say
+      King Soloman was a wise man, but I guess likely 'twas a good thing for him
+      that Sol Dadgett wasn't alive in his time. King Sol would have needed all
+      his wisdom to keep Dadgett from talkin' him into buying the Jerusalem
+      salt-ma'sh to build the temple on. . . . Um. . . . Yes&mdash;yes&mdash;yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So Albert, as he shook hands with Miss Fosdick, regarded her with unusual
+      interest. And, judging by the way in which she looked at him, she too was
+      interested. After some minutes of the usual conventional summer-time chat
+      the young gentleman suggested that they adjourn to the drug store for
+      refreshments. The invitation was accepted, the vivacious Miss Kelsey
+      acting as spokesman&mdash;or spokeswoman&mdash;in the matter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think you must be a mind-reader, Mr. Speranza,&rdquo; she declared. &ldquo;I am
+      dying for a sundae and I have just discovered that I haven't my purse or a
+      penny with me. I should have been reduced to the humiliation of borrowing
+      from Madeline here, or asking that deaf old Burgess man to trust me until
+      to-morrow. And he is so frightfully deaf,&rdquo; she added in explanation, &ldquo;that
+      when I asked him the last time he made me repeat it until I thought I
+      should die of shame, or exhaustion, one or the other. Every time I shouted
+      he would say 'Hey?' and I was obliged to shout again. Of course, the place
+      was crowded, and&mdash;Oh, well, I don't like to even think about it.
+      Bless you, bless you, Albert Speranza! And do please let's hurry!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When they entered the drug store&mdash;it also sold, according to its
+      sign, &ldquo;Cigars, soda, ice-cream, patent medicines, candy, knick-knacks,
+      chewing gum, souvenirs and notions&rdquo;&mdash;the sextette of which Helen
+      Kendall made one was just leaving. She nodded pleasantly to Albert and he
+      nodded in return, but Ed Raymond's careless bow he did not choose to see.
+      He had hitherto rather liked that young gentleman; now he felt a sudden
+      but violent detestation for him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sundaes pleasant to the palate and disastrous to all but youthful
+      digestions were ordered. Albert's had a slight flavor of gall and
+      wormwood, but he endeavored to counterbalance this by the sweetness
+      derived from the society of Jane Kelsey and her friend. His conversation
+      was particularly brilliant and sparkling that evening. Jane laughed much
+      and chatted more. Miss Fosdick was quieter, but she, too, appeared to be
+      enjoying herself. Jane demanded to know how the poems were developing. She
+      begged him to have an inspiration now&mdash;&ldquo;Do, PLEASE, so that Madeline
+      and I can see you.&rdquo; It seemed to be her idea that having an inspiration
+      was similar to having a fit. Miss Fosdick laughed at this, but she
+      declared that she adored poetry and specified certain poems which were
+      objects of her especial adoration. The conversation thereafter became what
+      Miss Kelsey described as &ldquo;high brow,&rdquo; and took the form of a dialogue
+      between Miss Fosdick and Albert. It was interrupted by the arrival of the
+      Kelsey limousine, which rolled majestically up to the drug store steps.
+      Jane spied it first.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, mercy me, here's mother!&rdquo; she exclaimed. &ldquo;And your mother, too,
+      Madeline. We are tracked to our lair. . . . No, no, Mr. Speranza, you
+      mustn't go out. No, really, we had rather you wouldn't. Thanks, ever so
+      much, for the sundaes. Come, Madeline.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Fosdick held out her hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you, Mr. Speranza,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I have enjoyed our poetry talk SO
+      much. It must be wonderful to write as you do. Good night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She looked admiringly into his eyes as she said it. In spite of the gall
+      and wormwood Albert found it not at all unpleasant to be looked at in that
+      way by a girl like Madeline Fosdick. His reflections on that point were
+      interrupted by a voice from the car.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come, Madeline, come,&rdquo; it said, fussily. &ldquo;What ARE you waiting for?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert caught a glimpse of a majestic figure which, seated beside Mrs.
+      Kelsey on the rear seat of the limousine, towered above that short, plump
+      lady as a dreadnaught towers above a coal barge. He surmised this figure
+      to be that of the maternal Fosdick. Madeline climbed in beside her parent
+      and the limousine rolled away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert's going-to-bed reflections that evening were divided in flavor,
+      like a fruit sundae, a combination of sweet and sour. The sour was
+      furnished by thoughts of Edwin Raymond and Helen Kendall, the former's
+      presumption in daring to seek her society as he did, and Helen's amazing
+      silliness in permitting such a thing. The sweet, of course, was furnished
+      by a voice which repeated to his memory the words, &ldquo;It must be wonderful
+      to write as you do.&rdquo; Also the tone of that voice and the look in the eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Could he have been privileged to hear the closing bits of a conversation
+      which was taking place at that moment his reflections might have been
+      still further saccharined. Miss Jane Kelsey was saying: &ldquo;And NOW what do
+      you think of our Cape Cod poet? Didn't I promise you to show you something
+      you couldn't find on Fifth Avenue?&rdquo; And to this Miss Madeline Fosdick made
+      reply: &ldquo;I think he is the handsomest creature I ever saw. And so clever!
+      Why, he is wonderful, Jane! How in the world does he happen to be living
+      here&mdash;all the time?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It is perhaps, on the whole, a good thing that Albert Speranza could not
+      hear this. It is certainly a good thing that Captain Zelotes Snow did not
+      hear it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And although the balance of sweet and sour in Albert's mind that night was
+      almost even, the sour predominated next day and continued to predominate.
+      Issachar Price had sowed the seed of jealousy in the mind of the assistant
+      bookkeeper of Z. Snow and Company, and that seed took root and grew as it
+      is only too likely to do under such circumstances. That evening Albert
+      walked again to the post-office. Helen was not there, neither was Miss
+      Kelsey or Miss Fosdick. He waited for a time and then determined to call
+      at the Kendall home, something he had not done for some time. As he came
+      up to the front walk, between the arbor-vitae hedges, he saw that the
+      parlor windows were alight. The window shade was but partially drawn and
+      beneath it he could see into the room. Helen was seated at the piano and
+      Edwin Raymond was standing beside her, ready to turn the page of her
+      music.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert whirled on his heel and walked out of the yard and down the street
+      toward his own home. His attitude of mind was a curious one. He had a mind
+      to wait until Raymond left and then go into the Kendall parlor and demand
+      of Helen to know what she meant by letting that fellow make such a fool of
+      himself. What right had he&mdash;Raymond&mdash;to call upon her, and turn
+      her music and&mdash;and set the whole town talking? Why&mdash;Oh, he could
+      think of many things to ask and say. The trouble was that the saying of
+      them would, he felt sure, be distinctly bad diplomacy on his part. No one&mdash;not
+      even he&mdash;could talk to Helen Kendall in that fashion; not unless he
+      wished it to be their final conversation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So he went home, to fret and toss angrily and miserably half the night. He
+      had never before considered himself in the slightest degree in love with
+      Helen, but he had taken for granted the thought that she liked him better
+      than anyone else. Now he was beginning to fear that perhaps she did not,
+      and, with his temperament, wounded vanity and poetic imagination supplied
+      the rest. Within a fortnight he considered himself desperately in love
+      with her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      During this fortnight he called at the parsonage, the Kendall home,
+      several times. On the first of these occasions the Reverend Mr. Kendall,
+      having just completed a sermon dealing with the war and, being full of his
+      subject, read the said sermon to his daughter and to Albert. The reading
+      itself lasted for three-quarters of an hour and Mr. Kendall's
+      post-argument and general dissertation on German perfidy another hour
+      after that. By that time it was late and Albert went home. The second call
+      was even worse, for Ed Raymond called also and the two young men glowered
+      at each other until ten o'clock. They might have continued to glower
+      indefinitely, for neither meant to leave before the other, but Helen
+      announced that she had some home-study papers to look over and she knew
+      they would excuse her under the circumstances. On that hint they departed
+      simultaneously, separating at the gate and walking with deliberate dignity
+      in opposite directions.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At his third attempt, however, Albert was successful to the extent that
+      Helen was alone when he called and there was no school work to interrupt.
+      But in no other respect was the interview satisfactory. All that week he
+      had been boiling with the indignation of the landed proprietor who
+      discovers a trespasser on his estate, and before this call was fifteen
+      minutes old his feelings had boiled over.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What IS the matter with you, Al?&rdquo; asked Helen. &ldquo;Do tell me and let's see
+      if I can't help you out of your trouble.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her visitor flushed. &ldquo;Trouble?&rdquo; he repeated, stiffly. &ldquo;I don't know what
+      you mean.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh yes, do. You must. What IS the matter?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is nothing the matter with me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nonsense! Of course there is. You have scarcely spoken a word of your own
+      accord since you came, and you have been scowling like a thundercloud all
+      the time. Now what is it? Have I done something you don't like?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is nothing the matter, I tell you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Please don't be so silly. Of course there is. I thought there must be
+      something wrong the last time you were here, that evening, when Ed called,
+      too. It seemed to me that you were rather queer then. Now you are queerer
+      still. What is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This straightforward attack, although absolutely characteristic of Helen,
+      was disconcerting. Albert met it by an attack of his own.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Helen,&rdquo; he demanded, &ldquo;what does that Raymond fellow mean by coming to see
+      you as he does?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Now whether or not Helen was entirely in the dark as to the cause of her
+      visitor's &ldquo;queerness&rdquo; is a question not to be answered here. She was far
+      from being a stupid young person and it is at least probable that she may
+      have guessed a little of the truth. But, being feminine, she did not
+      permit Albert to guess that she had guessed. If her astonishment at the
+      question was not entirely sincere, it certainly appeared to be so.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What does he mean?&rdquo; she repeated. &ldquo;What does he mean by coming to see me?
+      Why, what do YOU mean? I should think that was the question. Why shouldn't
+      he come to see me, pray?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Now Albert has a dozen reasons in his mind, each of which was to him
+      sufficiently convincing. But expressing those reasons to Helen Kendall he
+      found singularly difficult. He grew confused and stammered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well&mdash;well, because he has no business to come here so much,&rdquo; was
+      the best he could do. Helen, strange to say, was not satisfied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Has no business to?&rdquo; she repeated. &ldquo;Why, of course he has. I asked him to
+      come.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You did? Good heavens, you don't LIKE him, do you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course I like him. I think he is a very nice fellow. Don't you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I don't.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well&mdash;well, because I don't, that's all. He has no business to
+      monopolize you all the time. Why, he is here about every night in the
+      week, or you're out with him, down town, or&mdash;or somewhere. Everybody
+      is talking about it and&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wait a minute, please. You say everybody is talking about Ed Raymond and
+      me. What do you mean by that? What are they saying?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They're saying. . . . Oh, they're saying you and he are&mdash;are&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are what?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are&mdash;are&mdash;Oh, they're saying all sorts of things. Look here,
+      Helen, I&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wait! I want to know more about this. What have you heard said about me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, a lot of things. . . . That is&mdash;er&mdash;well, nothing in
+      particular, perhaps, but&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wait! Who have you heard saying it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, never mind! Helen&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I do mind. Who have you heard saying this 'lot of things' about me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nobody, I tell you. . . . Oh, well, if you must know, Issy Price said&mdash;well,
+      he said you and this Raymond fellow were what he called 'keeping company'
+      and&mdash;and that the whole town was talking about it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She slowly shook her head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Issy Price!&rdquo; she repeated. &ldquo;And you listened to what Issy Price said.
+      Issy Price, of all people!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well&mdash;well, he said everyone else said the same thing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did he say more than that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, but that was enough, wasn't it. Besides, the rest was plain. I could
+      see it myself. He is calling here about every night in the week, and&mdash;and
+      being around everywhere with you and&mdash;and&mdash;Oh, anyone can see!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen's usually placid temper was beginning to ruffle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;then they may see. Why shouldn't he call here if
+      he wishes&mdash;and I wish? Why shouldn't I be 'around with him,' as you
+      say? Why not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, because I don't like it. It isn't the right thing for you to do.
+      You ought to be more careful of&mdash;of what people say.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He realized, almost as soon as this last sentence was blurted out, the
+      absolute tactlessness of it. The quiet gleam of humor he had so often
+      noticed in Helen's eyes was succeeded now by a look he had never before
+      seen there.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I'm sorry,&rdquo; he added, hastily. &ldquo;I beg your pardon, Helen. I didn't
+      mean to say that. Forgive me, will you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She did not answer immediately. Then she said, &ldquo;I don't know whether I
+      shall or not. I think I shall have to think it over. And perhaps you had
+      better go now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I'M sorry, Helen. It was a fool thing to say. I don't know why I was
+      such an idiot. Do forgive me; come!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She slowly shook her head. &ldquo;I can't&mdash;yet,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;And this you
+      must understand: If Ed Raymond, or anyone else, calls on me and I choose
+      to permit it, or if I choose to go out with him anywhere at any time, that
+      is my affair and not 'everyone else's'&mdash;which includes Issachar
+      Price. And my FRIENDS&mdash;my real friends&mdash;will not listen to mean,
+      ridiculous gossip. Good night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So that was the end of that attempt at asserting the Divine Right by the
+      South Harniss king of hearts. Albert was more miserable than ever, angrier
+      than ever&mdash;not only at Raymond and Helen, but at himself&mdash;and
+      his newly-discovered jealousy burned with a brighter and greener flame.
+      The idea of throwing everything overboard, going to Canada and enlisting
+      in the Canadian Army&mdash;an idea which had had a strong and alluring
+      appeal ever since the war broke out&mdash;came back with redoubled force.
+      But there was the agreement with his grandfather. He had given his word;
+      how could he break it? Besides, to go away and leave his rival with a
+      clear field did not appeal to him, either.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On a Wednesday evening in the middle of September the final social event
+      of the South Harniss summer season was to take place. The Society for the
+      Relief of the French Wounded was to give a dance in the ballroom of the
+      hotel, the proceeds from the sale of tickets to be devoted to the purpose
+      defined by the name of this organization. Every last member of the summer
+      colony was to attend, of course, and all those of the permanent residents
+      who aspired to social distinction and cared to pay the high price of
+      admission.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert was going, naturally. That is, he had at first planned to go, then&mdash;after
+      the disastrous call at the parsonage&mdash;decided that he would go under
+      no circumstances, and at the last changed his mind once more to the
+      affirmative. Miss Madeline Fosdick, Jane Kelsey's friend, was responsible
+      for the final change. She it was who had sold him his ticket and urged him
+      to be present. He and she had met several times since the first meeting at
+      the post-office. Usually when they met they talked concerning poetry and
+      kindred lofty topics. Albert liked Miss Fosdick. It is hard not to like a
+      pretty, attractive young lady who takes such a flattering interest in
+      one's aspirations and literary efforts. The &ldquo;high brow chit-chats&rdquo;&mdash;quoting
+      Miss Kelsey again&mdash;were pleasant in many ways; for instance, they
+      were in the nature of a tonic for weakened self-esteem, and the Speranza
+      self-esteem was suffering just at this time, from shock.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert had, when he first heard that the dance was to take place, intended
+      inviting Helen to accompany him. He had taken her acceptance for granted,
+      he having acted as her escort to so many dances and social affairs. So he
+      neglected inviting her and then came Issy's mischief-making remarks and
+      the trouble which followed. So, as inviting her was out of the question,
+      he resolved not to attend, himself. But Miss Fosdick urged so prettily
+      that he bought his ticket and promised to be among those present.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Provided, of course,&rdquo; he ventured, being in a reckless mood, &ldquo;that you
+      save me at least four dances.&rdquo; She raised her brows in mock dismay.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, my goodness!&rdquo; she exclaimed. &ldquo;I'm afraid I couldn't do that. Four is
+      much too many. One I will promise, but no more.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      However, as he persisted, she yielded another. He was to have two dances
+      and, possibly an &ldquo;extra.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you are a lucky young man,&rdquo; declared Jane Kelsey, who had also
+      promised two. &ldquo;If you knew how many fellows have begged for just one. But,
+      of course,&rdquo; she added, &ldquo;THEY were not poets, second editions of Tennyson
+      and Keats and all that. It is Keats who was the poet, isn't it, Madeline?&rdquo;
+       she added, turning to her friend. &ldquo;Oh, I'm so glad I got it right the
+      first time. I'm always mixing him up with Watts, the man who invented the
+      hymns and wrote the steam-engine&mdash;or something.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Wednesday evening in the middle of September was a beautiful one and
+      the hotel was crowded. The Item, in its account the following week,
+      enumerating those present, spoke of &ldquo;Our new residents, Mrs. Fletcher
+      Story Fosdick and Miss Madeline Fosdick, who are to occupy the magnificent
+      residence now about being built on the Inlet Hill by their husband and
+      father, respectively, Fletcher Story Fosdick, Esquire, the well-known New
+      York banker.&rdquo; The phrasing of this news note caused much joy in South
+      Harniss, and the Item gained several new and hopeful subscribers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But when the gushing reporter responsible for this added that &ldquo;Miss
+      Fosdick was a dream of loveliness on this occasion&rdquo; he was stating only
+      the truth. She was very beautiful indeed and a certain young man who
+      stepped up to claim his first dance realized the fact. The said young man
+      was outwardly cool, but red-hot within, the internal rise in temperature
+      being caused by the sight of Helen Kendall crossing the floor arm in arm
+      with Edwin Raymond. Albert's face was white with anger, except for two red
+      spots on his cheeks, and his black eyes flashed. Consequently he, too, was
+      considered quite worth the looking at and feminine glances followed him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who is that handsome, foreign-looking fellow your friend is dancing
+      with?&rdquo; whispered one young lady, a guest at the hotel, to Miss Kelsey.
+      Jane told her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But he isn't a foreigner,&rdquo; she added. &ldquo;He lives here in South Harniss all
+      the year. He is a poet, I believe, and Madeline, who knows about such
+      things&mdash;inherits it from her mother, I suppose&mdash;says his poetry
+      is beautiful.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her companion watched the subject of their conversation as, with Miss
+      Fosdick, he moved lightly and surely through the crowd on the floor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He LOOKS like a poet,&rdquo; she said, slowly. &ldquo;He is wonderfully handsome, so
+      distinguished, and SUCH a dancer! But why should a poet live here&mdash;all
+      the year? Is that all he does for a living&mdash;write poetry?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Jane pretended not to hear her and, a masculine friend coming to claim his
+      dance, seized the opportunity to escape. However, another &ldquo;sitter out&rdquo;
+       supplied the information.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is a sort of assistant bookkeeper at the lumber yard by the railroad
+      station,&rdquo; said this person. &ldquo;His grandfather owns the place, I believe.
+      One would never guess it to look at him now. . . . Humph! I wonder if Mrs.
+      Fosdick knows. They say she is&mdash;well, not democratically inclined, to
+      say the least.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert had his two promised dances with Madeline Fosdick, but the &ldquo;extra&rdquo;
+       he did not obtain. Mrs. Fosdick, the ever watchful, had seen and made
+      inquiries. Then she called her daughter to her and issued an ultimatum.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am SO sorry,&rdquo; said the young lady, in refusing the plea for the
+      &ldquo;extra.&rdquo; &ldquo;I should like to, but I&mdash;but Mother has asked me to dance
+      with a friend of ours from home. I&mdash;I AM sorry, really.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She looked as if she meant it. Albert was sorry, too. This had been a
+      strange evening, another combination of sweet and sour. He glanced across
+      the floor and saw Helen and the inevitable Raymond emerge together from
+      the room where the refreshments were served. Raging jealousy seized him at
+      the sight. Helen had not been near him, had scarcely spoken to him since
+      his arrival. He forgot that he had not been near nor spoken to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He danced twice or thrice more with acquaintances, &ldquo;summer&rdquo; or permanent,
+      and then decided to go home. Madeline Fosdick he saw at the other end of
+      the room surrounded by a group of young masculinity. Helen he could not
+      see at the moment. He moved in the direction of the coatroom. Just as he
+      reached the door he was surprised to see Ed Raymond stride by him, head
+      down and looking anything but joyful. He watched and was still more
+      astonished to see the young man get his coat and hat from the attendant
+      and walk out of the hotel. He saw him stride away along the drive and down
+      the moonlit road. He was, apparently, going home&mdash;going home alone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He got his own coat and hat and, before putting them on, stepped back for
+      a final look at the ballroom. As he stood by the cloakroom door someone
+      touched his arm. Turning he saw Helen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why&mdash;why, Helen!&rdquo; he exclaimed, in surprise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you going home?&rdquo; she asked, in a low tone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you are going alone?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Would you mind&mdash;would it trouble you too much to walk with me as far
+      as our house?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why&mdash;why of course not. I shall be delighted. But I thought you&mdash;I
+      thought Ed Raymond&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I'm alone. Wait here; I will be ready in just a minute.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She hurried away. He gazed after her in bewilderment. She and he had
+      scarcely exchanged a word during the evening, and now, when the evening
+      was almost over, she came and asked him to be her escort. What in the wide
+      world&mdash;?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The minute she had specified had hardly elapsed when she reappeared, ready
+      for out of doors. She took his arm and they walked down the steps of the
+      hotel, past the group of lights at the head of the drive and along the
+      road, with the moon shining down upon it and the damp, salt breeze from
+      the ocean blowing across it. They walked for the first few minutes in
+      silence. There were a dozen questions he would have liked to ask, but his
+      jealous resentment had not entirely vanished and his pride forbade. It was
+      she who spoke first.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Albert,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;you must think this very odd.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He knew what she meant, but he did not choose to admit it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, my asking you to walk home with me, after&mdash;after our trouble.
+      It is strange, I suppose, particularly as you had not spoken before this
+      whole evening.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;<i>I</i>&mdash;spoken to YOU? Why, you bowed to me when I came into the
+      room and that was the only sign of recognition you gave me until just now.
+      Not a dance&mdash;not one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did you expect me to look you up and beg you to dance with me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did you expect me to trot at that fellow's heels and wait my chance to
+      get a word with you, to take what he left? I should say not! By George,
+      Helen, I&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She interrupted him. &ldquo;Hush, hush!&rdquo; she pleaded. &ldquo;This is all so silly, so
+      childish. And we mustn't quarrel any more. I have made up my mind to that.
+      We mustn't.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Humph! All right, <i>I</i> had no thought of quarreling in the beginning.
+      But there are some things a self-respecting chap can't stand. I have SOME
+      pride, I hope.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She caught her breath quickly. &ldquo;Do you think,&rdquo; she asked, &ldquo;that it was no
+      sacrifice to my pride to beg you to walk home with me? After&mdash;after
+      the things you said the other evening? Oh, Albert, how could you say
+      them!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well&mdash;&rdquo; he hesitated, and then added, &ldquo;I told you I was sorry.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, but you weren't really sorry. You must have believed the things that
+      hateful Issachar Price said or you wouldn't have repeated them. . . . Oh,
+      but never mind that now, I didn't mean to speak of it at all. I asked you
+      to walk home with me because I wanted to make up our quarrel. Yes, that
+      was it. I didn't want to go away and feel that you and I were not as good
+      friends as ever. So, you see, I put all MY pride to one side&mdash;and
+      asked.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      One phrase in one sentence of this speech caught and held the young man's
+      attention. He forgot the others.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are going away?&rdquo; he repeated. &ldquo;What do you mean? Where are you
+      going?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am going to Cambridge to study. I am going to take some courses at
+      Radcliffe. You know I told you I hoped to some day. Well, it has been
+      arranged. I am to live with my cousin, father's half sister in Somerville.
+      Father is well enough to leave now and I have engaged a capable woman,
+      Mrs. Peters, to help Maria with the housework. I am going Friday morning,
+      the day after to-morrow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He stopped short to stare at her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are going away?&rdquo; he asked, again. &ldquo;You are going to do that and&mdash;and&mdash;Why
+      didn't you tell me before?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a characteristic return to his attitude of outraged royalty. She
+      had made all these plans, had arranged to do this thing, and he had not
+      been informed. At another time Helen might have laughed at him; she
+      generally did when he became what she called the &ldquo;Grand Bashaw.&rdquo; She did
+      not laugh now, however, but answered quietly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I didn't know I was going to do it until a little more than a week ago,&rdquo;
+       she said. &ldquo;And I have not seen you since then.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, you've been too busy seeing someone else.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She lost patience for the instant. &ldquo;Oh, don't, don't, don't!&rdquo; she cried.
+      &ldquo;I know who you mean, of course. You mean Ed Raymond. Don't you know why
+      he has been at the house so much of late? Why he and I have been so much
+      together? Don't you really know?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What? . . . No, I don't&mdash;except that you and he wanted to be
+      together.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And it didn't occur to you that there might be some other reason? You
+      forgot, I suppose, that he and I were appointed on the Ticket Committee
+      for this very dance?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He had forgotten it entirely. Now he remembered perfectly the meeting of
+      the French Relief Society at which the appointment had been made. In fact
+      Helen herself had told him of it at the time. For the moment he was
+      staggered, but he rallied promptly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Committee meetings may do as an excuse for some things,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;but
+      they don't explain the rest&mdash;his calls here every other evening and&mdash;and
+      so on. Honest now, Helen, you know he hasn't been running after you in
+      this way just because he is on that committee with you; now don't you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They were almost at the parsonage. The light from Mr. Kendall's study
+      window shone through the leaves of the lilac bush behind the white fence.
+      Helen started to speak, but hesitated. He repeated his question.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now don't you?&rdquo; he urged.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, why, yes, I suppose I do,&rdquo; she said, slowly. &ldquo;I do know&mdash;now.
+      But I didn't even think of such a thing until&mdash;until you came that
+      evening and told me what Issy Price said.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mean you didn't guess at all?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well&mdash;well, perhaps I&mdash;I thought he liked to come&mdash;liked
+      to&mdash;Oh, what is the use of being silly! I did think he liked to call,
+      but only as a friend. He was jolly and lots of fun and we were both fond
+      of music. I enjoyed his company. I never dreamed that there was anything
+      more than that until you came and were so&mdash;disagreeable. And even
+      then I didn't believe&mdash;until to-night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Again she hesitated. &ldquo;To-night?&rdquo; he repeated. &ldquo;What happened to-night?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh nothing. I can't tell you. Oh, why can't friends be friends and not. .
+      . . That is why I spoke to you, Albert, why I wanted to have this talk
+      with you. I was going away so soon and I couldn't bear to go with any
+      unfriendliness between us. There mustn't be. Don't you see?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He heard but a part of this. The memory of Raymond's face as he had seen
+      it when the young man strode out of the cloakroom and out of the hotel
+      came back to him and with it a great heart-throbbing sense of relief, of
+      triumph. He seized her hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Helen,&rdquo; he cried, &ldquo;did he&mdash;did you tell him&mdash;Oh, by George,
+      Helen, you're the most wonderful girl in the world! I'm&mdash;I&mdash;Oh,
+      Helen, you know I&mdash;I&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was not his habit to be at a loss for words, but he was just then. He
+      tried to retain her hand, to put his arm about her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Helen!&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;You're wonderful! You're splendid! I'm crazy about
+      you! I really am! I&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She pushed him gently away. &ldquo;Don't! Please don't!&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Oh, don't!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I must. Don't you see I. . . . Why, you're crying!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her face had, for a moment, been upturned. The moon at that moment had
+      slipped behind a cloud, but the lamplight from the window had shown him
+      the tears in her eyes. He was amazed. He could have shouted, have laughed
+      aloud from joy or triumphant exultation just then, but to weep! What
+      occasion was there for tears, except on Ed Raymond's part?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You're crying!&rdquo; he repeated. &ldquo;Why, Helen&mdash;!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't!&rdquo; she said, again. &ldquo;Oh, don't! Please don't talk that way.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But don't you want me to, Helen? I&mdash;I want you to know how I feel.
+      You don't understand. I&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hush! . . . Don't, Al, don't, please. Don't talk in that way. I don't
+      want you to.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But why not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, because I don't. It's&mdash;it is foolish. You're only a boy, you
+      know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A boy! I'm more than a year older than you are.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you? Why yes, I suppose you are, really. But that doesn't make any
+      difference. I guess girls are older than boys when they are our age, lots
+      older.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, bother all that! We aren't kids, either of us. I want you to listen.
+      You don't understand what I'm trying to say.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I do. But I'm sure you don't. You are glad because you have found
+      you have no reason to be jealous of Ed Raymond and that makes you say&mdash;foolish
+      things. But I'm not going to have our friendship spoiled in that way. I
+      want us to be real friends, always. So you mustn't be silly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm not silly. Helen, if you won't listen to anything else, will you
+      listen to this? Will you promise me that while you are away you won't have
+      other fellows calling on you or&mdash;or anything like that? And I'll
+      promise you that I'll have nothing to say to another girl&mdash;in any way
+      that counts, I mean. Shall we promise each other that, Helen? Come!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She paused for some moment before answering, but her reply, when it came,
+      was firm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;I don't think we should promise anything, except to
+      remain friends. You might promise and then be sorry, later.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;<i>I</i> might? How about you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps we both might. So we won't take the risk. You may come and see me
+      to-morrow evening and say good-by, if you like. But you mustn't stay long.
+      It is my last night with father for some time and I mustn't cheat him out
+      of it. Good night, Albert. I'm so glad our misunderstanding is over,
+      aren't you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course I am. But, Helen&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I must go in now. Good night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The reflections of Alberto Speranza during his walk back to the Snow place
+      were varied but wonderful. He thought of Raymond's humiliation and gloried
+      in it. He thought of Helen and rhapsodized. And if, occasionally, he
+      thought also of the dance and of Madeline Fosdick, forgive him. He was
+      barely twenty-one and the moon was shining.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER IX
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      The good-by call the following evening was, to him at least, not very
+      satisfactory. Helen was tired, having been busy all day with the final
+      preparations for leaving, and old Mr. Kendall insisted on being present
+      during the entire visit and in telling long and involved stories of the
+      trip abroad he had made when a young man and the unfavorable opinion which
+      he had then formed of Prussians as traveling companions. Albert's opinion
+      of Prussians was at least as unfavorable as his own, but his complete and
+      even eager agreement with each of the old gentleman's statements did not
+      have the effect of choking the latter off, but rather seemed to act as
+      encouragement for more. When ten o'clock came and it was time to go Albert
+      felt as if he had been listening to a lecture on the Hohenzollerns. &ldquo;Great
+      Scott, Helen,&rdquo; he whispered, as she came to the door with him, &ldquo;I don't
+      feel as if I had talked with you a minute. Why, I scarcely&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But just here Mr. Kendall came hurrying from the sitting-room to tell of
+      one incident which he had hitherto forgotten, and so even this brief
+      interval of privacy was denied. But Albert made one more attempt.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm going to run over to the station to-morrow morning to see you off,&rdquo;
+       he called from the gate. &ldquo;Good night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The morning train left at nine o'clock, and at a quarter to nine Albert,
+      who had kept his eye on the clock ever since eight, his hour of arriving
+      at the office, called to Mr. Price.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I say,&rdquo; he said, in a low tone and one as casual as he could assume, &ldquo;I
+      am going to run out for a few minutes. I'll be right back.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Issachar's response was as usual anything but low.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eh?&rdquo; he shouted. &ldquo;Goin' out? Where you goin'?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I'm just going out&mdash;er&mdash;on an errand.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What kind of an errand? I was cal'latin' to run out myself for a little
+      spell. Can't I do your errand for you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no. . . There, there, don't bother me any more. I'm in a hurry.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hurry! So'm I in a hurry. I was cal'latin' to run acrost to the deepo and
+      see Helen Kendall start for Boston. She's goin' this morning; did you know
+      it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Before the somewhat flustered assistant bookkeeper could reply Captain
+      Zelotes called from the inner office:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wouldn't wonder if that was where Al was bound, too,&rdquo; he observed. &ldquo;And I
+      was thinkin' of the same thing. Suppose we all go together. Labe'll keep
+      shop, won't you, Labe?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Keeler looked over his spectacles. &ldquo;Eh?&rdquo; he observed. &ldquo;Oh, yes, yes .
+      . . yes, yes, yes. And say good-by to Helen for me, some of you, if you
+      happen to think of it. Not that 'twill make much difference to her,&rdquo; he
+      added, &ldquo;whether she gets my good-bys or not, but it might make some to me.
+      . . . Um, yes, yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Price was eager to oblige.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll tell her you sent 'em, Labe,&rdquo; he said, patronizingly. &ldquo;Set your mind
+      to rest; I'll tell her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Laban's lip twitched. &ldquo;Much obliged, Is,&rdquo; he chirruped. &ldquo;That's a great
+      relief! My mind's rested some already.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So, instead of going alone to the railway station, Albert made one of a
+      delegation of three. And at the station was Mr. Kendall, and two of the
+      school committee, and one or two members of the church sewing circle, and
+      the president and secretary of the Society for the Relief of the French
+      Wounded. So far from being an intimate confidential farewell, Helen's
+      departure was in the nature of a public ceremony with speech-making. Mr.
+      Price made most of the speeches, in fact the lower portion of his
+      countenance was in violent motion most of the ten minutes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Take care of yourself, Helen,&rdquo; he urged loudly. &ldquo;Don't you worry about
+      your pa, we'll look out for him. And don't let none of them Boston fellers
+      carry you off. We'll watch and see that Eddie Raymond and Al here don't
+      get into mischief while you're gone. I . . . Crimustee! Jim Young, what in
+      time's the matter with you? Can't ye see nothin'?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This last outburst was directed at the driver of the depot-wagon, who,
+      wheeling a trunk on a baggage truck, had bumped violently into the rear of
+      Mr. Price's legs, just at the knee joint, causing their owner to bend
+      backward unexpectedly, and with enthusiasm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can't you see nothin' when it's right in front of ye?&rdquo; demanded Issachar,
+      righteously indignant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Jim Young winked over his shoulder at Albert. &ldquo;Sorry, Is,&rdquo; he said, as he
+      continued toward the baggage car. &ldquo;I didn't notice you WAS in front of
+      me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then, you'd better. . . . Eh? See here, what do you mean by that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Even after Mr. Price had thus been pushed out of the foreground, so to
+      speak, Albert was denied the opportunity of taking his place by Helen's
+      side. Her father had a few last messages to deliver, then Captain Zelotes
+      shook her hand and talked for a moment, and, after that, the ladies of the
+      sewing circle and the war work society felt it their duty to, severally
+      and jointly, kiss her good-by. This last was a trying operation to watch.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the engine bell rang and the train began to move. Albert, running
+      beside the platform of the last car, held up his hand for a farewell
+      clasp.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good-by,&rdquo; he said, and added in a whisper, &ldquo;You'll write, won't you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course. And so must you. Good-by.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The last car and the handkerchief waving figure on its platform
+      disappeared around the curve. The little group by the station broke up.
+      Albert and his grandfather walked over to the office together.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There goes a good girl, Al,&rdquo; was Captain Lote's only comment. &ldquo;A mighty
+      good capable girl.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert nodded. A moment later he lifted his hat to a group in a passing
+      automobile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who were those folks?&rdquo; asked the Captain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Fosdicks,&rdquo; was the reply. &ldquo;The people who are going to build down by
+      the Inlet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was Madeline and her mother. The latter had been serenely indifferent,
+      but the young lady had smiled and bowed behind the maternal shoulders.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh; that so?&rdquo; observed Captain Zelotes, looking after the flying car with
+      interest. &ldquo;That's who 'tis, eh? Nice lookin', the young one, ain't she?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert did not answer. With the noise of the train which was carrying
+      Helen out of his life still ringing in his ears it seemed wicked even to
+      mention another girl's name, to say nothing of commenting upon her good
+      looks. For the rest of that day he was a gloomy spirit, a dark shadow in
+      the office of Z. Snow and Co.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Before the end of another fortnight the season at South Harniss was
+      definitely over. The hotel closed on the Saturday following the dance, and
+      by October first the last of the cottages was locked and shuttered. The
+      Kelseys went on the twentieth and the Fosdicks went with them. Albert met
+      Madeline and Jane at the post-office in the evening of the nineteenth and
+      there more farewells were said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't forget us down here in the sand, will you?&rdquo; he suggested to Miss
+      Fosdick. It was Jane Kelsey who answered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, she won't forget,&rdquo; returned that young lady. &ldquo;Why she has your
+      photograph to remember you by.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline colored becomingly and was, as Jane described it, &ldquo;awfully
+      fussed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nonsense!&rdquo; she exclaimed, with much indignation, &ldquo;I haven't any such
+      thing. You know I haven't, Jane.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, you have, my dear. You have a photograph of him standing in front of
+      the drug store and looking dreamily in at&mdash;at the strawberry sundaes.
+      It is a most romantic pose, really.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert laughed. He remembered the photograph. It was one of a series of
+      snapshots taken with Miss Kelsey's camera one Saturday afternoon when a
+      party of young people had met in front of the sundae dispensary. Jane had
+      insisted on &ldquo;snapping&rdquo; everyone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That reminds me that I have never seen the rest of those photographs,&rdquo; he
+      said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Haven't you?&rdquo; exclaimed Jane. &ldquo;Well, you ought to see them. I have
+      Madeline's with me. It is a dream, if I do say it as I took it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She produced the snapshot, which showed her friend standing beside the
+      silver-leaf tree before the druggist's window and smiling at the camera.
+      It was a good likeness and, consequently, a very pretty picture.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Isn't it a dream, just as I said?&rdquo; demanded the artist. &ldquo;Honest now,
+      isn't it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert of course declared it to be beyond praise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;May I have this one?&rdquo; he asked, on the impulse of the moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't ask me, stupid,&rdquo; commanded Jane, mischievously. &ldquo;It isn't my
+      funeral&mdash;or my portrait, either.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;May I?&rdquo; he repeated, turning to Madeline. She hesitated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why&mdash;why yes, you may, if you care for it,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;That
+      particular one is Jane's, anyway, and if she chooses to give it away I
+      don't see how I can prevent her. But why you should want the old thing I
+      can't conceive. I look as stiff and wooden as a sign-post.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Jane held up a protesting finger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fibs, fibs, fibs,&rdquo; she observed. &ldquo;Can't conceive why he should want it!
+      As if you weren't perfectly aware that he will wear it next his heart and&mdash;Oh,
+      don't put it in THAT pocket! I said next your heart, and that isn't on
+      your RIGHT side.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert took the photograph home and stuck it between the frame and glass
+      of his bureau. Then came a sudden remembrance of his parting with Helen
+      and with it a twinge of conscience. He had begged her to have nothing to
+      do with any other fellow. True she had refused to promise and consequently
+      he also was unbound, but that made no difference&mdash;should not make
+      any. So he put the photograph at the back of the drawer where he kept his
+      collars and ties, with a resolve never to look at it. He did not look at
+      it&mdash;very often.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then came another long winter. He ground away at the bookkeeping&mdash;he
+      was more proficient at it, but he hated it as heartily as ever&mdash;and
+      wrote a good deal of verse and some prose. For the first time he sold a
+      prose article, a short story, to a minor magazine. He wrote long letters
+      to Helen and she replied. She was studying hard, she liked her work, and
+      she had been offered the opportunity to tutor in a girls' summer camp in
+      Vermont during July and August and meant to accept provided her father's
+      health continued good. Albert protested violently against her being absent
+      from South Harniss for so long. &ldquo;You will scarcely be home at all,&rdquo; he
+      wrote. &ldquo;I shall hardly see you. What am I going to do? As it is now I miss
+      you&mdash;&rdquo; and so on for four closely written pages. Having gotten into
+      the spirit of composition he, so to speak, gloried in his loneliness, so
+      much so that Helen was moved to remonstrate. &ldquo;Your letter made me almost
+      miserable,&rdquo; she wrote, &ldquo;until I had read it over twice. Then I began to
+      suspect that you were enjoying your wretchedness, or enjoying writing
+      about it. I truly don't believe anyone&mdash;you especially&mdash;could be
+      quite as lonesome as all that. Honestly now, Albert, weren't you
+      exaggerating a little? I rather think you were?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He had been, of course, but it irritated him to think that she recognized
+      the fact. She had an uncanny faculty of seeing through his every pretense.
+      In his next letter he said nothing whatever about being lonesome.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At home, and at the office, the war was what people talked about most of
+      the time. Since the Lusitania's sinking Captain Zelotes had been a battle
+      charger chafing at the bit. He wanted to fight and to fight at once.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We've got to do it, Mother,&rdquo; he declared, over and over again. &ldquo;Sooner or
+      later we've got to fight that Kaiser gang. What are we waitin' for; will
+      somebody tell me that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Olive, as usual, was mild and unruffled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Probably the President knows as much about it as you and me, Zelotes,&rdquo;
+       she suggested. &ldquo;I presume likely he has his own reasons.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Humph! When Seth Bassett got up in the night and took a drink out of the
+      bottle of Paris Green by mistake 'Bial Cahoon asked him what in time he
+      kept Paris Green in his bedroom for, anyhow. All that Seth would say was
+      that he had his own reasons. The rest of the town was left to guess what
+      those reasons was. That's what the President's doin'&mdash;keepin' us
+      guessin'. By the everlastin', if I was younger I'd ship aboard a British
+      lime-juicer and go and fight, myself!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was Rachel Ellis who caused the Captain to be a bit more restrained in
+      his remarks.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You hadn't ought to talk that way, Cap'n Lote,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Not when
+      Albert's around, you hadn't.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eh? Why not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because the first thing you know he'll be startin' for Canada to enlist.
+      He's been crazy to do it for 'most a year.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He has? How do you know he has?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because he's told me so, more'n once.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her employer looked at her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Humph!&rdquo; he grunted. &ldquo;He seems to tell you a good many things he doesn't
+      tell the rest of us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The housekeeper nodded. &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she said gravely, &ldquo;I shouldn't wonder if he
+      did.&rdquo; A moment later she added, &ldquo;Cap'n Lote, you will be careful, won't
+      you? You wouldn't want Al to go off and leave Z. Snow and Company when him
+      and you are gettin' on so much better. You ARE gettin' on better, ain't
+      you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The captain pulled at his beard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he admitted, &ldquo;seems as if we was. He ain't any wonder at
+      bookkeepin', but he's better'n he used to be; and he does seem to try
+      hard, I'll say that for him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rachael beamed gratification. &ldquo;He'll be a Robert Penfold yet,&rdquo; she
+      declared; &ldquo;see if he isn't. So you musn't encourage him into enlistin' in
+      the Canadian army. You wouldn't want him to do that any more'n the rest of
+      us would.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The captain gazed intently into the bowl of the pipe which he had been
+      cleaning. He made no answer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You wouldn't want him to do that, would you?&rdquo; repeated the housekeeper.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Lote blew through the pipe stem. Then he said, &ldquo;No, I wouldn't . .
+      . but I'm darn glad he's got the spunk to WANT to do it. We may get that
+      Portygee streak out of him, poetry and all, give us time; eh, Rachael?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was the first time in months that he had used the word &ldquo;Portygee&rdquo; in
+      connection with his grandson. Mrs. Ellis smiled to herself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In April the arbutus buds began to appear above the leaf mold between the
+      scrub oaks in the woods, and the walls of Fletcher Fosdick's new summer
+      home began to rise above the young pines on the hill by the Inlet in the
+      Bay Road. The Item kept its readers informed, by weekly installments, of
+      the progress made by the builders.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The lumber for Mr. Fletcher Fosdick's new cottage is beginning to be
+      hauled to his property on Inlet Hill in this town. Our enterprising firm
+      of South Harniss dealers, Z. Snow &amp; Co., are furnishing said lumber.
+      Mr. Nehemiah Nickerson is to do the mason work. Mr. Fosdick shows good
+      judgment as well as a commendable spirit in engaging local talent in this
+      way. We venture to say he will never regret it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A week later:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Fletcher Fosdick's new residence is beginning building, the foundation
+      being pretty near laid.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And the following week:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Fosdick mansion is growing fast. South Harniss may well be proud of
+      its new ornament.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The rise in three successive numbers from &ldquo;cottage&rdquo; to &ldquo;mansion&rdquo; is
+      perhaps sufficient to indicate that the Fosdick summer home was to be, as
+      Issachar Price described it, &ldquo;Some considerable house! Yes sir, by crimus,
+      some considerable!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In June, Helen came home for a week. At the end of the week she left to
+      take up her new duties at the summer camp for girls in Vermont. Albert and
+      she were together a good deal during that week. Anticipating her arrival,
+      the young man's ardent imagination had again fanned what he delighted to
+      think of as his love for her into flame. During the last months of the
+      winter he had not played the languishing swain as conscientiously as
+      during the autumn. Like the sailor in the song &ldquo;is 'eart was true to Poll&rdquo;
+       always, but he had broken away from his self-imposed hermitage in his room
+      at the Snow place several times to attend sociables, entertainments and,
+      even, dances. Now, when she returned he was eagerly awaiting her and would
+      have haunted the parsonage before and after working hours of every day as
+      well as the evening, if she had permitted, and when with her assumed a
+      proprietary air which was so obvious that even Mr. Price felt called upon
+      to comment on it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Say, Al,&rdquo; drawled Issachar, &ldquo;cal'late you've cut out Eddie Raymond along
+      with Helen, ain't ye? Don't see him hangin' around any since she got back,
+      and the way you was actin' when I see you struttin' into the parsonage
+      yard last night afore mail time made me think you must have a first
+      mortgage on Helen and her pa and the house and the meetin'-house and
+      two-thirds of the graveyard. I never see such an important-lookin' critter
+      in MY life. Haw, haw! Eh? How 'bout it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert did not mind the Price sarcasm; instead he felt rather grateful to
+      have the proletariat recognize that he had triumphed again. The fly in his
+      ointment, so to speak, was the fact that Helen herself did not in the
+      least recognize that triumph. She laughed at him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't look at me like that, please, please, don't,&rdquo; she begged.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why not?&rdquo; with a repetition of the look.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because it is silly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Silly! Well, I like that! Aren't you and I engaged? Or just the same as
+      engaged?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, of course we are not.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But we promised each other&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, we did not. And you know we didn't.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Helen, why do you treat me that way? Don't you know that&mdash;that I
+      just worship the ground you tread on? Don't you know you're the only girl
+      in this world I could ever care for? Don't you know that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They were walking home from church Sunday morning and had reached the
+      corner below the parsonage. There, screened by the thicket of young
+      silver-leafs, she stopped momentarily and looked into his face. Then she
+      walked on.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't you know how much I care?&rdquo; he repeated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She shook her head. &ldquo;You think you do now, perhaps,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;but you
+      will change your mind.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you mean by that? How do you know I will?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because I know you. There, there, Albert, we won't quarrel, will we? And
+      we won't be silly. You're an awfully nice boy, but you are just a boy, you
+      know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He was losing his temper.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is ridiculous!&rdquo; he declared. &ldquo;I'm tired of being grandmothered by
+      you. I'm older than you are, and I know what I'm doing. Come, Helen,
+      listen to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But she would not listen, and although she was always kind and frank and
+      friendly, she invariably refused to permit him to become sentimental. It
+      irritated him, and after she had gone the irritation still remained. He
+      wrote her as before, although not quite so often, and the letters were
+      possibly not quite so long. His pride was hurt and the Speranza pride was
+      a tender and important part of the Speranza being. If Helen noted any
+      change in his letters she did not refer to it nor permit it to influence
+      her own, which were, as always, lengthy, cheerful, and full of interest in
+      him and his work and thoughts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      During the previous fall, while under the new influence aroused in him by
+      his discovery that Helen Kendall was &ldquo;the most wonderful girl in the
+      world,&rdquo; said discovery of course having been previously made for him by
+      the unfortunate Raymond, he had developed a habit of wandering off into
+      the woods or by the seashore to be alone and to seek inspiration. When a
+      young poet is in love, or fancies himself in love, inspiration is usually
+      to be found wherever sought, but even at that age and to one in that
+      condition solitude is a marked aid in the search. There were two or three
+      spots which had become Albert Speranza's favorites. One was a high,
+      wind-swept knoll, overlooking the bay, about a half mile from the hotel,
+      another was a secluded nook in the pine grove beside Carver's Pond, a
+      pretty little sheet of water on the Bayport boundary. On pleasant Saturday
+      afternoons or Sundays, when the poetic fit was on him, Albert, with a half
+      dozen pencils in his pocket, and a rhyming dictionary and a scribbling pad
+      in another, was wont to stroll towards one or the other of these two
+      retreats. There he would sprawl amid the beachgrass or upon the
+      pine-needles and dream and think and, perhaps, ultimately write.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One fair Saturday in late June he was at the first of these respective
+      points. Lying prone on the beach grass at the top of the knoll and peering
+      idly out between its stems at the water shimmering in the summer sun, he
+      was endeavoring to find a subject for a poem which should deal with love
+      and war as requested by the editor of the Columbian Magazine. &ldquo;Give us
+      something with a girl and a soldier in it,&rdquo; the editor had written.
+      Albert's mind was lazily drifting in search of the pleasing combination.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The sun was warm, the breeze was light, the horizon was veiled with a
+      liquid haze. Albert's mind was veiled with a similar haze and the idea he
+      wanted would not come. He was losing his desire to find it and was, in
+      fact, dropping into a doze when aroused by a blood-curdling outburst of
+      barks and yelps and growls behind him, at his very heels. He came out of
+      his nap with a jump and, scrambling to a sitting position and turning, he
+      saw a small Boston bull-terrier standing within a yard of his ankles and,
+      apparently, trying to turn his brindled outside in, or his inside out,
+      with spiteful ferocity. Plainly the dog had come upon him unexpectedly and
+      was expressing alarm, suspicion and disapproval.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert jerked his ankles out of the way and said &ldquo;Hello, boy,&rdquo; in as
+      cheerfully cordial a tone as he could muster at such short notice. The dog
+      took a step forward, evidently with the idea of always keeping the ankles
+      within jumping distance, showed a double row of healthy teeth and growled
+      and barked with renewed violence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nice dog,&rdquo; observed Albert. The nice dog made a snap at the nearest ankle
+      and, balked of his prey by a frenzied kick of the foot attached to the
+      ankle, shrieked, snarled and gurgled like a canine lunatic.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Go home, you ugly brute,&rdquo; commanded the young man, losing patience, and
+      looking about for a stone or stick. On the top of that knoll the largest
+      stone was the size of a buckshot and the nearest stick was, to be Irish, a
+      straw.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nice doggie! Nice old boy! Come and be patted! . . . Clear out with you!
+      Go home, you beast!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Flatteries and threats were alike in their result. The dog continued to
+      snarl and growl, darting toward the ankles occasionally. Evidently he was
+      mustering courage for the attack. Albert in desperation scooped up a
+      handful of sand. If worst came to worst he might blind the creature
+      temporarily. What would happen after that was not clear. Unless he might
+      by a lucky cast fill the dog's interior so full of sand that&mdash;like
+      the famous &ldquo;Jumping Frog&rdquo;&mdash;it would be too heavy to navigate, he saw
+      no way of escape from a painful bite, probably more than one. What Captain
+      Zelotes had formerly called his &ldquo;Portygee temper&rdquo; flared up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, damn you, clear out!&rdquo; he shouted, springing to his feet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      From a little way below him; in fact, from behind the next dune, between
+      himself and the beach, a feminine voice called his name.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Mr. Speranza!&rdquo; it said. &ldquo;Is it you? I'm so glad!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert turned, but the moment he did so the dog made a dash at his legs,
+      so he was obliged to turn back again and kick violently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I am so glad it is you,&rdquo; said the voice again. &ldquo;I was sure it was a
+      dreadful tramp. Googoo loathes tramps.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As an article of diet that meant, probably. Googoo&mdash;if that was the
+      dog's name&mdash;was passionately fond of poets, that was self-evident,
+      and intended to make a meal of this one, forthwith. He flew at the
+      Speranza ankles. Albert performed a most undignified war dance, and dashed
+      his handful of sand into Googoo's open countenance. For a minute or so
+      there was a lively shindy on top of that knoll. At the end of the minute
+      the dog, held tightly in a pair of feminine arms, was emitting growls and
+      coughs and sand, while Madeline Fosdick and Albert Speranza were kneeling
+      in more sand and looking at each other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, did he bite you?&rdquo; begged Miss Fosdick.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No . . . no, I guess not,&rdquo; was the reply. &ldquo;I&mdash;I scarcely know yet. .
+      . . Why, when did you come? I didn't know you were in town.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We came yesterday. Motored from home, you know. I&mdash;be still, Goo,
+      you bad thing! It was such a lovely day that I couldn't resist going for a
+      walk along the beach. I took Googoo because he does love it so, and&mdash;Goo,
+      be still, I tell you! I am sure he thinks you are a tramp, out here all
+      alone in the&mdash;in the wilderness. And what were you doing here?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert drew a long breath. &ldquo;I was half asleep, I guess,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;when he
+      broke loose at my heels. I woke up quick enough then, as you may imagine.
+      And so you are here for the summer? Your new house isn't finished, is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, not quite. Mother and Goo and I are at the hotel for a month. But you
+      haven't answered my question. What were you doing off here all alone? Have
+      you been for a walk, too?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not exactly. I&mdash;well, I come here pretty often. It is one of my
+      favorite hiding places. You see, I . . . don't laugh if I tell you, will
+      you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course not. Go on; this is very mysterious and interesting.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I come here sometimes on pleasant days, to be alone&mdash;and
+      write.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Write? Write poetry, do you mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, how wonderful! Were you writing when I&mdash;when Goo interrupted
+      you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; I had made two or three attempts, but nothing that I did satisfied
+      me. I had just about decided to tear them up and to give up trying for
+      this afternoon.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I hope you won't tear them up. I'm sure they shouldn't be. Perhaps
+      you were not in a proper mood to judge, yourself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps not. Perhaps they might look a little less hopeless to some one
+      else. But that person would have to be really interested, and there are
+      few people in South Harniss who know or care anything about poetry.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose that is true. I&mdash;I don't suppose you would care to show
+      them to me, would you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why,&rdquo; eagerly, &ldquo;would you really care to see them?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed I should! Not that my judgment or advice is worth anything, of
+      course. But I am very, very fond of poetry, and to see how a real poet
+      wrote would be wonderful. And if I could help you, even the least little
+      bit, it would be such an honor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This sort of thing was balm to the Speranza spirit. Albert's temperamental
+      ego expanded under it like a rosebud under a summer sun. Yet there was a
+      faint shadow of doubt&mdash;she might be making fun of him. He looked at
+      her intently and she seemed to read his thoughts, for she said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I mean it! Please believe I do. I haven't spoken that way when Jane
+      was with me, for she wouldn't understand and would laugh, but I mean it,
+      Mr. Speranza. It would be an honor&mdash;a great honor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So the still protesting and rebellious Googoo was compelled to go a few
+      feet away and lie down, while his mistress and the young man whom he had
+      attempted to devour bent their heads together over a scribbling-pad and
+      talked and exclaimed during the whole of that hour and a full
+      three-quarters of the next. Then the distant town clock in the steeple of
+      the Congregational church boomed five times and Miss Fosdick rose to her
+      feet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;it can't really be five o'clock, can it? But it is! What
+      WILL mother fancy has become of me? I must go this minute. Thank you, Mr.
+      Speranza. I have enjoyed this so much. It has been a wonderful
+      experience.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were shining. She had grown handsomer
+      than ever during the winter months. Albert's eyes were shining also as he
+      impulsively seized her hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you, Miss Fosdick,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;You have helped me more than I can
+      tell you. I was about to give up in despair before you came, and now&mdash;now
+      I KNOW I shall write the best thing I have ever done. And you will be
+      responsible for it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She caught her breath. &ldquo;Oh, not really!&rdquo; she exclaimed. &ldquo;You don't mean
+      it, really?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed I do! If I might have your help and sympathy once in awhile, I
+      believe&mdash;I believe I could do almost anything. Will you help me again
+      some day? I shall be here almost every pleasant Saturday and Sunday
+      afternoon. Will you come again?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She hesitated. &ldquo;I&mdash;I'll see; perhaps,&rdquo; she answered hurriedly. &ldquo;But I
+      must go now. Come, Goo.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She hastened away, down the knoll and along the beach toward the hotel.
+      Googoo followed her, turning occasionally to cast diabolical glances at
+      the Speranza ankles. Albert gazed until the graceful figure in the trim
+      sport costume disappeared behind the corner of the point of the beach.
+      Just at the point she paused to wave to him. He waved in return. Then he
+      tramped homeward. There was deep sand beneath his feet and, later,
+      pine-needles and grass. They were all alike to him, for he was traveling
+      on air.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That evening at supper his radiant appearance caused comment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What makes you look so happy, Albert?&rdquo; asked his grandmother. &ldquo;Seems to
+      me I never saw you look so sort of&mdash;well, glorified, as you might
+      say. What is the reason?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The glorified one reddened and was confused. He stammered that he did not
+      know, he was not aware of any particular reason.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Ellis beamed upon him. &ldquo;I presume likely his bookkeepin' at the
+      office has been goin' pretty well lately,&rdquo; she suggested.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Zelote's gray eyes twinkled. &ldquo;Cal'late he's been makin' up more
+      poetry about girls,&rdquo; was his offering. &ldquo;Another one of those pieces about
+      teeth like pearls and hair all curls, or somethin' like that. Say, Al, why
+      don't you poetry-makin' fellers try a new one once in a while? Say, 'Her
+      hair's like rope and her face has lost hope.' Eh? Why not, for a change?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The protests on the part of Olive and the housekeeper against the
+      captain's innovation in poetry-making had the effect of distracting
+      attention from Albert's &ldquo;glorified&rdquo; appearance. The young man himself was
+      thankful for the respite.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That night before he retired he took Madeline Fosdick's photograph from
+      the back of the drawer among the ties and collars and looked at it for
+      five minutes at least. She was a handsome girl, certainly. Not that that
+      made any difference to him. And she was an intelligent girl; she
+      understood his poetry and appreciated it. Yes, and she understood him,
+      too, almost as well as Helen. . . . Helen! He hastily returned the Fosdick
+      photograph to the drawer; but this time he did not put it quite so near
+      the back.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On the following Saturday he was early at the knoll, a brand-new
+      scribbling-pad in his pocket and in his mind divine gems which were later,
+      and with Miss Fosdick's assistance, to be strung into a glittering
+      necklace of lyric song and draped, with the stringer's compliments, about
+      the throat of a grateful muse. But no gems were strung that day. Madeline
+      did not put in an appearance, and by and by it began to rain, and Albert
+      walked home, damp, dejected, and disgusted. When, a day or two later, he
+      met Miss Fosdick at the post office and asked why she had not come he
+      learned that her mother had insisted upon a motor trip to Wapatomac that
+      afternoon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Besides,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;you surely mustn't expect me EVERY Saturday.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; he admitted grudgingly, &ldquo;I suppose not. But you will come sometimes,
+      won't you? I have a perfectly lovely idea for a ballad and I want to ask
+      your advice about it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, do you really? You're not making fun? You mean that my advice is
+      really worth something? I can't believe it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He convinced her that it was, and the next Saturday afternoon they spent
+      together at the inspiration point among the dunes, at work upon the
+      ballad. It was not finished on that occasion, nor on the next, for it was
+      an unusually long ballad, but progress was made, glorious progress.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And so, during that Summer, as the Fosdick residence upon the Bay Road
+      grew and grew, so did the acquaintanceship, the friendship, the poetic
+      partnership between the Fosdick daughter and the grandson of Captain
+      Zelotes Snow grow and grow. They met almost every Saturday, they met at
+      the post office on week evenings, occasionally they saw each other for a
+      moment after church on Sunday mornings. Mrs. Fletcher Fosdick could not
+      imagine why her only child cared to attend that stuffy little country
+      church and hear that prosy Kendall minister drone on and on. &ldquo;I hope, my
+      dear, that I am as punctilious in my religious duties as the average
+      woman, but one Kendall sermon was sufficient for me, thank you. What you
+      see in THAT church to please you, <i>I</i> can't guess.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      If she had attended as often as Madeline did she might have guessed and
+      saved herself much. But she was busy organizing, in connection with Mrs.
+      Seabury Calvin, a Literary Society among the summer people of South
+      Harniss. The Society was to begin work with the discussion of the poetry
+      of Rabindranath Tagore. Mrs. Fosdick said she doted on Tagore; Mrs. Calvin
+      expressed herself as being positively insane about him. A warm friendship
+      had sprung up between the two ladies, as each was particularly fond of
+      shining as a literary light and neither under any circumstances permitted
+      a new lion to roar unheard in her neighborhood, provided, of course, that
+      the said roarings had been previously endorsed and well advertised by the
+      critics and the press.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So Mrs. Fosdick was too busy to accompany Madeline to church on Sunday or
+      to walk on Saturday, and the young lady was left to wander pretty much at
+      her own sweet will. That sweet will led her footsteps to trails frequented
+      by Albert Speranza and they walked and talked and poetized together. As
+      for Mr. Fletcher Fosdick, he was busy at his office in New York and came
+      to South Harniss only for infrequent week-ends.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The walks and talks and poetizings were innocent enough. Neither of the
+      partners in poesy had the least idea of anything more than being just
+      that. They liked each other, they had come to call each other by their
+      Christian names, and on Albert's bureau Madeline's photograph now stood
+      openly and without apology. Albert had convinced himself there was nothing
+      to apologize for. She was his friend, that was all. He liked to write and
+      she liked to help him&mdash;er&mdash;well, just as Helen used to when she
+      was at home. He did not think of Helen quite as often as formerly, nor
+      were his letters to her as frequent or as long.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So the summer passed and late August came, the last Saturday afternoon of
+      that month. Albert and Madeline were together, walking together along the
+      beach from the knoll where they had met so often. It was six o'clock and
+      the beach was deserted. There was little wind, the tiny waves were lapping
+      and plashing along the shore, and the rosy light of the sinking sun lay
+      warm upon the water and the sand. They were thinking and speaking of the
+      summer which was so near its end.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It has been a wonderful summer, hasn't it?&rdquo; said Albert.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, wonderful,&rdquo; agreed Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I&mdash;I&mdash;by George, I never believed a summer could be so
+      wonderful.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nor I.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Silence. Then Albert, looking at her, saw her eyes looking into his and
+      saw in them&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He kissed her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That morning Albert Speranza had arisen as usual, a casual, careless,
+      perfectly human young fellow. He went to bed that night a superman, an
+      archangel, a demi-god, with his head in the clouds and the earth a cloth
+      of gold beneath his feet. Life was a pathway through Paradise arched with
+      rainbows.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He and Madeline Fosdick loved each other madly, devotedly. They were
+      engaged to be married. They had plighted troth. They were to be each
+      other's, and no one else's, for ever&mdash;and ever&mdash;and ever.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER X
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      The remainder of that summer was a paradisical meandering over the cloth
+      of gold beneath the rainbows. Albert and his Madeline met often, very
+      often. Few poems were written at these meetings. Why trouble to put
+      penciled lines on paper when the entire universe was a poem especially
+      composed for your benefit? The lovers sat upon the knoll amid the sand
+      dunes and gazed at the bay and talked of themselves separately,
+      individually, and, more especially, collectively. They strolled through
+      the same woody lanes and discussed the same satisfactory subjects. They
+      met at the post office or at the drug store and gazed into each other's
+      eyes. And, what was the most astonishing thing about it all, their secret
+      remained undiscovered. Undiscovered, that is to say, by those by whom
+      discovery would have meant calamity. The gossips among the townspeople
+      winked and chuckled and cal'lated Fletcher Fosdick had better look out or
+      his girl would be took into the firm of Z. Snow and Co. Issachar Price
+      uttered sarcastic and sly innuendoes. Jane Kelsey and her set ragged the
+      pair occasionally. But even these never really suspected that the affair
+      was serious. And neither Mrs. Fletcher Fosdick nor Captain and Mrs.
+      Zelotes Snow gave it a minute's attention.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was serious enough with the principals, however. To them it was the
+      only serious matter in the world. Not that they faced or discussed the
+      future with earnest and complete attention. Some day or other&mdash;that
+      was of course the mutually accepted idea&mdash;some day or other they were
+      to marry. In the meantime here was the blissful present with its roses and
+      rainbows and here, for each, was the other. What would be likely to happen
+      when the Fosdick parents learned of the engagement of their only child to
+      the assistant bookkeeper of the South Harniss lumber and hardware company
+      was unpleasant to contemplate, so why contemplate it? Upon one point they
+      were agreed&mdash;never, never, NEVER would they give each other up. No
+      power on earth&mdash;which included parents and grandparents&mdash;should
+      or could separate them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert's conscience troubled him slightly at first when he thought of
+      Helen Kendall. It had been in reality such a short time&mdash;although of
+      course it seemed ages and ages&mdash;since he had fancied himself in love
+      with her. Only the previous fall&mdash;yes, even that very spring, he had
+      asked her to pledge herself to him. Fortunately&mdash;oh, how very
+      fortunately!&mdash;she had refused, and he had been left free. Now he knew
+      that his fancied love for her had been merely a passing whim, a delusion
+      of the moment. This&mdash;THIS which he was now experiencing was the grand
+      passion of his life. He wrote a poem with the title, &ldquo;The Greater Love&rdquo;&mdash;and
+      sold it, too, to a sensational periodical which circulated largely among
+      sentimental shopgirls. It is but truthful to state that the editor of the
+      magazine to which he first submitted it sent it back with the brief note&mdash;&ldquo;This
+      is a trifle too syrupy for our use. Fear the pages might stick. Why not
+      send us another war verse?&rdquo; Albert treated the note and the editor with
+      the contempt they deserved. He pitied the latter; poor soul, doubtless HE
+      had never known the greater love.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He and Madeline had agreed that they would tell no one&mdash;no one at all&mdash;of
+      their betrothal. It should be their own precious secret for the present.
+      So, under the circumstances, he could not write Helen the news. But ought
+      he to write her at all? That question bothered him not a little. He no
+      longer loved her&mdash;in fact, he was now certain that he never had loved
+      her&mdash;but he liked her, and he wanted her to keep on liking him. And
+      she wrote to him with regularity. What ought he to do about writing her?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He debated the question with himself and, at last, and with some
+      trepidation, asked Madeline's opinion of his duty in the matter. Her
+      opinion was decisive and promptly given. Of course he must not write Helen
+      again. &ldquo;How would you like it if I corresponded with another fellow?&rdquo; she
+      asked. Candor forced him to admit that he should not like it at all. &ldquo;But
+      I want to behave decently,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;She is merely a friend of mine&rdquo;&mdash;oh,
+      how short is memory!&mdash;&ldquo;but we have been friends for a long time and I
+      wouldn't want to hurt her feelings.&rdquo; &ldquo;No, instead you prefer to hurt
+      mine.&rdquo; &ldquo;Now, dearest, be reasonable.&rdquo; It was their nearest approach to a
+      quarrel and was a very, very sad affair. The making-up was sweet, of
+      course, but the question of further correspondence with Helen Kendall
+      remained just where it was at the beginning. And, meanwhile, the
+      correspondence lapsed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      September came far, far too soon&mdash;came and ended. And with it ended
+      also the stay of the Fosdicks in South Harniss. Albert and Madeline said
+      good-by at their rendezvous by the beach. It was a sad, a tearful, but a
+      very precious farewell. They would write each other every day, they would
+      think of each other every minute of every day, they would live through the
+      winter somehow and look forward to the next spring and their next meeting.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will write&mdash;oh, ever and ever so many poems, won't you, dear?&rdquo;
+       begged Madeline. &ldquo;You know how I love them. And whenever I see one of your
+      poems in print I shall be so proud of you&mdash;of MY poet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert promised to write ever and ever so many. He felt that there would
+      be no difficulty in writing reams of poems&mdash;inspired, glorious poems.
+      The difficulty would be in restraining himself from writing too many of
+      them. With Madeline Fosdick as an inspiration, poetizing became as natural
+      as breathing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then, which was unusual for them, they spoke of the future, the dim,
+      vague, but so happy future, when Albert was to be the nation's poet
+      laureate and Madeline, as Mrs. Laureate, would share his glory and wear,
+      so to speak, his second-best laurels. The disagreeable problems connected
+      with the future they ignored, or casually dismissed with, &ldquo;Never mind,
+      dear, it will be all right by and by.&rdquo; Oh, it was a wonderful afternoon, a
+      rosy, cloudy, happy, sorrowful, bitter-sweet afternoon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And the next morning Albert, peeping beneath Z. Snow and Co.'s office
+      window shade, saw his heart's desire step aboard the train, saw that train
+      puff out of the station, saw for just an instant a small hand waved behind
+      the dingy glass of the car window. His own hand waved in reply. Then the
+      raucous voice of Mr. Price broke the silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who was you flappin' your flipper at?&rdquo; inquired Issachar. &ldquo;Girl, I'll bet
+      you! Never saw such a critter as you be to chase after the girls. Which
+      one is it this time?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert made no reply. Between embarrassment and sorrow he was incapable of
+      speech. Issachar, however, was not in that condition; at all times when
+      awake, and sometimes when asleep, Mr. Price could, and usually did, speak.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Which one is it this time, Al?&rdquo; demanded Issy. &ldquo;Eh? Crimus, see him get
+      red! Haw, haw! Labe,&rdquo; to Mr. Keeler, who came into the office from the
+      inner room, &ldquo;which girl do you cal'late Al here is wavin' by-bye to this
+      mornin'? Who's goin' away on the cars this mornin', Labe?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Laban, his hands full of the morning mail, absently replied that he didn't
+      know.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, you do, too,&rdquo; persisted Issy. &ldquo;You ain't listenin', that's all.
+      Who's leavin' town on the train just now?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eh? Oh, I don't know. The Small folks are goin' to Boston, I believe. And
+      George Bartlett's goin' to Ostable on court business, he told me. Oh, yes,
+      I believe Cap'n Lote said that Fosdick woman and her daughter were goin'
+      back to New York. Back to New York&mdash;yes&mdash;yes&mdash;yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Price crowed triumphantly. &ldquo;Ah, ha!&rdquo; he crowed. &ldquo;Ah, ha! That's the
+      answer. That's the one he's shakin' day-days to, that Fosdick girl. I've
+      seen you 'round with her at the post office and the ice cream s'loon. I'm
+      onto you, Al. Haw, haw! What's her name? Adeline? Dandelion? Madeline?&mdash;that's
+      it! Say, how do you think Helen Kendall's goin' to like your throwin'
+      kisses to the Madeline one, eh?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The assistant bookkeeper was still silent. The crimson, however, was
+      leaving his face and the said face was paling rapidly. This was an ominous
+      sign had Mr. Price but known it. He did not know it and cackled merrily
+      on,
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Guess I'll have to tell Helen when she comes back home,&rdquo; he announced.
+      &ldquo;Cal'late I'll put a flea in her ear. 'Helen,' I'll say, 'don't feel too
+      bad now, don't cry and get your handkerchief all soakin', or nothin' like
+      that. I just feel it's my duty to tell ye that your little Albert is
+      sparkin' up to somebody else. He's waitin' on a party by the name of
+      Padeline&mdash;no, Madeline&mdash;Woodtick&mdash;no, Fosdick&mdash;and . .
+      .' Here! let go of me! What are you doin'?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      That last question was in the nature of a gurgle. Albert, his face now
+      very white indeed, had strode across the office, seized the speaker by the
+      front of his flannel shirt and backed him against the wall.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stop,&rdquo; commanded Albert, between his teeth. &ldquo;That's enough of that. Don't
+      you say any more!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eh? Ugh! Ur-gg! Leggo of my shirt.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert let go, but he did not step back. He remained where he was, exactly
+      in front of Mr. Price.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't you say any more about&mdash;about what you were saying,&rdquo; he
+      repeated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eh? Not say any more? Why not? Who's goin' to stop me, I'd like to know?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I want to know! What'll you do?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know. If you weren't so old, I would&mdash;but I'll stop you,
+      anyhow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert felt a hand on his arm and heard Mr. Keeler's voice at his ear.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Careful, Al, careful,&rdquo; it said. &ldquo;Don't hit him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course I shan't hit him,&rdquo; indignantly. &ldquo;What do you think I am? But he
+      must promise not to mention&mdash;er&mdash;Miss Fosdick's name again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Better promise, Is,&rdquo; suggested Laban. Issachar's mouth opened, but no
+      promise came forth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Promise be darned!&rdquo; he yelled furiously. &ldquo;Mention her name! I'll mention
+      any name I set out to, and no Italyun Portygee is goin' to stop me,
+      neither.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert glanced about the office. By the wall stood two brimming pails of
+      water, brought in by Mr. Price for floor-washing purposes. He lifted one
+      of the pails.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you don't promise I'll duck you,&rdquo; he declared. &ldquo;Let go of me, Keeler,
+      I mean it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Careful, Al, careful,&rdquo; said Mr. Keeler. &ldquo;Better promise, Is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Promise nawthin'! Fosdick! What in time do I care for Fosdicks, Madelines
+      or Padelines or Dandelions or&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His sentence stopped just there. The remainder of it was washed back and
+      down his throat by the deluge from the bucket. Overcome by shock and
+      surprise, Mr. Price leaned back against the wall and slid slowly down that
+      wall until he reclined in a sitting posture, upon the floor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Crimustee,&rdquo; he gasped, as soon as he could articulate, &ldquo;I'm&mdash;awk&mdash;I'm
+      drownded.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert put down the empty bucket and picked up the full one.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Promise,&rdquo; he said again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Laban Keeler rubbed his chin.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'd promise if I was you, Is,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;You're some subject to
+      rheumatism, you know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Issachar, sitting in a spreading puddle, looked damply upward at the
+      remaining bucket. &ldquo;By crimustee&mdash;&rdquo; he began. Albert drew the bucket
+      backward; the water dripped from its lower brim.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&mdash;I&mdash;darn ye, I promise!&rdquo; shouted Issachar. Albert put down
+      the bucket and walked back to his desk. Laban watched him curiously,
+      smiling just a little. Then he turned to Mr. Price, who was scrambling to
+      his feet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Better get your mop and swab up here, Is,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Cap'n Lote'll be in
+      'most any minute.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When Captain Zelotes did return to the office, Issachar was industriously
+      sweeping out, Albert was hard at work at the books, and Laban was still
+      rubbing his chin and smiling at nothing in particular.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The next day Albert and Issachar made it up. Albert apologized.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm sorry, Issy,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I shouldn't have done it, but you made me
+      mad. I have a&mdash;rather mean temper, I'm afraid. Forgive me, will you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He held out his hand, and Issachar, after a momentary hesitation, took it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I forgive you this time, Al,&rdquo; he said solemnly, &ldquo;but don't never do
+      nothin' like it again, will ye? When I went home for dinner yesterday noon
+      I give you my word my clothes was kind of dampish even then. If it hadn't
+      been nice warm sunshine and I was out doors and dried off considerable I'd
+      a had to change everything, underclothes and all, and 'tain't but the
+      middle of the week yet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His ducking had an effect which Albert noticed with considerable
+      satisfaction&mdash;he was never quite as flippantly personal in his
+      comments concerning the assistant bookkeeper. He treated the latter, if
+      not with respect, at least with something distantly akin to it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After Madeline's departure the world was very lonely indeed. Albert wrote
+      long, long letters and received replies which varied in length but never
+      in devotion. Miss Fosdick was obliged to be cautious in her correspondence
+      with her lover. &ldquo;You will forgive me if this is not much more than a note,
+      won't you, dear?&rdquo; she wrote. &ldquo;Mother seems to be very curious of late
+      about my letters and to whom I write and I had to just steal the
+      opportunity this morning.&rdquo; An older and more apprehensive person might
+      have found Mrs. Fosdick's sudden interest in her daughter's correspondence
+      suspicious and a trifle alarming, but Albert never dreamed of being
+      alarmed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He wrote many poems, all dealing with love and lovers, and sold some of
+      them. He wrote no more letters to Helen. She, too, had ceased to write
+      him, doubtless because of the lack of reply to her last two or three
+      letters. His conscience still troubled him about Helen; he could not help
+      feeling that his treatment of her had not been exactly honorable. Yet what
+      else under the circumstances could he do? From Mr. Kendall he learned that
+      she was coming home to spend Thanksgiving. He would see her then. She
+      would ask him questions? What should his answer be? He faced the situation
+      in anticipation many, many times, usually after he had gone to bed at
+      night, and lay awake through long torturing hours in consequence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But when at last Helen and he did meet, the day before Thanksgiving, their
+      meeting was not at all the dreadful ordeal he had feared. Her greeting was
+      as frank and cordial as it had always been, and there was no reproach in
+      her tone or manner. She did not even ask him why he had stopped writing.
+      It was he, himself, who referred to that subject, and he did so as they
+      walked together down the main road. Just why he referred to it he could
+      not probably have told. He was aware only that he felt mean and
+      contemptible and that he must offer some explanation. His not having any
+      to offer made the task rather difficult.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But she saved him the trouble. She interrupted one of his blundering,
+      stumbling sentences in the middle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never mind, Albert,&rdquo; she said quietly. &ldquo;You needn't explain. I think I
+      understand.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He stopped and stared at her. &ldquo;You understand?&rdquo; he repeated. &ldquo;Why&mdash;why,
+      no, you don't. You can't.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I can, or I think I can. You have changed your mind, that is all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Changed my mind?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. Don't you remember I told you you would change your mind about&mdash;well,
+      about me? You were so sure you cared so very, very much for me, you know.
+      And I said you mustn't promise anything because I thought you would change
+      your mind. And you have. That is it, isn't it? You have found some one
+      else.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He gazed at her as if she were a witch who had performed a miracle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why&mdash;why&mdash;well, by George!&rdquo; he exclaimed. &ldquo;Helen&mdash;how&mdash;how
+      did you know? Who told you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No one told me. But I think I can even guess who it is you have found. It
+      is Madeline Fosdick, isn't it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His amazement now was so open-mouthed as well as open-eyed that she could
+      not help smiling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't! Don't stare at me like that,&rdquo; she whispered. &ldquo;Every one is looking
+      at you. There is old Captain Pease on the other side of the street; I'm
+      sure he thinks you have had a stroke or something. Here! Walk down our
+      road a little way toward home with me. We can talk as we walk. I'm sure,&rdquo;
+       she added, with just the least bit of change in her tone, &ldquo;that your
+      Madeline won't object to our being together to that extent.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She led the way down the side street toward the parsonage and he followed
+      her. He was still speechless from surprise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; she went on, after a moment, &ldquo;aren't you going to say anything?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But&mdash;but, Helen,&rdquo; he faltered, &ldquo;how did you know?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She smiled again. &ldquo;Then it IS Madeline,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I thought it must be.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You&mdash;you thought&mdash;What made you think so?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      For an instant she seemed on the point of losing her patience.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then she turned and laid her hand on his arm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Al,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;please don't think I am altogether an idiot. I
+      surmised when your letters began to grow shorter and&mdash;well, different&mdash;that
+      there was something or some one who was changing them, and I suspected it
+      was some one. When you stopped writing altogether, I KNEW there must be.
+      Then father wrote in his letters about you and about meeting you, and so
+      often Madeline Fosdick was wherever he met you. So I guessed&mdash;and,
+      you see, I guessed right.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He seized her hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Helen,&rdquo; he cried, &ldquo;if you only knew how mean I have felt and how
+      ashamed I am of the way I have treated you! But, you see, I&mdash;I
+      COULDN'T write you and tell you because we had agreed to keep it a secret.
+      I couldn't tell ANY ONE.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, it is as serious as that! Are you two really and truly engaged?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. There! I've told it, and I swore I would never tell.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no, you didn't tell. I guessed. Now tell me all about her. She is
+      very lovely. Is she as sweet as she looks?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He rhapsodized for five minutes. Then all at once he realized what he was
+      saying and to whom he was saying it. He stopped, stammering, in the very
+      middle of a glowing eulogium.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Go on,&rdquo; said Helen reassuringly. But he could not go on, under the
+      circumstances. Instead he turned very red. As usual, she divined his
+      thought, noticed his confusion, and took pity on it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She must be awfully nice,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I don't wonder you fell in love
+      with her. I wish I might know her better.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish you might. By and by you must. And she must know you. Helen, I&mdash;I
+      feel so ashamed of&mdash;of&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hush, or I shall begin to think you are ashamed because you liked me&mdash;or
+      thought you did.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I do like you. Next to Madeline there is no one I like so much. But,
+      but, you see, it is different.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course it is. And it ought to be. Does her mother&mdash;do her people
+      know of the engagement?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He hesitated momentarily. &ldquo;No-o,&rdquo; he admitted, &ldquo;they don't yet. She and I
+      have decided to keep it a secret from any one for the present. I want to
+      get on a little further with my writing, you know. She is like you in
+      that, Helen&mdash;she's awfully fond of poetry and literature.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Especially yours, I'm sure. Tell me about your writing. How are you
+      getting on?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So he told her and, until they stood together at the parsonage gate,
+      Madeline's name was not again mentioned. Then Helen put out her hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good morning, Albert,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I'm glad we have had this talk, ever so
+      glad.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By George, so am I! You're a corking friend, Helen. The chap who does
+      marry you will be awfully lucky.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She smiled slightly. &ldquo;Perhaps there won't be any such chap,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I
+      shall always be a schoolmarm, I imagine.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed you won't,&rdquo; indignantly. &ldquo;I have too high an opinion of men for
+      that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She smiled again, seemed about to speak, and then to change her mind. An
+      instant later she said,
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I must go in now. But I shall hope to see you again before I go back to
+      the city. And, after your secret is out and the engagement is announced, I
+      want to write Madeline, may I?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course you may. And she'll like you as much as I do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will she? . . . Well, perhaps; we'll hope so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly she will. And you won't let my treating you as&mdash;as I have
+      make any difference in our friendship?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. We shall always be friends, I hope. Good-by.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She went into the house. He waited a moment, hoping she might turn again
+      before entering, but she did not. He walked home, pondering deeply, his
+      thoughts a curious jumble of relief and dissatisfaction. He was glad Helen
+      had seen her duty and given him over to Madeline, but he felt a trifle
+      piqued to think she had done it with such apparent willingness. If she had
+      wept or scolded it would have been unpleasant but much more gratifying to
+      his self-importance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He could not help realizing, however, that her attitude toward him was
+      exceptionally fine. He knew well that he, if in her place, would not have
+      behaved as she had done. No spite, no sarcasm, no taunts, no unpleasant
+      reminders of things said only a few months before. And with all her
+      forgiveness and forbearance and understanding there had been always that
+      sense of greater age and wisdom; she had treated him as she might have
+      treated a boy, younger brother, perhaps.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She IS older than I am,&rdquo; he thought, &ldquo;even if she really isn't. It's
+      funny, but it's a fact.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      December came and Christmas, and then January and the new year, the year
+      1917. In January, Z. Snow and Co. took its yearly account of stock, and
+      Captain Lote and Laban and Albert and Issachar were truly busy during the
+      days of stock-taking week and tired when evening came. Laban worked the
+      hardest of the quartette, but Issy made the most fuss about it. Labe, who
+      had chosen the holiday season to go on one of his periodical vacations, as
+      rather white and shaky and even more silent than usual. Mr. Price,
+      however, talked with his customary fluency and continuity, so there was no
+      lack of conversation. Captain Zelotes was moved to comment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Issy,&rdquo; he suggested gravely, looking up from a long column of figures,
+      &ldquo;did you ever play 'Door'?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Issachar stared at him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Play 'Door'?&rdquo; he repeated. &ldquo;What's that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's a game. Didn't you ever play it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, don't know's I ever did.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you'd better begin right this minute. The first thing to do is to
+      shut up and the next is to stay that way. You play 'Door' until I tell you
+      to do somethin' else; d'you hear?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At home the week between Christmas and the New Year was rather dismal. Mr.
+      Keeler's holiday vacation had brought on one of his fiancee's &ldquo;sympathetic
+      attacks,&rdquo; and she tied up her head and hung crape upon her soul, as usual.
+      During these attacks the Snow household walked on tiptoe, as if the
+      housekeeper were an invalid in reality. Even consoling speeches from
+      Albert, who with Laban when the latter was sober, enjoyed in her mind the
+      distinction of being the reincarnation of &ldquo;Robert Penfold,&rdquo; brought no
+      relief to the suffering Rachel. Nothing but the news brought by the
+      milkman, that &ldquo;Labe was taperin' off,&rdquo; and would probably return to his
+      desk in a few days, eased her pain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One forenoon about the middle of the month Captain Zelotes himself stopped
+      in at the post office for the morning mail. When he returned to the lumber
+      company's building he entered quietly and walked to his own desk with a
+      preoccupied air. For the half hour before dinner time he sat there,
+      smoking his pipe, and speaking to no one unless spoken to. The office
+      force noticed his preoccupation and commented upon it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What ails the old man, Al?&rdquo; whispered Issachar, peering in around the
+      corner of the door at the silent figure tilted back in the revolving
+      chair, its feet upon the corner of the desk. &ldquo;Ain't said so much as 'Boo'
+      for up'ards of twenty minutes, has he? I was in there just now fillin' up
+      his ink-stand and, by crimus, I let a great big gob of ink come down
+      ker-souse right in the middle of the nice, clean blottin' paper in front
+      of him. I held my breath, cal'latin' to catch what Stephen Peter used to
+      say he caught when he went fishin' Sundays. Stevey said he generally
+      caught cold when he went and always caught the Old Harry when he got back.
+      I cal'lated to catch the Old Harry part sure, 'cause Captain Lote is
+      always neat and fussy 'bout his desk. But no, the old man never said a
+      word. I don't believe he knew the ink was spilled at all. What's on his
+      mind, Al; do you know?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert did not know, so he asked Laban. Laban shook his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Give it up, Al,&rdquo; he whispered. &ldquo;Somethin's happened to bother him, that's
+      sartin'. When Cap'n Lote gets his feet propped up and his head tilted back
+      that way I can 'most generally cal'late he's doin' some real thinkin'.
+      Real thinkin'&mdash;yes, sir-ee&mdash;um-hm&mdash;yes&mdash;yes. When he
+      h'ists his boots up to the masthead that way it's safe to figger his
+      brains have got steam up. Um-hm&mdash;yes indeed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But what is he thinking about? And why is he so quiet?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I give up both riddles, Al. He's the only one's got the answers and when
+      he gets ready enough maybe he'll tell 'em. Until then it'll pay us fo'mast
+      hands to make believe we're busy, even if we ain't. Hear that, do you,
+      Is?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hear what?&rdquo; demanded Issachar, who was gazing out of the window, his
+      hands in his pockets.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I say it will pay us&mdash;you and Al and me&mdash;to make believe we're
+      workin' even if we ain't.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Workin'!&rdquo; indignantly. &ldquo;By crimus, I AM workin'! I don't have to make
+      believe.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That so? Well, then, I'd pick up that coal-hod and make believe play for
+      a spell. The fire's 'most out. Almost&mdash;um-hm&mdash;pretty nigh&mdash;yes&mdash;yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert and his grandfather walked home to dinner together, as was their
+      custom, but still the captain remained silent. During dinner he spoke not
+      more than a dozen words and Albert several times caught Mrs. Snow
+      regarding her husband intently and with a rather anxious look. She did not
+      question him, however, but Rachel was not so reticent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mercy on us, Cap'n Lote,&rdquo; she demanded, &ldquo;what IS the matter? You're as
+      dumb as a mouthful of mush. I don't believe you've said ay, yes or no
+      since we sat down to table. Are you sick?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her employer's calm was unruffled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No-o,&rdquo; he answered, with deliberation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's a comfort. What's the matter, then; don't you WANT to talk?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No-o.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; with a toss of the head, &ldquo;well, I'm glad I know. I was beginnin' to
+      be afraid you'd forgotten how.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The captain helped himself to another fried &ldquo;tinker&rdquo; mackerel.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No danger of that around here, Rachel,&rdquo; he said serenely. &ldquo;So long as my
+      hearin's good I couldn't forget&mdash;not in this house.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Olive detained her grandson as he was following Captain Zelotes from the
+      dining room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's wrong with him, Albert?&rdquo; she whispered. &ldquo;Do you know?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I don't, Grandmother. Do you think there is anything wrong?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know there's somethin' troublin' him. I've lived with him too many
+      years not to know the signs. Oh, Albert&mdash;you haven't done anything to
+      displease him, have you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, indeed, Grandmother. Whatever it is, it isn't that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When they reached the office, the captain spoke to Mr. Keeler.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Had your dinner, Labe?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes&mdash;yes, indeed. Don't take me long to eat&mdash;not at my boardin'
+      house. A feller'd have to have paralysis to make eatin' one of Lindy
+      Dadgett's meals take more'n a half hour. Um-hm&mdash;yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Despite his preoccupation, Captain Zelotes could not help smiling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To make it take an hour he'd have to be ossified, wouldn't he, like the
+      feller in the circus sideshow?&rdquo; he observed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Laban nodded. &ldquo;That&mdash;or dead,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;Yes&mdash;just about&mdash;just
+      so, Cap'n.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where's Issachar?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He's eatin' yet, I cal'late. He don't board at Lindy's.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When he gets back set him to pilin' that new carload of spruce under
+      Number Three shed. Keep him at it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir. Um-hm. All right.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Zelotes turned to his grandson. &ldquo;Come in here, Al,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I
+      want to see you for a few minutes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert followed him into the inner office. He wondered what in the world
+      his grandfather wished to see him about, in this very private fashion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sit down, Al,&rdquo; said the captain, taking his own chair and pointing to
+      another. &ldquo;Oh, wait a minute, though! Maybe you'd better shut that hatch
+      first.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The &ldquo;hatch&rdquo; was the transom over the door between the offices. Albert,
+      remembering how a previous interview between them had been overheard
+      because of that open transom, glanced at his grandfather. The twinkle in
+      the latter's eye showed that he too, remembered. Albert closed the
+      &ldquo;hatch.&rdquo; When he came back to his seat the twinkle had disappeared;
+      Captain Zelotes looked serious enough.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Grandfather?&rdquo; queried the young man, after waiting a moment. The
+      captain adjusted his spectacles, reached into the inside pocket of his
+      coat and produced an envelope. It was a square envelope with either a
+      trade-mark or a crest upon the back. Captain Lote did not open the
+      envelope, but instead tapped his desk with it and regarded his grandson in
+      a meditative way.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Al,&rdquo; he said slowly, &ldquo;has it seemed to you that your cruise aboard this
+      craft of ours here had been a little smoother the last year or two than it
+      used to be afore that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert, by this time well accustomed to his grandfather's nautical
+      phraseology, understood that the &ldquo;cruise&rdquo; referred to was his voyage as
+      assistant bookkeeper with Z. Snow and Co. He nodded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have tried to make it so,&rdquo; he answered. &ldquo;I mean I have tried to make it
+      smoother for you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Um-hm, I think you have tried. I don't mind tellin' you that it has
+      pleased me consid'ble to watch you try. I don't mean by that,&rdquo; he added,
+      with a slight curve of the lip, &ldquo;that you'd win first prize as a
+      lightnin'-calculator even yet, but you're a whole lot better one than you
+      used to be. I've been considerable encouraged about you; I don't mind
+      tellin' you that either. . . . And,&rdquo; he added, after another interval
+      during which he was, apparently, debating just how much of an admission it
+      was safe to make, &ldquo;so far as I can see, this poetry foolishness of yours
+      hasn't interfered with your work any to speak of.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert smiled. &ldquo;Thanks, Grandfather,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You're welcome. So much for that. But there's another side to our
+      relations together, yours and mine, that I haven't spoken of to you afore.
+      And I have kept still on purpose. I've figgered that so long as you kept
+      straight and didn't go off the course, didn't drink or gamble, or go wild
+      or the like of that, what you did was pretty much your own business. I've
+      noticed you're considerable of a feller with the girls, but I kept an eye
+      on the kind of girls and I will say that so far as I can see, you've
+      picked the decent kind. I say so far as I can see. Of course I ain't fool
+      enough to believe I see all you do, or know all you do. I've been young
+      myself, and when I get to thinkin' how much I know about you I try to set
+      down and remember how much my dad didn't know about me when I was your
+      age. That&mdash;er&mdash;helps some toward givin' me my correct position
+      on the chart.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He paused. Albert's brain was vainly striving to guess what all this
+      meant. What was he driving at? The captain crossed his legs and continued.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I did think for a spell,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;that you and Helen Kendall were
+      gettin' to understand each other pretty well. Well, Helen's a good girl
+      and your grandma and I like her. Course we didn't cal'late anything very
+      serious was liable to come of the understandin', not for some time,
+      anyhow, for with your salary and&mdash;well, sort of unsettled prospects,
+      I gave you credit for not figgerin' on pickin' a wife right away. . . .
+      Haven't got much laid by to support a wife on, have you, Al?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert's expression had changed during the latter portion of the speech.
+      Now he was gazing intently at his grandfather and at the letter in the
+      latter's hands. He was beginning to guess, to dread, to be fearful.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Haven't got much to support a wife on, Al, have you?&rdquo; repeated Captain
+      Zelotes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, sir, not now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Um. . . . But you hope to have by and by, eh? Well, I hope you will. But
+      UNTIL you have it would seem to older folks like me kind of risky
+      navigatin' to&mdash;to . . . Oh, there was a letter in the mail for you
+      this mornin, Al.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He put down the envelope he had hitherto held in his hand and, reaching
+      into his pocket, produced another. Even before he had taken it from his
+      grandfather's hand Albert recognized the handwriting. It was from
+      Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Zelotes, regarding him keenly, leaned back again in his chair.
+      &ldquo;Read it if you want to, Al,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Maybe you'd better. I can wait.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert hesitated a moment and then tore open the envelope. The note within
+      was short, evidently written in great haste and agitation and was spotted
+      with tear stains. He read it, his cheeks paling and his hand shaking as he
+      did so. Something dreadful had happened. Mother&mdash;Mrs. Fosdick, of
+      course&mdash;had discovered everything. She had found all his&mdash;Albert's&mdash;letters
+      and read them. She was furious. There had been the most terrible scene.
+      Madeline was in her own room and was smuggling him this letter by Mary,
+      her maid, who will do anything for me, and has promised to mail it. Oh,
+      dearest, they say I must give you up. They say&mdash;Oh, they say dreadful
+      things about you! Mother declares she will take me to Japan or some
+      frightful place and keep me there until I forget you. I don't care if they
+      take me to the ends of the earth, I shall NEVER forget you. I will never&mdash;never&mdash;NEVER
+      give you up. And you mustn't give me up, will you, darling? They say I
+      must never write you again. But you see I have&mdash;and I shall. Oh, what
+      SHALL we do? I was SO happy and now I am so miserable. Write me the minute
+      you get this, but oh, I KNOW they won't let me see your letters and then I
+      shall die. But write, write just the same, every day. Oh what SHALL we do?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Yours, always and always, no matter what everyone does or says, lovingly
+      and devotedly,
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      MADELINE.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When the reading was finished Albert sat silently staring at the floor,
+      seeing it through a wet mist. Captain Zelotes watched him, his heavy brows
+      drawn together and the smoke wreaths from his pipe curling slowly upward
+      toward the office ceiling. At length he said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Al, I had a letter, too. I presume likely it came from the same
+      port even if not from the same member of the family. It's about you, and I
+      think you'd better read it, maybe. I'll read it to you, if you'd rather.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert shook his head and held out his hand for the second letter. His
+      grandfather gave it to him, saying as he did so: &ldquo;I'd like to have you
+      understand, Al, that I don't necessarily believe all that she says about
+      you in this thing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thanks, Grandfather,&rdquo; mechanically.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right, boy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The second letter was, as he had surmised, from Mrs. Fosdick. It had
+      evidently been written at top speed and at a mental temperature well above
+      the boiling point. Mrs. Fosdick addressed Captain Zelotes Snow because she
+      had been given to understand that he was the nearest relative, or
+      guardian, or whatever it was, of the person concerning whom the letter was
+      written and therefore, it was presumed, might be expected to have some
+      measure of control over that person's actions. The person was, of course,
+      one Albert Speranza, and Mrs. Fosdick proceeded to set forth her version
+      of his conduct in sentences which might almost have blistered the paper.
+      Taking advantage of her trust in her daughter's good sense and ability to
+      take care of herself&mdash;which trust it appeared had been in a measure
+      misplaced&mdash;he, the Speranza person, had sneakingly, underhandedly and
+      in a despicably clandestine fashion&mdash;the lady's temper had rather
+      gotten away from her here&mdash;succeeded in meeting her daughter in
+      various places and by various disgraceful means and had furthermore
+      succeeded in ensnaring her youthful affections, et cetera, et cetera.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The poor child actually believes herself in love with him,&rdquo; wrote the
+      poor child's mother. &ldquo;She protests ridiculously that she is engaged to him
+      and will marry him in spite of her father or myself or the protests of
+      sensible people. I write to you, therefore, assuming you likewise to be a
+      sensible person, and requesting that you use your influence with the&mdash;to
+      put the most charitable interpretation of his conduct&mdash;misguided and
+      foolish young man and show him the preposterous folly of his pretended
+      engagement to my daughter. Of course the whole affair, CORRESPONDENCE
+      INCLUDED, must cease and terminate AT ONCE.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And so on for two more pages. The color had returned to Albert's cheeks
+      long before he finished reading. When he had finished he rose to his feet
+      and, throwing the letter upon his grandfather's desk, turned away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Al?&rdquo; queried Captain Zelotes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert's face, when he turned back to answer, was whiter than ever, but
+      his eyes flashed fire.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you believe that?&rdquo; he demanded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That&mdash;that stuff about my being a&mdash;a sneak and&mdash;and
+      ensnaring her&mdash;and all the rest? Do you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The captain took his pipe from his mouth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Steady, son, steady,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Didn't I tell you before you begun to
+      read at all that I didn't necessarily believe it because that woman wrote
+      it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You&mdash;you or no one else had better believe it. It's a lie.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right, I'm glad to hear you say so. But there's a little mite of
+      truth here and there amongst the lies, I presume likely. For instance, you
+      and this Fosdick girl have been&mdash;er&mdash;keepin' company?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Her name is Madeline&mdash;and we are engaged to be married.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! Hum&mdash;I see&mdash;I see. And, bein' as the old lady&mdash;her
+      mother, Mrs. Fosdick, I mean&mdash;hasn't suspected anything, or, at any
+      rate, hasn't found out anything until now, yesterday, or whenever it was,
+      I judge you have been meetin'&mdash;er&mdash;Madeline at places where
+      there wasn't&mdash;well, too large a crowd. Eh?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert hesitated and was, momentarily, a trifle embarrassed. But he
+      recovered at once.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I met her first at the drug store last summer,&rdquo; he said defiantly. &ldquo;Then
+      I met her after that at the post office and at the hotel dance last fall,
+      and so on. This year I met her&mdash;well, I met her first down by the
+      beach, where I went to write. She liked poetry and&mdash;and she helped me
+      with mine. After that she came&mdash;well, she came to help me again. And
+      after that&mdash;after that&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;After that it just moved along kind of natural, eh? Um-hm, I see.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look here, Grandfather, I want you to understand that she is&mdash;is&mdash;by
+      George, she is the cleanest, finest, best girl in the world. Don't you get
+      the idea that&mdash;that she isn't. She came to meet me just because she
+      was interested in my verse and wanted to help. It wasn't until the very
+      last that we&mdash;that we found out we cared for each other.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right, boy, all right. Go on, tell me the whole yarn, if you feel
+      like it. I don't want to pry too much into your affairs, but, after all, I
+      AM interested in those affairs, Al. Tell me as much as you can.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll tell you the whole. There's nothing I can't tell, nothing I'm not
+      proud to tell. By George, I ought to be proud! Why, Grandfather, she's
+      wonderful!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sartin, son, sartin. They always are. I mean she is, of course. Heave
+      ahead.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So Albert told his love story. When he had finished Captain Zelote's pipe
+      was empty, and he put it down.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Albert,&rdquo; he said slowly, &ldquo;I judge you mean this thing seriously. You mean
+      to marry her some day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, indeed I do. And I won't give her up, either. Her mother&mdash;why,
+      what right has her mother got to say&mdash;to treat her in this way? Or to
+      call me what she calls me in that letter? Why, by George&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Easy, son. As I understand it, this Madeline of yours is the only child
+      the Fosdicks have got and when our only child is in danger of bein'
+      carried off by somebody else&mdash;why, well, their mothers and fathers
+      are liable to be just a little upset, especially if it comes on 'em
+      sudden. . . . Nobody knows that better than I do,&rdquo; he added slowly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert recognized the allusion, but he was not in the mood to be affected
+      by it. He was not, just then, ready to make allowances for any one,
+      particularly the parental Fosdicks.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They have no business to be upset&mdash;not like that, anyhow,&rdquo; he
+      declared. &ldquo;What does that woman know about me? What right has she to say
+      that I ensnared Madeline's affection and all that rot? Madeline and I fell
+      in love with each other, just as other people have, I suppose.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You suppose right,&rdquo; observed Captain Zelotes, dryly. &ldquo;Other people have&mdash;a
+      good many of 'em since Adam's time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then! And what right has she to give orders that I stop writing or
+      seeing Madeline,&mdash;all that idiotic stuff about ceasing and
+      terminating at once? She&mdash;she&mdash;&rdquo; His agitation was making him
+      incoherent&mdash;&ldquo;She talks like Lord Somebody-or-other in an
+      old-fashioned novel or play or something. Those old fools were always
+      rejecting undesirable suitors and ordering their daughters to do this and
+      that, breaking their hearts, and so on. But that sort of thing doesn't go
+      nowadays. Young people have their own ideas.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Um-hm, Al; so I've noticed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, indeed they have. Now, if Madeline wants to marry me and I want to
+      marry her, who will stop us?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The captain pulled at his beard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, nobody, Al, as I know of,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;provided you both keep on
+      wantin' to marry each other long enough.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Keep on wanting long enough? What do you mean by that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, nothin' much, perhaps; only gettin' married isn't all just goin' to
+      the parson. After the ceremony the rent begins and the grocers' bills and
+      the butchers' and the bakers' and a thousand or so more. Somebody's got to
+      pay 'em, and the money's got to come from somewhere. Your wages here, Al,
+      poetry counted in, ain't so very big yet. Better wait a spell before you
+      settle down to married life, hadn't you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well&mdash;well, I&mdash;I didn't say we were to be married right away,
+      Grandfather. She and I aren't unreasonable. I'm doing better and better
+      with my writings. Some day I'll make enough, and more. Why not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was enough of the Speranza egotism in this confident assurance to
+      bring the twinkle to the captain's eye. He twisted his beard between his
+      finger and thumb and regarded his grandson mildly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you any idea how much 'enough' is liable to be, Al?&rdquo; he inquired. &ldquo;I
+      don't know the facts about 'em, of course, but from what I have heard I
+      judge the Fosdicks have got plenty of cash. I've heard it estimated around
+      town from one million to fifty millions. Allowin' it's only one million,
+      it seems likely that your&mdash;er&mdash;what's-her-name&mdash;Madeline
+      has been used to havin' as much as fifty cents to spend whenever she
+      wanted it. Do you cal'late to be able to earn enough makin' up poetry to
+      keep her the way her folks have been doin'?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, of course not&mdash;not at first.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, but later on&mdash;when the market price of poetry has gone up&mdash;you
+      can, eh?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look here, Grandfather, if you're making fun of me I tell you I won't
+      stand it. This is serious; I mean it. Madeline and I are going to be
+      married some time and no one can stop us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right, son, all right. But it did seem to me that in the light of
+      this letter from&mdash;er&mdash;your mother-in-law that's goin' to be, we
+      ought to face the situation moderately square, anyhow. First comes
+      marriage. Well, that's easy; any fool can get married, lots of 'em do. But
+      then, as I said, comes supportin' yourself and wife&mdash;bills, bills,
+      and more bills. You'll say that you and she will economize and fight it
+      out together. Fine, first-rate, but later on there may be more of you, a
+      child, children perhaps&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Grandfather!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's possible, son. Such things do happen, and they cost money. More
+      mouths to feed. Now I take it for granted that you aren't marryin' the
+      Fosdick girl for her money&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The interruption was prompt and made with fiery indignation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I never thought of her money,&rdquo; declared Albert. &ldquo;I don't even know that
+      she has any. If she has, I don't want it. I wouldn't take it. She is all I
+      want.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Zelotes' lip twitched.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Judgin' from the tone of her ma's last letter to me,&rdquo; he observed, &ldquo;she
+      is all you would be liable to get. It don't read as if many&mdash;er&mdash;weddin'
+      presents from the bride's folks would come along with her. But, there,
+      there, Al don't get mad. I know this is a long ways from bein' a joke to
+      you and, in a way, it's no joke for me. Course I had realized that some
+      day you'd be figgerin', maybe, on gettin' married, but I did hope the
+      figgerin' wouldn't begin for some years yet. And when you did, I rather
+      hoped&mdash;well, I&mdash;I hoped. . . . However, we won't stop to bother
+      with that now. Let's stick to this letter of Mrs. Fosdick's here. I must
+      answer that, I suppose, whether I want to or not, to-day. Well, Al, you
+      tell me, I understand that there has been nothin' underhand in your
+      acquaintance with her daughter. Other than keepin' the engagement a
+      secret, that is?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you mean to stick by your guns and. . . . Well, what is it? Come in!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There had been a knock upon the office door. In answer to his employer's
+      summons, Mr. Keeler appeared. He held a card in his hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sorry to disturb you, Cap'n Lote,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Yes, I be, yes, sir. But I
+      judged maybe 'twas somethin' important about the lumber for his house and
+      he seemed anxious to see you, so I took the risk and knocked. Um-hm&mdash;yes,
+      yes, yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Zelotes looked at the card. Then he adjusted his spectacles and
+      looked again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Humph!&rdquo; he grunted. &ldquo;Humph! . . . We-ell, Labe, I guess likely you might
+      show him in here. Wait just a minute before you do it, though. I'll open
+      the door when I want him to come.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right, Cap'n Lote. Yes, yes,&rdquo; observed Mr. Keeler and departed. The
+      captain looked thoughtfully at the card.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Al,&rdquo; he said, after a moment's reflection, &ldquo;we'll have to cut this talk
+      of ours short for a little spell. You go back to your desk and wait there
+      until I call you. Hold on,&rdquo; as his grandson moved toward the door of the
+      outer office. &ldquo;Don't go that way. Go out through the side door into the
+      yard and come in the front way. There's&mdash;er&mdash;there's a man
+      waitin' to see me, and&mdash;er&mdash;perhaps he'd better not see you
+      first.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert stared at him uncomprehendingly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Better not see ME?&rdquo; he repeated. &ldquo;Why shouldn't he see me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Zelotes handed the card to Albert.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Better let me talk with him first, Al,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;You can have your
+      chance later on.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The card bore the name of Mr. Fletcher Story Fosdick.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XI
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Albert read the name on the card. He was too astonished to speak. Her
+      father! He was here! He&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His grandfather spoke again, and his tone was brisk and businesslike.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Go on, Al,&rdquo; he ordered. &ldquo;Out through this side door and around to the
+      front. Lively, son, lively!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But the young man's wits were returning. He scowled at the card.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; he said stoutly, &ldquo;I'm not going to run away. I'm not afraid of him.
+      I haven't done anything to be ashamed of.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The captain nodded. &ldquo;If you had, I should ASK you to run away,&rdquo; he said.
+      &ldquo;As it is, I just ask you to step out and wait a little while, that's
+      all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, Grandfather, I WANT to see him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right, I want you to&mdash;but not until he and I have talked first.
+      Come, boy, come! I've lived a little longer than you have, and maybe I
+      know about half as much about some things. This is one of 'em. You clear
+      out and stand by. I'll call you when I want you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert went, but reluctantly. After he had gone his grandfather walked to
+      the door of the outer office and opened it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Step aboard, Mr. Fosdick,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Come in, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Fletcher Fosdick was a large man, portly, and with a head which was
+      rapidly losing its thatch. His smoot-shaven face was ruddy and his blue
+      eye mild. He entered the private office of Z. Snow and Co. and shook the
+      hand which Captain Zelotes proffered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How do you do, Captain Snow?&rdquo; he asked pleasantly. &ldquo;You and I have had
+      some business dealings, but we have never met before, I believe.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The captain waved toward a chair. &ldquo;That's a fact, Mr. Fosdick,&rdquo; he said.
+      &ldquo;I don't believe we ever have, but it's better late than by and by, as the
+      feller said. Sit down, sit down, Mr. Fosdick. Throw off your coat, won't
+      you? It's sort of warm in here compared to out door.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The visitor admitted the difference in temperature between the interior
+      and exterior of the building, and removed his overcoat. Also he sat down.
+      Captain Zelotes opened a drawer of his desk and produced a box of cigars.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have a smoke, won't you?&rdquo; he inquired.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Fosdick glanced at the label on the box.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why&mdash;why, I was rather hoping you would smoke one of mine,&rdquo; he said.
+      &ldquo;I have a pocket full.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When I come callin' on you at your place in New York I will smoke yours.
+      Now it kind of looks to me as if you'd ought to smoke mine. Seems
+      reasonable when you think it over, don't it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fosdick smiled. &ldquo;Perhaps you're right,&rdquo; he said. He took one of the
+      gaudily banded perfectos from his host's box and accepted a light from the
+      match the captain held. Both men blew a cloud of smoke and through those
+      clouds each looked at the other. The preliminaries were over, but neither
+      seemed particularly anxious to begin the real conversation. It was the
+      visitor who, at last, began it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Captain Snow,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I presume your clerk told you I wished to see
+      you on a matter of business.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who? Oh, Labe, you mean? Yes, he told me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I told him to tell you that. It may surprise you, however, to learn that
+      the business I wished to see you about&mdash;that I came on from New York
+      to see you about&mdash;has nothing whatever to do with the house I'm
+      building down here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Zelotes removed his cigar from his lips and looked meditatively at
+      its burning end. &ldquo;No-o,&rdquo; he said slowly, &ldquo;that don't surprise me very
+      much. I cal'lated 'twasn't about the house you wished to see me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I see! . . . Humph!&rdquo; The Fosdick mild blue eye lost, for the moment,
+      just a trifle of its mildness and became almost keen, as its owner flashed
+      a glance at the big figure seated at the desk. &ldquo;I see,&rdquo; said Mr. Fosdick.
+      &ldquo;And have you&mdash;er&mdash;guessed what I did come to see you about?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No-o. I wouldn't call it guessin', exactly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wouldn't you? What would you call it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We-ll, I don't know but I'd risk callin' it knowin'. Yes, I think likely
+      I would.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I see. . . . Humph! Have you had a letter&mdash;on the subject?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ye-es.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see. From Mrs. Fosdick, of course. She said she was going to write&mdash;I'm
+      not sure she didn't say she had written; but I had the impression it was
+      to&mdash;well, to another member of your family, Captain Snow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, 'twas to me. Come this mornin's mail.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see. My mistake. Well, I'm obliged to her in a way. If the news has
+      been broken to you, I shan't have to break it and we can get down to brass
+      tacks just so much sooner. The surprise being over&mdash;I take it, it WAS
+      a surprise, Captain?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You take it right. Just as much of a surprise to me as you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course. Well, the surprise being over for both of us, we can talk of
+      the affair&mdash;calmly and coolly. What do you think about it, Captain?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I don't know as I know exactly what to think. What do YOU think about
+      it, Mr. Fosdick?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think&mdash;I imagine I think very much as you do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shouldn't be surprised. And&mdash;er&mdash;what's your notion of what I
+      think?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Zelotes' gray eye twinkled as he asked the question, and the
+      Fosdick blue eye twinkled in return. Both men laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We aren't getting very far this way, Captain,&rdquo; observed the visitor.
+      &ldquo;There's no use dodging, I suppose. I, for one, am not very well pleased.
+      Mrs. Fosdick, for another, isn't pleased at all; she is absolutely and
+      entirely opposed to the whole affair. She won't hear of it, that's all,
+      and she said so much that I thought perhaps I had better come down here at
+      once, see you, and&mdash;and the young fellow with the queer name&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My grandson.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why yes. He is your grandson, isn't he? I beg your pardon.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's all right. I shan't fight with you because you don't like his
+      name. Go ahead. You decided to come and see him&mdash;and me&mdash;?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I did. I decided to come because it has been my experience that a
+      frank, straight talk is better, in cases like this, than a hundred
+      letters. And that the time to talk was now, before matters between the
+      young foo&mdash;the young people went any further. Don't you agree with
+      me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Zelotes nodded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That now is a good time to talk? Yes, I do,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good! Then suppose we talk.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was another interval of silence. Then Fosdick broke it with a
+      chuckle. &ldquo;And I'm the one to do the talking, eh?&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Lote's eye twinkled. &ldquo;We-ll, you came all the way from New York on
+      purpose, you know,&rdquo; he observed. Then he added: &ldquo;But there, Mr. Fosdick, I
+      don't want you to think I ain't polite or won't talk, myself. I'll do my
+      share when the time comes. But it does seem to me that you ought to do
+      yours first as it's your family so far that's done the objectin'. . . .
+      Your cigar's gone out. Have another light, won't you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The visitor shook his head. &ldquo;No, thank you, not now,&rdquo; he said hastily,
+      placing the defunct cigar carefully on the captain's desk. &ldquo;I won't smoke
+      for the minute. So you want me to begin the talking, do you? It seems to
+      me I have begun it. I told you that I do not like the idea of my
+      daughter's being engaged to&mdash;to say nothing of marrying&mdash;your
+      grandson. My wife likes it even less than I do. That is enough of a
+      statement to begin with, isn't it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, no, not exactly, if you'll excuse my sayin' so. Your daughter
+      herself&mdash;how does she feel about it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, she is enthusiastic, naturally. She appears to be suffering from
+      temporary insanity on the subject.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She don't seem to think it's quite as&mdash;er&mdash;preposterous, and
+      ridiculous and outrageous&mdash;and Lord knows what all&mdash;as your wife
+      does, eh?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. I say, Snow, I hope you're not too deeply offended by what my wife
+      wrote you. I judge you are quoting from her letter and apparently she
+      piled it on red-hot. You'll have to excuse her; she was almost wild all
+      day yesterday. I'll ask your pardon on her behalf.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sho, sho! No need, Mr. Fosdick, no need at all. I know what women are,
+      even the easy-goin' kind, when they've got steam up. I've got a wife&mdash;and
+      I had a daughter. But, gettin' back on the course again, you think your
+      daughter's crazy because she wants to marry my grandson. Is that it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, no, I wouldn't say that, exactly. Of course, I wouldn't say that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, you see, you did say it. However, we'll leave that to one side for a
+      spell. What objection&mdash;what real objection is there to those two
+      marryin'&mdash;my grandson and your daughter&mdash;provided that they care
+      for each other as they'd ought to?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Fosdick's expression changed slightly. His tone, as he replied to the
+      question, was colder and his manner less cordial.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know that it is worth while answering that in detail,&rdquo; he said,
+      after an instant's pause. &ldquo;Frankly, Captain Snow, I had rather hoped you
+      would see, for yourself, the reasons why such a marriage wouldn't be
+      desirable. If you don't see them, if you are backing up your grandson in
+      his business, why&mdash;well, there is no use in our discussing the matter
+      any further, is there? We should only lose our tempers and not gain much.
+      So we had better end it now, I think.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He rose to his feet. Captain Zelotes, leaning forward, held up a
+      protesting hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now&mdash;now, Mr. Fosdick,&rdquo; he said earnestly, &ldquo;I don't want you to
+      misunderstand me. And I'm sorry if what I said has made you mad.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fosdick smiled. &ldquo;Oh, I'm not mad,&rdquo; he answered cheerfully. &ldquo;I make it a
+      rule in all my business dealings not to get mad, or, more especially, not
+      to let the other fellow know that I'm getting that way. My temper hasn't a
+      ruffle in it just now, and I am leaving merely because I want it to remain
+      smooth. I judge that you and I aren't going to agree. All right, then
+      we'll differ, but we'll differ without a fight, that's all. Good
+      afternoon, Captain.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But Captain Lote's hand still remained uplifted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Fosdick,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;just a minute now&mdash;just a minute. You never
+      have met Albert, my grandson, have you? Never even seen him, maybe?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, but I intend to meet him and talk with him before I leave South
+      Harniss. He was one of the two people I came here to meet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I was the other, eh? Um-hm. . . . I see. You think you've found out
+      where I stand and now you'll size him up. Honest, Mr. Fosdick, I . . .
+      Humph! Mind if I tell you a little story? 'Twon't take long. When I was a
+      little shaver, me and my granddad, the first Cap'n Lote Snow&mdash;there's
+      been two since&mdash;were great chums. When he was home from sea he and I
+      stuck together like hot pitch and oakum. One day we were sittin' out in
+      the front yard of his house&mdash;it's mine, now&mdash;watchin' a hoptoad
+      catch flies. You've seen a toad catch flies, haven't you, Mr. Fosdick? Mr.
+      Toad sits there, lookin' half asleep and as pious and demure as a
+      pickpocket at camp-meetin', until a fly comes along and gets too near.
+      Then, Zip! out shoots about six inches of toad tongue and that fly's been
+      asked in to dinner. Well, granddad and I sat lookin' at our particular
+      toad when along came a bumble-bee and lighted on a honeysuckle blossom
+      right in front of the critter. The toad didn't take time to think it over,
+      all he saw was a square meal, and his tongue flashed out and nailed that
+      bumble-bee and snapped it into the pantry. In about a half second, though,
+      there was a change. The pantry had been emptied, the bumble-bee was on his
+      way again, and Mr. Toad was on his, hoppin' lively and huntin' for&mdash;well,
+      for ice water or somethin' coolin', I guess likely. Granddad tapped me on
+      the shoulder. 'Sonny,' says he, 'there's a lesson for you. That hoptoad
+      didn't wait to make sure that bumble-bee was good to eat; he took it for
+      granted, and was sorry afterward. It don't pay to jump at conclusions,
+      son,' he says. 'Some conclusions are like that bumble-bee's, they have
+      stings in 'em.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Lote, having finished his story, felt in his pocket for a match.
+      Fosdick, for an instant, appeared puzzled. Then he laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;You think I made too quick a jump when I concluded you
+      were backing your grandson in this affair. All right, I'm glad to hear it.
+      What do you want me to do, sit down again and listen?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He resumed his seat as he asked the question. Captain Zelotes nodded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you don't mind,&rdquo; he answered. &ldquo;You see, you misunderstood me, Mr.
+      Fosdick. I didn't mean any more than what I said when I asked you what
+      real objection there was, in your opinion to Albert's marryin' your&mdash;er&mdash;Madeline,
+      that's her name, I believe. Seems to me the way for us to get to an
+      understandin'&mdash;you and I&mdash;is to find out just how the situation
+      looks to each of us. When we've found out that, we'll know how nigh we
+      come to agreein' or disagreein' and can act accordin'. Sounds reasonable,
+      don't it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fosdick nodded in his turn. &ldquo;Perfectly,&rdquo; he admitted. &ldquo;Well, ask your
+      questions, and I'll answer them. After that perhaps I'll ask some myself.
+      Go ahead.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have gone ahead. I've asked one already.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, but it is such a general question. There may be so many objections.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see. All right, then I'll ask some: What do the lawyers call 'em?&mdash;Atlantic?
+      Pacific? I've got it&mdash;I'll ask some specific questions. Here's one.
+      Do you object to Al personally? To his character?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not at all. We know nothing about his character. Very likely he may be a
+      young saint.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, he ain't, so we'll let that slide. He's a good boy, though, so far
+      as I've ever been able to find out. Is it his looks? You've never seen
+      him, but your wife has. Don't she like his looks?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She hasn't mentioned his looks to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it his money? He hasn't got any of his own.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We-ell, of course that does count a little bit. Madeline is our only
+      child, and naturally we should prefer to have her pick out a husband with
+      a dollar or so in reserve.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Um-hm. Al's twenty-one, Mr. Fosdick. When I was twenty-one I had some put
+      by, but not much. I presume likely 'twas different with you, maybe.
+      Probably you were pretty well fixed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fosdick laughed aloud. &ldquo;You make a good cross-examiner, Snow,&rdquo; he
+      observed. &ldquo;As a matter of fact, when I was twenty-one I was assistant
+      bookkeeper in a New Haven broker's office. I didn't have a cent except my
+      salary, and I had that only for the first five days in the week.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;However, you got married?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I did. More fool I! If I had known anything, I should have waited
+      five years at least. I didn't have any one to tell me so. My father and
+      mother were both dead.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Think you'd have listened to 'em if they had been alive and had told you?
+      However, however, that's all to one side. Well, Albert's havin' no money
+      to speak of is an objection&mdash;and a good honest one from your point of
+      view. His prospects here in this business of mine are fair, and he is
+      doin' better at it than he was, so he may make a comf'table livin'&mdash;a
+      comf'table South Harniss livin', that is&mdash;by and by.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, he is with you, then? Oh, yes, I remember my wife said he worked in
+      your office. But she said more about his being some sort of a&mdash;a
+      poet, wasn't it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      For the first time since the interview began the captain looked ill at
+      ease and embarrassed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thunderation!&rdquo; he exclaimed testily, &ldquo;you mustn't pay attention to that.
+      He does make up poetry' pieces&mdash;er&mdash;on the side, as you might
+      say, but I keep hopin' all the time he'll grow out of it, give him time.
+      It 'ain't his regular job, you mustn't think 'tis.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The visitor laughed again. &ldquo;I'm glad of that,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;both for your
+      sake and mine. I judge that you and I, Snow, are in complete agreement as
+      far as our opinion of poetry and that sort of stuff is concerned. Of
+      course I'm not condemning all poetry, you understand. Longfellow and
+      Tennyson and the regular poets are all right. You understand what I'm
+      getting at?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sartin. I used to know 'Down went the R'yal George with all her crew
+      complete,' and a lot more. Used to say 'em over to myself when I first
+      went to sea and stood watch alone nights. But they were different, you
+      know; they&mdash;they&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sure! My wife&mdash;why, I give you my word that my own wife and her set
+      go perfectly daffy over chaps who write stuff that rhymes and that the
+      papers are printing columns about. Snow, if this grandson of yours was a
+      genuine press-touted, women's club poet instead of a would-be&mdash;well,
+      I don't know what might happen. In that case she might be as strong FOR
+      this engagement as she is now against it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He paused, seeming a bit ashamed of his own heat. Captain Zelotes,
+      however, regarded him with more approval than he had yet shown.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's been my observation that women are likely to get off the course
+      chasin' false signals like that,&rdquo; he observed. &ldquo;When a man begins lettin'
+      his hair and his mouth run wild together seems as if the combination had
+      an attraction for a good many women folks. Al keeps his hair cut, though,
+      I'll say that for him,&rdquo; he added. &ldquo;It curls some, but it ain't long. I
+      wouldn't have him in the office if 'twas.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Mr. Fosdick,&rdquo; he continued, &ldquo;what other objections are they?
+      Manners? Family and relations? Education? Any objections along that line?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No-o, no; I&mdash;well, I don't know; you see, I don't know much about
+      the young fellow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps I can help you out. As to manners&mdash;well, you can judge them
+      for yourself when you see him. He seems to be in about every kind of
+      social doin's there is down here, and he's as much or more popular with
+      the summer folks than with the year-'rounders. Education? Well, that's
+      fair to middlin', as I see it. He spent nine or ten years in a mighty
+      expensive boardin' school up in New York State.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did he? What school?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The captain gave the name of the school. Fosdick looked surprised.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Humph! That IS a good school,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it? Depends on what you call good, I cal'late. Al learned a good deal
+      of this and that, a little bit of foreign language, some that they call
+      dead and some that ought to be dead&mdash;and buried, 'cordin' to my
+      notion. When he came to me he couldn't add up a column of ten figgers
+      without makin' a mistake, and as for business&mdash;well, what he knew
+      about business was about equal to what Noah knew about a gas engine.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He paused to chuckle, and Fosdick chuckled with him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As to family,&rdquo; went on Captain Lote, &ldquo;he's a Snow on his mother's side,
+      and there's been seven generations of Snow's in this part of the Cape
+      since the first one landed here. So far as I know, they've all managed to
+      keep out of jail, which may have been more good luck than deservin' in
+      some cases.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;His father?&rdquo; queried Fosdick.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The captain's heavy brows drew together. &ldquo;His father was a Portygee&mdash;or
+      Spaniard, I believe is right&mdash;and he was a play-actor, one of those&mdash;what
+      do you call 'em?&mdash;opera singers.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fosdick seemed surprised and interested. &ldquo;Oh, indeed,&rdquo; he exclaimed, &ldquo;an
+      opera singer? . . . Why, he wasn't Speranza, the baritone, was he?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Maybe; I believe he was. He married my daughter and&mdash;well, we won't
+      talk about him, if you don't mind.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But Speranza was a&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;IF you don't mind, Mr. Fosdick.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Lote lapsed into silence, drumming the desk with his big fingers.
+      His visitor waited for a few moments. At length he said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Captain Snow, I have answered your questions and you have answered
+      mine. Do you think we are any nearer an agreement now?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Zelotes seemed to awake with a start. &ldquo;Eh?&rdquo; he queried.
+      &ldquo;Agreement? Oh, I don't know. Did you find any&mdash;er&mdash;what you
+      might call vital objections in the boy's record?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No-o. No, all that is all right. His family and his education and all the
+      rest are good enough, I'm sure. But, nevertheless&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You still object to the young folks gettin' married.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I do. Hang it all, Snow, this isn't a thing one can reason out,
+      exactly. Madeline is our only child; she is our pet, our baby. Naturally
+      her mother and I have planned for her, hoped for her, figured that some
+      day, when we had to give her up, it would be to&mdash;to&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To somebody that wasn't Albert Speranza of South Harniss, Mass. . . .
+      Eh?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. Not that your grandson isn't all right. I have no doubt he is a
+      tip-top young fellow. But, you see&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Lote suddenly leaned forward. &ldquo;Course I see, Mr. Fosdick,&rdquo; he
+      interrupted. &ldquo;Course I see. You object, and the objection ain't a mite
+      weaker on account of your not bein' able to say exactly what 'tis.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's the idea. Thank you, Captain.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You're welcome. I can understand. I know just how you feel, because I've
+      been feelin' the same way myself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, you have? Good! Then you can sympathize with Mrs. Fosdick and with
+      me. You see&mdash;you understand why we had rather our daughter did not
+      marry your grandson.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sartin. You see, I've had just the same sort of general kind of objection
+      to Al's marryin' your daughter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Fletcher Fosdick leaned slowly backward in his chair. His appearance
+      was suggestive of one who has received an unexpected thump between the
+      eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, you have!&rdquo; he said again, but not with the same expression.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Um-hm,&rdquo; said Captain Zelotes gravely. &ldquo;I'm like you in one way; I've
+      never met your Madeline any more than you have met Al. I've seen her once
+      or twice, and she is real pretty and nice-lookin'. But I don't know her at
+      all. Now I don't doubt for a minute but that she's a real nice girl and it
+      might be that she'd make Al a fairly good wife.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Er&mdash;well,&mdash;thanks.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, that's all right, I mean it. It might be she would. And I ain't got a
+      thing against you or your folks.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Humph,&mdash;er&mdash;thanks again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's all right; you don't need to thank me. But it's this way with me&mdash;I
+      live in South Harniss all the year round. I want to live here till I die,
+      and&mdash;after I die I'd like first-rate to have Al take up the Z. Snow
+      and Co. business and the Snow house and land and keep them goin' till HE
+      dies. Mind, I ain't at all sure that he'll do it, or be capable of doin'
+      it, but that's what I'd like. Now you're in New York most of the year, and
+      so's your wife and daughter. New York is all right&mdash;I ain't sayin' a
+      word against it&mdash;but New York and South Harniss are different.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Fosdick lip twitched. &ldquo;Somewhat different,&rdquo; he admitted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Um-hm. That sounds like a joke, I know; but I don't mean it so, not now.
+      What I mean is that I know South Harniss and South Harniss folks. I don't
+      know New York&mdash;not so very well, though I've been there plenty of
+      times&mdash;and I don't know New York ways. But I do know South Harniss
+      ways, and they suit me. Would they suit your daughter&mdash;not just for
+      summer, but as a reg'lar thing right straight along year in and out? I
+      doubt it, Mr. Fosdick, I doubt it consid'able. Course I don't know your
+      daughter&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do&mdash;and I share your doubts.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Um-hm. But whether she liked it or not she'd have to come here if she
+      married my grandson. Either that or he'd have to go to New York. And if he
+      went to New York, how would he earn his livin'? Get a new bookkeepin' job
+      and start all over again, or live on poetry?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Fosdick opened his mouth as if to speak, seemed to change his mind and
+      closed it again, without speaking. Captain Zelotes, looking keenly at him,
+      seemed to guess his thoughts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course,&rdquo; he said deliberately, but with a firmness which permitted no
+      misunderstanding of his meaning, &ldquo;of course you mustn't get it into your
+      head for one minute that the boy is figgerin' on your daughter's bein' a
+      rich girl. He hasn't given that a thought. You take my word for that, Mr.
+      Fosdick. He doesn't know how much money she or you have got and he doesn't
+      care. He doesn't care a continental darn.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His visitor smiled slightly. &ldquo;Nevertheless,&rdquo; he began. The captain
+      interrupted him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, there ain't any nevertheless,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Albert has been with me
+      enough years now so that I know a little about him. And I know that all he
+      wants is your daughter. As to how much she's worth in money or how they're
+      goin' to live after he's got her&mdash;I know that he hasn't given it one
+      thought. I don't imagine she has, either. For one reason,&rdquo; he added, with
+      a smile, &ldquo;he is too poor a business man to think of marriage as a
+      business, bill-payin' contract, and for another,&mdash;for another&mdash;why,
+      good Lord, Fosdick!&rdquo; he exclaimed, leaning forward, &ldquo;don't you know what
+      this thing means to those two young folks? It means just moonshine and
+      mush and lookin' into each other's eyes, that's about all. THEY haven't
+      thought any practical thoughts about it. Why, think what their ages are!
+      Think of yourself at that age! Can't you remember. . . . Humph! Well, I'm
+      talkin' fifty revolutions to the second. I beg your pardon.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's all right, Snow. And I believe you have the situation sized up as
+      it is. Still&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Excuse me, Mr. Fosdick, but don't you think it's about time you had a
+      look at the boy himself? I'm goin' to ask him to come in here and meet
+      you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fosdick looked troubled. &ldquo;Think it is good policy?&rdquo; he asked doubtfully.
+      &ldquo;I want to see him and speak with him, but I do hate a scene.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There won't be any scene. You just meet him face to face and talk enough
+      with him to get a little idea of what your first impression is. Don't
+      contradict or commit yourself or anything. And I'll send him out at the
+      end of two or three minutes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Without waiting for a reply, he rose, opened the door to the outer office
+      and called, &ldquo;Al, come in here!&rdquo; When Albert had obeyed the order he closed
+      the door behind him and turning to the gentleman in the visitor's chair,
+      said: &ldquo;Mr. Fosdick, this is my grandson, Albert Speranza. Al, shake hands
+      with Mr. Fosdick from New York.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      While awaiting the summons to meet the father of his adored, Albert had
+      been rehearsing and re-rehearsing the speeches he intended making when
+      that meeting took place. Sitting at his desk, pen in hand and pretending
+      to be busy with the bookkeeping of Z. Snow and Company, he had seen, not
+      the ruled page of the day book, but the parental countenance of the
+      Honorable Fletcher Fosdick. And, to his mind's eye, that countenance was
+      as rugged and stern as the rock-bound coast upon which the Pilgrims
+      landed, and about as unyielding and impregnable as the door of the office
+      safe. So, when his grandfather called him, he descended from the tall desk
+      stool and crossed the threshold of the inner room, a trifle pale, a little
+      shaky at the knees, but with the set chin and erect head of one who,
+      facing almost hopeless odds, intends fighting to the last gasp.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To his astonishment the Fosdick countenance was not as his imagination had
+      pictured it. The blue eyes met his, not with a glare or a glower, but with
+      a look of interest and inquiry. The Fosdick hand shook his with
+      politeness, and the Fosdick manner was, if not genial, at least quiet and
+      matter of fact. He was taken aback. What did it mean? Was it possible that
+      Madeline's father was inclined to regard her engagement to him with favor?
+      A great throb of joy accompanied the thought. Then he remembered the
+      letter he had just read, the letter from Madeline's mother, and the hope
+      subsided.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Albert,&rdquo; said Captain Zelotes, &ldquo;Mr. Fosdick has come on here to talk with
+      us; that is, with me and you, about your affairs. He and I have talked up
+      to the point where it seemed to me you ought to come in for a spell. I've
+      told him that the news that you and his daughter were&mdash;er&mdash;favorably
+      disposed toward each other was as sudden and as big a surprise to me as
+      'twas to him. Even your grandma don't know it yet. Now I presume likely
+      he'd like to ask you a few questions. Heave ahead, Mr. Fosdick.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He relit his cigar stump and leaned back in his chair. Mr. Fosdick leaned
+      forward in his. Albert stood very straight, his shoulders braced for the
+      encounter. The quizzical twinkle shone in Captain Lote's eye as he
+      regarded his grandson. Fosdick also smiled momentarily as he caught the
+      expression of the youth's face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Speranza,&rdquo; he began, in so cheerful a tone that Albert's
+      astonishment grew even greater, &ldquo;your grandfather has been kind enough to
+      get us through the preliminaries, so we'll come at once to the essentials.
+      You and my daughter consider yourselves engaged to marry?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir. We ARE engaged.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see. How long have you&mdash;um&mdash;been that way, so to speak?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Since last August.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why haven't you said anything about it to us&mdash;to Mrs. Fosdick or me
+      or your people here? You must excuse these personal questions. As I have
+      just said to Captain Snow, Madeline is our only child, and her happiness
+      and welfare mean about all there is in life to her mother and me. So,
+      naturally, the man she is going to marry is an important consideration.
+      You and I have never met before, so the quickest way of reaching an
+      understanding between us is by the question route. You get my meaning?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir, I guess I do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good! Then we'll go ahead. Why have you two kept it a secret so long?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because&mdash;well, because we knew we couldn't marry yet a while, so we
+      thought we had better not announce it for the present.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! . . . And the idea that perhaps Mrs. Fosdick and I might be slightly
+      interested didn't occur to you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, yes, sir, it did. But,&mdash;but we thought it best not to tell you
+      until later.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps the suspicion that we might not be overjoyed by the news had a
+      little weight with you, eh? Possibly that helped to delay the&mdash;er&mdash;announcement?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, sir, I&mdash;I don't think it did.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, don't you! Perhaps you thought we WOULD be overjoyed?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, sir. We didn't think so very much about it. Well, that's not quite
+      true. Madeline felt that her mother&mdash;and you, too, sir, I suppose,
+      although she didn't speak as often of you in that way&mdash;she felt that
+      her mother would disapprove at first, and so we had better wait.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Until when?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Until&mdash;until by and by. Until I had gone ahead further, you know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm not sure that I do know. Gone ahead how? Until you had a better
+      position, more salary?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, not exactly. Until my writings were better known. Until I was a
+      little more successful.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Successful? Until you wrote more poetry, do you mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir. Poetry and other things, stories and plays, perhaps.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you mean&mdash;Did you figure that you and Madeline were to live on
+      what you made by writing poetry and the other stuff?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir, of course.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fosdick looked across at Captain Zelotes. The Captain's face was worth
+      looking at.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here, here, hold on!&rdquo; he exclaimed, jumping into the conversation. &ldquo;Al,
+      what are you talkin' about? You're bookkeeper for me, ain't you; for this
+      concern right here where you are? What do you mean by talkin' as if your
+      job was makin' up poetry pieces? That's only what you do on the side, and
+      you know it. Eh, ain't that so?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert hesitated. He had, momentarily, forgotten his grandfather and the
+      latter's prejudices. After all, what was the use of stirring up additional
+      trouble.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, Grandfather,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Course it's so. It's in this office that you draw your wages.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, Grandfather.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right. Excuse me for nosin' in, Mr. Fosdick, but I knew the boy
+      wasn't puttin' the thing as plain as it ought to be, and I didn't want you
+      to get the wrong notion. Heave ahead.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fosdick smiled slightly. &ldquo;All right, Captain,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I get it, I
+      think. Well, then,&rdquo; turning again to Albert, &ldquo;your plan for supporting my
+      daughter was to wait until your position here, plus the poetry, should
+      bring in sufficient revenue. It didn't occur to you that&mdash;well, that
+      there might be a possibility of getting money&mdash;elsewhere?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert plainly did not understand, but it was just as plain that his
+      grandfather did. Captain Zelotes spoke sharply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Fosdick,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I just answered that question for you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I know. But if you were in my place you might like to have him
+      answer it. I don't mean to be offensive, but business is business, and,
+      after all, this is a business talk. So&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Captain interrupted. &ldquo;So we'll talk it in a business way, eh?&rdquo; he
+      snapped. &ldquo;All right. Al, what Mr. Fosdick means is had you cal'lated that,
+      if you married his daughter, maybe her dad's money might help you and her
+      to keep goin'? To put it even plainer: had you planned some on her bein' a
+      rich girl?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fosdick looked annoyed. &ldquo;Oh, I say, Snow!&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;That's too strong,
+      altogether.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not a mite. It's what you've had in the back of your head all along. I'm
+      just helpin' it to come out of the front. Well, Al?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The red spots were burning in the Speranza cheeks. He choked as he
+      answered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; he cried fiercely. &ldquo;Of course I haven't planned on any such thing. I
+      don't know how rich she is. I don't care. I wish she was as poor as&mdash;as
+      I am. I want HER, that's all. And she wants me. We don't either of us care
+      about money. I wouldn't take a cent of your money, Mr. Fosdick. But I&mdash;I
+      want Madeline and&mdash;and&mdash;I shall have her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In spite of her parents, eh?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. . . . I'm sorry to speak so, Mr. Fosdick, but it is true. We&mdash;we
+      love each other. We&mdash;we've agreed to wait for each other, no matter&mdash;no
+      matter if it is years and years. And as for the money and all that, if you
+      disinherit her, or&mdash;or whatever it is they do&mdash;we don't care. I&mdash;I
+      hope you will. I&mdash;she&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Zelotes' voice broke in upon the impassioned outburst.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Steady, Al; steady, son,&rdquo; he cautioned quietly. &ldquo;I cal'late you've said
+      enough. I don't think any more's necessary. You'd better go back to your
+      desk now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, Grandfather, I want him to understand&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I guess likely he does. I should say you'd made it real plain. Go now,
+      Al.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert turned, but, with a shaking hand upon the doorknob, turned back
+      again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm&mdash;I&mdash;I'm sorry, Mr. Fosdick,&rdquo; he faltered. &ldquo;I&mdash;I didn't
+      mean to say anything to hurt your feelings. But&mdash;but, you see,
+      Madeline&mdash;she and I&mdash;we&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He could not go on. Fosdick's nod and answer were not unkindly. &ldquo;All
+      right, Speranza,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I'm not offended. Hope I wasn't too blunt,
+      myself. Good-day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When the door had closed behind the young man he turned to Captain Lote.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sorry if I offended you, Snow,&rdquo; he observed. &ldquo;I threw in that hint about
+      marrying just to see what effect it would have, that's all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Um-hm. So I judged. Well, you saw, didn't you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I did. Say, Captain, except as a prospective son-in-law, and then only
+      because I don't see him in that light&mdash;I rather like that grandson of
+      yours. He's a fine, upstanding young chap.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The captain made no reply. He merely pulled at his beard. However, he did
+      not look displeased.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He's a handsome specimen, isn't he?&rdquo; went on Fosdick. &ldquo;No wonder Madeline
+      fell for his looks. Those and the poetry together are a combination hard
+      to resist&mdash;at her age. And he's a gentleman. He handled himself
+      mighty well while I was stringing him just now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The beard tugging continued. &ldquo;Um-hm,&rdquo; observed Captain Zelotes dryly; &ldquo;he
+      does pretty well for a&mdash;South Harniss gentleman. But we're kind of
+      wastin' time, ain't we, Mr. Fosdick? In spite of his looks and his manners
+      and all the rest, now that you've seen him you still object to that
+      engagement, I take it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, yes, I do. The boy is all right, I'm sure, but&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sartin, I understand. I feel the same way about your girl. She's all
+      right, I'm sure, but&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We're agreed on everything, includin' the 'but.' And the 'but' is that
+      New York is one place and South Harniss is another.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Exactly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So we don't want 'em to marry. Fine. First rate! Only now we come to the
+      most important 'but' of all. What are we going to do about it? Suppose we
+      say no and they say yes and keep on sayin' it? Suppose they decide to get
+      married no matter what we say. How are we goin' to stop it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His visitor regarded him for a moment and then broke into a hearty laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Snow,&rdquo; he declared, &ldquo;you're all right. You surely have the faculty of
+      putting your finger on the weak spots. Of course we can't stop it. If
+      these two young idiots have a mind to marry and keep that mind, they WILL
+      marry and we can't prevent it any more than we could prevent the tide
+      coming in to-morrow morning. <i>I</i> realized that this was a sort of
+      fool's errand, my coming down here. I know that this isn't the age when
+      parents can forbid marriages and get away with it, as they used to on the
+      stage in the old plays. Boys and girls nowadays have a way of going their
+      own gait in such matters. But my wife doesn't see it in exactly that way,
+      and she was so insistent on my coming down here to stop the thing if I
+      could that&mdash;well, I came.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm glad you did, Mr. Fosdick, real glad. And, although I agree with you
+      that the very worst thing to do, if we want to stop this team from pullin'
+      together, is to haul back on the bits and holler 'Whoa,' still I'm kind of
+      hopeful that, maybe . . . humph! I declare, it looks as if I'd have to
+      tell you another story. I'm gettin' as bad as Cap'n Hannibal Doane used to
+      be, and they used to call him 'The Rope Walk' 'cause he spun so many
+      yarns.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fosdick laughed again. &ldquo;You may go as far as you like with your stories,
+      Captain,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I can grow fat on them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thanks. Well, this ain't a story exactly; it just kind of makes the point
+      I'm tryin' to get at. Calvin Bangs had a white mare one time and the
+      critter had a habit of runnin' away. Once his wife, Hannah J., was in the
+      buggy all by herself, over to the Ostable Fair, Calvin havin' got out to
+      buy some peanuts or somethin'. The mare got scared of the noise and crowd
+      and bolted. As luck would have it, she went right through the fence and
+      out onto the trottin' track. And around that track she went, hell bent for
+      election. All hands was runnin' alongside hollerin' 'Stop her! Stop her!
+      'but not Calvin&mdash;no SIR! He waited till the mare was abreast of him,
+      the mare on two legs and the buggy on two wheels and Hannah 'most
+      anywheres between the dasher and the next world, and then he sung out:
+      'Give her her head, Hannah! Give her her head. She'll stop when she runs
+      down.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He laughed and his visitor laughed with him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I gather,&rdquo; observed the New Yorker, &ldquo;that you believe it the better
+      policy to give our young people their heads.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In reason&mdash;yes, I do. It's my judgment that an affair like this will
+      hurry more and more if you try too hard to stop it. If you don't try at
+      all so any one would notice it, it may run down and stop of itself, the
+      way Calvin's mare did.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fosdick nodded reflectively. &ldquo;I'm inclined to agree with you,&rdquo; he said.
+      &ldquo;But does that mean that they're to correspond, write love letters, and
+      all that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, in reason, maybe. If we say no to that, they'll write anyhow, won't
+      they?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course. . . . How would it do to get them to promise to write nothing
+      that their parents might not see? Of course I don't mean for your grandson
+      to show you his letters before he sends them to Madeline. He's too old for
+      that, and he would refuse. But suppose you asked him to agree to write
+      nothing that Madeline would not be willing to show her mother&mdash;or me.
+      Do you think he would?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Maybe. I'll ask him. . . . Yes, I guess likely he'd do that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My reason for suggesting it is, frankly, not so much on account of the
+      young people as to pacify my wife. I am not afraid&mdash;not very much
+      afraid of this love affair. They are young, both of them. Give them time,
+      and&mdash;as you say, Snow, the thing may run down, peter out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm in hopes 'twill. It's calf love, as I see it, and I believe 'twill
+      pay to give the calves rope enough.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So do I. No, I'm not much troubled about the young people. But Mrs.
+      Fosdick&mdash;well, my trouble will be with her. She'll want to have your
+      boy shot or jailed or hanged or something.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I presume likely. I guess you'll have to handle her the way another
+      feller who used to live here in South Harniss said he handled his wife.
+      'We don't never have any trouble at all,' says he. 'Whenever she says yes
+      or no, I say the same thing. Later on, when it comes to doin', I do what I
+      feel like.' . . . Eh? You're not goin', are you, Mr. Fosdick?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His visitor had risen and was reaching for his coat. Captain Zelotes also
+      rose.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't hurry, don't hurry,&rdquo; he begged.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sorry, but I must. I want to be back in New York tomorrow morning.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you can't, can you? To do that you'll have to get up to Boston or
+      Fall River, and the afternoon train's gone. You'd better stay and have
+      supper along with my wife and me, stay at our house over night, and take
+      the early train after breakfast to-morrow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish I could; I'd like nothing better. But I can't.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sure?&rdquo; Then, with a smile, he added: &ldquo;Al needn't eat with us, you know,
+      if his bein' there makes either of you feel nervous.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fosdick laughed again. &ldquo;I think I should be willing to risk the
+      nervousness,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;But I must go, really. I've hired a chap at the
+      garage here to drive me to Boston in his car and I'll take the midnight
+      train over.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Humph! Well, if you must, you must. Hope you have a comf'table trip, Mr.
+      Fosdick. Better wrap up warm; it's pretty nigh a five-hour run to Boston
+      and there's some cool wind over the Ostable marshes this time of year.
+      Good-by, sir. Glad to have had this talk with you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His visitor held out his hand. &ldquo;So am I, Snow,&rdquo; he said heartily. &ldquo;Mighty
+      glad.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope I wasn't too short and brisk at the beginnin'. You see, I'd just
+      read your wife's letter, and&mdash;er&mdash;well, of course, I didn't know&mdash;just&mdash;you
+      see, you and I had never met, and so&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly, certainly. I quite understand. And, fool's errand or not, I'm
+      very glad I came here. If you'll pardon my saying so, it was worth the
+      trip to get acquainted with you. I hope, whatever comes of the other
+      thing, that our acquaintanceship will continue.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Same here, same here. Go right out the side door, Mr. Fosdick, saves
+      goin' through the office. Good day, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He watched the bulky figure of the New York banker tramping across the
+      yard between the piles of lumber. A moment later he entered the outer
+      office. Albert and Keeler were at their desks. Captain Zelotes approached
+      the little bookkeeper.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Labe,&rdquo; he queried, &ldquo;there isn't anything particular you want me to talk
+      about just now, is there?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lahan looked up in surprise from his figuring.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why&mdash;why, no, Cap'n Lote, don't know's there is,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Don't
+      know's there is, not now, no, no, no.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His employer nodded. &ldquo;Good!&rdquo; he exclaimed. &ldquo;Then I'm goin' back inside
+      there and sit down and rest my chin for an hour, anyhow. I've talked so
+      much to-day that my jaws squeak. Don't disturb me for anything short of a
+      fire or a mutiny.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XII
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      He was not disturbed and that evening, after supper was over, he was ready
+      to talk again. He and Albert sat together in the sitting room&mdash;Mrs.
+      Snow and Rachel were in the kitchen washing dishes&mdash;and Captain
+      Zelotes told his grandson as much as he thought advisable to tell of his
+      conversation with the Honorable Fletcher Fosdick. At first Albert was
+      inclined to rebel at the idea of permitting his letters to Madeline to be
+      read by the latter's parents, but at length he agreed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll do it because it may make it easier for her,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;She'll have
+      a dreadful time, I suppose, with that unreasonable mother of hers. But, by
+      George, Grandfather,&rdquo; he exclaimed, &ldquo;isn't she splendid, though!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who? Mrs. Fosdick?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, of course not,&rdquo; indignantly. &ldquo;Madeline. Isn't she splendid and fine
+      and loyal! I want you to know her, Grandfather, you and Grandmother.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Um-hm. Well, we'll hope to, some day. Now, son, I'm goin' to ask for
+      another promise. It may seem a hard one to make, but I'm askin' you to
+      make it. I want you to give me your word that, no matter what happens or
+      how long you have to wait, you and Madeline won't get married without
+      tellin' her folks and yours beforehand. You won't run away and marry. Will
+      you promise me that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert looked at him. This WAS a hard promise to make. In their talks
+      beneath the rainbows, whenever he and Madeline had referred to the future
+      and its doubts, they had always pushed those doubts aside with vague hints
+      of an elopement. If the unreasonableness of parents and grandparents
+      should crowd them too far, they had always as a last resort, the solution
+      of their problem by way of a runaway marriage. And now Captain Zelotes was
+      asking him to give up this last resort.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The captain, watching him keenly, divined what was in his grandson's mind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Think it over, Al,&rdquo; he said kindly. &ldquo;Don't answer me now, but think it
+      over, and to-morrow mornin' tell me how you feel about it.&rdquo; He hesitated a
+      moment and then added: &ldquo;You know your grandmother and I, we&mdash;well, we
+      have maybe cause to be a little mite prejudiced against this elopin'
+      business.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So Albert thought, and the next morning, as the pair were walking together
+      to the office, he spoke his thought. Captain Zelotes had not mentioned the
+      subject.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Grandfather,&rdquo; said Albert, with some embarrassment, &ldquo;I'm going to give
+      you that promise.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His grandfather, who had been striding along, his heavy brows drawn
+      together and his glance fixed upon the frozen ground beneath his feet,
+      looked up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eh?&rdquo; he queried, uncomprehendingly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You asked me last night to promise you something, you know. . . . You
+      asked me to think it over. I have, and I'm going to promise you that&mdash;Madeline
+      and I won't marry without first telling you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Zelotes stopped in his stride; then he walked on again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you, Al,&rdquo; he said quietly. &ldquo;I hoped you'd see it that way.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes&mdash;yes, I&mdash;I do. I don't want to bring any more&mdash;trouble
+      of that kind to you and Grandmother. . . . It seems to me that you&mdash;that
+      you have had too much already.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you, son. . . . Much obliged.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The captain's tone was almost gruff and that was his only reference to the
+      subject of the promise; but somehow Albert felt that at that moment he and
+      his grandfather were closer together, were nearer to a mutual
+      understanding and mutual appreciation than they had ever been before.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To promise, however, is one thing, to fulfill the obligation another. As
+      the days passed Albert found his promise concerning letter-writing very,
+      very hard to keep. When, each evening he sat down at the table in his room
+      to pour out his soul upon paper it was a most unsatisfactory outpouring.
+      The constantly enforced recollection that whatever he wrote would be
+      subject to the chilling glance of the eye of Fosdick mater was of itself a
+      check upon the flow. To write a love letter to Madeline had hitherto been
+      a joy, a rapture, to fill pages and pages a delight. Now, somehow, these
+      pages were hard to fill. Omitting the very things you were dying to say,
+      the precious, the intimate things&mdash;what was there left? He and she
+      had, at their meetings and in their former correspondence, invented many
+      delightful little pet names for each other. Now those names were taboo;
+      or, at any rate, they might as well be. The thought of Mrs. Fosdick's
+      sniff of indignant disgust at finding her daughter referred to as some
+      one's ownest little rosebud withered that bud before it reached the paper.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And Madeline's letters to him were quite as unsatisfactory. They were
+      lengthy, but oh, so matter of fact! Saharas of fact without one oasis of
+      sentiment. She was well and she had done this and that and had been to see
+      such and such plays and operas. Father was well and very busy. Mother,
+      too, was well, so was Googoo&mdash;but these last two bits of news failed
+      to comfort him as they perhaps should. He could only try to glean between
+      the lines, and as Mrs. Fosdick had raked between those lines before him,
+      the gleaning was scant picking indeed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He found himself growing disconsolate and despondent. Summer seemed ages
+      away. And when at last it should come&mdash;what would happen then? He
+      could see her only when properly chaperoned, only when Mother, and
+      probably Googoo, were present. He flew for consolation to the Muse and the
+      Muse refused to console. The poems he wrote were &ldquo;blue&rdquo; and despairing
+      likewise. Consequently they did not sell. He was growing desperate, ready
+      for anything. And something came. Germany delivered to our Government its
+      arrogant mandate concerning unlimited submarine warfare. A long-suffering
+      President threw patience overboard and answered that mandate in
+      unmistakable terms. Congress stood at his back and behind them a united
+      and indignant people. The United States declared war upon the Hun.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      South Harniss, like every other community, became wildly excited. Captain
+      Zelotes Snow's gray eyes flashed fiery satisfaction. The flags at the Snow
+      place and at the lumber yard flew high night and day. He bought newspapers
+      galore and read from them aloud at meals, in the evenings, and before
+      breakfast. Issachar, as usual, talked much and said little. Laban Keeler's
+      comments were pithy and dryly pointed. Albert was very quiet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But one forenoon he spoke. Captain Lote was in the inner office, the
+      morning newspaper in his hand, when his grandson entered and closed the
+      door behind him. The captain looked up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Al, what is it?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert came over and stood beside the desk. The captain, after a moment's
+      scrutiny of the young man's face, put down his newspaper.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Al?&rdquo; he said, again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert seemed to find it hard to speak.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Grandfather,&rdquo; he began, &ldquo;I&mdash;I&mdash;Grandfather, I have come to ask
+      a favor of you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The captain nodded, slowly, his gaze fixed upon his grandson's face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right; heave ahead,&rdquo; he said quietly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Grandfather, you and I have had a four years' agreement to work together
+      in this office. It isn't up yet, but&mdash;but I want to break it. I want
+      you to let me off.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Humph! . . . Let you off, eh? . . . What for?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's what I came here to tell you. Grandfather, I can't stay here&mdash;now.
+      I want to enlist.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Zelotes did not answer. His hand moved upward and pulled at his
+      beard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I want to enlist,&rdquo; repeated Albert. &ldquo;I can't stand it another minute. I
+      must. If it hadn't been for you and our promise and&mdash;and Madeline, I
+      think I should have joined the Canadian Army a year or more ago. But now
+      that we have gone into the war, I CAN'T stay out. Grandfather, you don't
+      want me to, do you? Of course you don't.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His grandfather appeared to ponder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you can wait a spell,&rdquo; he said slowly, &ldquo;I might be able to fix it so's
+      you can get a chance for an officer's commission. I'd ought to have some
+      pull somewheres, seems so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert sniffed impatient disgust. &ldquo;I don't want to get a commission&mdash;in
+      that way,&rdquo; he declared.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Humph! You'll find there's plenty that do, I shouldn't wonder.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps, but I'm not one of them. And I don't care so much for a
+      commission, unless I can earn it. And I don't want to stay here and study
+      for it. I want to go now. I want to get into the thing. I don't want to
+      wait.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Lote leaned forward. His gray eyes snapped.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Want to fight, do you?&rdquo; he queried.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You bet I do!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right, my boy, then go&mdash;and fight. I'd be ashamed of myself if I
+      held you back a minute. Go and fight&mdash;and fight hard. I only wish to
+      God I was young enough to go with you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XIII
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      And so, in this unexpected fashion, came prematurely the end of the four
+      year trial agreement between Albert Speranza and Z. Snow and Co. Of course
+      neither Captain Zelotes nor Albert admitted that it had ended. Each
+      professed to regard the break as merely temporary.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You'll be back at that desk in a little while, Al,&rdquo; said the captain,
+      &ldquo;addin' up figgers and tormentin' Issy.&rdquo; And Albert's reply was
+      invariably, &ldquo;Why, of course, Grandfather.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He had dreaded his grandmother's reception of the news of his intended
+      enlistment. Olive worshiped her daughter's boy and, although an ardent
+      patriot, was by no means as fiercely belligerent as her husband. She
+      prayed each night for the defeat of the Hun, whereas Captain Lote was for
+      licking him first and praying afterwards. Albert feared a scene; he feared
+      that she might be prostrated when she learned that he was to go to war.
+      But she bore it wonderfully well, and as for the dreaded &ldquo;scene,&rdquo; there
+      was none.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Zelotes says he thinks it's the right thing for you to do, Albert,&rdquo; she
+      said, &ldquo;so I suppose I ought to think so, too. But, oh, my dear, DO you
+      really feel that you must? I&mdash;it don't seem as I could bear to . . .
+      but there, I mustn't talk so. It ain't a mite harder for me than it is for
+      thousands of women all over this world. . . . And perhaps the government
+      folks won't take you, anyway. Rachel said she read in the Item about some
+      young man over in Bayport who was rejected because he had fat feet. She
+      meant flat feet, I suppose, poor thing. Oh, dear me, I'm laughin', and it
+      seems wicked to laugh a time like this. And when I think of you goin',
+      Albert, I&mdash;I . . . but there, I promised Zelotes I wouldn't. . . .
+      And they MAY not take you. . . . But oh, of course they will, of course
+      they will! . . . I'm goin' to make you a chicken pie for dinner to-day; I
+      know how you like it. . . . If only they MIGHT reject you! . . . But
+      there, I said I wouldn't and I won't.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rachel Ellis's opinion on the subject and her way of expressing that
+      opinion were distinctly her own. Albert arose early in the morning
+      following the announcement of his decision to enter the service. He had
+      not slept well; his mind was too busy with problems and speculations to
+      resign itself to sleep. He had tossed about until dawn and had then risen
+      and sat down at the table in his bedroom to write Madeline of the step he
+      had determined to take. He had not written her while he was considering
+      that step. He felt, somehow, that he alone with no pressure from without
+      should make the decision. Now that it was made, and irrevocably made, she
+      must of course be told. Telling her, however, was not an easy task. He was
+      sure she would agree that he had done the right thing, the only thing, but&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is going to be very hard for you, dear,&rdquo; he wrote, heedless of the
+      fact that Mrs. Fosdick's censorious eye would see and condemn the &ldquo;dear.&rdquo;
+       &ldquo;It is going to be hard for both of us. But I am sure you will feel as I
+      do that I COULDN'T do anything else. I am young and strong and fit and I
+      am an American. I MUST go. You see it, don't you, Madeline. I can hardly
+      wait until your letter comes telling me that you feel I did just the thing
+      you would wish me to do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He hesitated and then, even more regardless of the censor, added the
+      quotation which countless young lovers were finding so apt just then:
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     &ldquo;I could not love thee, dear, so much,
+        Loved I not honor more.&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      So when, fresh from the intimacy of this communication with his adored and
+      with the letter in his hand, he entered the sitting-room at that early
+      hour he was not overjoyed to find the housekeeper there ahead of him. And
+      her first sentence showed that she had been awaiting his coming.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good mornin', Albert,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I heard you stirrin' 'round up in your
+      room and I came down here so's you and I could talk together for a minute
+      without anybody's disturbin' us. . . . Humph! I guess likely you didn't
+      sleep any too well last night, did you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert shook his head. &ldquo;Not too well, Rachel,&rdquo; he replied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shouldn't wonder. Well, I doubt if there was too much sleep anywheres
+      in this house last night. So you're really goin' to war, are you, Albert?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. If the war will let me I certainly am.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dear, dear! . . . Well, I&mdash;I think it's what Robert Penfold would
+      have done if he was in your place. I've been goin' over it and goin' over
+      it half the night, myself, and I've come to that conclusion. It's goin' to
+      be awful hard on your grandma and grandfather and me and Labe, all us
+      folks here at home, but I guess it's the thing you'd ought to do, the
+      Penfold kind of thing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert smiled. &ldquo;I'm glad you think so, Rachel,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I do, and if I'm goin' to tell the truth I might as well say I
+      tried terrible hard to find some good reasons for thinkin' 'twan't. I did
+      SO! But the only good reasons I could scare up for makin' you stay to home
+      was because home was safe and comf'table and where you was goin' wan't.
+      And that kind of reasonin' might do fust-rate for a passel of clams out on
+      the flats, but it wouldn't be much credit to decent, self-respectin'
+      humans. When General Rolleson came to that island and found his daughter
+      and Robert Penfold livin' there in that house made out of pearls he'd
+      built for her&mdash;Wan't that him all over! Another man, the common run
+      of man, would have been satisfied to build her a house out of wood and
+      lucky to get that, but no, nothin' would do him but pearls, and if they'd
+      have been di'monds he'd have been better satisfied. Well. . . . Where was
+      I? . . . Oh yes! When General Rolleson came there and says to his
+      daughter, 'Helen, you come home along of me,' and she says, 'No, I shan't
+      leave him,' meanin' Robert Penfold, you understand&mdash;When she says
+      that did Robert Penfold say, 'That's the talk! Put that in your pipe, old
+      man, and smoke it?' No, SIR, he didn't! He says, 'Helen, you go straight
+      home along with your pa and work like fury till you find out who forged
+      that note and laid it onto me. You find that out,' he says, 'and then you
+      can come fetch me and not afore.' That's the kind of man HE was! And they
+      sailed off and left him behind.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert shook his head. He had heard only about half of the housekeeper's
+      story. &ldquo;Pretty rough on him, I should say,&rdquo; he commented, absently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I GUESS 'twas rough on him, poor thing! But 'twas his duty and so he done
+      it. It was rough on Helen, havin' to go and leave him, but 'twas rougher
+      still on him. It's always roughest, seems to me,&rdquo; she added, &ldquo;on the ones
+      that's left behind. Those that go have somethin' to take up their minds
+      and keep 'em from thinkin' too much. The ones that stay to home don't have
+      much to do EXCEPT think. I hope you don't get the notion that I feel your
+      part of it is easy, Al. Only a poor, crazy idiot could read the papers
+      these days and feel that any part of this war was EASY! It's awful, but&mdash;but
+      it WILL keep you too busy to think, maybe.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shouldn't wonder, Rachel. I understand what you mean.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We're all goin' to miss you, Albert. This house is goin' to be a pretty
+      lonesome place, I cal'late. Your grandma'll miss you dreadful and so will
+      I, but&mdash;but I have a notion that your grandpa's goin' to miss you
+      more'n anybody else.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He shook his head. &ldquo;Oh, not as much as all that, Rachel,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;He and
+      I have been getting on much better than we used to and we have come to
+      understand each other better, but he is still disappointed in me. I'm
+      afraid I don't count for much as a business man, you see; and, besides,
+      Grandfather can never quite forget that I am the son of what he calls a
+      Portygee play actor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Ellis looked at him earnestly. &ldquo;He's forgettin' it better every day,
+      Albert,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I do declare I never believed Capt'n Lote Snow could
+      forget it the way he's doin'. And you&mdash;well, you've forgot a whole
+      lot, too. Memory's a good thing, the land knows,&rdquo; she added, sagely, &ldquo;but
+      a nice healthy forgetery is worth consider'ble&mdash;some times and in
+      some cases.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Issachar Price's comments on his fellow employee's decision to become a
+      soldier were pointed. Issy was disgusted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For thunder sakes, Al,&rdquo; he demanded, &ldquo;'tain't true that you've enlisted
+      to go to war and fight them Germans, is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert smiled. &ldquo;I guess it is, Issy,&rdquo; he replied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, by crimus!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Somebody had to go, you see, Is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, by crimustee!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's the matter, Issy? Don't you approve?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Approve! No, by crimus, I don't approve! I think it's a divil of a note,
+      that's what I think.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;WHY? Who's goin' to do the work in this office while you're gone? Labe
+      and me, that's who; and I'll do the heft of it. Slavin' myself half to
+      death as 'tis and now&mdash;Oh, by crimustee! This war is a darned
+      nuisance. It hadn't ought to be allowed. There'd ought to be a law against
+      it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But of all the interviews which followed Albert's decision the most
+      surprising and that which he was the least likely to forget was his
+      interview with Laban Keeler. It took place on the evening of the third day
+      following the announcement of his intention to enlist. All that day, and
+      indeed for several days, Albert had noted in the little bookkeeper certain
+      symptoms, familiar symptoms they were and from experience the young man
+      knew what they portended. Laban was very nervous, his fingers twitched as
+      he wrote, occasionally he rose from his chair and walked up and down the
+      room, he ran his hand through his scanty hair, he was inclined to be
+      irritable&mdash;that is, irritable for him. Albert had noted the symptoms
+      and was sorry. Captain Zelotes noted them and frowned and pulled his
+      beard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Al,&rdquo; he said to his grandson, &ldquo;if you can put off goin' up to enlist for
+      a little spell, a few days, I wish you would. Labe's gettin' ready to go
+      on one of his vacations.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert nodded. &ldquo;I'm afraid he is,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, it's as sartin as two and two makes four. I've lived with him too
+      many years not to know the signs. And I did hope,&rdquo; he added, regretfully,
+      &ldquo;that maybe he was tryin' to break off. It's been a good long spell, an
+      extry long spell, since he had his last spree. Ah hum! it's a pity a good
+      man should have that weak spot in him, ain't it? But if you could hang
+      around a few more days, while the vacation's goin' on, I'd appreciate it,
+      Al. I kind of hate to be left here alone with nobody but Issachar to lean
+      on. Issy's a good deal like a post in some ways, especially in the makeup
+      of his head, but he's too ricketty to lean on for any length of time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      That evening Albert went to the post-office for the mail. On his way back
+      as he passed the dark corner by the now closed and shuttered
+      moving-picture theater he was hailed in a whisper.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Al,&rdquo; said a voice, &ldquo;Al.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert turned and peered into the deep shadow of the theater doorway. In
+      the summer this doorway was a blaze of light and gaiety; now it was cold
+      and bleak and black enough. From the shadow a small figure emerged on
+      tiptoe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Al,&rdquo; whispered Mr. Keeler. &ldquo;That's you, ain't it? Yes, yes&mdash;yes,
+      yes, yes&mdash;I thought 'twas, I thought so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert was surprised. For one thing it was most unusual to see the little
+      bookkeeper abroad after nine-thirty. His usual evening procedure, when not
+      on a vacation, was to call upon Rachel Ellis at the Snow place for an hour
+      or so and then to return to his room over Simond's shoe store, which room
+      he had occupied ever since the building was erected.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There he read, so people said, until eleven sharp, when his lamp was
+      extinguished. During or at the beginning of the vacation periods he
+      usually departed for some unknown destination, destinations which,
+      apparently, varied. He had been seen, hopelessly intoxicated, in Bayport,
+      in Ostable, in Boston, once in Providence. When he returned he never
+      seemed to remember exactly where he had been. And, as most people were
+      fond of and pitied him, few questions were asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, Labe!&rdquo; exclaimed Albert. &ldquo;Is that you? What's the matter?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Busy, are you, Al?&rdquo; queried Laban. &ldquo;In a hurry, eh? Are you? In a hurry,
+      Al, eh?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why no, not especially.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Could you&mdash;could you spare me two or three minutes? Two or three
+      minutes&mdash;yes, yes? Come up to my room, could you&mdash;could you,
+      Al?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes indeed. But what is it, Labe?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I want to talk. Want to talk, I do. Yes, yes, yes. Saw you go by and I've
+      been waitin' for you. Waitin'&mdash;yes, I have&mdash;yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He seized his assistant by the arm and led him across the road toward the
+      shoe store. Albert felt the hand on his arm tremble violently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you cold, Labe?&rdquo; he asked. &ldquo;What makes you shiver so?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eh? Cold? No, I ain't cold&mdash;no, no, no. Come, Al, come.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert sniffed suspiciously, but no odor of alcohol rewarded the sniff.
+      Neither was there any perfume of peppermint, Mr. Keeler's transparent
+      camouflage at a vacation's beginning. And Laban was not humming the
+      refrain glorifying his &ldquo;darling hanky-panky.&rdquo; Apparently he had not yet
+      embarked upon the spree which Captain Lote had pronounced imminent. But
+      why did he behave so queerly?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I ain't the way you think, Al,&rdquo; declared the little man, divining his
+      thought. &ldquo;I'm just kind of shaky and nervous, that's all. That's all,
+      that's all, that's all. Yes, yes. Come, come! COME!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The last &ldquo;come&rdquo; burst from him in an agony of impatience. Albert hastened
+      up the narrow stairs, Laban leading the way. The latter fumbled with a
+      key, his companion heard it rattling against the keyhole plate. Then the
+      door opened. There was a lamp, its wick turned low, burning upon the table
+      in the room. Mr. Keeler turned it up, making a trembly job of the turning.
+      Albert looked about him; he had never been in that room before.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a small room and there was not much furniture in it. And it was a
+      neat room, for the room of an old bachelor who was his own chambermaid.
+      Most things seemed to have places where they belonged and most of them
+      appeared to be in those places. What impressed Albert even more was the
+      number of books. There were books everywhere, in the cheap bookcase, on
+      the pine shelf between the windows, piled in the corners, heaped on the
+      table beside the lamp. They were worn and shabby volumes for the most
+      part, some with but half a cover remaining, some with none. He picked up
+      one of the latter. It was Locke on The Human Understanding; and next it,
+      to his astonishment, was Alice's Adventures in Wonderland.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Keeler looked over his shoulder and, for an instant, the whimsical
+      smile which was characteristic of him curved his lip.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Philosophy, Al,&rdquo; he observed. &ldquo;If Locke don't suit you try the 'mad
+      hatter' feller. I get consider'ble comfort out of the hatter, myself. Do
+      you remember when the mouse was tellin' the story about the three sisters
+      that lived in the well? He said they lived on everything that began with
+      M. Alice says 'Why with an M?' And the hatter, or the March hare, I forget
+      which 'twas, says prompt, 'Why not?' . . . Yes, yes, why not? that's what
+      he said. . . . There's some philosophy in that, Al. Why does a hen go
+      across the road? Why not? Why is Labe Keeler a disgrace to all his friends
+      and the town he lives in? Why not? . . . Eh? . . . Yes, yes. That's it&mdash;why
+      not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He smiled again, but there was bitterness and not humor in the smile.
+      Albert put a hand on his shoulder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, Labe,&rdquo; he asked, in concern, &ldquo;what is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Laban turned away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't mind, me, Al,&rdquo; he said, hurriedly. &ldquo;I mean don't mind if I act
+      funny. I'm&mdash;I'm kind of&mdash;of&mdash;Oh, good Lord A'mighty, DON'T
+      look at me like that! . . . I beg your pardon, Al. I didn't mean to bark
+      like a dog at you. No, I didn't&mdash;no, no. Forgive me, will you? Will
+      you, Al, eh?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course I will. But what is the matter, Labe? Sit down and tell me
+      about it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Instead of sitting the little bookkeeper began to walk up and down.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't mind me, Al,&rdquo; he said, hurriedly. &ldquo;Don't mind me. Let me go my own
+      gait. My own gait&mdash;yes, yes. You see, Al, I&mdash;I'm tryin' to
+      enlist, same as you're goin' to do, and&mdash;and MY fight's begun
+      already. Yes indeed&mdash;yes, yes&mdash;it has so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert was more astonished than ever. There was no smell of alcohol, and
+      Keeler had declared that he had not been drinking; but&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You're going to ENLIST?&rdquo; repeated Albert. &ldquo;YOU? Why, Labe, what&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Laban laughed nervously. &ldquo;Not to kill the Kaiser,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;No, no,
+      not that&mdash;not exactly. I'd like to, only I wouldn't be much help that
+      way. But&mdash;but Al, I&mdash;I want to do somethin'. I&mdash;I'd like to
+      try to show&mdash;I'd like to be an American, a decent American, and the
+      best way to begin, seems to me, is to try and be a man, a decent man. Eh?
+      You understand, I&mdash;I&mdash;Oh, Lord, what a mess I am makin' of this!
+      I&mdash;I&mdash;Al,&rdquo; turning and desperately waving his hands, &ldquo;I'm goin'
+      to try to swear off. Will you help me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert's answer was enthusiastic. &ldquo;You bet I will!&rdquo; he exclaimed. Keeler
+      smiled pathetically.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's goin' to be some job, I cal'late,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Some job, yes, yes. But
+      I'm goin' to try it, Al. I read in the papers 'tother day that America
+      needed every man. Then you enlisted, Al,&mdash;or you're goin' to enlist.
+      It set me to thinkin' I'd try to enlist, too. For the duration of the war,
+      eh? Yes, yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good for you, Labe! Bully!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Laban held up a protesting hand. &ldquo;Don't hurrah yet, Al,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;This
+      ain't the first time I've tried it. I've swore off a dozen times in the
+      last fifteen years. I've promised Rachel and broke the promise over and
+      over again. Broke my promise to her, the best woman in the world. Shows
+      what I am, what sort I am, don't it, Al? Yes, it does,&mdash;yes, yes. And
+      she's stuck by me, too, Lord knows why. Last time I broke it I said I'd
+      never promise her again. Bad enough to be a common drunk without bein' a
+      liar&mdash;yes, yes. But this is a little different. Seems to me&mdash;seems
+      so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He began his pacing up and down again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Seems different, somehow,&rdquo; he went on. &ldquo;Seems like a new chance. I want
+      to do somethin' for Uncle Sam. I&mdash;I'd like to try and enlist for the
+      duration of the war&mdash;swear off for that long, anyhow. Then, maybe,
+      I'd be able to keep on for life, you know&mdash;duration of Labe Keeler,
+      eh? Yes, yes, yes. But I could begin for just the war, couldn't I? Maybe,
+      'twould fool me into thinkin' that was easier.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course, Labe. It's a good idea.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Maybe; and maybe it's a fool one. But I'm goin' to try it. I AM tryin'
+      it, have been all day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He paused, drew a shaking hand across his forehead and then asked, &ldquo;Al,
+      will you help me? I asked you up here hopin' you would. Will you, Al, eh?
+      Will you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert could not understand how he could possibly help another man keep
+      the pledge, but his promise was eagerly given.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly, Labe,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thanks . . . thank you, Al. . . . And now will you do something for me&mdash;a
+      favor?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gladly. What is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Laban did not answer at once. He appeared to be on the point of doing so,
+      but to be struggling either to find words or to overcome a tremendous
+      reluctance. When he did speak the words came in a burst.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Go down stairs,&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;Down those stairs you came up. At the foot of
+      'em, in a kind of cupboard place, under 'em, there's&mdash;there probably
+      is a jug, a full jug. It was due to come by express to-day and I cal'late
+      it did, cal'late Jim Young fetched it down this afternoon. I&mdash;I could
+      have looked for myself and seen if 'twas there,&rdquo; he added, after a
+      momentary hesitation, &ldquo;but&mdash;but I didn't dare to. I was afraid I'd&mdash;I'd&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right, Labe. I understand. What do you want me to do with it if it is
+      there?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I want you&mdash;I want you to&mdash;to&mdash;&rdquo; The little bookkeeper
+      seemed to be fighting another internal battle between inclination and
+      resolution. The latter won, for he finished with, &ldquo;I want you to take it
+      out back of the buildin' and&mdash;and empty it. That's what I want you to
+      do, empty it, Al, every drop. . . . And, for the Almighty's sake, go
+      quick,&rdquo; he ordered, desperately, &ldquo;or I'll tell you not to before you
+      start. Go!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert went. He fumbled in the cupboard under the stairs, found the jug&mdash;a
+      large one and heavy&mdash;and hastened out into the night with it in his
+      hands. Behind the shoe store, amid a heap of old packing boxes and other
+      rubbish, he emptied it. The process was rather lengthy and decidedly
+      fragrant. As a finish he smashed the jug with a stone. Then he climbed the
+      stairs again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Laban was waiting for him, drops of perspiration upon his forehead.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Was&mdash;was it there?&rdquo; he demanded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert nodded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, yes. 'Twas there, eh? And did you&mdash;did you&mdash;?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I did, jug and all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you, Al . . . thank you . . . I&mdash;I've been trying to muster up
+      spunk enough to do it myself, but&mdash;but I swan I couldn't. I didn't
+      dast to go nigh it . . . I'm a fine specimen, ain't I, now?&rdquo; he added,
+      with a twisted smile. &ldquo;Some coward, eh? Yes, yes. Some coward.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert, realizing a little of the fight the man was making, was affected
+      by it. &ldquo;You're a brick, Labe,&rdquo; he declared, heartily. &ldquo;And as for being a
+      coward&mdash;Well, if I am half as brave when my turn comes I shall be
+      satisfied.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Laban shook his head. &ldquo;I don't know how scared I'd be of a German
+      bombshell,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;but I'm everlastin' sure I wouldn't run from it for
+      fear of runnin' towards it, and that's how I felt about that jug. . . .
+      Yes, yes, yes. I did so . . . I'm much obliged to you, Al. I shan't forget
+      it&mdash;no, no. I cal'late you can trot along home now, if you want to.
+      I'm pretty safe&mdash;for to-night, anyhow. Guess likely the new recruit
+      won't desert afore morning.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But Albert, watching him intently, refused to go.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm going to stay for a while, Labe,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I'm not a bit sleepy,
+      really. Let's have a smoke and talk together. That is, of course, unless
+      you want to go to bed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Keeler smiled his twisted smile. &ldquo;I ain't crazy to,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;The way
+      I feel now I'd get to sleep about week after next. But I hadn't ought to
+      keep you up, Al.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Rubbish! I'm not sleepy, I tell you. Sit down. Have a cigar. Now what
+      shall we talk about? How would books do? What have you been reading
+      lately, Labe?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They smoked and talked books until nearly two. Then Laban insisted upon
+      his guest departing. &ldquo;I'm all right, Al&rdquo; he declared, earnestly. &ldquo;I am
+      honest&mdash;yes, yes, I am. I'll go to sleep like a lamb, yes indeed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You'll be at the office in the morning, won't you, Labe?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The little bookkeeper nodded. &ldquo;I'll be there,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Got to answer
+      roll call the first mornin' after enlistment. Yes, yes. I'll be there,
+      Al.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He was there, but he did not look as if his indulgence in the lamb-like
+      sleep had been excessive. He was so pale and haggard that his assistant
+      was alarmed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You're not sick, are you, Labe?&rdquo; he asked, anxiously. Laban shook his
+      head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;No, I ain't sick. Been doin' picket duty up and down the
+      room since half past three, that's all. Um-hm, that's all. Say, Al, if
+      General what's-his-name&mdash;er&mdash;von Hindenburg&mdash;is any harder
+      scrapper than old Field Marshal Barleycorn he's a pretty tough one. Say,
+      Al, you didn't say anything about&mdash;about my&mdash;er&mdash;enlistin'
+      to Cap'n Lote, did you? I meant to ask you not to.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I didn't, Labe. I thought you might want it kept a secret.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Um-hm. Better keep it in the ranks until we know how this first&mdash;er&mdash;skirmish
+      is comin' out. Yes, yes. Better keep it that way. Um-hm.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      All day he stuck manfully at his task and that evening, immediately after
+      supper, Albert went to the room over the shoe store, found him there and
+      insisted upon his coming over to call upon Rachel. He had not intended
+      doing so.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You see, Al,&rdquo; he explained, &ldquo;I'm&mdash;I'm kind of&mdash;er&mdash;shaky
+      and Rachel will be worried, I'm afraid. She knows me pretty well and
+      she'll cal'late I'm just gettin' ready to&mdash;to bust loose again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert interrupted. &ldquo;No, she won't, Laban,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;We'll show her that
+      you're not.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You won't say anything to her about my&mdash;er&mdash;enlistin', Al?
+      Don't. No, no. I've promised her too many times&mdash;and broke the
+      promises. If anything should come of this fight of mine I'd rather she'd
+      find it out for herself. Better to surprise her than to disapp'int her.
+      Yes, yes, lots better.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert promised not to tell Rachel and so Laban made his call. When it was
+      over the young man walked home with him and the pair sat and talked until
+      after midnight, just as on the previous night. The following evening it
+      was much the same, except that, as Mr. Keeler pronounced himself more than
+      usually &ldquo;shaky&rdquo; and expressed a desire to &ldquo;keep movin',&rdquo; they walked half
+      way to Orham and back before parting. By the end of the week Laban
+      declared the fight won&mdash;for the time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You've pulled me through the fust tussle, Al,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I shan't desert
+      now, not till the next break-out, anyhow. I cal'late it'll get me harder
+      than ever then. Harder than ever&mdash;yes, yes. And you won't be here to
+      help me, neither.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never mind; I shall be thinking of you, Labe. And I know you're going to
+      win. I feel it in my bones.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Um-hm. . . . Yes, yes, yes. . . In your bones, eh? Well, MY bones don't
+      seem to feel much, except rheumatics once in a while. I hope yours are
+      better prophets, but I wouldn't want to bet too high on it. No, I wouldn't&mdash;no,
+      no. However, we'll do our best, and they say angels can't do any more&mdash;though
+      they'd probably do it in a different way . . . some different. . . .
+      Um-hm. . . . Yes, indeed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Two letters came to Albert before that week ended. The first was from
+      Madeline. He had written her of his intention to enlist and this was her
+      reply. The letter had evidently been smuggled past the censor, for it
+      contained much which Mrs. Fosdick would have blue-penciled. Its contents
+      were a blend of praise and blame, of exaltation and depression. He was a
+      hero, and so brave, and she was so proud of him. It was wonderful his
+      daring to go, and just what she would have expected of her hero. If only
+      she might see him in his uniform. So many of the fellows she knew had
+      enlisted. They were wonderfully brave, too, although of course nothing
+      like as wonderful as her own etcetera, etcetera. She had seen some of THEM
+      in their uniforms and they were PERFECTLY SPLENDID. But they were
+      officers, or they were going to be. Why wasn't he going to be an officer?
+      It was so much nicer to be an officer. And if he were one he might not
+      have to go away to fight nearly so soon. Officers stayed here longer and
+      studied, you know. Mother had said something about &ldquo;a common private,&rdquo; and
+      she did not like it. But never mind, she would be just as proud no matter
+      what he was. And she should dream of him and think of him always and
+      always. And perhaps he might be so brave and wonderful that he would be
+      given one of those war crosses, the Croix de Guerre or something. She was
+      sure he would. But oh, no matter what happened, he must not go where it
+      was TOO dangerous. Suppose he should be wounded. Oh, suppose, SUPPOSE he
+      should be killed. What would she do then? What would become of her? MUST
+      he go, after all? Couldn't he stay at home and study or something, for a
+      while, you know? She should be so lonely after he was gone. And so
+      frightened and so anxious. And he wouldn't forget her, would he, no matter
+      where he went? Because she never, never, never would forget him for a
+      moment. And he must write every day. And&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The letter was fourteen pages long.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The other letter was a surprise. It was from Helen. The Reverend Mr.
+      Kendall had been told of Albert's intended enlistment and had written his
+      daughter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So you are going into the war, Albert (she wrote). I am not surprised
+      because I expected you would do just that. It is what all of us would like
+      to do, I'm sure, and you were always anxious to go, even before the United
+      States came in. So I am writing this merely to congratulate you and to
+      wish you the very best of good luck. Father says you are not going to try
+      for a commission but intend enlisting as a private. I suppose that is
+      because you think you may get to the actual fighting sooner. I think I
+      understand and appreciate that feeling too, but are you sure it is the
+      best plan? You want to be of the greatest service to the country and with
+      your education and brains&mdash;This ISN'T flattery, because it is true&mdash;don't
+      you think you might help more if you were in command of men? Of course I
+      don't know, being only a girl, but I have been wondering. No doubt you
+      know best and probably it is settled before this; at any rate, please
+      don't think that I intend butting in. &ldquo;Butting in&rdquo; is not at all a proper
+      expression for a schoolmarm to use but it is a relief to be human
+      occasionally. Whatever you do I am sure will be the right thing and I know
+      all your friends are going to be very, very proud of you. I shall hear of
+      you through the people at home, I know, and I shall be anxious to hear. I
+      don't know what I shall do to help the cause, but I hope to do something.
+      A musket is prohibitive to females but the knitting needle is ours and I
+      CAN handle that, if I do say it. And I MAY go in for Red Cross work
+      altogether. But I don't count much, and you men do, and this is your day.
+      Please, for the sake of your grandparents and all your friends, don't take
+      unnecessary chances. I can see your face as you read that and think that I
+      am a silly idiot. I'm not and I mean what I say. You see I know YOU and I
+      know you will not be content to do the ordinary thing. We want you to
+      distinguish yourself, but also we want you to come back whole and sound,
+      if it is possible. We shall think of you a great deal. And please, in the
+      midst of the excitement of the BIG work you are doing, don't forget us
+      home folk, including your friend,
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      HELEN KENDALL.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert's feelings when he read this letter were divided. He enjoyed
+      hearing from Helen. The letter was just like herself, sensible and
+      good-humored and friendly. There were no hysterics in it and no heroics
+      but he knew that no one except his grandparents and Rachel and Laban&mdash;and,
+      of course, his own Madeline&mdash;would think of him oftener or be more
+      anxious for his safety and welfare than Helen. He was glad she was his
+      friend, very glad. But he almost wished she had not written. He felt a bit
+      guilty at having received the letter. He was pretty sure that Madeline
+      would not like the idea. He was tempted to say nothing concerning it in
+      his next letter to his affianced, but that seemed underhanded and
+      cowardly, so he told her. And in her next letter to him Madeline made no
+      reference at all to Helen or her epistle, so he knew she was displeased.
+      And he was miserable in consequence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But his misery did not last long. The happenings which followed crowded it
+      from his mind, and from Madeline's also, for that matter. One morning,
+      having told no one except his grandfather of his intention, he took the
+      morning train to Boston. When he returned the next day he was Uncle Sam's
+      man, sworn in and accepted. He had passed the physical examination with
+      flying colors and the recruiting officers expressed themselves as being
+      glad to get him. He was home for but one day leave, then he must go to
+      stay. He had debated the question of going in for a commission, but those
+      were the early days of our participation in the war and a Plattsburg
+      training or at least some sort of military education was almost an
+      essential. He did not want to wait; as he had told his grandfather, he
+      wanted to fight. So he enlisted as a private.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And when the brief leave was over he took the train for Boston, no longer
+      Alberto Miguel Carlos Speranza, South Harniss's Beau Brummel, poet and
+      Portygee, but Private Speranza, U.S.A. The farewells were brief and no one
+      cried&mdash;much. His grandmother hugged and kissed him, Rachel looked
+      very much as if she wanted to. Laban and Issachar shook hands with him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good luck to you, boy,&rdquo; said Mr. Keeler. &ldquo;All the luck there is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Same to you, old man,&rdquo; replied Albert. Then, in a lower tone, he added,
+      &ldquo;We'll fight it out together, eh?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We'll try. Yes, yes. We'll try. So long, Al.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Issachar struck the reassuring note. &ldquo;Don't fret about things in the
+      office,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I'll look out for 'em long's I keep my health.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Be sure and keep that, Issy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You bet you! Only thing that's liable to break it down is over-work.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Zelotes said very little. &ldquo;Write us when you can, Al,&rdquo; he said.
+      &ldquo;And come home whenever you get leave.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You may be sure of that, Grandfather. And after I get to camp perhaps you
+      can come and see me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Maybe so. Will if I can. . . . Well, Al, I . . . I. . . . Good luck to
+      you, son.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you, Grandfather.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They shook hands. Each looked as if there was more he would have liked to
+      say but found the saying hard. Then the engine bell rang and the hands
+      fell apart. The little group on the station platform watched the train
+      disappear. Mrs. Snow and Rachel wiped their eyes with their handkerchiefs.
+      Captain Zelotes gently patted his wife's shoulder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The team's waitin', Mother,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Labe'll drive you and Rachel
+      home.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But&mdash;but ain't you comin', too, Zelotes?&rdquo; faltered Olive. Her
+      husband shook his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not now, Mother,&rdquo; he answered. &ldquo;Got to go back to the office.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He stood for an instant looking at the faint smear of smoke above the
+      curve in the track. Then, without another word, he strode off in the
+      direction of Z. Snow and Co.'s buildings. Issachar Price sniffed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Crimus,&rdquo; he whispered to Laban, as the latter passed him on the way to
+      where Jessamine, the Snow horse, was tied, &ldquo;the old man takes it cool,
+      don't he! I kind of imagined he'd be sort of shook up by Al's goin' off to
+      war, but he don't seem to feel it a mite.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Keeler looked at him in wonder. Then he drew a long breath.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is,&rdquo; he said, slowly, &ldquo;it is a mighty good thing for the Seven Wise Men
+      of Greece that they ain't alive now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was Issachar's turn to stare. &ldquo;Eh?&rdquo; he queried. &ldquo;The Seven Wise Men of
+      Which? Good thing for 'em they ain't alive? What kind of talk's that? Why
+      is it a good thing?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Laban spoke over his shoulder. &ldquo;Because,&rdquo; he drawled, &ldquo;if they was alive
+      now they'd be so jealous of you they'd commit suicide. Yes, they would. .
+      . . Yes, yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With which enigmatical remark he left Mr. Price and turned his attention
+      to the tethered Jessamine.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And then began a new period, a new life at the Snow place and in the
+      office of Z. Snow and Co. Or, rather, life in the old house and at the
+      lumber and hardware office slumped back into the groove in which it had
+      run before the opera singer's son was summoned from the New York school to
+      the home and into the lives of his grandparents. Three people instead of
+      four sat down at the breakfast table and at dinner and at supper. Captain
+      Zelotes walked alone to and from the office. Olive Snow no longer baked
+      and iced large chocolate layer cakes because a certain inmate of her
+      household was so fond of them. Rachel Ellis discussed Foul Play and Robert
+      Penfold with no one. The house was emptier, more old-fashioned and behind
+      the times, more lonely&mdash;surprisingly empty and behind the times and
+      lonely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The daily mails became matters of intense interest and expectation. Albert
+      wrote regularly and of course well and entertainingly. He described the
+      life at the camp where he and the other recruits were training, a camp
+      vastly different from the enormous military towns built later on for
+      housing and training the drafted men. He liked the life pretty well, he
+      wrote, although it was hard and a fellow had precious little opportunity
+      to be lazy. Mistakes, too, were unprofitable for the maker. Captain Lote's
+      eye twinkled when he read that.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Later on he wrote that he had been made a corporal and his grandmother, to
+      whom a major general and a corporal were of equal rank, rejoiced much both
+      at home and in church after meeting was over and friends came to hear the
+      news. Mrs. Ellis declared herself not surprised. It was the Robert Penfold
+      in him coming out, so she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A month or two later one of Albert's letters contained an interesting item
+      of news. In the little spare time which military life afforded him he
+      continued to write verse and stories. Now a New York publisher, not one of
+      the most prominent but a reputable and enterprising one, had written him
+      suggesting the collecting of his poems and their publication in book form.
+      The poet himself was, naturally, elated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Isn't it splendid!&rdquo; he wrote. &ldquo;The best part of it, of course, is that he
+      asked to publish, I did not ask him. Please send me my scrapbook and all
+      loose manuscript. When the book will come out I'm sure I don't know. In
+      fact it may never come out, we have not gotten as far as terms and
+      contracts yet, but I feel we shall. Send the scrapbook and manuscript
+      right away, PLEASE.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They were sent. In his next letter Albert was still enthusiastic.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have been looking over my stuff,&rdquo; he wrote, &ldquo;and some of it is pretty
+      good, if you don't mind my saying so. Tell Grandfather that when this book
+      of mine is out and selling I may be able to show him that poetry making
+      isn't a pauper's job, after all. Of course I don't know how much it will
+      sell&mdash;perhaps not more than five or ten thousand at first&mdash;but
+      even at ten thousand at, say, twenty-five cents royalty each, would be
+      twenty-five hundred dollars, and that's something. Why, Ben Hur, the
+      novel, you know, has sold a million, I believe.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Snow and Rachel were duly impressed by this prophecy of affluence,
+      but Captain Zelotes still played the skeptic.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A million at twenty-five cents a piece!&rdquo; exclaimed Olive. &ldquo;Why, Zelotes,
+      that's&mdash;that's an awful sight of money.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mental arithmetic failing her, she set to work with a pencil and paper and
+      after a strenuous struggle triumphantly announced that it came to two
+      hundred and fifty thousand dollars.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My soul and body!&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;Two hundred and fifty thousand DOLLARS! My
+      SOUL, Zelotes! Suppose&mdash;only suppose Albert's book brought him in as
+      much as that!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her husband shook his head. &ldquo;I can't, Olive,&rdquo; he said, without looking up
+      from his newspaper. &ldquo;My supposer wouldn't stand the strain.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But it might, Zelotes, it MIGHT. Suppose it did, what would you say
+      then?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The captain regarded her over the top of the Transcript. &ldquo;I shouldn't say
+      a word, Olive,&rdquo; he answered, solemnly. &ldquo;I should be down sick by the time
+      it got up as far as a thousand, and anything past two thousand you could
+      use to buy my tombstone with. . . . There, there, Mother,&rdquo; he added,
+      noticing the hurt look on her face, &ldquo;don't feel bad. I'm only jokin'. One
+      of these days Al's goin' to make a nice, comf'table livin' sellin' lumber
+      and hardware right here in South Harniss. I can SEE that money in the
+      offin'. All this million or two that's comin' from poetry and such is out
+      of sight in the fog. It may be there but&mdash;humph! well, I KNOW where
+      Z. Snow and Co. is located.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Olive was not entirely placated. &ldquo;I must say I think you're awful
+      discouragin' to the poor boy, Zelotes,&rdquo; she said. Her husband put down his
+      paper.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no, I ain't, Mother,&rdquo; he replied, earnestly. &ldquo;At least I don't mean
+      to be. Way I look at it, this poetry-makin' and writin' yarns and that
+      sort of stuff is just part of the youngster's&mdash;er&mdash;growin' up,
+      as you might say. Give him time he'll grow out of it, same as I cal'late
+      he will out of this girl business, this&mdash;er&mdash;Madel&mdash;humph&mdash;er&mdash;ahem.
+      . . . Looks like a good day to-morrow, don't it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He pulled up suddenly, and with considerable confusion. He had kept the
+      news of his grandson's infatuation and engagement even from his wife. No
+      one in South Harniss knew of it, no one except the captain. Helen Kendall
+      knew, but she was in Boston.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rachel Ellis picked up the half knitted Red Cross mitten in her lap.
+      &ldquo;Well, I don't know whether he's right or you are, Cap'n Lote,&rdquo; she said,
+      with a sigh, &ldquo;but this I do know&mdash;I wish this awful war was over and
+      he was back home again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      That remark ended the conversation. Olive resumed her own knitting, seeing
+      it but indistinctly. Her husband did not continue his newspaper reading.
+      Instead he rose and, saying something about cal'latin' he would go for a
+      little walk before turning in, went out into the yard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But the war did not end, it went on; so too did the enlisting and
+      training. In the early summer Albert came home for a two days' leave. He
+      was broader and straighter and browner. His uniform became him and, more
+      than ever, the eyes of South Harniss's youthful femininity, native or
+      imported, followed him as he walked the village streets. But the glances
+      were not returned, not in kind, that is. The new Fosdick home, although
+      completed, was not occupied. Mrs. Fosdick had, that summer, decided that
+      her duties as mover in goodness knows how many war work activities
+      prevented her taking her &ldquo;usual summer rest.&rdquo; Instead she and Madeline
+      occupied a rented villa at Greenwich, Connecticut, coming into town for
+      meetings of all sorts. Captain Zelotes had his own suspicions as to
+      whether war work alone was the cause of the Fosdicks' shunning of what was
+      to have been their summer home, but he kept those suspicions to himself.
+      Albert may have suspected also, but he, too, said nothing. The censored
+      correspondence between Greenwich and the training camp traveled regularly,
+      and South Harniss damsels looked and longed in vain. He saw them, he bowed
+      to them, he even addressed them pleasantly and charmingly, but to him they
+      were merely incidents in his walks to and from the post-office. In his
+      mind's eye he saw but one, and she, alas, was not present in the flesh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he returned to the camp where, later on, Captain Zelotes and Olive
+      visited him. As they came away the captain and his grandson exchanged a
+      few significant words.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is likely to be almost any time, Grandfather,&rdquo; said Albert, quietly.
+      &ldquo;They are beginning to send them now, as you know by the papers, and we
+      have had the tip that our turn will be soon. So&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Lote grasped the significance of the uncompleted sentence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see, Al,&rdquo; he answered, &ldquo;I see. Well, boy, I&mdash;I&mdash;Good luck.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good luck, Grandfather.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      That was all, that and one more handclasp. Our Anglo-Saxon inheritance
+      descends upon us in times like these. The captain was silent for most of
+      the ride to the railroad station.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then followed a long, significant interval during which there were no
+      letters from the young soldier. After this a short reassuring cablegram
+      from &ldquo;Somewhere in France.&rdquo; &ldquo;Safe. Well,&rdquo; it read and Olive Snow carried
+      it about with her, in the bosom of her gown, all that afternoon and put it
+      upon retiring on her bureau top so that she might see it the first thing
+      in the morning.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Another long interval, then letters, the reassuring but so tantalizingly
+      unsatisfactory letters we American families were, just at that time,
+      beginning to receive. Reading the newspapers now had a personal interest,
+      a terrifying, dreadful interest. Then the packing and sending of holiday
+      boxes, over the contents of which Olive and Rachel spent much careful
+      planning and anxious preparation. Then another interval of more letters,
+      letters which hinted vaguely at big things just ahead.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then no letter for more than a month.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And then, one noon, as Captain Zelotes returned to his desk after the walk
+      from home and dinner, Laban Keeler came in and stood beside that desk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The captain, looking up, saw the little bookkeeper's face. &ldquo;What is it,
+      Labe?&rdquo; he asked, sharply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Laban held a yellow envelope in his hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It came while you were gone to dinner, Cap'n,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Ben Kelley
+      fetched it from the telegraph office himself. He&mdash;he said he didn't
+      hardly want to take it to the house. He cal'lated you'd better have it
+      here, to read to yourself, fust. That's what he said&mdash;yes, yes&mdash;that's
+      what 'twas, Cap'n.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Slowly Captain Zelotes extended his hand for the envelope. He did not take
+      his eyes from the bookkeeper's face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ben&mdash;Ben, he told me what was in it, Cap'n Lote,&rdquo; faltered Laban. &ldquo;I&mdash;I
+      don't know what to say to you, I don't&mdash;no, no.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Without a word the captain took the envelope from Keeler's fingers, and
+      tore it open. He read the words upon the form within.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Laban leaned forward.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For the Lord sakes, Lote Snow,&rdquo; he cried, in a burst of agony, &ldquo;why
+      couldn't it have been some darn good-for-nothin' like me instead&mdash;instead
+      of him? Oh, my God A'mighty, what a world this is! WHAT a world!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Still Captain Zelotes said nothing. His eyes were fixed upon the yellow
+      sheet of paper on the desk before him. After a long minute he spoke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; he said, very slowly, &ldquo;well, Labe, there goes&mdash;there goes Z.
+      Snow and Company.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XIV
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      The telegram from the War Department was brief, as all such telegrams were
+      perforce obliged to be. The Secretary of War, through his representative,
+      regretted to inform Captain Zelotes Snow that Sergeant Albert Speranza had
+      been killed in action upon a certain day. It was enough, however&mdash;for
+      the time quite enough. It was not until later that the little group of
+      South Harniss recovered sufficiently from the stunning effect of those few
+      words to think of seeking particulars. Albert was dead; what did it
+      matter, then, to know how he died?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Olive bore the shock surprisingly well. Her husband's fears for her seemed
+      quite unnecessary. The Captain, knowing how she had idolized her
+      daughter's boy, had dreaded the effect which the news might have upon her.
+      She was broken down by it, it is true, but she was quiet and brave&mdash;astonishingly,
+      wonderfully quiet and brave. And it was she, rather than her husband, who
+      played the part of the comforter in those black hours.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He's gone, Zelotes,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;It don't seem possible, I know, but he's
+      gone. And he died doin' his duty, same as he would have wanted to die if
+      he'd known 'twas comin', poor boy. So&mdash;so we must do ours, I suppose,
+      and bear up under it the very best we can. It won't be very long,
+      Zelotes,&rdquo; she added. &ldquo;We're both gettin' old.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Lote made no reply. He was standing by the window of the
+      sitting-room looking out into the wet backyard across which the
+      wind-driven rain was beating in stormy gusts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We must be brave, Zelotes,&rdquo; whispered Olive, tremulously. &ldquo;He'd want us
+      to be and we MUST be.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He put his arm about her in a sudden heat of admiration. &ldquo;I'd be ashamed
+      not to be after seein' you, Mother,&rdquo; he exclaimed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He went out to the barn a few moments later and Rachel, entering the
+      sitting-room, found Olive crumpled down in the big rocker in an agony of
+      grief.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, don't, Mrs. Snow, don't,&rdquo; she begged, the tears streaming down her
+      own cheeks. &ldquo;You mustn't give way to it like this; you mustn't.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Olive nodded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know it, I know it,&rdquo; she admitted, chokingly, wiping her eyes with a
+      soaked handkerchief. &ldquo;I shan't, Rachel, only this once, I promise you. You
+      see I can't. I just can't on Zelotes's account. I've got to bear up for
+      his sake.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The housekeeper was surprised and a little indignant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For his sake!&rdquo; she repeated. &ldquo;For mercy sakes why for his sake? Is it any
+      worse for him than 'tis for you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes, yes, lots worse. He won't say much, of course, bein' Zelotes
+      Snow, but you and I know how he's planned, especially these last years,
+      and how he's begun to count on&mdash;on Albert. . . . No, no, I ain't
+      goin' to cry, Rachel, I ain't&mdash;I WON'T&mdash;but sayin' his name, you
+      know, kind of&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know, I know. Land sakes, DON'T I know! Ain't I doin' it myself?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Course you are, Rachel. But we mustn't when Zelotes is around. We women,
+      we&mdash;well, times like these women HAVE to keep up. What would become
+      of the men if we didn't?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So she and Rachel &ldquo;kept up&rdquo; in public and when the captain was present,
+      and he for his part made no show of grief nor asked for pity. He was
+      silent, talked little and to the callers who came either at the house or
+      office was uncomplaining.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He died like a man,&rdquo; he told the Reverend Mr. Kendall when the latter
+      called. &ldquo;He took his chance, knowin' what that meant&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He was glad to take it,&rdquo; interrupted the minister. &ldquo;Proud and glad to
+      take it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sartin. Why not? Wouldn't you or I have been glad to take ours, if we
+      could?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Captain Snow, I am glad to find you so resigned.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Zelotes looked at him. &ldquo;Resigned?&rdquo; he repeated. &ldquo;What do you mean
+      by resigned? Not to sit around and whimper is one thing&mdash;any decent
+      man or woman ought to be able to do that in these days; but if by bein'
+      resigned you mean I'm contented to have it so&mdash;well, you're mistaken,
+      that's all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Only on one occasion, and then to Laban Keeler, did he open his shell
+      sufficiently to give a glimpse of what was inside. Laban entered the inner
+      office that morning to find his employer sitting in the desk chair, both
+      hands jammed in his trousers' pockets and his gaze fixed, apparently, upon
+      the row of pigeon-holes. When the bookkeeper spoke to him he seemed to
+      wake from a dream, for he started and looked up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Cap'n Lote,&rdquo; began Keeler, &ldquo;I'm sorry to bother you, but that last
+      carload of pine was&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Zelotes waved his hand, brushing the carload of pine out of the
+      conversation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Labe,&rdquo; he said, slowly, &ldquo;did it seem to you that I was too hard on him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Laban did not understand. &ldquo;Hard on him?&rdquo; he repeated. &ldquo;I don't know's I
+      just get&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hard on Al. Did it seem to you as if I was a little too much of the bucko
+      mate to the boy? Did I drive him too hard? Was I unreasonable?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The answer was prompt. &ldquo;No, Cap'n Lote,&rdquo; replied Keeler.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mean that? . . . Um-hm. . . . Well, sometimes seems as if I might
+      have been. You see, Labe, when he first come I&mdash;Well, I cal'late I
+      was consider'ble prejudiced against him. Account of his father, you
+      understand.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sartin. Sure. I understand.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It took me a good while to get reconciled to the Portygee streak in him.
+      It chafed me consider'ble to think there was a foreign streak in our
+      family. The Snows have been straight Yankee for a good long while. . . .
+      Fact is, I&mdash;I never got really reconciled to it. I kept bein' fearful
+      all the time that that streak, his father's streak, would break out in
+      him. It never did, except of course in his poetry and that sort of
+      foolishness, but I was always scared 'twould, you see. And now&mdash;now
+      that this has happened I&mdash;I kind of fret for fear that I may have let
+      my notions get ahead of my fair play. You think I did give the boy a
+      square deal, Labe?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sure thing, Cap'n.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm glad of that. . . . And&mdash;and you cal'late he wasn't&mdash;wasn't
+      too prejudiced against me? I don't mean along at first, I mean this last
+      year or two.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Laban hesitated. He wished his answer to be not an overstatement, but the
+      exact truth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think,&rdquo; he said, with emphasis, &ldquo;that Al was comin' to understand you
+      better every day he lived, Cap'n. Yes, and to think more and more of you,
+      too. He was gettin' older, for one thing&mdash;older, more of a man&mdash;yes,
+      yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Zelotes smiled sadly. &ldquo;He was more boy than man by a good deal
+      yet,&rdquo; he observed. &ldquo;Well, Labe, he's gone and I'm just beginnin' to
+      realize how much of life for me has gone along with him. He'd been doin'
+      better here in the office for the last two or three years, seemed to be
+      catchin' on to business better. Didn't you think so, Labe?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sartin. Yes indeed. Fust-rate, fust-rate.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, not first-rate. He was a long ways from a business man yet, but I did
+      think he was doin' a lot better. I could begin to see him pilotin' this
+      craft after I was called ashore. Now he's gone and . . . well, I don't see
+      much use in my fightin' to keep it afloat. I'm gettin' along in years&mdash;and
+      what's the use?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was the first time Laban had ever heard Captain Zelotes refer to
+      himself as an old man. It shocked him into sharp expostulation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nonsense!&rdquo; he exclaimed. &ldquo;You ain't old enough for the scrap heap by a
+      big stretch. And besides, he made his fight, didn't he? He didn't quit, Al
+      didn't, and he wouldn't want us to. No sir-ee, he wouldn't! No, sir, no! .
+      . . I&mdash;I hope you'll excuse me, Cap'n Lote. I&mdash;declare it must
+      seem to you as if I was talkin' pretty fresh. I swan I'm sorry. I am so .
+      . . sorry; yes, yes, I be.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The captain was not offended. He waved the apologies aside.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So you think it's worth while my fightin' it out, do you, Labe?&rdquo; he
+      asked, reflectively.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&mdash;I think it's what you ought to do anyhow, whether it's worth
+      while or not. The whole world's fightin'. Uncle Sam's fightin'. Al was
+      fightin'. You're fightin'. I'm fightin'. It's a darn sight easier to quit,
+      a darn sight, but&mdash;but Al didn't quit. And&mdash;and we mustn't&mdash;not
+      if we can help it,&rdquo; he added, drawing a hand across his forehead.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His agitation seemed to surprise Captain Zelotes. &ldquo;So all hands are
+      fightin', are they, Labe,&rdquo; he observed. &ldquo;Well, I presume likely there's
+      some truth in that. What's your particular fight, for instance?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The little bookkeeper looked at him for an instant before replying. The
+      captain's question was kindly asked, but there was, or so Laban imagined,
+      the faintest trace of sarcasm in its tone. That trace decided him. He
+      leaned across the desk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My particular fight?&rdquo; he repeated. &ldquo;You&mdash;you want to know what 'tis,
+      Cap'n Lote? All right, all right, I'll tell you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And without waiting for further questioning and with, for him,
+      surprisingly few repetitions, he told of his &ldquo;enlistment&rdquo; to fight John
+      Barleycorn for the duration of the war. Captain Zelotes listened to the
+      very end in silence. Laban mopped his forehead with a hand which shook
+      much as it had done during the interview with Albert in the room above the
+      shoe store.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There&mdash;there,&rdquo; he declared, in conclusion, &ldquo;that's my fight, Cap'n
+      Lote. Al and I, we&mdash;we kind of went into it together, as you might
+      say, though his enlistin' was consider'ble more heroic than mine&mdash;yes
+      indeed, I should say so . . . yes, yes, yes. But I'm fightin' too . . . er
+      . . . I'm fightin' too.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Zelotes pulled his beard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How's the fight goin', Labe?&rdquo; he asked, quietly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well&mdash;well, it's kind of&mdash;kind of spotty, as you might say.
+      There's spots when I get along fairly smooth and others when&mdash;well,
+      when it's pretty rough goin'. I've had four hard spots since Al went away,
+      but there's two that was the hardest. One was along Christmas and New Year
+      time; you know I 'most generally had one of my&mdash;er&mdash;spells along
+      about then. And t'other is just now; I mean since we got word about&mdash;about
+      Al. I don't suppose likely you surmised it, Cap'n, but&mdash;but I'd come
+      to think a lot of that boy&mdash;yes, I had. Seems funny to you, I don't
+      doubt, but it's so. And since the word come, you know&mdash;I&mdash;I&mdash;well,
+      I've had some fight, some fight. I&mdash;I don't cal'late I've slept
+      more'n four hours in the last four nights&mdash;not more'n that, no.
+      Walkin' helps me most, seems so. Last night I walked to West Orham.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To West Orham! You WALKED there? Last NIGHT?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Um-hm. Long's I can keep walkin' I&mdash;I seem to part way forget&mdash;to
+      forget the stuff, you know. When I'm alone in my room I go 'most crazy&mdash;pretty
+      nigh loony. . . . But there! I don't know why I got to talkin' like this
+      to you, Cap'n Lote. You've got your troubles and&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hold on, Labe. Does Rachel know about your fight?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. No, no. Course she must notice how long I've been&mdash;been
+      straight, but I haven't told her. I want to be sure I'm goin' to win
+      before I tell her. She's been disappointed times enough before, poor
+      woman. . . . There, Cap'n Lote, don't let's talk about it any more. Please
+      don't get the notion that I'm askin' for pity or anything like that. And
+      don't think I'm comparin' what I call my fight to the real one like Al's.
+      There's nothin' much heroic about me, eh? No, no, I guess not. Tell that
+      to look at me, eh?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Zelotes rose and laid his big hand on his bookkeeper's shoulder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't you believe it, Labe,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I'm proud of you. . . . And, I
+      declare, I'm ashamed of myself. . . . Humph! . . . Well, to-night you come
+      home with me and have supper at the house.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, now, Cap'n Lote&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You do as I tell you. After supper, if there's any walkin' to be done&mdash;if
+      you take a notion to frog it to Orham or San Francisco or somewheres&mdash;maybe
+      I'll go with you. Walkin' may be good for my fight, too; you can't tell
+      till you try. . . . There, don't argue, Labe. I'm skipper of this craft
+      yet and you'll obey my orders; d'you hear?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The day following the receipt of the fateful telegram the captain wrote a
+      brief note to Fletcher Fosdick. A day or two later he received a reply.
+      Fosdick's letter was kindly and deeply sympathetic. He had been greatly
+      shocked and grieved by the news.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Young Speranza seemed to me, (he wrote) in my one short interview with
+      him, to be a fine young fellow. Madeline, poor girl, is almost frantic.
+      She will recover by and by, recovery is easier at her age, but it will be
+      very, very hard for you and Mrs. Snow. You and I little thought when we
+      discussed the problem of our young people that it would be solved in this
+      way. To you and your wife my sincerest sympathy. When you hear particulars
+      concerning your grandson's death, please write me. Madeline is anxious to
+      know and keeps asking for them. Mrs. Fosdick is too much concerned with
+      her daughter's health to write just now, but she joins me in sympathetic
+      regards.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Zelotes took Mrs. Fosdick's sympathy with a grain of salt. When he
+      showed this letter to his wife he, for the first time, told her of the
+      engagement, explaining that his previous silence had been due to Albert's
+      request that the affair be kept a secret for the present. Olive, even in
+      the depth of her sorrow, was greatly impressed by the grandeur of the
+      alliance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just think, Zelotes,&rdquo; she exclaimed, &ldquo;the Fosdick girl&mdash;and our
+      Albert engaged to marry her! Why, the Fosdicks are awful rich, everybody
+      says so. Mrs. Fosdick is head of I don't know how many societies and clubs
+      and things in New York; her name is in the paper almost every day, so
+      another New York woman told me at Red Cross meetin' last summer. And Mr.
+      Fosdick has been in politics, way up in politics.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Um-hm. Well, he's reformed lately, I understand, so we mustn't hold that
+      against him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, Zelotes, what DO you mean? How can you talk so? Just think what it
+      would have meant to have our Albert marry a girl like Madeline Fosdick.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The captain put his arm about her and gently patted her shoulder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There, there, Mother,&rdquo; he said, gently, &ldquo;don't let that part of it fret
+      you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, Zelotes,&rdquo; tearfully, &ldquo;I don't understand. It would have been such a
+      great thing for Albert.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Would it? Well, maybe. Anyhow, there's no use worryin' about it now. It's
+      done with&mdash;ended and done with . . . same as a good many other plans
+      that's been made in the world.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Zelotes, don't speak like that, dear, so discouraged. It makes me feel
+      worse than ever to hear you. And&mdash;and he wouldn't want you to, I'm
+      sure.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wouldn't he? No, I cal'late you're right, Mother. We'll try not to.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Other letters came, including one from Helen. It was not long. Mrs. Snow
+      was a little inclined to feel hurt at its brevity. Her husband, however,
+      did not share this feeling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you read it carefully, Mother?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course I have, Zelotes. What do you mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I mean&mdash;well, I tell you, Mother, I've read it three time. The first
+      time I was like you; seemed to me as good a friend of Al and of us as
+      Helen Kendall ought to have written more than that. The second time I read
+      it I begun to wonder if&mdash;if&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If what, Zelotes?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, nothin', Mother, nothin'. She says she's comin' to see us just as
+      soon as she can get away for a day or two. She'll come, and when she does
+      I cal'late both you and I are goin' to be satisfied.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But why didn't she WRITE more, Zelotes? That's what I can't understand.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Zelotes tugged at his beard reflectively. &ldquo;When I wrote Fosdick
+      the other day,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I couldn't write more than a couple of pages. I
+      was too upset to do it. I couldn't, that's all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, but you are Albert's grandfather.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know. And Helen's always . . . But there, Mother, don't you worry about
+      Helen Kendall. I've known her since she was born, pretty nigh, and <i>I</i>
+      tell you she's all RIGHT.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fosdick, in his letter, had asked for particulars concerning Albert's
+      death. Those particulars were slow in coming. Captain Zelotes wrote at
+      once to the War Department, but received little satisfaction. The
+      Department would inform him as soon as it obtained the information. The
+      name of Sergeant Albert Speranza had been cabled as one of a list of
+      fatalities, that was all.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And to think,&rdquo; as Rachel Ellis put it, &ldquo;that we never knew that he'd been
+      made a sergeant until after he was gone. He never had time to write it, I
+      expect likely, poor boy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The first bit of additional information was furnished by the press. A
+      correspondent of one of the Boston dailies sent a brief dispatch to his
+      paper describing the fighting at a certain point on the Allied front. A
+      small detachment of American troops had taken part, with the French, in an
+      attack on a village held by the enemy. The enthusiastic reporter declared
+      it to be one of the smartest little actions in which our soldiers had so
+      far taken part and was eloquent concerning the bravery and dash of his
+      fellow countrymen. &ldquo;They proved themselves,&rdquo; he went on, &ldquo;and French
+      officers with whom I have talked are enthusiastic. Our losses, considering
+      the number engaged, are said to be heavy. Among those reported as killed
+      is Sergeant Albert Speranza, a Massachusetts boy whom American readers
+      will remember as a writer of poetry and magazine fiction. Sergeant
+      Speranza is said to have led his company in the capture of the village and
+      to have acted with distinguished bravery.&rdquo; The editor of the Boston paper
+      who first read this dispatch turned to his associate at the next desk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Speranza? . . . Speranza?&rdquo; he said aloud. &ldquo;Say, Jim, wasn't it Albert
+      Speranza who wrote that corking poem we published after the Lusitania was
+      sunk?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Jim looked up. &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;He has written a lot of pretty good stuff
+      since, too. Why?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He's just been killed in action over there, so Conway says in this
+      dispatch.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So? . . . Humph! . . . Any particulars?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not yet. 'Distinguished bravery,' according to Conway. Couldn't we have
+      something done in the way of a Sunday special? He was a Massachusetts
+      fellow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We might. We haven't a photograph, have we? If we haven't, perhaps we can
+      get one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The photograph was obtained&mdash;bribery and corruption of the Orham
+      photographer&mdash;and, accompanied by a reprint of the Lusitania poem,
+      appeared in the &ldquo;Magazine Section&rdquo; of the Sunday newspaper. With these
+      also appeared a short notice of the young poet's death in the service of
+      his country.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That was the beginning. At the middle of that week Conway sent another
+      dispatch. The editor who received it took it into the office of the Sunday
+      editor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Say,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;here are more particulars about that young chap Speranza,
+      the one we printed the special about last Sunday. He must have been a
+      corker. When his lieutenant was put out of business by a shrapnel this
+      Speranza chap rallied the men and jammed 'em through the Huns like a hot
+      knife through butter. Killed the German officer and took three prisoners
+      all by himself. Carried his wounded lieutenant to the rear on his
+      shoulders, too. Then he went back into the ruins to get another wounded
+      man and was blown to slivers by a hand grenade. He's been cited in orders
+      and will probably be decorated by the French&mdash;that is, his memory
+      will be. Pretty good for a poet, I'd say. No 'lilies and languors' about
+      that, eh?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Sunday editor nodded approval.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Great stuff!&rdquo; he exclaimed. &ldquo;Let me have that dispatch, will you, when
+      you've finished. I've just discovered that this young Speranza's father
+      was Speranza, the opera baritone. You remember him? And his mother was the
+      daughter of a Cape Cod sea captain. How's that? Spain, Cape Cod, opera,
+      poetry and the Croix de Guerre. And have you looked at the young fellow's
+      photograph? Combination of Adonis and 'Romeo, where art thou.' I've had no
+      less than twenty letters about him and his poetry already. Next Sunday
+      we'll have a special 'as is.' Where can I get hold of a lot of his poems?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The &ldquo;special as was&rdquo; occupied an entire page. A reporter had visited South
+      Harniss and had taken photographs of the Snow place and some of its
+      occupants. Captain Zelotes had refused to pose, but there was a view of
+      the building and yards of &ldquo;Z. Snow and Co.&rdquo; with the picturesque figure of
+      Mr. Issachar Price tastefully draped against a pile of boards in the right
+      foreground. Issy had been a find for the reporter; he supplied the latter
+      with every fact concerning Albert which he could remember and some that he
+      invented on the spur of the moment. According to Issy, Albert was &ldquo;a fine,
+      fust-class young feller. Him and me was like brothers, as you might say.
+      When he got into trouble, or was undecided or anything, he'd come to me
+      for advice and I always gave it to him. Land, yes! I always give to
+      Albert. No matter how busy I was I always stopped work to help HIM out.&rdquo;
+       The reporter added that Mr. Price stopped work even while speaking of it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The special attracted the notice of other newspaper editors. This skirmish
+      in which Albert had taken so gallant part was among the first in which our
+      soldiers had participated. So the story was copied and recopied. The tale
+      of the death of the young poet, the &ldquo;happy warrior,&rdquo; as some writer called
+      him, was spread from the Atlantic to the Pacific and from Canada to the
+      Gulf. And just at this psychological moment the New York publisher brought
+      out the long deferred volume. The Lances of Dawn, Being the Collected
+      Poems of Albert M. C. Speranza, such was its title.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Meanwhile, or, rather, within the week when the Lances of Dawn flashed
+      upon the public, Captain Zelotes received a letter from the captain of
+      Albert's regiment in France. It was not a long letter, for the captain was
+      a busy man, but it was the kindly, sympathetic letter of one who was,
+      literally, that well-advertised combination, an officer and a gentleman.
+      It told of Albert's promotion to the rank of sergeant, &ldquo;a promotion which,
+      had the boy been spared, would, I am sure, have been the forerunner of
+      others.&rdquo; It told of that last fight, the struggle for the village, of
+      Sergeant Speranza's coolness and daring and of his rush back into the
+      throat of death to save a wounded comrade.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The men tell me they tried to stop him (wrote the captain). He was himself
+      slightly wounded, he had just brought Lieutenant Stacey back to safety and
+      the enemy at that moment was again advancing through the village. But he
+      insisted upon going. The man he was trying to rescue was a private in his
+      company and the pair were great friends. So he started back alone,
+      although several followed him a moment later. They saw him enter the
+      ruined cottage where his friend lay. Then a party of the enemy appeared at
+      the corner and flung grenades. The entire side of the cottage which he had
+      just entered was blown in and the Germans passed on over it, causing our
+      men to fall back temporarily. We retook the place within half an hour.
+      Private Kelly's body&mdash;it was Private Kelly whom Sergeant Speranza was
+      attempting to rescue&mdash;was found and another, badly disfigured, which
+      was at first supposed to be that of your grandson. But this body was
+      subsequently identified as that of a private named Hamlin who was killed
+      when the enemy first charged. Sergeant Speranza's body is still missing,
+      but is thought to be buried beneath the ruins of the cottage. These ruins
+      were subsequently blown into further chaos by a high explosive shell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then followed more expressions of regret and sympathy and confirmation of
+      the report concerning citation and the war cross. Captain Lote read the
+      letter at first alone in his private office. Then he brought it home and
+      gave it to his wife to read. Afterward he read it aloud to Mrs. Ellis and
+      to Laban, who was making his usual call in the Snow kitchen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When the reading was ended Labe was the first to speak. His eyes were
+      shining.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Godfreys!&rdquo; he exclaimed. &ldquo;Godfreys, Cap'n Lote!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The captain seemed to understand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You're right, Labe,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;The boy's made us proud of him. . . .
+      Prouder than some of us are of ourselves, I cal'late,&rdquo; he added, rising
+      and moving toward the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sho, sho, Cap'n, you mustn't feel that way. No, no.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Humph! . . . Labe, I presume likely if I was a pious man, one of the
+      old-fashioned kind of pious, and believed the Almighty went out of his way
+      to get square with any human bein' that made a mistake or didn't do the
+      right thing&mdash;if I believed that I might figger all this was a sort of
+      special judgment on me for my prejudices, eh?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Keeler was much disturbed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nonsense, nonsense, Cap'n Lote!&rdquo; he protested. &ldquo;You ain't fair to
+      yourself. You never treated Al anyhow but just honest and fair and square.
+      If he was here now instead of layin' dead over there in France, poor
+      feller, he'd say so, too. Yes, he would. Course he would.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The captain made no reply, but walked from the room. Laban turned to Mrs.
+      Ellis.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The old man broods over that,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I wish. . . . Eh? What's the
+      matter, Rachel? What are you lookin' at me like that for?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The housekeeper was leaning forward in her chair, her cheeks flushed and
+      her hands clenched.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How do you know he's dead?&rdquo; she asked, in a mysterious whisper.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eh? How do I know who's dead?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Albert. How do you know he's dead?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Laban stared at her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How do I know he's DEAD!&rdquo; he repeated. &ldquo;How do I know&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, yes, yes,&rdquo; impatiently; &ldquo;that's what I said. Don't run it over three
+      or four times more. How do you know Albert's dead?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, Rachel, what kind of talk's that? I know he's dead because the
+      newspapers say so, and the War Department folks say so, and this cap'n man
+      in France that was right there at the time, HE says so. All hands say so&mdash;yes,
+      yes. So don't&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sh! I don't care if they all say so ten times over. How do they KNOW?
+      They ain't found him dead, have they? The report from the War Department
+      folks was sent when they thought that other body was Albert's. Now they
+      know that wasn't him. Where is he?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, under the ruins of that cottage. 'Twas all blown to pieces and most
+      likely&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Um-hm. There you are! 'Most likely!' Well, I ain't satisfied with most
+      likelys. I want to KNOW.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But&mdash;but&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Laban Keeler, until they find his body I shan't believe Albert's dead.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, Rachel, you mustn't try to deceive yourself that way. Don't you see&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I don't see. Labe, when Robert Penfold was lost and gone for all them
+      months all hands thought he was dead, didn't they? But he wasn't; he was
+      on that island lost in the middle of all creation. What's to hinder Albert
+      bein' took prisoner by those Germans? They came back to that cottage place
+      after Albert was left there, the cap'n says so in that letter Cap'n Lote
+      just read. What's to hinder their carryin' Al off with 'em? Eh? What's to
+      hinder?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why&mdash;why, nothin', I suppose, in one way. But nine chances out of
+      ten&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That leaves one chance, don't it. I ain't goin' to give up that chance
+      for&mdash;for my boy. I&mdash;I&mdash;Oh, Labe, I did think SO much of
+      him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know, Rachel, I know. Don't cry any more than you can help. And if it
+      helps you any to make believe&mdash;I mean to keep on hopin' he's alive
+      somewheres&mdash;why, do it. It won't do any harm, I suppose. Only I
+      wouldn't hint such a thing to Cap'n Lote or Olive.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course not,&rdquo; indignantly. &ldquo;I ain't quite a fool, I hope. . . . And I
+      presume likely you're right, Laban. The poor boy is dead, probably. But I&mdash;I'm
+      goin' to hope he isn't, anyhow, just to get what comfort I can from it.
+      And Robert Penfold did come back, you know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      For some time Laban found himself, against all reason, asking the very
+      question Rachel had asked: Did they actually KNOW that Albert was dead?
+      But as the months passed and no news came he ceased to ask it. Whenever he
+      mentioned the subject to the housekeeper her invariable reply was: &ldquo;But
+      they haven't found his body, have they?&rdquo; She would not give up that tenth
+      chance. As she seemed to find some comfort in it he did not attempt to
+      convince her of its futility.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And, meanwhile The Lances of Dawn, Being the Collected Poems of Albert M.
+      C. Speranza was making a mild sensation. The critics were surprisingly
+      kind to it. The story of the young author's recent and romantic death, of
+      his gallantry, his handsome features displayed in newspapers everywhere,
+      all these helped toward the generous welcome accorded the little volume.
+      If the verses were not inspired&mdash;why, they were at least entertaining
+      and pleasant. And youth, high-hearted youth sang on every page. So the
+      reviewers were kind and forbearing to the poems themselves, and, for the
+      sake of the dead soldier-poet, were often enthusiastic. The book sold, for
+      a volume of poems it sold very well indeed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At the Snow place in South Harniss pride and tears mingled. Olive read the
+      verses over and over again, and wept as she read. Rachel Ellis learned
+      many of them by heart, but she, too, wept as she recited them to herself
+      or to Laban. In the little bookkeeper's room above Simond's shoe store The
+      Lances of Dawn lay under the lamp upon the center table as before a
+      shrine. Captain Zelotes read the verses. Also he read all the newspaper
+      notices which, sent to the family by Helen Kendall, were promptly held
+      before his eyes by Olive and Rachel. He read the publisher's
+      advertisements, he read the reviews. And the more he read the more puzzled
+      and bewildered he became.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can't understand it, Laban,&rdquo; he confided in deep distress to Mr.
+      Keeler. &ldquo;I give in I don't know anything at all about this. I'm clean off
+      soundin's. If all this newspaper stuff is so Albert was right all the time
+      and I was plumb wrong. Here's this feller,&rdquo; picking up a clipping from the
+      desk, &ldquo;callin' him a genius and 'a gifted youth' and the land knows what.
+      And every day or so I get a letter from somebody I never heard of tellin'
+      me what a comfort to 'em those poetry pieces of his are. I don't
+      understand it, Labe. It worries me. If all this is true then&mdash;then I
+      was all wrong. I tried to keep him from makin' up poetry, Labe&mdash;TRIED
+      to, I did. If what these folks say is so somethin' ought to be done to me.
+      I&mdash;I&mdash;by thunder, I don't know's I hadn't ought to be hung! . .
+      . And yet&mdash;and yet, I did what I thought was right and did it for the
+      boy's sake . . . And&mdash;and even now I&mdash;I ain't sartin I was
+      wrong. But if I wasn't wrong then this is . . . Oh, I don't know, I don't
+      know!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And not only in South Harniss were there changes of heart. In New York
+      City and at Greenwich where Mrs. Fosdick was more than ever busy with war
+      work, there were changes. When the newspaper accounts of young Speranza's
+      heroic death were first published the lady paid little attention to them.
+      Her daughter needed all her care just then&mdash;all the care, that is,
+      which she could spare from her duties as president of this society and
+      corresponding secretary of that. If her feelings upon hearing the news
+      could have been analyzed it is probable that their larger proportion would
+      have been a huge sense of relief. THAT problem was solved, at all events.
+      She was sorry for poor Madeline, of course, but the dear child was but a
+      child and would recover.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But as with more and more intensity the limelight of publicity was turned
+      upon Albert Speranza's life and death and writing, the wife of the
+      Honorable Fletcher Fosdick could not but be impressed. As head of several
+      so-called literary societies, societies rather neglected since the
+      outbreak of hostilities, she had made it her business to hunt literary
+      lions. Recently it was true that military lions&mdash;Major Vermicelli of
+      the Roumanian light cavalry, or Private Drinkwater of the Tank Corps&mdash;were
+      more in demand than Tagores, but, as Mrs. Fosdick read of Sergeant
+      Speranza's perils and poems, it could not help occurring to her that here
+      was a lion both literary and martial. Decidedly she had not approved of
+      her daughter's engagement to that lion, but now the said lion was dead,
+      which rendered him a perfectly harmless yet not the less fascinating
+      animal. And then appeared The Lances of Dawn and Mrs. Fosdick's friends
+      among the elect began to read and talk about it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was then that the change came. Those friends, one by one, individuals
+      judiciously chosen, were told in strict confidence of poor Madeline's
+      romantic love affair and its tragic ending. These individuals, chosen
+      judiciously as has been stated, whispered, also in strict confidence, the
+      tale to other friends and acquaintances. Mrs. Fosdick began to receive
+      condolences on her daughter's account and on her own. Soon she began to
+      speak publicly of &ldquo;My poor, dear daughter's dead fiance. Such a loss to
+      American literature. Sheer genius. Have you read the article in the
+      Timepiece? Madeline, poor girl, is heartbroken, naturally, but very proud,
+      even in the midst of her grief. So are we all, I assure you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She quoted liberally from The Lances of Dawn. A copy specially bound, lay
+      upon her library table. Albert's photograph in uniform, obtained from the
+      Snows by Mr. Fosdick, who wrote for it at his wife's request, stood beside
+      it. To callers and sister war workers Mrs. Fosdick gave details of the
+      hero's genius, his bravery, his devotion to her daughter. It was all so
+      romantic and pleasantly self-advertising&mdash;and perfectly safe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Summer came again, the summer of 1918. The newspapers now were gravely
+      personal reading to millions of Americans. Our new army was trying its
+      metal on the French front and with the British against the vaunted
+      Hindenburg Line. The transports were carrying thousands on every trip to
+      join those already &ldquo;over there.&rdquo; In South Harniss and in Greenwich and New
+      York, as in every town and city, the ordinary summer vacations and
+      playtime occupations were forgotten or neglected and war charities and war
+      labors took their place. Other soldiers than Sergeant Speranza were the
+      newspaper heroes now, other books than The Lances of Dawn talked about.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As on the previous summer the new Fosdick cottage was not occupied by its
+      owners. Mrs. Fosdick was absorbed by her multitudinous war duties and her
+      husband was at Washington giving his counsel and labor to the cause.
+      Captain Zelotes bought to his last spare dollar of each successive issue
+      of Liberty Bonds, and gave that dollar to the Red Cross or the Y. M. C.
+      A.; Laban and Rachel did likewise. Even Issachar Price bought Thrift
+      Stamps and exhibited them to anyone who would stop long enough to look.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By crimus,&rdquo; declared Issy, &ldquo;I'm makin' myself poor helpin' out the
+      gov'ment, but let 'er go and darn the Kaiser, that's my motto. But they
+      ain't all like me. I was down to the drug store yesterday and old man
+      Burgess had the cheek to tell me I owed him for some cigars I bought&mdash;er&mdash;last
+      fall, seems to me 'twas. I turned right around and looked at him&mdash;'I've
+      got my opinion,' says I, 'of a man that thinks of cigars and such luxuries
+      when the country needs every cent. What have you got that gov'ment poster
+      stuck up on your wall for?' says I. 'Read it,' I says. 'It says' '&ldquo;Save!
+      Save! Save!&rdquo;' don't it? All right. That's what I'M doin'. I AM savin'.'
+      Then when he was thinkin' of somethin' to answer back I walked right out
+      and left him. Yes sir, by crimustee, I left him right where he stood!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      August came; September&mdash;the Hindenburg Line was broken. Each day the
+      triumphant headlines in the papers were big and black and also, alas, the
+      casualty lists on the inside pages long and longer. Then October. The
+      armistice was signed. It was the end. The Allied world went wild, cheered,
+      danced, celebrated. Then it sat back, thinking, thanking God, solemnly
+      trying to realize that the killing days, the frightful days of waiting and
+      awful anxiety, were over.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And early in November another telegram came to the office of Z. Snow and
+      Co. This time it came, not from the War Department direct, but from the
+      Boston headquarters of the American Red Cross.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And this time, just as on the day when the other fateful telegram came,
+      Laban Keeler was the first of the office regulars to learn its contents.
+      Ben Kelley himself brought this message, just as he had brought that
+      telling of Albert Speranza's death. And the usually stolid Ben was greatly
+      excited. He strode straight from the door to the bookkeeper's desk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is the old man in, Labe?&rdquo; he whispered, jerking his head toward the
+      private office, the door of which happened to be shut.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Laban looked at him over his spectacles. &ldquo;Cap'n Lote, you mean?&rdquo; he asked.
+      &ldquo;Yes, he's in. But he don't want to be disturbed&mdash;no, no. Goin' to
+      write a couple of important letters, he said. Important ones. . . . Um-hm.
+      What is it, Ben? Anything I can do for you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Kelley did not answer that question. Instead he took a telegram from his
+      pocket.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Read it, Labe,&rdquo; he whispered. &ldquo;Read it. It's the darndest news&mdash;the&mdash;the
+      darnedest good news ever you heard in your life. It don't seem as if it
+      could he, but, by time, I guess 'tis. Anyhow, it's from the Red Cross
+      folks and they'd ought to know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Laban stared at the telegram. It was not in the usual envelope; Kelley had
+      been too anxious to bring it to its destination to bother with an
+      envelope.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Read it,&rdquo; commanded the operator again. &ldquo;See if you think Cap'n Lote
+      ought to have it broke easy to him or&mdash;or what? Read it, I tell you.
+      Lord sakes, it's no secret! I hollered it right out loud when it come in
+      over the wire and the gang at the depot heard it. They know it and it'll
+      be all over town in ten minutes. READ IT.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Keeler read the telegram. His florid cheeks turned pale.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good Lord above!&rdquo; he exclaimed, under his breath.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eh? I bet you! Shall I take it to the cap'n? Eh? What do you think?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wait. . . . Wait . . . I&mdash;I&mdash;My soul! My soul! Why . . . It's&mdash;it's
+      true. . . . And Rachel always said . . . Why, she was right . . . I . . .&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      From without came the sound of running feet and a series of yells.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Labe! Labe!&rdquo; shrieked Issy. &ldquo;Oh, my crimus! . . . Labe!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He burst into the office, his eyes and mouth wide open and his hands
+      waving wildly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Labe! Labe!&rdquo; he shouted again. &ldquo;Have you heard it? Have you? It's true,
+      too. He's alive! He's alive! He's alive!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Laban sprang from his stool. &ldquo;Shut up, Is!&rdquo; he commanded. &ldquo;Shut up! Hold
+      on! Don't&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But he's alive, I tell you! He ain't dead! He ain't never been dead! Oh,
+      my crimus! . . . Hey, Cap'n Lote! HE'S ALIVE!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Zelotes was standing in the doorway of the private office. The
+      noise had aroused him from his letter writing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who's alive? What's the matter with you this time, Is?&rdquo; he demanded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shut up, Issy,&rdquo; ordered Laban, seizing the frantic Mr. Price by the
+      collar. &ldquo;Be still! Wait a minute.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Be still? What do I want to be still for? I cal'late Cap'n Lote'll holler
+      some, too, when he hears. He's alive, Cap'n Lote, I tell ye. Let go of me,
+      Labe Keeler! He's alive!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who's alive? What is it? Labe, YOU answer me. Who's alive?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Laban's thoughts were still in a whirl. He was still shaking from the news
+      the telegraph operator had brought. Rachel Ellis was at that moment in his
+      mind and he answered as she might have done.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Er&mdash;er&mdash;Robert Penfold,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Robert PENFOLD! What&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Issachar could hold in no longer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Robert Penfold nawthin'!&rdquo; he shouted. &ldquo;Who in thunder's he? 'Tain't
+      Robert Penfold nor Robert Penholder neither. It's Al Speranza, that's who
+      'tis. He ain't killed, Cap'n Lote. He's alive and he's been alive all the
+      time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Kelley stepped forward.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Looks as if 'twas so, Cap'n Snow,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Here's the telegram from the
+      Red Cross.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XV
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      There was nothing miraculous about it. That is to say, it was no more of a
+      miracle than hundreds of similar cases in the World War. The papers of
+      those years were constantly printing stories of men over whose supposed
+      graves funeral sermons had been preached, to whose heirs insurance
+      payments had been made, in whose memory grateful communities had made
+      speeches and delivered eulogiums&mdash;the papers were telling of instance
+      after instance of those men being discovered alive and in the flesh, as
+      casuals in some French hospital or as inmates of German prison camps.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rachel Ellis had asked what was to hinder Albert's having been taken
+      prisoner by the Germans and carried off by them. As a matter of fact
+      nothing had hindered and that was exactly what had happened. Sergeant
+      Speranza, wounded by machine gun fire and again by the explosion of the
+      grenade, was found in the ruins of the cottage when the detachment of the
+      enemy captured it. He was conscious and able to speak, so instead of being
+      bayonetted was carried to the rear where he might be questioned concerning
+      the American forces. The questioning was most unsatisfactory to the
+      Prussian officers who conducted it. Albert fainted, recovered
+      consciousness and fainted again. So at last the Yankee swine was left to
+      die or get well and his Prussian interrogators went about other business,
+      the business of escaping capture themselves. But when they retreated the
+      few prisoners, mostly wounded men, were taken with them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert's recollections of the next few days were hazy and very doubtful.
+      Pain, pain and more pain. Hours and hours&mdash;they seemed like years&mdash;of
+      jolting over rough roads. Pawing-over by a fat, bearded surgeon, who may
+      not have been intentionally brutal, but quite as likely may. A great
+      desire to die, punctuated by occasional feeble spurts of wishing to live.
+      Then more surgical man-handling, more jolting&mdash;in freight cars this
+      time&mdash;a slow, miserable recovery, nurses who hated their patients and
+      treated them as if they did, then, a prison camp, a German prison camp.
+      Then horrors and starvation and brutality lasting many months. Then fever.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was wandering in that misty land between this world and the next when,
+      the armistice having been signed, an American Red Cross representative
+      found him. In the interval between fits of delirium he told this man his
+      name and regiment and, later, the name of his grandparents. When it seemed
+      sure that he was to recover the Red Cross representative cabled the facts
+      to this country. And, still later, those facts, or the all-important fact
+      that Sergeant Albert M. C. Speranza was not dead but alive, came by
+      telegraph to Captain Zelotes Snow of South Harniss. And, two months after
+      that, Captain Zelotes himself, standing on the wharf in Boston and peering
+      up at a crowded deck above him, saw the face of his grandson, that face
+      which he had never expected to see again, looking eagerly down upon him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A few more weeks and it was over. The brief interval of camp life and the
+      mustering out were things of the past. Captain Lote and Albert, seated in
+      the train, were on their way down the Cape, bound home. Home! The word had
+      a significance now which it never had before. Home!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert drew a long breath. &ldquo;By George!&rdquo; he exclaimed. &ldquo;By George,
+      Grandfather, this looks good to me!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It might not have looked as good to another person. It was raining, the
+      long stretches of salt marsh were windswept and brown and bleak. In the
+      distance Cape Cod Bay showed gray and white against a leaden sky. The
+      drops ran down the dingy car windows.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Zelotes understood, however. He nodded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It used to look good to me when I was bound home after a v'yage,&rdquo; he
+      observed. &ldquo;Well, son, I cal'late your grandma and Rachel are up to the
+      depot by this time waitin' for you. We ain't due for pretty nigh an hour
+      yet, but I'd be willin' to bet they're there.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert smiled. &ldquo;My, I do want to see them!&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shouldn't wonder a mite if they wanted to see you, boy. Well, I'm kind of
+      glad I shooed that reception committee out of the way. I presumed likely
+      you'd rather have your first day home to yourself&mdash;and us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should say so! Newspaper reporters are a lot of mighty good fellows,
+      but I hope I never see another one. . . . That's rather ungrateful, I
+      know,&rdquo; he added, with a smile, &ldquo;but I mean it&mdash;just now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He had some excuse for meaning it. The death of Albert Speranza, poet and
+      warrior, had made a newspaper sensation. His resurrection and return
+      furnished material for another. Captain Zelotes was not the only person to
+      meet the transport at the pier; a delegation of reporters was there also.
+      Photographs of Sergeant Speranza appeared once more in print. This time,
+      however, they were snapshots showing him in uniform, likenesses of a still
+      handsome, but less boyish young man, thinner, a scar upon his right cheek,
+      and the look in his eyes more serious, and infinitely older, the look of
+      one who had borne much and seen more. The reporters found it difficult to
+      get a story from the returned hero. He seemed to shun the limelight and to
+      be almost unduly modest and retiring, which was of itself, had they but
+      known it, a transformation sufficiently marvelous to have warranted a
+      special &ldquo;Sunday special.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will not talk about himself,&rdquo; so one writer headed his article. Gertie
+      Kendrick, with a brand-new ring upon her engagement finger, sniffed as she
+      read that headline to Sam Thatcher, who had purchased the ring. &ldquo;Al
+      Speranza won't talk about himself!&rdquo; exclaimed Gertie. &ldquo;Well, it's the
+      FIRST time, then. No wonder they put it in the paper.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But Albert would not talk, claiming that he had done nothing worth talking
+      about, except to get himself taken prisoner in almost his first
+      engagement. &ldquo;Go and ask some of the other fellows aboard here,&rdquo; he urged.
+      &ldquo;They have been all through it.&rdquo; As he would not talk the newspaper men
+      were obliged to talk for him, which they did by describing his appearance
+      and his manner, and by rehashing the story of the fight in the French
+      village. Also, of course, they republished some of his verses. The Lances
+      of Dawn appeared in a special edition in honor of its author's
+      reappearance on this earth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes sir,&rdquo; continued Captain Zelotes, &ldquo;the reception committee was
+      consider'ble disappointed. They'd have met you with the Orham band if
+      they'd had their way. I told 'em you'd heard all the band music you wanted
+      in camp, I guessed likely, and you'd rather come home quiet. There was
+      goin' to be some speeches, too, but I had them put off.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thanks, Grandfather.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Um-hm. I had a notion you wouldn't hanker for speeches. If you do Issy'll
+      make one for you 'most any time. Ever since you got into the papers Issy's
+      been swellin' up like a hot pop-over with pride because you and he was
+      what he calls chummies. All last summer Issachar spent his evenin's
+      hangin' around the hotel waitin' for the next boarder to mention your
+      name. Sure as one did Is was ready for him. 'Know him?' he'd sing out.
+      'Did I know Al Speranza? ME? Well, now say!&mdash;' And so on, long as the
+      feller would listen. I asked him once if he ever told any of 'em how you
+      ducked him with the bucket of water. He didn't think I knew about that and
+      it kind of surprised him, I judged.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert smiled. &ldquo;Laban told you about it, I suppose,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;What a kid
+      trick that was, wasn't it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The captain turned his head and regarded him for an instant. The old
+      twinkle was in his eye when he spoke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wouldn't do a thing like that now, Al, I presume likely?&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Feel
+      a good deal older now, eh?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert's answer was seriously given.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sometimes I feel at least a hundred and fifty,&rdquo; he replied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Humph! . . . Well, I wouldn't feel like that. If you're a hundred and
+      fifty I must be a little older than Methuselah was in his last years. I'm
+      feelin' younger to-day, younger than I have for quite a spell. Yes, for
+      quite a spell.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His grandson put a hand on his knee. &ldquo;Good for you, Grandfather,&rdquo; he said.
+      &ldquo;Now tell me more about Labe. Do you know I think the old chap's sticking
+      by his pledge is the bulliest thing I've heard since I've been home.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So they talked of Laban and of Rachel and of South Harniss happenings
+      until the train drew up at the platform of that station. And upon that
+      platform stepped Albert to feel his grandmother's arms about him and her
+      voice, tremulous with happiness, at his ear. And behind her loomed Mrs.
+      Ellis, her ample face a combination of smiles and tears, &ldquo;all sunshine and
+      fair weather down below but rainin' steady up aloft,&rdquo; as Captain Lote
+      described it afterwards. And behind her, like a foothill in the shadow of
+      a mountain, was Laban. And behind Laban&mdash;No, that is a mistake&mdash;in
+      front of Laban and beside Laban and in front of and beside everyone else
+      when opportunity presented was Issachar. And Issachar's expression and
+      bearings were wonderful to see. A stranger, and there were several
+      strangers amid the group at the station, might have gained the impression
+      that Mr. Price, with of course a very little help from the Almighty, was
+      responsible for everything.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, Issy!&rdquo; exclaimed Albert, when they shook hands. &ldquo;You're here, too,
+      eh?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Price's already protuberant chest swelled still further. His reply had
+      the calmness of finality.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir,&rdquo; said Issy, &ldquo;I'm here. 'Who's goin' to look out for Z. Snow and
+      Co. if all hands walks out and leaves 'em?' Labe says. 'I don't know,'
+      says I, 'and I don't care. I'm goin' to that depot to meet Al Speranzy and
+      if Z. Snow and Co. goes to pot while I'm gone I can't help it. I have
+      sacrificed,' I says, 'and I stand ready to sacrifice pretty nigh
+      everything for my business, but there's limits and this is one of 'em. I'm
+      goin' acrost to that depot to meet him,' says I, 'and don't you try to
+      stop me, Labe Keeler.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Great stuff, Is!&rdquo; said Albert, with a laugh. &ldquo;What did Labe say to that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What was there for him to say? He could see I meant it. Course he hove
+      out some of his cheap talk, but it didn't amount to nothin'. Asked if I
+      wan't goin' to put up a sign sayin' when I'd be back, so's to ease the
+      customers' minds. 'I don't know when I'll be back,' I says. 'All right,'
+      says he, 'put that on the sign. That'll ease 'em still more.' Just cheap
+      talk 'twas. He thinks he's funny, but I don't pay no attention to him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Others came to shake hands and voice a welcome. The formal reception, that
+      with the band, had been called off at Captain Zelotes's request, but the
+      informal one was, in spite of the rain, which was now much less heavy,
+      quite a sizable gathering.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Reverend Mr. Kendall held his hand for a long time and talked much, it
+      seemed to Albert that he had aged greatly since they last met. He wandered
+      a bit in his remarks and repeated himself several times.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The poor old gentleman's failin' a good deal, Albert,&rdquo; said Mrs. Snow, as
+      they drove home together, he and his grandparents, three on the seat of
+      the buggy behind Jessamine. &ldquo;His sermons are pretty tiresome nowadays, but
+      we put up with 'em because he's been with us so long. . . . Ain't you
+      squeezed 'most to death, Albert? You two big men and me all mashed
+      together on this narrow seat. It's lucky I'm small. Zelotes ought to get a
+      two-seated carriage, but he won't.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Next thing I get, Mother,&rdquo; observed the captain, &ldquo;will be an automobile.
+      I'll stick to the old mare here as long as she's able to navigate, but
+      when she has to be hauled out of commission I'm goin' to buy a car. I
+      believe I'm pretty nigh the last man in this county to drive a horse, as
+      'tis. Makes me feel like what Sol Dadgett calls a cracked teapot&mdash;a
+      'genuine antique.' One of these city women will be collectin' me some of
+      these days. Better look out, mother.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Olive sighed happily. &ldquo;It does me good to hear you joke again, Zelotes,&rdquo;
+       she said. &ldquo;He didn't joke much, Albert, while&mdash;when we thought you&mdash;you&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert interrupted in time to prevent the threatened shower.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So Mr. Kendall is not well,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I'm very sorry to hear it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course you would be. You and he used to be so friendly when Helen was
+      home. Oh, speakin' of Helen, she IS comin' home in a fortni't or three
+      weeks, so I hear. She's goin' to give up her teachin' and come back to be
+      company for her father. I suppose she realizes he needs her, but it must
+      be a big sacrifice for her, givin' up the good position she's got now.
+      She's such a smart girl and such a nice one. Why, she came to see us after
+      the news came&mdash;the bad news&mdash;and she was so kind and so good. I
+      don't know what we should have done without her. Zelotes says so too,
+      don't you, Zelotes?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her husband did not answer. Instead he said: &ldquo;Well, there's home, Al.
+      Rachel's there ahead of us and dinner's on the way, judgin' by the smoke
+      from the kitchen chimney. How does the old place look to you, boy?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert merely shook his head and drew a long breath, but his grandparents
+      seemed to be quite satisfied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There were letters and telegrams awaiting him on the table in the
+      sitting-room. Two of the letters were postmarked from a town on the
+      Florida coast. The telegram also was from that same town.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;<i>I</i> had one of those things,&rdquo; observed Captain Zelotes, alluding to
+      the telegram. &ldquo;Fosdick sent me one of those long ones, night-letters I
+      believe they call 'em. He wants me to tell you that Mrs. Fosdick is better
+      and that they cal'late to be in New York before very long and shall expect
+      you there. Of course you knew that, Al, but I presume likely the main idea
+      of the telegram was to help say, 'Welcome home' to you, that's all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert nodded. Madeline and her mother had been in Florida all winter.
+      Mrs. Fosdick's health was not good. She declared that her nerves had given
+      way under her frightful responsibilities during the war. There was,
+      although it seems almost sacrilege to make such a statement, a certain
+      similarity between Mrs. Fletcher Fosdick and Issachar Price. The telegram
+      was, as his grandfather surmised, an expression of welcome and of regret
+      that the senders could not be there to share in the reception. The two
+      letters which accompanied it he put in his pocket to read later on, when
+      alone. Somehow he felt that the first hours in the old house belonged
+      exclusively to his grandparents. Everything else, even Madeline's letters,
+      must take second place for that period.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dinner was, to say the least, an ample meal. Rachel and Olive had, as
+      Captain Lote said, &ldquo;laid themselves out&rdquo; on that dinner. It began well and
+      continued well and ended best of all, for the dessert was one of which
+      Albert was especially fond. They kept pressing him to eat until Laban, who
+      was an invited guest, was moved to comment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Humph!&rdquo; observed Mr. Keeler. &ldquo;I knew 'twas the reg'lar program to kill
+      the fatted calf when the prodigal got home, but I see now it's the proper
+      caper to fat up the prodigal to take the critter's place. No, no, Rachel,
+      I'd like fust-rate to eat another bushel or so to please you, but
+      somethin'&mdash;that still, small voice we're always readin' about, or
+      somethin'&mdash;seems to tell me 'twouldn't be good jedgment. . . . Um-hm.
+      . . . 'Twouldn't be good jedgment. . . . Cal'late it's right, too. . . .
+      Yes, yes, yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, Cap'n Lote,&rdquo; he added, as they rose from the table, &ldquo;you stay right
+      to home here for the rest of the day. I'll hustle back to the office and
+      see if Issy's importance has bust his b'iler for him. So-long, Al. See you
+      pretty soon. Got some things to talk about, you and I have. . . . Yes,
+      yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Later, when Rachel was in the kitchen with the dishes, Olive left the
+      sitting room and reappeared with triumph written large upon her face. In
+      one hand she held a mysterious envelope and in the other a book. Albert
+      recognized that book. It was his own, The Lances of Dawn. It was no
+      novelty to him. When first the outside world and he had reopened
+      communication, copies of that book had been sent him. His publisher had
+      sent them, Madeline had sent them, his grandparents had sent them,
+      comrades had sent them, nurses and doctors and newspaper men had brought
+      them. No, The Lances of Dawn was not a novelty to its author. But he
+      wondered what was in the envelope.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Snow enlightened him. &ldquo;You sit right down now, Albert,&rdquo; she said.
+      &ldquo;Sit right down and listen because I've got somethin' to tell you. Yes,
+      and somethin' to show you, too. Here! Stop now, Zelotes! You can't run
+      away. You've got to sit down and look on and listen, too.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Zelotes smiled resignedly. There was, or so it seemed to his
+      grandson, an odd expression on his face. He looked pleased, but not
+      altogether pleased. However, he obeyed his wife's orders and sat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stop, look and listen,&rdquo; he observed. &ldquo;Mother, you sound like a railroad
+      crossin'. All right, here I am. Al, the society of 'What did I tell you'
+      is goin' to have a meetin'.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His wife nodded. &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; she said, triumphantly, &ldquo;what DID I tell you?
+      Wasn't I right?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The captain pulled his beard and nodded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Right as right could be, Mother,&rdquo; he admitted. &ldquo;Your figgers was a few
+      hundred thousand out of the way, maybe, but barrin' that you was perfectly
+      right.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I'm glad to hear you say so for once in your life. Albert,&rdquo; holding
+      up the envelope, &ldquo;do you know what this is?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert, much puzzled, admitted that he did not. His grandmother put down
+      the book, opened the envelope and took from it a slip of paper.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And can you guess what THIS is?&rdquo; she asked. Albert could not guess.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's a check, that's what it is. It's the first six months' royalties,
+      that's what they call 'em, on that beautiful book of yours. And how much
+      do you suppose 'tis?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert shook his head. &ldquo;Twenty-five dollars?&rdquo; he suggested jokingly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Twenty-five dollars! It's over twenty-five HUNDRED dollars. It's
+      twenty-eight hundred and forty-three dollars and sixty-five cents, that's
+      what it is. Think of it! Almost three thousand dollars! And Zelotes
+      prophesied that 'twouldn't be more than&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her husband held up his hand. &ldquo;Sh-sh! Sh-sh, Mother,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Don't get
+      started on what I prophesied or we won't be through till doomsday. I'll
+      give in right off that I'm the worst prophet since the feller that h'isted
+      the 'Fair and Dry' signal the day afore Noah's flood begun. You see,&rdquo; he
+      explained, turning to Albert, &ldquo;your grandma figgered out that you'd
+      probably clear about half a million on that book of poetry, Al. I
+      cal'lated 'twan't likely to be much more'n a couple of hundred thousand,
+      so&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, Zelotes Snow! You said&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, yes. So I did, Mother, so I did. You was right and I was wrong.
+      Twenty-eight hundred ain't exactly a million, Al, but it's a darn sight
+      more than I ever cal'lated you'd make from that book. Or 'most anybody
+      else ever made from any book, fur's that goes,&rdquo; he added, with a shake of
+      the head. &ldquo;I declare, I&mdash;I don't understand it yet. And a poetry
+      book, too! Who in time BUYS 'em all? Eh?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert was looking at the check and the royalty statement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So this is why I couldn't get any satisfaction from the publisher,&rdquo; he
+      observed. &ldquo;I wrote him two or three times about my royalties, and he put
+      me off each time. I began to think there weren't any.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Zelotes smiled. &ldquo;That's your grandma's doin's,&rdquo; he observed. &ldquo;The
+      check came to us a good while ago, when we thought you was&mdash;was&mdash;well,
+      when we thought&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. Surely, I understand,&rdquo; put in Albert, to help him out.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. That's when 'twas. And Mother, she was so proud of it, because you'd
+      earned it, Al, that she kept it and kept it, showin' it to all hands and&mdash;and
+      so on. And then when we found out you wasn't&mdash;that you'd be home some
+      time or other&mdash;why, then she wouldn't let me put it in the bank for
+      you because she wanted to give it to you herself. That's what she said was
+      the reason. I presume likely the real one was that she wanted to flap it
+      in my face every time she crowed over my bad prophesyin', which was about
+      three times a day and four on Sundays.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Zelotes Snow, the idea!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right, Mother, all right. Anyhow, she got me to write your publisher
+      man and ask him not to give you any satisfaction about those royalties,
+      so's she could be the fust one to paralyze you with 'em. And,&rdquo; with a
+      frank outburst, &ldquo;if you ain't paralyzed, Al, I own up that <i>I</i> am.
+      Three thousand poetry profits beats me. <i>I</i> don't understand it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His wife sniffed. &ldquo;Of course you don't,&rdquo; she declared. &ldquo;But Albert does.
+      And so do I, only I think it ought to have been ever and ever so much
+      more. Don't you, yourself, Albert?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The author of The Lances of Dawn was still looking at the statement of its
+      earnings.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Approximately eighteen thousand sold at fifteen cents royalty,&rdquo; he
+      observed. &ldquo;Humph! Well, I'll be hanged!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you said it would be twenty-five cents, not fifteen,&rdquo; protested
+      Olive. &ldquo;In your letter when the book was first talked about you said so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert smiled. &ldquo;Did I?&rdquo; he observed. &ldquo;Well, I said a good many things in
+      those days, I'm afraid. Fifteen cents for a first book, especially a book
+      of verse, is fair enough, I guess. But eighteen thousand SOLD! That is
+      what gets me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mean you think it ought to be a lot more. So do I, Albert, and so
+      does Rachel. Why, we like it a lot better than we do David Harum. That was
+      a nice book, but it wasn't lovely poetry like yours. And David Harum sold
+      a million. Why shouldn't yours sell as many? Only eighteen thousand&mdash;why
+      are you lookin' at me so funny?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her grandson rose to his feet. &ldquo;Let's let well enough alone, Grandmother,&rdquo;
+       he said. &ldquo;Eighteen thousand will do, thank you. I'm like Grandfather, I'm
+      wondering who on earth bought them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Snow was surprised and a little troubled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, Albert,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;you act kind of&mdash;kind of queer, seems to
+      me. You talk as if your poetry wasn't beautiful. You know it is. You used
+      to say it was, yourself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He interrupted her. &ldquo;Did I, Grandmother?&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;All right, then,
+      probably I did. Let's walk about the old place a little. I want to see it
+      all. By George, I've been dreaming about it long enough!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There were callers that afternoon, friends among the townsfolk, and more
+      still after supper. It was late&mdash;late for South Harniss, that is&mdash;when
+      Albert, standing in the doorway of the bedroom he nor they had ever
+      expected he would occupy again, bade his grandparents good night. Olive
+      kissed him again and again and, speech failing her, hastened away down the
+      hall. Captain Zelotes shook his hand, opened his mouth to speak, shut it
+      again, repeated both operations, and at last with a brief, &ldquo;Well, good
+      night, Al,&rdquo; hurried after his wife. Albert closed the door, put his lamp
+      upon the bureau, and sat down in the big rocker.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In a way the night was similar to that upon which he had first entered
+      that room. It had ceased raining, but the wind, as on that first night,
+      was howling and whining about the eaves, the shutters rattled and the old
+      house creaked and groaned rheumatically. It was not as cold as on that
+      occasion, though by no means warm. He remembered how bare and comfortless
+      he had thought the room. Now it looked almost luxurious. And he had been
+      homesick, or fancied himself in that condition. Compared to the
+      homesickness he had known during the past eighteen months that youthful
+      seizure seemed contemptible and quite without excuse. He looked about the
+      room again, looked long and lovingly. Then, with a sigh of content, drew
+      from his pocket the two letters which had lain upon the sitting-room table
+      when he arrived, opened them and began to read.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline wrote, as always, vivaciously and at length. The maternal
+      censorship having been removed, she wrote exactly as she felt. She could
+      scarcely believe he was really going to be at home when he received this,
+      at home in dear, quaint, queer old South Harniss. Just think, she had not
+      seen the place for ever and ever so long, not for over two years. How were
+      all the funny, odd people who lived there all the time? Did he remember
+      how he and she used to go to church every Sunday and sit through those
+      dreadful, DREADFUL sermons by that prosy old minister just as an excuse
+      for meeting each other afterward? She was SO sorry she could not have been
+      there to welcome her hero when he stepped from the train. If it hadn't
+      been for Mother's poor nerves she surely would have been. He knew it,
+      didn't he? Of course he did. But she should see him soon &ldquo;because Mother
+      is planning already to come back to New York in a few weeks and then you
+      are to run over immediately and make us a LONG visit. And I shall be so
+      PROUD of you. There are lots of Army fellows down here now, officers for
+      the most part. So we dance and are very gay&mdash;that is, the other girls
+      are; I, being an engaged young lady, am very circumspect and demure, of
+      course. Mother carries The Lances about with her wherever she goes, to
+      teas and such things, and reads aloud from it often. Captain Blanchard, he
+      is one of the family's officer friends, is crazy about your poetry, dear.
+      He thinks it WONDERFUL. You know what <i>I</i> think of it, don't you, and
+      when I think that <i>I</i> actually helped you, or played at helping you
+      write some of it!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I am WILD to see your war cross. Some of the officers here have them&mdash;the
+      crosses, I mean&mdash;but not many. Captain Blanchard has the military
+      medal, and he is almost as modest about it as you are about your
+      decoration. I don't see how you CAN be so modest. If <i>I</i> had a Croix
+      de Guerre I should want EVERY ONE to know about it. At the tea dance the
+      other afternoon there was a British major who&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And so on. The second letter was really a continuation of the first.
+      Albert read them both and, after the reading was finished, sat for some
+      time in the rocking chair, quite regardless of the time and the cold,
+      thinking. He took from his pocketbook a photograph, one which Madeline had
+      sent him months before, which had reached him while he lay in the French
+      hospital after his removal from the German camp. He looked at the pretty
+      face in the photograph. She looked just as he remembered her, almost
+      exactly as she had looked more than two years before, smiling, charming,
+      carefree. She had not, apparently, grown older, those age-long months had
+      not changed her. He rose and regarded his own reflection in the mirror of
+      the bureau. He was surprised, as he was constantly being surprised, to see
+      that he, too, had not changed greatly in personal appearance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He walked about the room. His grandmother had told him that his room was
+      just as he had left it. &ldquo;I wouldn't change it, Albert,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;even
+      when we thought you&mdash;you wasn't comin' back. I couldn't touch it,
+      somehow. I kept thinkin', 'Some day I will. Pretty soon I MUST.' But I
+      never did, and now I'm so glad.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He wandered back to the bureau and pulled open the upper drawers. In those
+      drawers were so many things, things which he had kept there, either
+      deliberately or because he was too indolent to destroy them. Old dance
+      cards, invitations, and a bundle of photographs, snapshots. He removed the
+      rubber band from the bundle and stood looking them over. Photographs of
+      school fellows, of picnic groups, of girls. Sam Thatcher, Gertie Kendrick&mdash;and
+      Helen Kendall. There were at least a dozen of Helen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One in particular was very good. From that photograph the face of Helen as
+      he had known it four years before looked straight up into his&mdash;clear-eyed,
+      honest, a hint of humor and understanding and common-sense in the gaze and
+      at the corners of the lips. He looked at the photograph, and the
+      photograph looked up at him. He had not seen her for so long a time. He
+      wondered if the war had changed her as it had changed him. Somehow he
+      hoped it had not. Change did not seem necessary in her case.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There had been no correspondence between them since her letter written
+      when she heard of his enlistment. He had not replied to that because he
+      knew Madeline would not wish him to do so. He wondered if she ever thought
+      of him now, if she remembered their adventure at High Point light. He had
+      thought of her often enough. In those days and nights of horror in the
+      prison camp and hospital he had found a little relief, a little solace in
+      lying with closed eyes and summoning back from memory the things of home
+      and the faces of home. And her face had been one of these. Her face and
+      those of his grandparents and Rachel and Laban, and visions of the old
+      house and the rooms&mdash;they were the substantial things to cling to and
+      he had clung to them. They WERE home. Madeline&mdash;ah! yes, he had
+      longed for her and dreamed of her, God knew, but Madeline, of course, was
+      different.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He snapped the rubber band once more about the bundle of photographs,
+      closed the drawer and prepared for bed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For the two weeks following his return home he had a thoroughly good time.
+      It was a tremendous comfort to get up when he pleased, to eat the things
+      he liked, to do much or little or nothing at his own sweet will. He walked
+      a good deal, tramping along the beach in the blustering wind and chilly
+      sunshine and enjoying every breath of the clean salt air. He thought much
+      during those solitary walks, and at times, at home in the evenings, he
+      would fall to musing and sit silent for long periods. His grandmother was
+      troubled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't it seem to you, Zelotes,&rdquo; she asked her husband, &ldquo;as if Albert was
+      kind of discontented or unsatisfied these days? He's so&mdash;so sort of
+      fidgety. Talks like the very mischief for ten minutes and then don't speak
+      for half an hour. Sits still for a long stretch and then jumps up and
+      starts off walkin' as if he was crazy. What makes him act so? He's kind of
+      changed from what he used to be. Don't you think so?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The captain patted her shoulder. &ldquo;Don't worry, Mother,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Al's
+      older than he was and what he's been through has made him older still. As
+      for the fidgety part of it, the settin' down and jumpin' up and all that,
+      that's the way they all act, so far as I can learn. Elisha Warren, over to
+      South Denboro, tells me his nephew has been that way ever since he got
+      back. Don't fret, Mother, Al will come round all right.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I didn't know but he might be anxious to see&mdash;to see her, you know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Her? Oh, you mean the Fosdick girl. Well, he'll be goin' to see her
+      pretty soon, I presume likely. They're due back in New York 'most any time
+      now, I believe. . . . Oh, hum! Why in time couldn't he&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Couldn't he what, Zelotes?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, nothin', nothin'.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The summons came only a day after this conversation. It came in the form
+      of another letter from Madeline and one from Mrs. Fosdick. They were, so
+      the latter wrote, back once more in their city home, her nerves, thank
+      Heaven, were quite strong again, and they were expecting him, Albert, to
+      come on at once. &ldquo;We are all dying to see you,&rdquo; wrote Mrs. Fosdick. &ldquo;And
+      poor, dear Madeline, of course, is counting the moments.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stay as long as you feel like, Al,&rdquo; said the captain, when told of the
+      proposed visit. &ldquo;It's the dull season at the office, anyhow, and Labe and
+      I can get along first-rate, with Issy to superintend. Stay as long as you
+      want to, only&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Only what, Grandfather?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Only don't want to stay too long. That is, don't fall in love with New
+      York so hard that you forget there is such a place as South Harniss.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert smiled. &ldquo;I've been in places farther away than New York,&rdquo; he said,
+      &ldquo;and I never forgot South Harniss.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Um-hm. . . . Well, I shouldn't be surprised if that was so. But you'll
+      have better company in New York than you did in some of those places. Give
+      my regards to Fosdick. So-long, Al.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XVI
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      The Fosdick car was at the Grand Central Station when the Knickerbocker
+      Limited pulled in. And Madeline, a wonderfully furred and veiled and
+      hatted Madeline, was waiting there behind the rail as he came up the
+      runway from the train. It was amazing the fact that it was really she. It
+      was more amazing still to kiss her there in public, to hold her hand
+      without fear that some one might see. To&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shall I take your bags, sir?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was the Fosdick footman who asked it. Albert started guiltily. Then he
+      laughed, realizing that the hand-holding and the rest were no longer
+      criminal offenses. He surrendered his luggage to the man. A few minutes
+      later he and Madeline were in the limousine, which was moving rapidly up
+      the Avenue. And Madeline was asking questions and he was answering and&mdash;and
+      still it was all a dream. It COULDN'T be real.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was even more like a dream when the limousine drew up before the door
+      of the Fosdick home and they entered that home together. For there was
+      Mrs. Fosdick, as ever majestic, commanding, awe-inspiring, the same Mrs.
+      Fosdick who had, in her letter to his grandfather, written him down a
+      despicable, underhanded sneak, here was that same Mrs. Fosdick&mdash;but
+      not at all the same. For this lady was smiling and gracious, welcoming him
+      to her home, addressing him by his Christian name, treating him kindly,
+      with almost motherly tenderness. Madeline's letters and Mrs. Fosdick's own
+      letters received during his convalescence abroad had prepared him, or so
+      he had thought, for some such change. Now he realized that he had not been
+      prepared at all. The reality was so much more revolutionary than the
+      anticipation that he simply could not believe it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But it was not so very wonderful if he had known all the facts and had
+      been in a frame of mind to calmly analyze them. Mrs. Fletcher Fosdick was
+      a seasoned veteran, a general who had planned and fought many hard
+      campaigns upon the political battlegrounds of women's clubs and societies
+      of various sorts. From the majority of those campaigns she had emerged
+      victorious, but her experiences in defeat had taught her that the next
+      best thing to winning is to lose gracefully, because by so doing much
+      which appears to be lost may be regained. For Albert Speranza, bookkeeper
+      and would-be poet of South Harniss, Cape Cod, she had had no use whatever
+      as a prospective son-in-law. Even toward a living Albert Speranza, hero
+      and newspaper-made genius, she might have been cold. But when that hero
+      and genius was, as she and every one else supposed, safely and
+      satisfactorily dead and out of the way, she had seized the opportunity to
+      bask in the radiance of his memory. She had talked Albert Speranza and
+      read Albert Speranza and boasted of Albert Speranza's engagement to her
+      daughter before the world. Now that the said Albert Speranza had been
+      inconsiderate enough to &ldquo;come alive again,&rdquo; there was but one thing for
+      her to do&mdash;that is, to make the best of it. And when Mrs. Fletcher
+      Fosdick made the best of anything she made the very best.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It doesn't make any difference,&rdquo; she told her husband, &ldquo;whether he really
+      is a genius or whether he isn't. We have said he is and now we must keep
+      on saying it. And if he can't earn his salt by his writings&mdash;which he
+      probably can't&mdash;then you must fix it in some way so that he can
+      make-believe earn it by something else. He is engaged to Madeline, and we
+      have told every one that he is, so he will have to marry her; at least, I
+      see no way to prevent it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Humph!&rdquo; grunted Fosdick. &ldquo;And after that I'll have to support them, I
+      suppose.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Probably&mdash;unless you want your only child to starve.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I must say, Henrietta&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You needn't, for there is nothing more TO say. We're in it and, whether
+      we like it or not, we must make the best of it. To do anything now except
+      appear joyful about it would be to make ourselves perfectly ridiculous. We
+      can't do that, and you know it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her husband still looked everything but contented.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So far as the young fellow himself goes,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I like him, rather.
+      I've talked with him only once, of course, and then he and I weren't
+      agreeing exactly. But I liked him, nevertheless. If he were anything but a
+      fool poet I should be more reconciled.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He was snubbed immediately. &ldquo;THAT,&rdquo; declared Mrs. Fosdick, with decision,
+      &ldquo;is the only thing that makes him possible.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So Mrs. Fosdick's welcome was whole-handed if not whole-hearted. And her
+      husband's also was cordial and intimate. The only member of the Fosdick
+      household who did not regard the guest with favor was Googoo. That
+      aristocratic bull-pup was still irreconcilably hostile. When Albert
+      attempted to pet him he appeared to be planning to devour the caressing
+      hand, and when rebuked by his mistress retired beneath a davenport,
+      growling ominously. Even when ignominiously expelled from the room he
+      growled and cast longing backward glances at the Speranza ankles. No,
+      Googoo did not dissemble; Albert was perfectly sure of his standing in
+      Googoo's estimation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dinner that evening was a trifle more formal than he had expected, and he
+      was obliged to apologize for the limitations of his wardrobe. His dress
+      suit of former days he had found much too dilapidated for use. Besides, he
+      had outgrown it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought I was thinner,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;and I think I am. But I must have
+      broadened a bit. At any rate, all the coats I left behind won't do at all.
+      I shall have to do what Captain Snow, my grandfather, calls 'refit' here
+      in New York. In a day or two I hope to be more presentable.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Fosdick assured him that it was quite all right, really. Madeline
+      asked why he didn't wear his uniform. &ldquo;I was dying to see you in it,&rdquo; she
+      said. &ldquo;Just think, I never have.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert laughed. &ldquo;You have been spared,&rdquo; he told her. &ldquo;Mine was not a
+      triumph, so far as fit was concerned. Of course, I had a complete new rig
+      when I came out of the hospital, but even that was not beautiful. It
+      puckered where it should have bulged and bulged where it should have been
+      smooth.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline professed not to believe him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nonsense!&rdquo; she declared. &ldquo;I don't believe it. Why, almost all the fellows
+      I know have been in uniform for the past two years and theirs fitted
+      beautifully.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But they were officers, weren't they, and their uniforms were custom
+      made.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, I suppose so. Aren't all uniforms custom made?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her father laughed. &ldquo;Scarcely, Maddie,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;The privates have their
+      custom-made by the mile and cut off in chunks for the individual. That was
+      about it, wasn't it, Speranza?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just about, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Fosdick evidently thought that the conversation was taking a rather
+      low tone. She elevated it by asking what his thoughts were when taken
+      prisoner by the Germans. He looked puzzled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thoughts, Mrs. Fosdick?&rdquo; he repeated. &ldquo;I don't know that I understand,
+      exactly. I was only partly conscious and in a good deal of pain and my
+      thoughts were rather incoherent, I'm afraid.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But when you regained consciousness, you know. What were your thoughts
+      then? Did you realize that you had made the great sacrifice for your
+      country? Risked your life and forfeited your liberty and all that for the
+      cause? Wasn't it a great satisfaction to feel that you had done that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert's laugh was hearty and unaffected. &ldquo;Why, no,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I think
+      what I was realizing most just then was that I had made a miserable mess
+      of the whole business. Failed in doing what I set out to do and been taken
+      prisoner besides. I remember thinking, when I was clear-headed enough to
+      think anything, 'You fool, you spent months getting into this war, and
+      then got yourself out of it in fifteen minutes.' And it WAS a silly trick,
+      too.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline was horrified.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What DO you mean?&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;Your going back there to rescue your
+      comrade a silly trick! The very thing that won you your Croix de Guerre?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, yes, in a way. I didn't save Mike, poor fellow&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mike! Was his name Mike?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; Michael Francis Xavier Kelly. A South Boston Mick he was, and one of
+      the finest, squarest boys that ever drew breath. Well, poor Mike was dead
+      when I got to him, so my trip had been for nothing, and if he had been
+      alive I could not have prevented his being taken. As it was, he was dead
+      and I was a prisoner. So nothing was gained and, for me, personally, a
+      good deal was lost. It wasn't a brilliant thing to do. But,&rdquo; he added
+      apologetically, &ldquo;a chap doesn't have time to think collectively in such a
+      scrape. And it was my first real scrap and I was frightened half to death,
+      besides.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Frightened! Why, I never heard anything so ridiculous! What&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;One moment, Madeline.&rdquo; It was Mrs. Fosdick who interrupted. &ldquo;I want to
+      ask&mdash;er&mdash;Albert a question. I want to ask him if during his long
+      imprisonment he composed&mdash;wrote, you know. I should have thought the
+      sights and experiences would have forced one to express one's self&mdash;that
+      is, one to whom the gift of expression was so generously granted,&rdquo; she
+      added, with a gracious nod.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert hesitated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, at first I did,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;When I first was well enough to think, I
+      used to try to write&mdash;verses. I wrote a good many. Afterwards I tore
+      them up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tore them up!&rdquo; Both Mrs. and Miss Fosdick uttered this exclamation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, yes. You see, they were such rot. The things I wanted to write
+      about, the things <i>I</i> had seen and was seeing, the&mdash;the fellows
+      like Mike and their pluck and all that&mdash;well, it was all too big for
+      me to tackle. My jingles sounded, when I read them over, like tunes on a
+      street piano. <i>I</i> couldn't do it. A genius might have been equal to
+      the job, but I wasn't.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Fosdick glanced at her husband. There was something of alarmed
+      apprehension in the glance. Madeline's next remark covered the situation.
+      It expressed the absolute truth, so much more of the truth than even the
+      young lady herself realized at the time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, Albert Speranza,&rdquo; she exclaimed, &ldquo;I never heard you speak of
+      yourself and your work in that way before. Always&mdash;ALWAYS you have
+      had such complete, such splendid confidence in yourself. You were never
+      afraid to attempt ANYTHING. You MUST not talk so. Don't you intend to
+      write any more?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert looked at her. &ldquo;Oh, yes, indeed,&rdquo; he said simply. &ldquo;That is just
+      what I do intend to do&mdash;or try to do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      That evening, alone in the library, he and Madeline had their first long,
+      intimate talk, the first since those days&mdash;to him they seemed as far
+      away as the last century&mdash;when they walked the South Harniss beach
+      together, walked beneath the rainbows and dreamed. And now here was their
+      dream coming true.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline, he was realizing it as he looked at her, was prettier than ever.
+      She had grown a little older, of course, a little more mature, but
+      surprisingly little. She was still a girl, a very, very pretty girl and a
+      charming girl. And he&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What are you thinking about?&rdquo; she demanded suddenly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He came to himself. &ldquo;I was thinking about you,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;You are just as
+      you used to be, just as charming and just as sweet. You haven't changed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She smiled and then pouted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know whether to like that or not,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Did you expect to
+      find me less&mdash;charming and the rest?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, no, of course not. That was clumsy on my part. What I meant was that&mdash;well,
+      it seems ages, centuries, since we were together there on the Cape&mdash;and
+      yet you have not changed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She regarded him reflectively.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have,&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have what?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Changed. You have changed a good deal. I don't know whether I like it or
+      not. Perhaps I shall be more certain by and by. Now show me your war
+      cross. At least you have brought that, even if you haven't brought your
+      uniform.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He had the cross in his pocket-book and he showed it to her. She enthused
+      over it, of course, and wished he might wear it even when in citizen's
+      clothes. She didn't see why he couldn't. And it was SUCH a pity he could
+      not be in uniform. Captain Blanchard had called the evening before, to see
+      Mother about some war charities she was interested in, and he was still in
+      uniform and wearing his decorations, too. Albert suggested that probably
+      Blanchard was still in service. Yes, she believed he was, but she could
+      not see why that should make the difference. Albert had BEEN in service.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He laughed at this and attempted to explain. She seemed to resent the
+      attempt or the tone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do wish,&rdquo; she said almost pettishly, &ldquo;that you wouldn't be so
+      superior.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He was surprised. &ldquo;Superior!&rdquo; he repeated. &ldquo;Superior! I? Superiority is
+      the very least of my feelings. I&mdash;superior! That's a joke.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And, oddly enough, she resented that even more. &ldquo;Why is it a joke?&rdquo; she
+      demanded. &ldquo;I should think you had the right to feel superior to almost any
+      one. A hero&mdash;and a genius! You ARE superior.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      However, the little flurry was but momentary, and she was all sweetness
+      and smiles when she kissed him good night. He was shown to his room by a
+      servant and amid its array of comforts&mdash;to him, fresh from France and
+      the camp and his old room at South Harniss, it was luxuriously magnificent&mdash;he
+      sat for some time thinking. His thoughts should have been happy ones, yet
+      they were not entirely so. This is a curiously unsatisfactory world,
+      sometimes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The next day he went shopping. Fosdick had given him a card to his own
+      tailor and Madeline had given him the names of several shops where, so she
+      declared, he could buy the right sort of ties and things. From the
+      tailor's Albert emerged looking a trifle dazed; after a visit to two of
+      the shops the dazed expression was even more pronounced. His next visits
+      were at establishments farther downtown and not as exclusive. He returned
+      to the Fosdick home feeling fairly well satisfied with the results
+      achieved. Madeline, however, did not share his satisfaction.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But Dad sent you to his tailor,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Why in the world didn't you
+      order your evening clothes there? And Brett has the most stunning ties.
+      Every one says so. Instead you buy yours at a department store. Now why?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He smiled. &ldquo;My dear girl,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;your father's tailor estimated that
+      he might make me a very passable dress suit for one hundred and
+      seventy-five dollars. Brett's ties were stunning, just as you say, but the
+      prices ranged from five to eight dollars, which was more stunning still.
+      For a young person from the country out of a job, which is my condition at
+      present, such things may be looked at but not handled. I can't afford
+      them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She tossed her head. &ldquo;What nonsense!&rdquo; she exclaimed. &ldquo;You're not out of a
+      job, as you call it. You are a writer and a famous writer. You have
+      written one book and you are going to write more. Besides, you must have
+      made heaps of money from The Lances. Every one has been reading it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When he told her the amount of his royalty check she expressed the opinion
+      that the publisher must have cheated. It ought to have been ever and ever
+      so much more than that. Such wonderful poems!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The next day she went to Brett's and purchased a half dozen of the most
+      expensive ties, which she presented to him forthwith.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There!&rdquo; she demanded. &ldquo;Aren't those nicer than the ones you bought at
+      that old department store? Well, then!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, Madeline, I must not let you buy my ties.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why not? It isn't such an unheard-of thing for an engaged girl to give
+      her fiance a necktie.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That isn't the idea. I should have bought ties like those myself, but I
+      couldn't afford them. Now for you to&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nonsense! You talk as if you were a beggar. Don't be so silly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, Madeline&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stop! I don't want to hear it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She rose and went out of the room. She looked as if she were on the verge
+      of tears. He felt obliged to accept the gift, but he disliked the
+      principle of the things as much as ever. When she returned she was very
+      talkative and gay and chatted all through luncheon. The subject of the
+      ties was not mentioned again by either of them. He was glad he had not
+      told her that his new dress suit was ready-made.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While in France, awaiting his return home, he had purchased a ring and
+      sent it to her. She was wearing it, of course. Compared with other
+      articles of jewelry which she wore from time to time, his ring made an
+      extremely modest showing. She seemed quite unaware of the discrepancy, but
+      he was aware of it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On an evening later in the week Mrs. Fosdick gave a reception. &ldquo;Quite an
+      informal affair,&rdquo; she said, in announcing her intention. &ldquo;Just a few
+      intimate friends to meet Mr. Speranza, that is all. Mostly lovers of
+      literature&mdash;discerning people, if I may say so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The quite informal affair looked quite formidably formal to Albert. The
+      few intimate friends were many, so it seemed to him. There was still
+      enough of the former Albert Speranza left in his make-up to prevent his
+      appearing in the least distressed or ill at ease. He was, as he had always
+      been when in the public eye, even as far back as the school
+      dancing-classes with the Misses Bradshaw's young ladies, perfectly
+      self-possessed, charmingly polite, absolutely self-assured. And his good
+      looks had not suffered during his years of imprisonment and suffering. He
+      was no longer a handsome boy, but he was an extraordinarily attractive and
+      distinguished man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Fosdick marked his manner and appearance and breathed a sigh of
+      satisfaction. Madeline noted them. Her young friends of the sex noted them
+      and whispered and looked approval. What the young men thought does not
+      matter so much, perhaps. One of these was the Captain Blanchard, of whom
+      Madeline had written and spoken. He was a tall, athletic chap, who looked
+      well in his uniform, and whose face was that of a healthy, clean-living
+      and clean-thinking young American. He and Albert shook hands and looked
+      each other over. Albert decided he should like Blanchard if he knew him
+      better. The captain was not talkative; in fact, he seemed rather taciturn.
+      Maids and matrons gushed when presented to the lion of the evening. It
+      scarcely seemed possible that they were actually meeting the author of The
+      Lances of Dawn. That wonderful book! Those wonderful poems! &ldquo;How CAN you
+      write them, Mr. Speranza?&rdquo; &ldquo;When do your best inspirations come, Mr.
+      Speranza?&rdquo; &ldquo;Oh, if I could write as you do I should walk on air.&rdquo; The
+      matron who breathed the last-quoted ecstasy was distinctly weighty; the
+      mental picture of her pedestrian trip through the atmosphere was
+      interesting. Albert's hand was patted by the elderly spinsters, young
+      women's eyes lifted soulful glances to his.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was the sort of thing he would have revelled in three or four years
+      earlier. Exactly the sort of thing he had dreamed of when the majority of
+      the poems they gushed over were written. It was much the same thing he
+      remembered having seen his father undergo in the days when he and the
+      opera singer were together. And his father had, apparently, rather enjoyed
+      it. He realized all this&mdash;and he realized, too, with a queer feeling
+      that it should be so, that he did not like it at all. It was silly.
+      Nothing he had written warranted such extravagances. Hadn't these people
+      any sense of proportion? They bored him to desperation. The sole relief
+      was the behavior of the men, particularly the middle-aged or elderly men,
+      obviously present through feminine compulsion. They seized his hand, moved
+      it up and down with a pumping motion, uttered some stereotyped
+      prevarications about their pleasure at meeting him and their having
+      enjoyed his poems very much, and then slid on in the direction of the
+      refreshment room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And Albert, as he shook hands, bowed and smiled and was charmingly
+      affable, found his thoughts wandering until they settled upon Private Mike
+      Kelly and the picturesque language of the latter when he, as sergeant,
+      routed him out for guard duty. Mike had not gushed over him nor called him
+      a genius. He had called him many things, but not that.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was glad indeed when he could slip away for a dance with Madeline. He
+      found her chatting gaily with Captain Blanchard, who had been her most
+      recent partner. He claimed her from the captain and as he led her out to
+      the dance floor she whispered that she was very proud of him. &ldquo;But I DO
+      wish YOU could wear your war cross,&rdquo; she added.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The quite informal affair was the first of many quite as informally
+      formal. Also Mrs. Fosdick's satellites and friends of the literary clubs
+      and the war work societies seized the opportunity to make much of the
+      heroic author of The Lances of Dawn. His society was requested at teas, at
+      afternoon as well as evening gatherings. He would have refused most of
+      these invitations, but Madeline and her mother seemed to take his
+      acceptance for granted; in fact, they accepted for him. A ghastly habit
+      developed of asking him to read a few of his own poems on these occasions.
+      &ldquo;PLEASE, Mr. Speranza. It will be such a treat, and such an HONOR.&rdquo;
+       Usually a particular request was made that he read &ldquo;The Greater Love.&rdquo; Now
+      &ldquo;The Greater Love&rdquo; was the poem which, written in those rapturous days
+      when he and Madeline first became aware of their mutual adoration, was
+      refused by one editor as a &ldquo;trifle too syrupy.&rdquo; To read that sticky
+      effusion over and over again became a torment. There were occasions when
+      if a man had referred to &ldquo;The Greater Love,&rdquo; its author might have howled
+      profanely and offered bodily violence. But no men ever did refer to &ldquo;The
+      Greater Love.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      On one occasion when a sentimental matron and her gushing daughter had
+      begged to know if he did not himself adore that poem, if he did not
+      consider it the best he had ever written, he had answered frankly. He was
+      satiated with cake and tea and compliments that evening and recklessly
+      truthful. &ldquo;You really wish to know my opinion of that poem?&rdquo; he asked.
+      Indeed and indeed they really wished to knew just that thing. &ldquo;Well, then,
+      I think it's rot,&rdquo; he declared. &ldquo;I loathe it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Of course mother and daughter were indignant. Their comments reached
+      Madeline's ear. She took him to task.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But why did you say it?&rdquo; she demanded. &ldquo;You know you don't mean it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I do mean it. It IS rot. Lots of the stuff in that book of mine is
+      rot. I did not think so once, but I do now. If I had the book to make over
+      again, that sort wouldn't be included.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She looked at him for a moment as if studying a problem.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't understand you sometimes,&rdquo; she said slowly. &ldquo;You are different.
+      And I think what you said to Mrs. Bacon and Marian was very rude.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Later when he went to look for her he found her seated with Captain
+      Blanchard in a corner. They were eating ices and, apparently, enjoying
+      themselves. He did not disturb them. Instead he hunted up the offended
+      Bacons and apologized for his outbreak. The apology, although graciously
+      accepted, had rather wearisome consequences. Mrs. Bacon declared she knew
+      that he had not really meant what he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I realize how it must be,&rdquo; she declared. &ldquo;You people of temperament, of
+      genius, of aspirations, are never quite satisfied, you cannot be. You are
+      always trying, always seeking the higher attainment. Achievements of the
+      past, though to the rest of us wonderful and sublime, are to you&mdash;as
+      you say, 'rot.' That is it, is it not?&rdquo; Albert said he guessed it was, and
+      wandered away, seeking seclusion and solitude. When the affair broke up he
+      found Madeline and Blanchard still enjoying each other's society. Both
+      were surprised when told the hour.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XVII
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      So the first three weeks of his proposed month's visit passed and the
+      fourth began. And more and more his feelings of dissatisfaction and
+      uneasiness increased. The reasons for those feelings he found hard to
+      define. The Fosdicks were most certainly doing their best to make him
+      comfortable and happy. They were kind&mdash;yes, more than kind. Mr.
+      Fosdick he really began to like. Mrs. Fosdick's manner had a trace of
+      condescension in it, but as the lady treated all creation with much the
+      same measure of condescension, he was more amused than resentful. And
+      Madeline&mdash;Madeline was sweet and charming and beautiful. There was in
+      her manner toward him, or so he fancied, a slight change, perhaps a change
+      a trifle more marked since the evening when his expressed opinion of &ldquo;The
+      Greater Love&rdquo; had offended her and the Bacons. It seemed to him that she
+      was more impatient, more capricious, sometimes almost overwhelming him
+      with attention and tenderness and then appearing to forget him entirely
+      and to be quite indifferent to his thoughts and opinions. Her moods varied
+      greatly and there were occasions when he found it almost impossible to
+      please her. At these times she took offense when no offense was intended
+      and he found himself apologizing when, to say the least, the fault, if
+      there was any, was not more than half his. But she always followed those
+      moods with others of contrition and penitence and then he was petted and
+      fondled and his forgiveness implored.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      These slight changes in her he noticed, but they troubled him little,
+      principally because he was coming to realize the great change in himself.
+      More and more that change was forcing itself upon him. The stories and
+      novels he had read during the first years of the war, the stories by
+      English writers in which young men, frivolous and inconsequential, had
+      enlisted and fought and emerged from the ordeal strong, purposeful and
+      &ldquo;made-over&rdquo;&mdash;those stories recurred to him now. He had paid little
+      attention to the &ldquo;making-over" idea when he read those tales, but now he
+      was forced to believe there might be something in it. Certainly something,
+      the three years or the discipline and training and suffering, or all
+      combined, had changed him. He was not as he used to be. Things he liked
+      very much he no longer liked at all. And where, oh where, was the serene
+      self-satisfaction which once was his?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The change must be quite individual, he decided. All soldiers were not so
+      affected. Take Blanchard, for instance. Blanchard had seen service, more
+      and quite as hard fighting as he had seen, but Blanchard was, to all
+      appearances, as light-hearted and serene and confident as ever. Blanchard
+      was like Madeline; he was much the same now as he had been before the war.
+      Blanchard could dance and talk small talk and laugh and enjoy himself.
+      Well, so could he, on occasions, for that matter, if that had been all.
+      But it was not all, or if it was why was he at other times so discontented
+      and uncomfortable? What was the matter with him, anyway?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He drew more and more into his shell and became more quiet and less
+      talkative. Madeline, in one of her moods, reproached him for it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do wish you wouldn't be grumpy,&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They had been sitting in the library and he had lapsed into a fit of
+      musing, answering her questions with absentminded monosyllables. Now he
+      looked up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Grumpy?&rdquo; he repeated. &ldquo;Was I grumpy? I beg your pardon.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You should. You answered every word I spoke to you with a grunt or a
+      growl. I might as well have been talking to a bear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm awfully sorry, dear. I didn't feel grumpy. I was thinking, I
+      suppose.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thinking! You are always thinking. Why think, pray? . . . If I permitted
+      myself to think, I should go insane.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Madeline, what do you mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, nothing. I'm partially insane now, perhaps. Come, let's go to the
+      piano. I feel like playing. You don't mind, do you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      That evening Mrs. Fosdick made a suggestion to her husband.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fletcher,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;I am inclined to think it is time you and Albert
+      had a talk concerning the future. A business talk, I mean. I am a little
+      uneasy about him. From some things he has said to me recently I gather
+      that he is planning to earn his living with his pen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, how else did you expect him to earn it; as bookkeeper for the South
+      Harniss lumber concern?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't be absurd. What I mean is that he is thinking of devoting himself
+      to literature exclusively. Don't interrupt me, please. That is very
+      beautiful and very idealistic, and I honor him for it, but I cannot see
+      Madeline as an attic poet's wife, can you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can't, and I told you so in the beginning.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. Therefore I should take him to one side and tell him of the opening
+      in your firm. With that as a means of keeping his feet on the ground his
+      brain may soar as it likes, the higher the better.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Fosdick, as usual, obeyed orders and that afternoon Albert and he had
+      the &ldquo;business talk.&rdquo; Conversation at dinner was somewhat strained. Mr.
+      Fosdick was quietly observant and seemed rather amused about something.
+      His wife was dignified and her manner toward her guest was inclined to be
+      abrupt. Albert's appetite was poor. As for Madeline, she did not come down
+      to dinner, having a headache.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She came down later, however. Albert, alone in the library, was sitting, a
+      book upon his knees and his eyes fixed upon nothing in particular, when
+      she came in.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are thinking again, I see,&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had not heard her enter. Now he rose, the book falling to the floor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why&mdash;why, yes,&rdquo; he stammered. &ldquo;How are you feeling? How is your
+      head?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is no worse. And no better. I have been thinking, too, which perhaps
+      explains it. Sit down, Albert, please. I want to talk with you. That is
+      what I have been thinking about, that you and I must talk.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She seated herself upon the davenport and he pulled forward a chair and
+      sat facing her. For a moment she was silent. When she did speak, however,
+      her question was very much to the point.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why did you say 'No' to Father's offer?&rdquo; she asked. He had been expecting
+      this very question, or one leading up to it. Nevertheless, he found
+      answering difficult. He hesitated, and she watched him, her impatience
+      growing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well?&rdquo; she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He sighed. &ldquo;Madeline,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I am afraid you think me very
+      unreasonable, certainly very ungrateful.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know what to think about you. That is why I feel we must have
+      this talk. Tell me, please, just what Father said to you this afternoon.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He said&mdash;well, the substance of what he said was to offer me a
+      position in his office, in his firm.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What sort of a position?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I&mdash;I scarcely know. I was to have a desk there and&mdash;and
+      be generally&mdash;ornamental, I suppose. It was not very definite, the
+      details of the position, but&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The salary was good, wasn't it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; more than good. Much too good for the return I could make for it, so
+      it seemed to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And your prospects for the future? Wasn't the offer what people call a
+      good opportunity?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, yes, I suppose it was. For the right sort of man it would have been
+      a wonderful opportunity. Your father was most kind, most generous,
+      Madeline. Please don't think I am not appreciative. I am, but&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't. I want to understand it all. He offered you this opportunity, this
+      partnership in his firm, and you would not accept it? Why? Don't you like
+      my father?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I like him very much.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Didn't you,&rdquo; with the slightest possible curl of the lip, &ldquo;think the
+      offer worthy of you? . . . Oh, I don't mean that! Please forgive me. I am
+      trying not to be disagreeable. I&mdash;I just want to understand, Albert,
+      that's all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He nodded. &ldquo;I know, Madeline,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;You have the right to ask. It
+      wasn't so much a question of the offer being worthy of me as of my being
+      worthy the offer. Oh, Madeline, why should you and I pretend? You know why
+      Mr. Fosdick made me that offer. It wasn't because I was likely to be worth
+      ten dollars a year to his firm. In Heaven's name, what use would I be in a
+      stockbroker's office, with my make-up, with my lack of business ability?
+      He would be making a place for me there and paying me a high salary for
+      one reason only, and you know what that is. Now don't you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She hesitated now, but only for an instant. She colored a little, but she
+      answered bravely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose I do,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;but what of it? It is not unheard of, is it,
+      the taking one's prospective son-in-law into partnership?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, but&mdash;We're dodging the issue again, Madeline. If I were likely
+      to be of any help to your father's business, instead of a hindrance, I
+      might perhaps see it differently. As it is, I couldn't accept unless I
+      were willing to be an object of charity.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did you tell Father that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What did he say?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He said a good deal. He was frank enough to say that he did not expect me
+      to be of great assistance to the firm. But I might be of SOME use&mdash;he
+      didn't put it as baldly as that, of course&mdash;and at all times I could
+      keep on with my writing, with my poetry, you know. The brokerage business
+      should not interfere with my poetry, he said; your mother would scalp him
+      if it did that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She smiled faintly. &ldquo;That sounds like dad,&rdquo; she commented.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. Well, we talked and argued for some time on the subject. He asked me
+      what, supposing I did not accept this offer of his, my plans for the
+      future might be. I told him they were pretty unsettled as yet. I meant to
+      write, of course. Not poetry altogether. I realized, I told him, that I
+      was not a great poet, a poet of genius.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline interrupted. Her eyes flashed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why do you say that?&rdquo; she demanded. &ldquo;I have heard you say it before. That
+      is, recently. In the old days you were as sure as I that you were a real
+      poet, or should be some day. You never doubted it. You used to tell me so
+      and I loved to hear you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert shook his head. &ldquo;I was sure of so many things then,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I
+      must have been an insufferable kid.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She stamped her foot. &ldquo;It was less than three years ago that you said it,&rdquo;
+       she declared. &ldquo;You are not so frightfully ancient now. . . . Well, go on,
+      go on. How did it end, the talk with Father, I mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I told him,&rdquo; he continued, &ldquo;that I meant to write and to earn my living
+      by writing. I meant to try magazine work&mdash;stories, you know&mdash;and,
+      soon, a novel. He asked if earning enough to support a wife on would not
+      be a long job at that time. I said I was afraid it might, but that that
+      seemed to me my particular game, nevertheless.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She interrupted again. &ldquo;Did it occur to you to question whether or not
+      that determination of yours was quite fair to me?&rdquo; she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why&mdash;why, yes, it did. And I don't know that it IS exactly fair to
+      you. I&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never mind. Go on. Tell me the rest. How did it end?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, it ended in a sort of flare-up. Mr. Fosdick was just a little bit
+      sarcastic, and I expressed my feelings rather freely&mdash;too freely, I'm
+      afraid.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never mind. I want to know what you said.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To be absolutely truthful, then, this is what I said: I said that I
+      appreciated his kindness and was grateful for the offer. But my mind was
+      made up. I would not live upon his charity and draw a large salary for
+      doing nothing except be a little, damned tame house-poet led around in
+      leash and exhibited at his wife's club meetings. . . . That was about all,
+      I think. We shook hands at the end. He didn't seem to like me any the less
+      for . . . Why, Madeline, have I offended you? My language was pretty
+      strong, I know, but&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She had bowed her head upon her arms amid the sofa cushions and was
+      crying. He sprang to his feet and bent over her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, Madeline,&rdquo; he said again, &ldquo;I beg your pardon. I'm sorry&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, it isn't that,&rdquo; she sobbed. &ldquo;It isn't that. I don't care what you
+      said.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is it, then?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She raised her head and looked at him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is you,&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;It is myself. It is everything. It is all wrong.
+      I&mdash;I was so happy and&mdash;and now I am miserable. Oh&mdash;oh, I
+      wish I were dead!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She threw herself upon the cushions again and wept hysterically. He stood
+      above her, stroking her hair, trying to soothe her, to comfort her, and
+      all the time he felt like a brute, a heartless beast. At last she ceased
+      crying, sat up and wiped her eyes with her handkerchief.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There!&rdquo; she exclaimed. &ldquo;I will not be silly any longer. I won't be! I
+      WON'T! . . . Now tell me: Why have you changed so?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He looked down at her and shook his head. He was conscience-stricken and
+      fully as miserable as she professed to be.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I am older and&mdash;and&mdash;and I DON'T see
+      things as I used to. If that book of mine had appeared three years ago I
+      have no doubt I should have believed it to be the greatest thing ever
+      printed. Now, when people tell me it is and I read what the reviewers said
+      and all that, I&mdash;I DON'T believe, I KNOW it isn't great&mdash;that
+      is, the most of it isn't. There is some pretty good stuff, of course, but&mdash;You
+      see, I think it wasn't the poems themselves that made it sell; I think it
+      was all the fool tommyrot the papers printed about me, about my being a
+      hero and all that rubbish, when they thought I was dead, you know. That&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She interrupted. &ldquo;Oh, don't!&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;Don't! I don't care about the
+      old book. I'm not thinking about that. I'm thinking about you. YOU aren't
+      the same&mdash;the same toward me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Toward you, Madeline? I don't understand what you mean.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, you do. Of course you do. If you were the same as you used to be,
+      you would let Father help you. We used to talk about that very thing and&mdash;and
+      you didn't resent it then.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Didn't I? Well, perhaps I didn't. But I think I remember our speaking
+      sometimes of sacrificing everything for each other. We were to live in
+      poverty, if necessary, and I was to write, you know, and&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stop! All that was nonsense, nonsense! you know it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I'm afraid it was.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You know it was. And if you were as you used to be, if you&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Madeline!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What? Why did you interrupt me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because I wanted to ask you a question. Do you think YOU are exactly the
+      same&mdash;as you used to be?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Haven't YOU changed a little? Are you as sure as you were then&mdash;as
+      sure of your feeling toward me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She gazed at him, wide-eyed. &ldquo;WHAT do you mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I mean ARE you sure? It has seemed to me that perhaps&mdash;I was out of
+      your life for a long time, you know, and during a good deal of that time
+      it seemed certain that I had gone forever. I am not blaming you, goodness
+      knows, but&mdash;Madeline, isn't there&mdash;Well, if I hadn't come back,
+      mightn't there have been some one&mdash;else?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She turned pale.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do&mdash;&rdquo; she stammered, inarticulate. &ldquo;Why, why&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was Captain Blanchard, wasn't it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The color came back to her cheeks with a rush. She blushed furiously and
+      sprang to her feet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How&mdash;how can you say such things!&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;What do you mean? How
+      DARE you say Captain Blanchard took advantage of&mdash;How&mdash;how DARE
+      you say I was not loyal to you? It is not true. It is not true. I was. I
+      am. There hasn't been a word&mdash;a word between us since&mdash;since the
+      news came that you were&mdash;I told him&mdash;I said&mdash;And he has
+      been splendid! Splendid! And now you say&mdash;Oh, what AM I saying? What
+      SHALL I do?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She collapsed once more among the cushions. He leaned forward.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear girl&mdash;&rdquo; he began, but she broke in.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I HAVEN'T been disloyal,&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;I have tried&mdash;Oh, I have tried
+      so hard&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hush, Madeline, hush. I understand. I understand perfectly. It is all
+      right, really it is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I should have kept on trying always&mdash;always.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, dear, yes. But do you think a married life with so much trying in it
+      likely to be a happy one? It is better to know it now, isn't it, a great
+      deal better for both of us? Madeline, I am going to my room. I want you to
+      think, to think over all this, and then we will talk again. I don't blame
+      you. I don't, dear, really. I think I realize everything&mdash;all of it.
+      Good night, dear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He stooped and kissed her. She sobbed, but that was all. The next morning
+      a servant came to his room with a parcel and a letter. The parcel was a
+      tiny one. It was the ring he had given her, in its case. The letter was
+      short and much blotted. It read:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dear Albert:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I have thought and thought, as you told me to, and I have concluded that
+      you were right. It IS best to know it now. Forgive me, please, PLEASE. I
+      feel wicked and horrid and I HATE myself, but I think this is best. Oh, do
+      forgive me. Good-by.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      MADELINE.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His reply was longer. At its end he wrote:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Of course I forgive you. In the first place there is nothing to forgive.
+      The unforgivable thing would have been the sacrifice of your happiness and
+      your future to a dream and a memory. I hope you will be very happy. I am
+      sure you will be, for Blanchard is, I know, a fine fellow. The best of
+      fortune to you both.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The next forenoon he sat once more in the car of the morning train for
+      Cape Cod, looking out of the window. He had made the journey from New York
+      by the night boat and had boarded the Cape train at Middleboro. All the
+      previous day, and in the evening as he tramped the cold wind-swept deck of
+      the steamer, he had been trying to collect his thoughts, to readjust them
+      to the new situation, to comprehend in its entirety the great change that
+      had come in his life. The vague plans, the happy indefinite dreams, all
+      the rainbows and roses had gone, shivered to bits like the reflection in a
+      broken mirror. Madeline, his Madeline, was his no longer. Nor was he hers.
+      In a way it seemed impossible.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He tried to analyze his feelings. It seemed as if he should have been
+      crushed, grief-stricken, broken. He was inclined to reproach himself
+      because he was not. Of course there was a sadness about it, a regret that
+      the wonder of those days of love and youth had passed. But the sorrow was
+      not bitter, the regret was but a wistful longing, the sweet, lingering
+      fragrance of a memory, that was all. Toward her, Madeline, he felt&mdash;and
+      it surprised him, too, to find that he felt&mdash;not the slightest trace
+      of resentment. And more surprising still he felt none toward Blanchard. He
+      had meant what he said in his letter, he wished for them both the greatest
+      happiness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And&mdash;there was no use attempting to shun the fact&mdash;his chief
+      feeling, as he sat there by the car window looking out at the familiar
+      landscape, was a great relief, a consciousness of escape from what might
+      have been a miserable, crushing mistake for him and for her. And with this
+      a growing sense of freedom, of buoyancy. It seemed wicked to feel like
+      that. Then it came to him, the thought that Madeline, doubtless, was
+      experiencing the same feeling. And he did not mind a bit; he hoped she
+      was, bless her!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A youthful cigar &ldquo;drummer,&rdquo; on his first Down-East trip, sat down beside
+      him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Kind of a flat, bare country, ain't it?&rdquo; observed the drummer, with a
+      jerk of his head toward the window. &ldquo;Looks bleak enough to me. Know
+      anything about this neck of the woods, do you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert turned to look at him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Meaning the Cape?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sure.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed I do. I know all about it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That so! Say, you sound as if you liked it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert turned back to the window again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Like it!&rdquo; he repeated. &ldquo;I love it.&rdquo; Then he sighed, a sigh of
+      satisfaction, and added: &ldquo;You see, I BELONG here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His grandparents and Rachel were surprised when he walked into the house
+      that noon and announced that he hoped dinner was ready, because he was
+      hungry. But their surprise was more than balanced by their joy. Captain
+      Zelotes demanded to know how long he was going to stay.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As long as you'll have me, Grandfather,&rdquo; was the answer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eh? Well, that would be a consider'ble spell, if you left it to us, but I
+      cal'late that girl in New York will have somethin' to say as to time
+      limit, won't she?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert smiled. &ldquo;I'll tell you about that by and by,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He did not tell them until that evening after supper. It was Friday
+      evening and Olive was going to prayer-meeting, but she delayed &ldquo;putting on
+      her things&rdquo; to hear the tale. The news that the engagement was off and
+      that her grandson was not, after all, to wed the daughter of the Honorable
+      Fletcher Fosdick, shocked and grieved her not a little.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, dear!&rdquo; she sighed. &ldquo;I suppose you know what's best, Albert, and
+      maybe, as you say, you wouldn't have been happy, but I DID feel sort of
+      proud to think my boy was goin' to marry a millionaire's daughter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Zelotes made no comment&mdash;then. He asked to be told more
+      particulars. Albert described the life at the Fosdick home, the
+      receptions, his enforced exhibitions and readings. At length the recital
+      reached the point of the interview in Fosdick's office.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So he offered you to take you into the firm&mdash;eh, son?&rdquo; he observed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Humph! Fosdick, Williamson and Hendricks are one of the biggest brokerage
+      houses goin', so a good many New Yorkers have told me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No doubt. But, Grandfather, you've had some experience with me as a
+      business man; how do you think I would fit into a firm of stockbrokers?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Lote's eye twinkled, but he did not answer the question. Instead
+      he asked:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just what did you give Fosdick as your reason for not sayin' yes?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert laughed. &ldquo;Well, Grandfather,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I'll tell you. I said that
+      I appreciated his kindness and all that, but that I would not draw a big
+      salary for doing nothing except to be a little, damned tame house-poet led
+      around in leash and shown off at his wife's club meetings.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Snow uttered a faint scream. &ldquo;Oh, Albert!&rdquo; she exclaimed. She might
+      have said more, but a shout from her husband prevented her doing so.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Zelotes had risen and his mighty hand descended with a stinging
+      slap upon his grandson's shoulder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bully for you, boy!&rdquo; he cried. Then, turning to Olive, he added, &ldquo;Mother,
+      I've always kind of cal'lated that you had one man around this house. Now,
+      by the Lord A'Mighty, I know you've got TWO!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Olive rose. &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; she declared emphatically, &ldquo;that may be; but if both
+      those men are goin' to start in swearin' right here in the sittin' room, I
+      think it's high time SOMEBODY in that family went to church.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So to prayer meeting she went, with Mrs. Ellis as escort, and her husband
+      and grandson, seated in armchairs before the sitting room stove, both
+      smoking, talked and talked, of the past and of the future&mdash;not as man
+      to boy, nor as grandparent to grandson, but for the first time as equals,
+      without reservations, as man to man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XVIII
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      The next morning Albert met old Mr. Kendall. After breakfast Captain
+      Zelotes had gone, as usual, directly to the office. His grandson, however,
+      had not accompanied him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What are you cal'latin' to do this mornin', Al?&rdquo; inquired the captain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I don't know exactly, Grandfather. I'm going to look about the place
+      a bit, write a letter to my publishers, and take a walk, I think. You will
+      probably see me at the office pretty soon. I'll look in there by and by.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ain't goin' to write one or two of those five hundred dollar stories
+      before dinner time, are you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I guess not, sir. I'm afraid they won't be written as quickly as all
+      that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Lote shook his head. &ldquo;Godfreys!&rdquo; he exclaimed; &ldquo;it ain't the
+      writin' of 'em I'd worry about so much as the gettin' paid for 'em. You're
+      sure that editor man ain't crazy, you say?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope he isn't. He seemed sane enough when I saw him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I don't know. It's live and learn, I suppose, but if anybody but
+      you had told me that magazine folks paid as much as five hundred dollars a
+      piece for yarns made up out of a feller's head without a word of truth in
+      'em, I'd&mdash;well, I should have told the feller that told me to go to a
+      doctor right off and have HIS head examined. But&mdash;well, as 'tis I
+      cal'late I'd better have my own looked at. So long, Al. Come in to the
+      office if you get a chance.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He hurried out. Albert walked to the window and watched the sturdy figure
+      swinging out of the yard. He wondered if, should he live to his
+      grandfather's age, his step would be as firm and his shoulders as square.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Olive laid a hand on his arm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don't mind his talkin' that way about your writin' those stories, do
+      you, Albert?&rdquo; she asked, a trace of anxiety in her tone. &ldquo;He don't mean
+      it, you know. He don't understand it&mdash;says he don't himself&mdash;but
+      he's awful proud of you, just the same. Why, last night, after you and he
+      had finished talkin' and he came up to bed&mdash;and the land knows what
+      time of night or mornin' THAT was&mdash;he woke me out of a sound sleep to
+      tell me about that New York magazine man givin' you a written order to
+      write six stories for his magazine at five hundred dollars a piece.
+      Zelotes couldn't seem to get over it. 'Think of it, Mother,' he kept
+      sayin'. 'Think of it! Pretty nigh twice what I pay as good a man as Labe
+      Keeler for keepin' books a whole year. And Al says he ought to do a story
+      every forni't. I used to jaw his head off, tellin' him he was on the road
+      to starvation and all that. Tut, tut, tut! Mother, I've waited a long time
+      to say it, but it looks as if you married a fool.' . . . That's the way he
+      talked, but he's a long ways from bein' a fool, your grandfather is,
+      Albert.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert nodded. &ldquo;No one knows that better than I,&rdquo; he said, with emphasis.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There's one thing,&rdquo; she went on, &ldquo;that kind of troubled me. He said you
+      was goin' to insist on payin' board here at home. Now you know this house
+      is yours. And we love to&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He put his arm about her. &ldquo;I know it, Grandmother,&rdquo; he broke in, quickly.
+      &ldquo;But that is all settled. I am going to try to make my own living in my
+      own way. I am going to write and see what I am really worth. I have my
+      royalty money, you know, most of it, and I have this order for the series
+      of stories. I can afford to pay for my keep and I shall. You see, as I
+      told Grandfather last night, I don't propose to live on his charity any
+      more than on Mr. Fosdick's.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She sighed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So Zelotes said,&rdquo; she admitted. &ldquo;He told me no less than three times that
+      you said it. It seemed to tickle him most to death, for some reason, and
+      that's queer, too, for he's anything but stingy. But there, I suppose you
+      can pay board if you want to, though who you'll pay it to is another
+      thing. <i>I</i> shan't take a cent from the only grandson I've got in the
+      world.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was while on his stroll down to the village that Albert met Mr.
+      Kendall. The reverend gentleman was plodding along carrying a market
+      basket from the end of which, beneath a fragment of newspaper, the tail
+      and rear third of a huge codfish drooped. The basket and its contents must
+      have weighed at least twelve pounds and the old minister was, as Captain
+      Zelotes would have said, making heavy weather of it. Albert went to his
+      assistance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How do you do, Mr. Kendall,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;I'm afraid that basket is rather
+      heavy, isn't it. Mayn't I help you with it?&rdquo; Then, seeing that the old
+      gentleman did not recognize him, he added, &ldquo;I am Albert Speranza.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Down went the basket and the codfish and Mr. Kendall seized him by both
+      hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, of course, of course,&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;Of course, of course. It's our
+      young hero, isn't it. Our poet, our happy warrior. Yes,&mdash;yes, of
+      course. So glad to see you, Albert. . . . Er . . . er . . . How is your
+      mother?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mean my grandmother? She is very well, thank you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes&mdash;er&mdash;yes, your grandmother, of course. . . . Er . . . er. .
+      . . Did you see my codfish? Isn't it a magnificent one. I am very fond of
+      codfish and we almost never have it at home. So just now, I happened to be
+      passing Jonathan Howes'&mdash;he is the&mdash;er&mdash;fishdealer, you
+      know, and . . . Jonathan is a very regular attendant at my Sunday morning
+      services. He is&mdash;is. . . . Dear me. . . . What was I about to say?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Being switched back to the main track by Albert he explained that he had
+      seen a number of cod in Mr. Howes' possession and had bought this
+      specimen. Howes had lent him the basket.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And the newspaper,&rdquo; he explained; adding, with triumph, &ldquo;I shall dine on
+      codfish to-day, I am happy to say.&rdquo; Judging by appearances he might dine
+      and sup and breakfast on codfish and still have a supply remaining. Albert
+      insisted on carrying the spoil to the parsonage. He was doing nothing in
+      particular and it would be a pleasure, he said. Mr. Kendall protested for
+      the first minute or so but then forgot just what the protest was all about
+      and rambled garrulously on about affairs in the parish. He had failed in
+      other faculties, but his flow of language was still unimpeded. They
+      entered the gate of the parsonage. Albert put the basket on the upper
+      step.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;now I must go. Good morning, Mr. Kendall.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, but you aren't going? You must come in a moment. I want to give you
+      the manuscript of that sermon of mine on the casting down of Baal, that is
+      the one in which I liken the military power of Germany to the brazen idol
+      which. . . . Just a moment, Albert. The manuscript is in my desk and. . .
+      . Oh, dear me, the door is locked. . . . Helen, Helen!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He was shaking the door and shouting his daughter's name. Albert was
+      surprised and not a little disturbed. It had not occurred to him that
+      Helen could be at home. It is true that before he left for New York his
+      grandmother had said that she was planning to return home to be with her
+      father, but since then he had heard nothing more concerning her. Neither
+      of his grandparents had mentioned her name in their letters, nor since his
+      arrival the day before had they mentioned it. And Mr. Kendall had not
+      spoken of her during their walk together. Albert was troubled and taken
+      aback. In one way he would have liked to meet Helen very much indeed. They
+      had not met since before the war. But he did not, somehow, wish to meet
+      her just then. He did not wish to meet anyone who would speak of Madeline,
+      or ask embarrassing questions. He turned to go.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Another time, Mr. Kendall,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Good morning.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But he had gone only a few yards when the reverend gentleman was calling
+      to him to return.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Albert! Albert!&rdquo; called Mr. Kendall.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was obliged to turn back, he could do nothing else, and as he did so
+      the door opened. It was Helen who opened it and she stood there upon the
+      threshold and looked down at him. For a moment, a barely perceptible
+      interval, she looked, then he heard her catch her breath quickly and saw
+      her put one hand upon the door jamb as if for support. The next, and she
+      was running down the steps, her hands outstretched and the light of
+      welcome in her eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, Albert Speranza!&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;Why, ALBERT!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He seized her hands. &ldquo;Helen!&rdquo; he cried, and added involuntarily, &ldquo;My, but
+      it's good to see you again!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She laughed and so did he. All his embarrassment was gone. They were like
+      two children, like the boy and girl who had known each other in the old
+      days.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And when did you get here?&rdquo; she asked. &ldquo;And what do you mean by
+      surprising us like this? I saw your grandfather yesterday morning and he
+      didn't say a word about your coming.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He didn't know I was coming. I didn't know it myself until the day
+      before. And when did you come? Your father didn't tell me you were here. I
+      didn't know until I heard him call your name.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He was calling it again. Calling it and demanding attention for his
+      precious codfish.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, Father, yes, in a minute,&rdquo; she said. Then to Albert, &ldquo;Come in. Oh,
+      of course you'll come in.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, yes, if I won't be interfering with the housekeeping.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You won't. Yes, Father, yes, I'm coming. Mercy, where did you get such a
+      wonderful fish? Come in, Albert. As soon as I get Father's treasure safe
+      in the hands of Maria I'll be back. Father will keep you company. No,
+      pardon me, I am afraid he won't, he's gone to the kitchen already. And I
+      shall have to go, too, for just a minute. I'll hurry.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She hastened to the kitchen, whither Mr. Kendall, tugging the fish basket,
+      had preceded her. Albert entered the little sitting-room and sat down in a
+      chair by the window. The room looked just as it used to look, just as
+      neat, just as homelike, just as well kept. And when she came back and they
+      began to talk, it seemed to him that she, too, was just as she used to be.
+      She was a trifle less girlish, more womanly perhaps, but she was just as
+      good to look at, just as bright and cheerful and in her conversation she
+      had the same quietly certain way of dealing directly with the common-sense
+      realities and not the fuss and feathers. It seemed to him that she had not
+      changed at all, that she herself was one of the realities, the wholesome
+      home realities, like Captain Zelotes and Olive and the old house they
+      lived in. He told her so. She laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You make me feel as ancient as the pyramids,&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He shook his head. &ldquo;I am the ancient,&rdquo; he declared. &ldquo;This war hasn't
+      changed you a particle, Helen, but it has handed me an awful jolt. At
+      times I feel as if I must have sailed with Noah. And as if I had wasted
+      most of the time since.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She smiled. &ldquo;Just what do you mean by that?&rdquo; she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I mean&mdash;well, I don't know exactly what I do mean, I guess. I seem
+      to have an unsettled feeling. I'm not satisfied with myself. And as I
+      remember myself,&rdquo; he added, with a shrug, &ldquo;that condition of mind was not
+      usual with me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She regarded him for a moment without speaking, with the appraising look
+      in her eyes which he remembered so well, which had always reminded him of
+      the look in his grandfather's eyes, and which when a boy he resented so
+      strongly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she said slowly, &ldquo;I think you have changed. Not because you say you
+      feel so much older or because you are uneasy and dissatisfied. So many of
+      the men I talked with at the camp hospital, the men who had been over
+      there and had been wounded, as you were, said they felt the same way. That
+      doesn't mean anything, I think, except that it is dreadfully hard to get
+      readjusted again and settle down to everyday things. But it seems to me
+      that you have changed in other ways. You are a little thinner, but
+      broader, too, aren't you? And you do look older, especially about the
+      eyes. And, of course&mdash;well, of course I think I do miss a little of
+      the Albert Speranza I used to know, the young chap with the chip on his
+      shoulder for all creation to knock off.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Young jackass!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no indeed. He had his good points. But there! we're wasting time and
+      we have so much to talk about. You&mdash;why, what am I thinking of! I
+      have neglected the most important thing in the world. And you have just
+      returned from New York, too. Tell me, how is Madeline Fosdick?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is well. But tell me about yourself. You have been in all sorts of
+      war work, haven't you. Tell me about it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, my work didn't amount to much. At first I 'Red Crossed' in Boston,
+      then I went to Devens and spent a long time in the camp hospital there.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pretty trying, wasn't it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why&mdash;yes, some of it was. When the 'flu' epidemic was raging and the
+      poor fellows were having such a dreadful time it was bad enough. After
+      that I was sent to Eastview. In the hospital there I met the boys who had
+      been wounded on the other side and who talked about old age and
+      dissatisfaction and uneasiness, just as you do. But MY work doesn't count.
+      You are the person to be talked about. Since I have seen you you have
+      become a famous poet and a hero and&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She had been smiling; now she was very serious.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Forgive me, Albert,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;We have been joking, you and I, but there
+      was a time when we&mdash;when your friends did not joke. Oh, Albert, if
+      you could have seen the Snow place as I saw it then. It was as if all the
+      hope and joy and everything worth while had been crushed out of it. Your
+      grandmother, poor little woman, was brave and quiet, but we all knew she
+      was trying to keep up for Captain Zelotes' sake. And he&mdash;Albert, you
+      can scarcely imagine how the news of your death changed him. . . . Ah!
+      well, it was a hard time, a dreadful time for&mdash;for every one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She paused and he, turning to look at her, saw that there were tears in
+      her eyes. He knew of her affection for his grandparents and theirs for
+      her. Before he could speak she was smiling again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But now that is all over, isn't it?&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;And the Snows are the
+      happiest people in the country, I do believe. AND the proudest, of course.
+      So now you must tell me all about it, about your experiences, and about
+      your war cross, and about your literary work&mdash;oh, about everything.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The all-inclusive narrative was not destined to get very far. Old Mr.
+      Kendall came hurrying in, the sermon on the casting down of Baal in his
+      hand. Thereafter he led, guided, and to a large extent monopolized the
+      conversation. His discourse had proceeded perhaps as far as &ldquo;Thirdly&rdquo; when
+      Albert, looking at his watch, was surprised to find it almost dinner time.
+      Mr. Kendall, still talking, departed to his study to hunt for another
+      sermon. The young people said good-by in his absence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It has been awfully good to see you again, Helen,&rdquo; declared Albert. &ldquo;But
+      I told you that in the beginning, didn't I? You seem like&mdash;well, like
+      a part of home, you know. And home means something to me nowadays.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm glad to hear you speak of South Harniss as home. Of course I know you
+      don't mean to make it a permanent home&mdash;I imagine Madeline would have
+      something to say about that&mdash;but it is nice to have you speak as if
+      the old town meant something to you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He looked about him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I love the place,&rdquo; he said simply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am glad. So do I; but then I have lived here all my life. The next time
+      we talk I want to know more about your plans for the future&mdash;yours
+      and Madeline's, I mean. How proud she must be of you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He looked up at her; she was standing upon the upper step and he on the
+      walk below.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Madeline and I&mdash;&rdquo; he began. Then he stopped. What was the use? He
+      did not want to talk about it. He waved his hand and turned away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After dinner he went out into the kitchen to talk to Mrs. Ellis, who was
+      washing dishes. She was doing it as she did all her share of the
+      housework, with an energy and capability which would have delighted the
+      soul of a &ldquo;scientific management&rdquo; expert. Except when under the spell of a
+      sympathetic attack Rachel was ever distinctly on the job.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And of course she was, as always, glad to see her protege, her Robert
+      Penfold. The proprietary interest which she had always felt in him was
+      more than ever hers now. Had not she been the sole person to hint at the
+      possibility of his being alive, when every one else had given him up for
+      dead? Had not she been the only one to suggest that he might have been
+      taken prisoner? Had SHE ever despaired of seeing him again&mdash;on this
+      earth and in the flesh? Indeed, she had not; at least, she had never
+      admitted it, if she had. So then, hadn't she a RIGHT to feel that she
+      owned a share in him? No one ventured to dispute that right.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She turned and smiled over one ample shoulder when he entered the kitchen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hello,&rdquo; she hailed cheerfully. &ldquo;Come callin', have you, Robert&mdash;Albert,
+      I mean? It would have been a great help to me if you'd been christened
+      Robert. I call you that so much to myself it comes almost more natural
+      than the other. On account of you bein' so just like Robert Penfold in the
+      book, you know,&rdquo; she added.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, yes, of course, Rachel, I understand,&rdquo; put in Albert hastily. He was
+      not in the mood to listen to a dissertation on a text taken from Foul
+      Play. He looked about the room and sighed happily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There isn't a speck anywhere, is there?&rdquo; he observed. &ldquo;It is just as it
+      used to be, just as I used to think of it when I was laid up over there.
+      When I wanted to try and eat a bit, so as to keep what strength I had, I
+      would think about this kitchen of yours, Rachel. It didn't do to think of
+      the places where the prison stuff was cooked. They were not&mdash;appetizing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Ellis nodded. &ldquo;I presume likely not,&rdquo; she observed. &ldquo;Well, don't tell
+      me about 'em. I've just scrubbed this kitchen from stem to stern. If I
+      heard about those prison places, I'd feel like startin' right in and
+      scrubbin' it all over again, I know I should. . . . Dirty pigs! I wish I
+      had the scourin' of some of those Germans! I'd&mdash;I don't know as I
+      wouldn't skin 'em alive.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert laughed. &ldquo;Some of them pretty nearly deserved it,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rachel smiled grimly. &ldquo;Well, let's talk about nice things,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Oh,
+      Issy Price was here this forenoon; Cap'n Lote sent him over from the
+      office on an errand, and he said he saw you and Mr. Kendall goin' down
+      street together just as he was comin' along. He hollered at you, but you
+      didn't hear him. 'Cordin' to Issachar's tell, you was luggin' a basket
+      with Jonah's whale in it, or somethin' like that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert described his encounter with the minister. Rachel was much
+      interested.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, so you saw Helen,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Well, I guess she was surprised to see
+      you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not more than I was to see her. I didn't know she was in town. Not a soul
+      had mentioned it&mdash;you nor Grandfather nor Grandmother.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The housekeeper answered without turning her head. &ldquo;Guess we had so many
+      things to talk about we forgot it,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Yes, she's been here over a
+      week now. High time, from what I hear. The poor old parson has failed
+      consider'ble and Maria Price's housekeepin' and cookin' is enough to make
+      a well man sick&mdash;or wish he was. But he'll be looked after now. Helen
+      will look after him. She's the most capable girl there is in Ostable
+      County. Did she tell you about what she done in the Red Cross and the
+      hospitals?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She said something about it, not very much.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Um-hm. She wouldn't, bein' Helen Kendall. But the Red Cross folks said
+      enough, and they're sayin' it yet. Why&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She went on to tell of Helen's work in the Red Cross depots and in the
+      camp, and hospitals. It was an inspiring story.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There they was,&rdquo; said Rachel, &ldquo;the poor things, just boys most of 'em,
+      dyin' of that dreadful influenza like rats, as you might say. And, of
+      course it's dreadful catchin', and a good many was more afraid of it than
+      they would have been of bullets, enough sight. But Helen Kendall wa'n't
+      afraid&mdash;no, siree! Why&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And so on. Albert listened, hearing most of it, but losing some as his
+      thoughts wandered back to the Helen he had known as a boy and the Helen he
+      had met that forenoon. Her face, as she had welcomed him at the parsonage
+      door&mdash;it was surprising how clearly it showed before his mind's eye.
+      He had thought at first that she had not changed in appearance. That was
+      not quite true&mdash;she had changed a little, but it was merely the
+      fulfillment of a promise, that was all. Her eyes, her smile above a
+      hospital bed&mdash;he could imagine what they must have seemed like to a
+      lonely, homesick boy wrestling with the &ldquo;flu.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And, don't talk!&rdquo; he heard the housekeeper say, as he drifted out of his
+      reverie, &ldquo;if she wa'n't popular around that hospital, around both
+      hospitals, fur's that goes! The patients idolized her, and the other
+      nurses they loved her, and the doctors&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did they love her, too?&rdquo; Albert asked, with a smile, as she hesitated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She laughed. &ldquo;Some of 'em did, I cal'late,&rdquo; she answered. &ldquo;You see, I got
+      most of my news about it all from Bessie Ryder, Cornelius Ryder's niece,
+      lives up on the road to the Center; you used to know her, Albert. Bessie
+      was nursin' in that same hospital, the one Helen was at first. 'Cordin' to
+      her, there was some doctor or officer tryin' to shine up to Helen most of
+      the time. When she was at Eastview, so Bessie heard, there was a real
+      big-bug in the Army, a sort of Admiral or Commodore amongst the doctors he
+      was, and HE was trottin' after her, or would have been if she'd let him.
+      'Course you have to make some allowances for Bessie&mdash;she wouldn't be
+      a Ryder if she didn't take so many words to say so little that the truth
+      gets stretched pretty thin afore she finished&mdash;but there must have
+      been SOMETHIN' in it. And all about her bein' such a wonderful nurse and
+      doin' so much for the Red Cross I KNOW is true. . . . Eh? Did you say
+      anything, Albert?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert shook his head. &ldquo;No, Rachel,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;I didn't speak.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought I heard you or somebody say somethin'. I&mdash;Why, Laban
+      Keeler, what are you doin' away from your desk this time in the
+      afternoon?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Laban grinned as he entered the kitchen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did I hear you say you thought you heard somebody sayin' somethin',
+      Rachel?&rdquo; he inquired. &ldquo;That's queer, ain't it? Seemed to me <i>I</i> heard
+      somebody sayin' somethin' as I come up the path just now. Seemed as if
+      they was sayin' it right here in the kitchen, too. 'Twasn't your voice,
+      Albert, and it couldn't have been Rachel's, 'cause she NEVER talks&mdash;'specially
+      to you. It's too bad, the prejudice she's got against you, Albert,&rdquo; he
+      added, with a wink. &ldquo;Um-hm, too bad&mdash;yes, 'tis&mdash;yes, yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Ellis sniffed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And that's what the newspapers in war time used to call&mdash;er&mdash;er&mdash;oh,
+      dear, what was it?&mdash;camel&mdash;seems's if 'twas somethin' about a
+      camel&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Camouflage?&rdquo; suggested Albert.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's it. All that talk about me is just camouflage to save him
+      answerin' my question. But he's goin' to answer it. What are you doin'
+      away from the office this time in the afternoon, I want to know?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Keeler perched his small figure on the corner of the kitchen table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, to tell you the truth, Rachel,&rdquo; he said solemnly. &ldquo;I'm here to do
+      what the folks in books call demand an explanation. You and I, Rachel, are
+      just as good as engaged to be married, ain't we? I've been keepin' company
+      with you for the last twenty, forty or sixty years, some such spell as
+      that. Now, just as I'm gettin' used to it and beginnin' to consider it a
+      settled arrangement, as you may say, I come into this house and find you
+      shut up in the kitchen with another man. Now, what&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The housekeeper advanced toward him with the dripping dishcloth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Laban Keeler,&rdquo; she threatened, &ldquo;if you don't stop your foolishness and
+      answer my question, I declare I'll&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Laban slid from his perch and retired behind the table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Another man,&rdquo; he repeated. &ldquo;And SOME folks&mdash;not many, of course, but
+      some&mdash;might be crazy enough to say he was a better-lookin' man than I
+      am. Now, bein' ragin' jealous,&mdash;All right, Rachel, all right, I
+      surrender. Don't hit me with all those soapsuds. I don't want to go back
+      to the office foamin' at the mouth. The reason I'm here is that I had to
+      go down street to see about the sheathin' for the Red Men's lodge room.
+      Issy took the order, but he wasn't real sure whether 'twas sheathin' or
+      scantlin' they wanted, so I told Cap'n Lote I'd run down myself and
+      straighten it out. On the way back I saw you two through the window and I
+      thought I'd drop in and worry you. So here I am.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Ellis nodded. &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she sniffed. &ldquo;And all that camel&mdash;camel&mdash;Oh,
+      DEAR, what DOES ail me? All that camel&mdash;No use, I've forgot it
+      again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never mind, Rachel,&rdquo; said Mr. Keeler consolingly. &ldquo;All the&mdash;er&mdash;menagerie
+      was just that and nothin' more. Oh, by the way, Al,&rdquo; he added, &ldquo;speakin'
+      of camels&mdash;don't you think I've done pretty well to go so long
+      without any&mdash;er&mdash;liquid nourishment? Not a drop since you and I
+      enlisted together. . . . Oh, she knows about it now,&rdquo; he added, with a
+      jerk of his head in the housekeeper's direction. &ldquo;I felt 'twas fairly safe
+      and settled, so I told her. I told her. Yes, yes, yes. Um-hm, so I did.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert turned to the lady.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You should be very proud of him, Rachel,&rdquo; he said seriously. &ldquo;I think I
+      realize a little something of the fight he has made, and it is bully. You
+      should be proud of him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rachel looked down at the little man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am,&rdquo; she said quietly. &ldquo;I guess likely he knows it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Laban smiled. &ldquo;The folks in Washington are doin' their best to help me
+      out,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;They're goin' to take the stuff away from everybody so's
+      to make sure <i>I</i> don't get any more. They'll probably put up a
+      monument to me for startin' the thing; don't you think they will, Al? Eh?
+      Don't you, now?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert and he walked up the road together. Laban told a little more of his
+      battle with John Barleycorn.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I had half a dozen spells when I had to set my teeth, those I've got
+      left, and hang on,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;And the hangin'-on wa'n't as easy as
+      stickin' to fly-paper, neither. Honest, though, I think the hardest was
+      when the news came that you was alive, Al. I&mdash;I just wanted to start
+      in and celebrate. Wanted to whoop her up, I did.&rdquo; He paused a moment and
+      then added, &ldquo;I tried whoopin' on sass'parilla and vanilla sody, but
+      'twa'n't satisfactory. Couldn't seem to raise a real loud whisper, let
+      alone a whoop. No, I couldn't&mdash;no, no.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert laughed and laid a hand on his shoulder. &ldquo;You're all right, Labe,&rdquo;
+       he declared. &ldquo;I know you, and I say so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Laban slowly shook his head. His smile, as he answered, was rather
+      pathetic.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm a long, long ways from bein' all right, Al,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;A long ways
+      from that, I am. If I'd made my fight thirty year ago, I might have been
+      nigher to amountin' to somethin'. . . . Oh, well, for Rachel's sake I'm
+      glad I've made it now. She's stuck to me when everybody would have praised
+      her for chuckin' me to Tophet. I was readin' one of Thackeray's books
+      t'other night&mdash;Henry Esmond, 'twas; you've read it, Al, of course; I
+      was readin' it t'other night for the ninety-ninth time or thereabouts, and
+      I run across the place where it says it's strange what a man can do and a
+      woman still keep thinkin' he's an angel. That's true, too, Al. Not,&rdquo; with
+      the return of the slight smile, &ldquo;that Rachel ever went so far as to call
+      me an angel. No, no. There's limits where you can't stretch her
+      common-sense any farther. Callin' me an angel would be just past the
+      limit. Yes, yes, yes. I guess SO.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They spoke of Captain Zelotes and Olive and of their grief and
+      discouragement when the news of Albert's supposed death reached them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you know,&rdquo; said Labe, &ldquo;I believe Helen Kendall's comin' there for a
+      week did 'em more good than anything else. She got away from her soldier
+      nursin' somehow&mdash;must have been able to pull the strings consider'ble
+      harder'n the average to do it&mdash;and just came down to the Snow place
+      and sort of took charge along with Rachel. Course she didn't live there,
+      her father thought she was visitin' him, I guess likely, but she was with
+      Cap'n Lote and Olive most of the time. Rachel says she never made a fuss,
+      you understand, just was there and helped and was quiet and soft-spoken
+      and capable and&mdash;and comfortin', that's about the word, I guess.
+      Rachel always thought a sight of Helen afore that, but since then she
+      swears by her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      That evening&mdash;or, rather, that night, for they did not leave the
+      sitting room until after twelve&mdash;Mrs. Snow heard her grandson walking
+      the floor of his room, and called to ask if he was sick.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm all right, Grandmother,&rdquo; he called in reply. &ldquo;Just taking a little
+      exercise before turning in, that's all. Sorry if I disturbed you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The exercise was, as a matter of fact, almost entirely mental, the pacing
+      up and down merely an unconscious physical accompaniment. Albert Speranza
+      was indulging in introspection. He was reviewing and assorting his
+      thoughts and his impulses and trying to determine just what they were and
+      why they were and whither they were tending. It was a mental and spiritual
+      picking to pieces and the result was humiliating and in its turn resulted
+      in a brand-new determination.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ever since his meeting with Helen, a meeting which had been quite
+      unpremeditated, he had thought of but little except her. During his talk
+      with her in the parsonage sitting room he had been&mdash;there was no use
+      pretending to himself that it was otherwise&mdash;more contented with the
+      world, more optimistic, happier, than he had been for months, it seemed to
+      him for years. Even while he was speaking to her of his uneasiness and
+      dissatisfaction he was dimly conscious that at that moment he was less
+      uneasy and less dissatisfied, conscious that the solid ground was beneath
+      his feet at last, that here was the haven after the storm, here was&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He pulled up sharply. This line of thought was silly, dangerous, wicked.
+      What did it mean? Three days before, only three days, he had left Madeline
+      Fosdick, the girl whom he had worshiped, adored, and who had loved him.
+      Yes, there was no use pretending there, either; he and Madeline HAD loved
+      each other. Of course he realized now that their love had nothing
+      permanently substantial about it. It was the romance of youth, a dream
+      which they had shared together and from which, fortunately for both, they
+      had awakened in time. And of course he realized, too, that the awakening
+      had begun long, long before the actual parting took place. But
+      nevertheless only three days had elapsed since that parting, and now&mdash;What
+      sort of a man was he?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Was he like his father? Was it what Captain Zelotes used to call the
+      &ldquo;Portygee streak&rdquo; which was now cropping out? The opera singer had been of
+      the butterfly type&mdash;in his later years a middle-aged butterfly whose
+      wings creaked somewhat&mdash;but decidedly a flitter from flower to
+      flower. As a boy, Albert had been aware, in an uncertain fashion, of his
+      father's fondness for the sex. Now, older, his judgment of his parent was
+      not as lenient, was clearer, more discerning. He understood now. Was his
+      own &ldquo;Portygee streak,&rdquo; his inherited temperament, responsible for his
+      leaving one girl on a Tuesday and on Friday finding his thoughts concerned
+      so deeply with another?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Well, no matter, no matter. One thing was certain&mdash;Helen should never
+      know of that feeling. He would crush it down, he would use his
+      common-sense. He would be a decent man and not a blackguard. For he had
+      had his chance and had tossed it away. What would she think of him now if
+      he came to her after Madeline had thrown him over&mdash;that is what Mrs.
+      Fosdick would say, would take pains that every one else should say, that
+      Madeline had thrown him over&mdash;what would Helen think of him if he
+      came to her with a second-hand love like that?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And of course she would not think of him as a lover at all. Why should
+      she? In the boy and girl days she had refused to let him speak of such a
+      thing. She was his friend, a glorious, a wonderful friend, but that was
+      all, all she ever dreamed of being.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Well, that was right; that was as it should be. He should be thankful for
+      such a friend. He was, of course. And he would concentrate all his
+      energies upon his work, upon his writing. That was it, that was it. Good,
+      it was settled!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So he went to bed and, eventually, to sleep.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XIX
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      While dressing in the cold light of dawn his perturbations of the previous
+      night appeared in retrospect as rather boyish and unnecessary. His sudden
+      and unexpected meeting with Helen and their talk together had tended to
+      make him over-sentimental, that was all. He and she were to be friends, of
+      course, but there was no real danger of his allowing himself to think of
+      her except as a friend. No, indeed. He opened the bureau drawer in search
+      of a tie, and there was the package of &ldquo;snapshots&rdquo; just where he had
+      tossed them that night when he first returned home after muster-out.
+      Helen's photograph was the uppermost. He looked at it&mdash;looked at it
+      for several minutes. Then he closed the drawer again and hurriedly
+      finished his dressing. A part, at least, of his resolve of the night
+      before had been sound common-sense. His brain was suffering from lack of
+      exercise. Work was what he needed, hard work.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So to work he went without delay. A place to work in was the first
+      consideration. He suggested the garret, but his grandmother and Rachel
+      held up their hands and lifted their voices in protest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, INDEED,&rdquo; declared Olive. &ldquo;Zelotes has always talked about writin'
+      folks and poets starvin' in garrets. If you went up attic to work he'd be
+      teasin' me from mornin' to night. Besides, you'd freeze up there, if the
+      smell of moth-balls didn't choke you first. No, you wait; I've got a
+      notion. There's that old table desk of Zelotes' in the settin' room. He
+      don't hardly ever use it nowadays. You take it upstairs to your own room
+      and work in there. You can have the oil-heater to keep you warm.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So that was the arrangement made, and in his own room Albert sat down at
+      the battered old desk, which had been not only his grandfather's but his
+      great-grandfather's property, to concentrate upon the first of the series
+      of stories ordered by the New York magazine. He had already decided upon
+      the general scheme for the series. A boy, ragamuffin son of immigrant
+      parents, rising, after a wrong start, by sheer grit and natural shrewdness
+      and ability, step by step to competence and success, winning a place in
+      and the respect of a community. There was nothing new in the idea itself.
+      Some things his soldier chum Mike Kelley had told him concerning an uncle
+      of his&mdash;Mike's&mdash;suggested it. The novelty he hoped might come
+      from the incidents, the various problems faced by his hero, the solution
+      of each being a step upward in the latter's career and in the formation of
+      his character. He wanted to write, if he could, the story of the building
+      of one more worth-while American, for Albert Speranza, like so many others
+      set to thinking by the war and the war experiences, was realizing strongly
+      that the gabbling of a formula and the swearing of an oath of
+      naturalization did not necessarily make an American. There were too many
+      eager to take that oath with tongue in cheek and knife in sleeve. Too
+      many, for the first time in their lives breathing and speaking as free
+      men, thanks to the protection of Columbia's arm, yet planning to stab
+      their protectress in the back.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So Albert's hero was to be an American, an American to whom the term meant
+      the highest and the best. If he had hunted a lifetime for something to
+      please and interest his grandfather he could not have hit the mark nearer
+      the center. Cap'n Lote, of course, pretended a certain measure of
+      indifference, but that was for Olive and Rachel's benefit. It would never
+      do for the scoffer to become a convert openly and at once. The feminine
+      members of the household clamored each evening to have the author read
+      aloud his day's installment. The captain sniffed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, dear, dear,&rdquo; with a groan, &ldquo;now I've got to hear all that made-up
+      stuff that happened to a parcel of made-up folks that never lived and
+      never will. Waste of time, waste of time. Where's my Transcript?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But it was noticed&mdash;and commented upon, you may be sure&mdash;by his
+      wife and housekeeper that the Transcript was likely to be, before the
+      reading had progressed far, either in the captain's lap or on the floor.
+      And when the discussion following the reading was under way Captain
+      Zelotes' opinions were expressed quite as freely as any one's else. Laban
+      Keeler got into the habit of dropping in to listen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One fateful evening the reading was interrupted by the arrival of Mr.
+      Kendall. The reverend gentleman had come to make a pastoral call. Albert's
+      hero was in the middle of a situation. The old clergyman insisted upon the
+      continuation of the reading. It was continued and so was the discussion
+      following it; in fact, the discussion seemed likely to go on indefinitely,
+      for the visitor showed no inclination of leaving. At ten-thirty his
+      daughter appeared to inquire about him and to escort him home. Then he
+      went, but under protest. Albert walked to the parsonage with them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now we've started somethin',&rdquo; groaned the captain, as the door closed.
+      &ldquo;That old critter'll be cruisin' over here six nights out of five from now
+      on to tell Al just how to spin those yarns of his. And he'll talk&mdash;and
+      talk&mdash;and talk. Ain't it astonishin' how such a feeble-lookin' craft
+      as he is can keep blowin' off steam that way and still be able to
+      navigate.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His wife took him to task. &ldquo;The idea,&rdquo; she protested, &ldquo;of your callin'
+      your own minister a 'critter'! I should think you'd be ashamed. . . . But,
+      oh, dear, I'm afraid he WILL be over here an awful lot.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her fears were realized. Mr. Kendall, although not on hand &ldquo;six nights out
+      of five,&rdquo; as the captain prophesied, was a frequent visitor at the Snow
+      place. As Albert's story-writing progressed the discussions concerning the
+      growth and development of the hero's character became more and more
+      involved and spirited. They were for the most part confined, when the
+      minister was present, to him and Mrs. Snow and Rachel. Laban, if he
+      happened to be there, sat well back in the corner, saying little except
+      when appealed to, and then answering with one of his dry, characteristic
+      observations. Captain Lote, in the rocker, his legs crossed, his hand
+      stroking his beard, and with the twinkle in his eyes, listened, and spoke
+      but seldom. Occasionally, when he and his grandson exchanged glances, the
+      captain winked, indicating appreciation of the situation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Say, Al,&rdquo; he said, one evening, after the old clergyman had departed, &ldquo;it
+      must be kind of restful to have your work all laid out for you this way.
+      Take it to-night, for instance; I don't see but what everything's planned
+      for this young feller you're writin' about so you nor he won't have to
+      think for yourselves for a hundred year or such matter. Course there's
+      some little difference in the plans. Rachel wants him to get wrecked on an
+      island or be put in jail, and Mother, she wants him to be a soldier and a
+      poet, and Mr. Kendall thinks it's high time he joined the church or signed
+      the pledge or stopped swearin' or chewin' gum.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Zelotes, how ridiculous you do talk!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right, Mother, all right. What strikes me, Al, is they don't any of
+      'em stop to ask you what YOU mean to have him do. Course I know 'tain't
+      any of your business, but still&mdash;seems 's if you might be a little
+      mite interested in the boy yourself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert laughed. &ldquo;Don't worry, Grandfather,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I'm enjoying it all
+      very much. And some of the suggestions may be just what I'm looking for.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, son, we'll hope so. Say, Labe, I've got a notion for keepin' the
+      minister from doin' all the talkin.' We'll ask Issy Price to drop in; eh?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Laban shook his head. &ldquo;I don't know, Cap'n Lote,&rdquo; he observed. &ldquo;Sounds to
+      me a good deal like lettin' in a hurricane to blow out a match with. . . .
+      Um-hm. Seems so to me. Yes, yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Kendall's calls would have been more frequent still had Helen not
+      interfered. Very often, when he came she herself dropped in a little later
+      and insisted upon his making an early start for home. Occasionally she
+      came with him. She, too, seemed much interested in the progress of the
+      stories, but she offered few suggestions. When directly appealed to, she
+      expressed her views, and they were worth while.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert was resolutely adhering to his determination not to permit himself
+      to think of her except as a friend. That is, he hoped he was; thoughts are
+      hard to control at times. He saw her often. They met on the street, at
+      church on Sunday&mdash;his grandmother was so delighted when he
+      accompanied her to &ldquo;meeting&rdquo; that he did so rather more frequently,
+      perhaps, than he otherwise would&mdash;at the homes of acquaintances, and,
+      of course, at the Snow place. When she walked home with her father after a
+      &ldquo;story evening&rdquo; he usually went with them as additional escort.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had not questioned him concerning Madeline since their first meeting
+      that morning at the parsonage. He knew, therefore, that some one&mdash;his
+      grandmother, probably&mdash;had told her of the broken engagement. When
+      they were alone together they talked of many things, casual things, the
+      generalities of which, so he told himself, a conversation between mere
+      friends was composed. But occasionally, after doing escort duty, after Mr.
+      Kendall had gone into the house to take his &ldquo;throat medicine&rdquo;&mdash;a
+      medicine which Captain Zelotes declared would have to be double-strength
+      pretty soon to offset the wear and tear of the story evenings&mdash;they
+      talked of matters more specific and which more directly concerned
+      themselves. She spoke of her hospital work, of her teaching before the
+      war, and of her plans for the future. The latter, of course, were very
+      indefinite now.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Father needs me,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;and I shall not leave him while he lives.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They spoke of Albert's work and plans most of all. He began to ask for
+      advice concerning the former. When those stories were written, what then?
+      She hoped he would try the novel he had hinted at.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm sure you can do it,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;And you mustn't give up the poems
+      altogether. It was the poetry, you know, which was the beginning.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;YOU were the beginning,&rdquo; he said impulsively. &ldquo;Perhaps I should never
+      have written at all if you hadn't urged me, shamed me out of my laziness.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was a presuming young person, I'm afraid,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I wonder you
+      didn't tell me to mind my own business. I believe you did, but I wouldn't
+      mind.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      June brought the summer weather and the summer boarders to South Harniss.
+      One of the news sensations which came at the same time was that the new
+      Fosdick cottage had been sold. The people who had occupied it the previous
+      season had bought it. Mrs. Fosdick, so rumor said, was not strong and her
+      doctors had decided that the sea air did not agree with her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Crimustee!&rdquo; exclaimed Issachar, as he imparted the news to Mr. Keeler,
+      &ldquo;if that ain't the worst. Spend your money, and a pile of money, too,
+      buyin' ground, layin' of it out to build a house on to live in, then
+      buildin' that house and then, by crimus, sellin' it to somebody else for
+      THEM to live in. That beats any foolishness ever come MY way.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And there's some consider'ble come your way at that, ain't they, Is?&rdquo;
+       observed Laban, busy with his bookkeeping.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Issachar nodded. &ldquo;You're right there has,&rdquo; he said complacently. &ldquo;I . . .
+      What do you mean by that? Tryin' to be funny again, ain't you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert heard the news with a distinct feeling of relief. While the feeling
+      on his part toward Madeline was of the kindliest, and Madeline's was, he
+      felt sure, the same toward him, nevertheless to meet her day after day, as
+      people must meet in a village no bigger than South Harniss, would be
+      awkward for both. And to meet Mrs. Fosdick might be more awkward still. He
+      smiled as he surmised that the realization by the lady of that very
+      awkwardness was probably responsible for the discovery that sea air was
+      not beneficial.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The story-writing and the story evenings continued. Over the fourth story
+      in the series discussion was warm, for there were marked differences of
+      opinion among the listeners. One of the experiences through which Albert
+      had brought his hero was that of working as general assistant to a sharp,
+      unscrupulous and smooth-tongued rascal who was proprietor of a circus
+      sideshow and fake museum. He was a kind-hearted swindler, but one who
+      never let a question of honesty interfere with the getting of a dollar. In
+      this fourth story, to the town where the hero, now a man of twenty-five,
+      had established himself in business, came this cheat of other days, but
+      now he came as a duly ordained clergyman in answer to the call of the
+      local church. The hero learned that he had not told the governing body of
+      that church of his former career. Had he done so, they most certainly
+      would not have called him. The leading man in that church body was the
+      hero's patron and kindest friend. The question: What was the hero's duty
+      in the matter?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Of course the first question asked was whether or not the ex-sideshow
+      proprietor was sincerely repentant and honestly trying to walk the
+      straight path and lead others along it. Albert replied that his hero had
+      interviewed him and was satisfied that he was; he had been &ldquo;converted&rdquo; at
+      a revival and was now a religious enthusiast whose one idea was to save
+      sinners.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That was enough for Captain Zelotes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let him alone, then,&rdquo; said the captain. &ldquo;He's tryin' to be a decent man.
+      What do you want to do? Tell on him and have him chucked overboard from
+      one church after another until he gets discouraged and takes to swindlin'
+      again?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rachel Ellis could not see it that way.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If he was a saved sinner,&rdquo; she declared, &ldquo;and repentant of his sins, then
+      he'd ought to repent 'em out loud. Hidin' 'em ain't repentin'. And,
+      besides, there's Donald's (Donald was the hero's name) there's Donald's
+      duty to the man that's been so good to him. Is it fair to that man to keep
+      still and let him hire a minister that, like as not, will steal the
+      collection, box and all, afore he gets through? No, sir, Donald ought to
+      tell THAT man, anyhow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Olive was pretty dubious about the whole scheme. She doubted if anybody
+      connected with a circus COULD ever become a minister.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The whole&mdash;er&mdash;er&mdash;trade is so different,&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Kendall was not there that evening, his attendance being required at a
+      meeting of the Sunday School teachers. Helen, however, was not at that
+      meeting and Captain Zelotes declared his intention of asking her opinion
+      by telephone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She'll say same as I do&mdash;you see if she don't,&rdquo; he declared. When he
+      called the parsonage, however, Maria Price answered the phone and informed
+      him that Helen was spending the evening with old Mrs. Crowell, who lived
+      but a little way from the Snow place. The captain promptly called up the
+      Crowell house.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She's there and she'll stop in here on her way along,&rdquo; he said
+      triumphantly. &ldquo;And she'll back me up&mdash;you see.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But she did not. She did not &ldquo;back up&rdquo; any one. She merely smiled and
+      declared the problem too complicated to answer offhand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why don't you ask Albert?&rdquo; she inquired. &ldquo;After all, he is the one who
+      must settle it eventually.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He won't tell,&rdquo; said Olive. &ldquo;He's real provokin', isn't he? And now you
+      won't tell, either, Helen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I don't know&mdash;yet. But I think he does.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert, as usual, walked home with her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How are you going to answer your hero's riddle?&rdquo; she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Before I tell you, suppose you tell me what your answer would be.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She reflected. &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;it seems to me that, all things being as
+      they are, he should do this: He should go to the sideshow man&mdash;the
+      minister now&mdash;and have a very frank talk with him. He should tell him
+      that he had decided to say nothing about the old life and to help him in
+      every way, to be his friend&mdash;provided that he keep straight, that is
+      all. Of course more than that would be meant, the alternative would be
+      there and understood, but he need not say it. I think that course of
+      action would be fair to himself and to everybody. That is my answer. What
+      is yours?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He laughed quietly. &ldquo;Just that, of course,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;You would see it, I
+      knew. You always see down to the heart of things, Helen. You have the
+      gift.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She shook her head. &ldquo;It didn't really need a gift, this particular
+      problem, did it?&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;It is not&mdash;excuse me&mdash;it isn't
+      exactly a new one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, it isn't. It is as old as the hills, but there are always new twists
+      to it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As there are to all our old problems.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. By the way, your advice about the ending of my third story was
+      exactly what I needed. The editor wrote me he should never have forgiven
+      me if it had ended in any other way. It probably WOULD have ended in
+      another way if it hadn't been for you. Thank you, Helen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, you know there was really nothing to thank me for. It was all you, as
+      usual. Have you planned the next story, the fifth, yet?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not entirely. I have some vague ideas. Do you want to hear them?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So they discussed those ideas as they walked along the sidewalk of the
+      street leading down to the parsonage. It was a warm evening, a light mist,
+      which was not substantial enough to be a fog, hanging low over everything,
+      wrapping them and the trees and the little front yards and low houses of
+      the old village in a sort of cozy, velvety, confidential quiet. The scent
+      of lilacs was heavy in the air.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They both were silent. Just when they had ceased speaking neither could
+      have told. They walked on arm in arm and suddenly Albert became aware that
+      this silence was dangerous for him; that in it all his resolves and brave
+      determinations were melting into mist like that about him; that he must
+      talk and talk at once and upon a subject which was not personal, which&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And then Helen spoke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you know what this reminds me of?&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;All this talk of ours?
+      It reminds me of how we used to talk over those first poems of yours. You
+      have gone a long way since then.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have gone to Kaiserville and back.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You know what I mean. I mean your work has improved wonderfully. You
+      write with a sure hand now, it seems to me. And your view is so much
+      broader.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope I'm not the narrow, conceited little rooster I used to be. I told
+      you, Helen, that the war handed me an awful jolt. Well, it did. I think
+      it, or my sickness or the whole business together, knocked most of that
+      self-confidence of mine galley-west. For so much I'm thankful.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know that I am, altogether. I don't want you to lose confidence
+      in yourself. You should be confident now because you deserve to be. And
+      you write with confidence, or it reads as if you did. Don't you feel that
+      you do, yourself? Truly, don't you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, perhaps, a little. I have been at it for some time now. I ought to
+      show some progress. Perhaps I don't make as many mistakes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can't see that you have made any.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have made one . . . a damnable one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, what do you mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, nothing. I didn't mean to say that. . . . Helen, do you know it is
+      awfully good of you to take all this interest in me&mdash;in my work, I
+      mean. Why do you do it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, why?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, because&mdash;Why shouldn't I? Haven't we always talked about your
+      writings together, almost since we first knew each other? Aren't we old
+      friends?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There it was again&mdash;friends. It was like a splash of cold water in
+      the face, at once awakening and chilling. Albert walked on in silence for
+      a few moments and then began speaking of some trivial subject entirely
+      disconnected with himself or his work or her. When they reached the
+      parsonage door he said good night at once and strode off toward home.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Back in his room, however, he gave himself another mental picking to
+      pieces. He was realizing most distinctly that this sort of thing would not
+      do. It was easy to say that his attitude toward Helen Kendall was to be
+      that of a friend and nothing more, but it was growing harder and harder to
+      maintain that attitude. He had come within a breath that very night of
+      saying what was in his heart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Well, if he had said it, if he did say it&mdash;what then? After all, was
+      there any real reason why he should not say it? It was true that he had
+      loved, or fancied that he loved, Madeline, that he had been betrothed to
+      her&mdash;but again, what of it? Broken engagements were common enough,
+      and there was nothing disgraceful in this one. Why not go to Helen and
+      tell her that his fancied love for Madeline had been the damnable mistake
+      he had confessed making. Why not tell her that since the moment when he
+      saw her standing in the doorway of the parsonage on the morning following
+      his return from New York he had known that she was the only woman in the
+      world for him, that it was her image he had seen in his dreams, in the
+      delirium of fever, that it was she, and not that other, who&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But there, all this was foolishness, and he knew it. He did not dare say
+      it. Not for one instant had she, by speech or look or action, given him
+      the slightest encouragement to think her feeling for him was anything but
+      friendship. And that friendship was far too precious to risk. He must not
+      risk it. He must keep still, he must hide his thoughts, she must never
+      guess. Some day, perhaps, after a year or two, after his position in his
+      profession was more assured, then he might speak. But even then there
+      would be that risk. And the idea of waiting was not pleasant. What had
+      Rachel told him concerning the hosts of doctors and officers and generals
+      who had been &ldquo;shining up&rdquo; to her. Some risk there, also.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Well, never mind. He would try to keep on as he had been going for the
+      present. He would try not to see her as frequently. If the strain became
+      unbearable he might go away somewhere&mdash;for a time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He did not go away, but he made it a point not to see her as frequently.
+      However, they met often even as it was. And he was conscious always that
+      the ice beneath his feet was very, very thin.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One wonderful August evening he was in his room upstairs. He was not
+      writing. He had come up there early because he wished to think, to
+      consider. A proposition had been made to him that afternoon, a surprising
+      proposition&mdash;to him it had come as a complete surprise&mdash;and
+      before mentioning it even to his grandparents he wished to think it over
+      very carefully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      About ten o'clock his grandfather called to him from the foot of the
+      stairs and asked him to come down.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Kendall's on the phone,&rdquo; said Captain Zelotes. &ldquo;He's worried about
+      Helen. She's up to West Harniss sittin' up along of Lurany Howes, who's
+      been sick so long. She ain't come home, and the old gentleman's frettin'
+      about her walkin' down from there alone so late. I told him I cal'lated
+      you'd just as soon harness Jess and drive up and get her. You talk with
+      him yourself, Al.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert did and, after assuring the nervous clergyman that he would see
+      that his daughter reached home safely, put on his hat and went out to the
+      barn. Jessamine was asleep in her stall. As he was about to lead her out
+      he suddenly remembered that one of the traces had broken that morning and
+      Captain Zelotes had left it at the harness-maker's to be mended. It was
+      there yet. The captain had forgotten the fact, and so had he. That settled
+      the idea of using Jessamine and the buggy. Never mind, it was a beautiful
+      night and the walk was but little over a mile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When he reached the tiny story-and-a-half Howes cottage, sitting back from
+      the road upon the knoll amid the tangle of silverleaf sprouts, it was
+      Helen herself who opened the door. She was surprised to see him, and when
+      he explained his errand she was a little vexed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The idea of Father's worrying,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Such a wonderful night as
+      this, bright moonlight, and in South Harniss, too. Nothing ever happens to
+      people in South Harniss. I will be ready in a minute or two. Mrs. Howes'
+      niece is here now and will stay with her until to-morrow. Then her sister
+      is coming to stay a month. As soon as I get her medicine ready we can go.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The door of the tiny bedroom adjoining the sitting room was open, and
+      Albert, sitting upon the lounge with the faded likeness of a pink dog
+      printed on the plush cover, could hear the querulous voice of the invalid
+      within. The widow Howes was deaf and, as Laban Keeler described it,
+      &ldquo;always hollered loud enough to make herself hear&rdquo; when she spoke. Helen
+      was moving quietly about the sick room and speaking in a low tone. Albert
+      could not hear what she said, but he could hear Lurania.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You're a wonder, that's what you be,&rdquo; declared the latter, &ldquo;and I told
+      your pa so last time he was here. 'She's a saint,' says I, 'if ever there
+      was one on this earth. She's the nicest, smartest, best-lookin' girl in
+      THIS town and . . .' eh?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There had been a murmur, presumably of remonstrance, from Helen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eh?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Another murmur.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;EH? WHO'D you say was there?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A third murmur.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;WHO? . . . Oh, that Speranzy one? Lote Snow's grandson? The one they used
+      to call the Portygee? . . . Eh? Well, all right, I don't care if he did
+      hear me. If he don't know you're nice and smart and good-lookin', it's
+      high time he did.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen, a trifle embarrassed but laughing, emerged a moment later, and when
+      she had put on her hat she and Albert left the Howes cottage and began
+      their walk home. It was one of those nights such as Cape Codders,
+      year-rounders or visitors, experience three or four times during a summer
+      and boast of the remainder of the year. A sky clear, deep, stretched
+      cloudless from horizon to horizon. Every light at sea or on shore, in
+      cottage window or at masthead or in lighthouse or on lightship a twinkling
+      diamond point. A moon, apparently as big as a barrel-head, hung up in the
+      east and below it a carpet of cold fire, of dancing, spangled silver
+      spread upon the ocean. The sound of the surf, distant, soothing; and for
+      the rest quiet and the fragrance of the summer woods and fields.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They walked rather fast at first and the conversation was brisk, but as
+      the night began to work its spell upon them their progress was slower and
+      there were intervals of silence of which neither was aware. They came to
+      the little hill where the narrow road from West Harniss comes to join the
+      broader highway leading to the Center. There were trees here, a pine
+      grove, on the landward side, and toward the sea nothing to break the
+      glorious view.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen caught her breath. &ldquo;Oh, it is beautiful, beautiful!&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert did not answer. &ldquo;Why don't you talk?&rdquo; she asked. &ldquo;What are you
+      thinking about?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He did not tell her what he was thinking about. Instead, having caught
+      himself just in time, he began telling her of what he had been thinking
+      when his grandfather called him to the telephone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Helen,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I want to ask your advice. I had an astonishing
+      proposal made to me this afternoon. I must make a decision, I must say yes
+      or no, and I'm not sure which to say.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She looked up at him inquiringly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This afternoon,&rdquo; he went on, &ldquo;Doctor Parker called me into his office.
+      There was a group of men there, prominent men in politics from about the
+      country; Judge Baxter from Ostable was there, and Captain Warren from
+      South Denboro, and others like them. What do you suppose they want me to
+      do?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can't imagine.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They offer me the party nomination for Congress from this section. That
+      is, of course, they want me to permit my name to stand and they seem sure
+      my nomination will be confirmed by the voters. The nomination, they say,
+      is equivalent to election. They seem certain of it. . . . And they were
+      insistent that I accept.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh&mdash;oh, Albert!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. They said a good many flattering things, things I should like to
+      believe. They said my war record and my writing and all that had made me a
+      prominent man in the county&mdash;Please don't think I take any stock in
+      that&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But <i>I</i> do. Go on.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, that is all. They seemed confident that I would make a good
+      congressman. I am not so sure. Of course the thing . . . well, it does
+      tempt me, I confess. I could keep on with my writing, of course. I should
+      have to leave the home people for a part of the year, but I could be with
+      them or near them the rest. And . . . well, Helen, I&mdash;I think I
+      should like the job. Just now, when America needs Americans and the thing
+      that isn't American must be fought, I should like&mdash;if I were sure I
+      was capable of it&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, but you are&mdash;you ARE.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you really think so? Would you like to have me try?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He felt her arm tremble upon his. She drew a long breath.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I should be so PROUD!&rdquo; she breathed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a quiver in her voice, almost a sob. He bent toward her. She was
+      looking off toward the sea, the moonlight upon her face was like a glory,
+      her eyes were shining&mdash;and there were tears in them. His heart
+      throbbed wildly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Helen!&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;Helen!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She turned and looked up into his face. The next moment her own face was
+      hidden against his breast, his arms were about her, and . . . and the
+      risk, the risk he had feared to take, was taken.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They walked home after a time, but it was a slow, a very slow walk with
+      many interruptions.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Helen,&rdquo; he kept saying, &ldquo;I don't see how you can. How can you? In
+      spite of it all. I&mdash;I treated you so badly. I was SUCH an idiot. And
+      you really care? You really do?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She laughed happily. &ldquo;I really do . . . and . . . and I really have, all
+      the time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Always?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Always.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well&mdash;well, by George! And . . . Helen, do you know I think&mdash;I
+      think I did too&mdash;always&mdash;only I was such a young fool I didn't
+      realize it. WHAT a young fool I was!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't say that, dear, don't. . . . You are going to be a great man. You
+      are a famous one already; you are going to be great. Don't you know that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He stooped and kissed her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think I shall have to be,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;if I am going to be worthy of
+      you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XX
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Albert, sitting in the private office of Z. Snow and Co., dropped his
+      newspaper and looked up with a smile as his grandfather came in. Captain
+      Zelotes' florid face was redder even than usual, for it was a cloudy day
+      in October and blowing a gale.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Whew!&rdquo; puffed the captain, pulling off his overcoat and striding over to
+      warm his hands at the stove; &ldquo;it's raw as January comin' over the tops of
+      those Trumet hills, and blowin' hard enough to part your back hair,
+      besides. One time there I didn't know but I'd have to reef, cal'late I
+      would if I'd known how to reef an automobile.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is the car running as well as ever?&rdquo; asked Albert.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You bet you! Took all but two of those hills on full steam and never
+      slowed down a mite. Think of goin' to Trumet and back in a forenoon, and
+      havin' time enough to do the talkin' I went to do besides. Why, Jess would
+      have needed the whole day to make the down cruise, to say nothin' of the
+      return trip. Well, the old gal's havin' a good rest now, nothin' much to
+      do but eat and sleep. She deserves it; she's been a good horse for your
+      grandma and me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He rubbed his hands before the stove and chuckled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Olive's still scared to death for fear I'll get run into, or run over
+      somebody or somethin',&rdquo; he observed. &ldquo;I tell her I can navigate that car
+      now the way I used to navigate the old President Hayes, and I could do
+      that walkin' in my sleep. There's a little exaggeration there,&rdquo; he added,
+      with a grin. &ldquo;It takes about all my gumption when I'm wide awake to turn
+      the flivver around in a narrow road, but I manage to do it. . . . Well,
+      what are you doin' in here, Al?&rdquo; he added. &ldquo;Readin' the Item's prophesy
+      about how big your majority's goin' to be?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert smiled. &ldquo;I dropped in here to wait for you, Grandfather,&rdquo; he
+      replied. &ldquo;The novel-writing mill wasn't working particularly well, so I
+      gave it up and took a walk.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To the parsonage, I presume likely?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I did stop there for a minute or two.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don't say! I'm surprised to hear it. How is Helen this mornin'? Did
+      she think you'd changed much since you saw her last night?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know. She didn't say so if she did. She sent her love to you and
+      Grandmother&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What she had left over, you mean.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And said to tell you not to tire yourself out electioneering for me. That
+      was good advice, too. Grandfather, don't you know that you shouldn't motor
+      all the way to Trumet and back a morning like this? I'd rather&mdash;much
+      rather go without the votes than have you do such things.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Zelotes seated himself in his desk chair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you ain't goin' to do without 'em,&rdquo; he chuckled. &ldquo;Obed Nye&mdash;he's
+      chairman of the Trumet committee&mdash;figgers you'll have a five-to-one
+      majority. He told me to practice callin' you 'the Honorable' because
+      that's what you'd be by Tuesday night of week after next. And next winter
+      Mother and I will be takin' a trip to Washin'ton so as to set in the
+      gallery and listen to you makin' speeches. We'll be some consider'ble
+      proud of you, too, boy,&rdquo; he added, with a nod.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His grandson looked away, out of the window, over the bleak yard with its
+      piles of lumber. The voice of Issacher raised in expostulation with the
+      driver of Cahoon's &ldquo;truck-wagon&rdquo; could be faintly heard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall hate to leave you and Grandmother and the old place,&rdquo; he said.
+      &ldquo;If I am elected&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;WHEN you're elected; there isn't any 'if.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, all right. I shall hate to leave South Harniss. Every person I
+      really care for will be here. Helen&mdash;and you people at home.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's too bad you and Helen can't be married and go to Washin'ton
+      together. Not to stay permanent,&rdquo; he added quickly, &ldquo;but just while
+      Congress is in session. Your grandma says then she'd feel as if you had
+      somebody to look after you. She always figgers, you know, that a man ain't
+      capable of lookin' out for himself. There'd ought to be at least one woman
+      to take care of him, see that he don't get his feet wet and goes to
+      meetin' reg'lar and so on; if there could be two, so much the better.
+      Mother would have made a pretty good Mormon, in some ways.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert laughed. &ldquo;Helen feels she must stay with her father for the
+      present,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Of course she is right. Perhaps by and by we can find
+      some good capable housekeeper to share the responsibility, but not this
+      winter. IF I am sent to Washington I shall come back often, you may be
+      sure.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When ARE you cal'latin' to be married, if that ain't a secret?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps next spring. Certainly next fall. It will depend upon Mr.
+      Kendall's health. But, Grandfather, I do feel rather like a deserter,
+      going off and leaving you here&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good Lord! You don't cal'late I'M breakin' down, runnin' strong to talk
+      and weakenin' everywhere else, like old Minister Kendall, do you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, hardly. But . . . well, you see, I have felt a little ungrateful
+      ever since I came back from the war. In a way I am sorry that I feel I
+      must give myself entirely to my writing&mdash;and my political work. I
+      wish I might have gone on here in this office, accepted that partnership
+      you would have given me&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You can have it yet, you know. Might take it and just keep it to fall
+      back on in case that story-mill of yours busts altogether or all hands in
+      Ostable County go crazy and vote the wrong ticket. Just take it and wait.
+      Always well to have an anchor ready to let go, you know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thanks, but that wouldn't be fair. I wish I MIGHT have taken it&mdash;for
+      your sake. I wish for your sake I were so constituted as to be good for
+      something at it. Of course I don't mean by that that I should be willing
+      to give up my writing&mdash;but&mdash;well, you see, Grandfather, I owe
+      you an awful lot in this world . . . and I know you had set your heart on
+      my being your partner in Z. Snow and Co. I know you're disappointed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Lote did not answer instantly. He seemed to be thinking. Then he
+      opened a drawer in his desk and took out a box of cigars similar to those
+      he had offered the Honorable Fletcher Fosdick on the occasion of their
+      memorable interview.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Smoke, Al?&rdquo; he asked. Albert declined because of the nearness to dinner
+      time, but the captain, who never permitted meals or anything else to
+      interfere with his smoking, lighted one of the cigars and leaned back in
+      his chair, puffing steadily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We-ll, Al,&rdquo; he said slowly, &ldquo;I'll tell you about that. There was a time&mdash;I'll
+      own up that there was a time when the idea you wasn't goin' to turn out a
+      business man and the partner who would take over this concern after I got
+      my clearance papers was a notion I wouldn't let myself think of for a
+      minute. I wouldn't THINK of it, that's all. But I've changed my mind about
+      that, as I have about some other things.&rdquo; He paused, tugged at his beard,
+      and then added, &ldquo;And I guess likely I might as well own up to the whole
+      truth while I'm about it: I didn't change it because I wanted to, but
+      because I couldn't help it&mdash;'twas changed for me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He made this statement more as if he were thinking aloud than as if he
+      expected a reply. A moment later he continued.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;'twas changed for me. And,&rdquo; with a shrug, &ldquo;I'd
+      rather prided myself that when my mind was made up it stayed that way. But&mdash;but,
+      well, consarn it, I've about come to the conclusion that I was a
+      pig-headed old fool, Al, in some ways.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nonsense, Grandfather. You are the last man to&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I don't mean a candidate for the feeble-minded school. There ain't
+      been any Snows put there that I can remember, not our branch of 'em,
+      anyhow. But, consarn it, I&mdash;I&mdash;&rdquo; he was plainly finding it hard
+      to express his thought, &ldquo;I&mdash;well, I used to think I knew
+      consider'ble, had what I liked to think was good, hard sense. 'Twas hard
+      enough, I cal'late&mdash;pretty nigh petrified in spots.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert laid a hand on his knee.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't talk like that,&rdquo; he replied impulsively. &ldquo;I don't like to hear
+      you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't you? Then I won't. But, you see, Al, it bothers me. Look how I used
+      to talk about makin' up poetry and writin' yarns and all that. Used to
+      call it silliness and a waste of time, I did&mdash;worse names than that,
+      generally. And look what you're makin' at it in money, to say nothin' of
+      its shovin' you into Congress, and keepin' the newspapers busy printin'
+      stuff about you. . . . Well, well,&rdquo; with a sigh of resignation, &ldquo;I don't
+      understand it yet, but know it's so, and if I'd had my pig-headed way
+      'twouldn't have been so. It's a dreadful belittlin' feelin' to a man at my
+      time of life, a man that's commanded ten-thousand-ton steamers and handled
+      crews and bossed a business like this. It makes him wonder how many other
+      fool things he's done. . . . Why, do you know, Al,&rdquo; he added, in a sudden
+      burst of confidence, &ldquo;I was consider'ble prejudiced against you when you
+      first came here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He made the statement as if he expected it to come as a stunning surprise.
+      Albert would not have laughed for the world, nor in one way did he feel
+      like it, but it was funny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, perhaps you were, a little,&rdquo; he said gravely. &ldquo;I don't wonder.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I don't mean just because you was your father's son. I mean on your
+      own account, in a way. Somehow, you see, I couldn't believe&mdash;eh? Oh,
+      come in, Labe! It's all right. Al and I are just talkin' about nothin' in
+      particular and all creation in general.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Keeler entered with a paper in his hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sorry to bother you, Cap'n Lote,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;but this bill of Colby and
+      Sons for that last lot of hardware ain't accordin' to agreement. The
+      prices on those butts ain't right, and neither's those half-inch screws.
+      Better send it back to em, eh?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Zelotes inspected the bill.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Humph!&rdquo; he grunted. &ldquo;You're right, Labe. You generally are, I notice.
+      Yes, send it back and tell 'em&mdash;anything you want to.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Laban smiled. &ldquo;I want to, all right,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;This is the third time
+      they've sent wrong bills inside of two months. Well, Al,&rdquo; turning toward
+      him, &ldquo;I cal'late this makes you kind of homesick, don't it, this talk
+      about bills and screws and bolts and such? Wa'n't teasin' for your old job
+      back again, was you, Al? Cal'late he could have it, couldn't he, Cap'n?
+      We'll need somebody to heave a bucket of water on Issy pretty soon; he's
+      gettin' kind of pert and uppish again. Pretty much so. Yes, yes, yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He departed, chuckling. Captain Zelotes looked after him. He tugged at his
+      beard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Al,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;do you know what I've about made up my mind to do?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert shook his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I've about made up my mind to take Labe Keeler into the firm of Z. Snow
+      and Co. YOU won't come in, and,&rdquo; with a twinkle, &ldquo;I need somebody to keep
+      my name from gettin' lonesome on the sign.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert was delighted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bully for you, Grandfather!&rdquo; he exclaimed. &ldquo;You couldn't do a better
+      thing for Labe or for the firm. And he deserves it, too.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ye-es, I think he does. Labe's a mighty faithful, capable feller, and now
+      that he's sworn off on those vacations of his he can be trusted anywheres.
+      Yes, I've as good as made up my mind to take him in. Of course,&rdquo; with the
+      twinkle in evidence once more, &ldquo;Issachar'll be a little mite jealous, but
+      we'll have to bear up under that as best we can.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wonder what Labe will say when you tell him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He'll say yes. I'll tell Rachel first and she'll tell him to say it. And
+      then I'll tell 'em both I won't do it unless they agree to get married.
+      I've always said I didn't want to die till I'd been to that weddin'. I
+      want to hear Rachel tell the minister she'll 'obey' Labe. Ho, ho!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you suppose they ever will be married?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, yes, I kind of think so. I shouldn't wonder if they would be right
+      off now if it wasn't that Rachel wouldn't think of givin' up keepin' house
+      for your grandmother. She wouldn't do that and Labe wouldn't want her to.
+      I've got to fix that somehow. Perhaps they could live along with us. Land
+      knows there's room enough. They're all right, those two. Kind of funny to
+      look at, and they match up in size like a rubber boot and a slipper, but I
+      declare I don't know which has got the most common-sense or the biggest
+      heart. And 'twould be hard to tell which thinks the most of you, Al. . . .
+      Eh? Why, it's after half-past twelve o'clock! Olive'll be for combin' our
+      topknots with a belayin' pin if we keep her dinner waitin' like this.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As they were putting on their coats the captain spoke again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hadn't finished what I was sayin' to you when Labe came in,&rdquo; he
+      observed. &ldquo;'Twasn't much account; just a sort of confession, and they say
+      that's good for the soul. I was just goin' to say that when you first came
+      here I was prejudiced against you, not only because your father and I
+      didn't agree, but because he was what he was. Because he was&mdash;was&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert finished the sentence for him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A Portygee,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, yes, that's what I called him. That's what I used to call about
+      everybody that wasn't born right down here in Yankeeland. I used to be
+      prejudiced against you because you was what I called a half-breed. I'm
+      sorry, Al. I'm ashamed. See what you've turned out to be. I declare, I&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shh! shh! Don't, Grandfather. When I came here I was a little snob, a
+      conceited, insufferable little&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here, here! Hold on! No, you wa'n't, neither. Or if you was, you was only
+      a boy. I was a man, and I ought to&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I'm going to finish. Whatever I am now, or whatever I may be. I owe
+      to you, and to Grandmother, and Rachel and Laban&mdash;and Helen. You made
+      me over between you. I know that now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They walked home instead of riding in the new car. Captain Zelotes
+      declared he had hung on to that steering wheel all the forenoon and he was
+      afraid if he took it again his fingers would grow fast to the rim. As they
+      emerged from the office into the open air, he said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Al, regardin' that makin'-over business, I shouldn't be surprised if it
+      was a kind of&mdash;er&mdash;mutual thing between you and me. We both had
+      some prejudices to get rid of, eh?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps so. I'm sure I did.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I'm sartin sure I did. And the war and all that came with it put the
+      finishin' touches to the job. When I think of what the thousands and
+      thousands of men did over there in those hell-holes of trenches, men with
+      names that run all the way from Jones and Kelly to&mdash;er&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Speranza.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, and Whiskervitch and the land knows what more. When I think of that
+      I'm ready to take off my hat to 'em and swear I'll never be so narrow
+      again as to look down on a feller because he don't happen to be born in
+      Ostable County. There's only one thing I ask of 'em, and that is that when
+      they come here to live&mdash;to stay&mdash;under our laws and takin'
+      advantage of the privileges we offer 'em&mdash;they'll stop bein'
+      Portygees or Russians or Polacks or whatever they used to be or their
+      folks were, and just be Americans&mdash;like you, Al.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's what we must work for now, Grandfather. It's a big job, but it
+      must be done.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They walked on in silence for a time. Then the captain said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's a pretty fine country, after all, ain't it, Albert?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Albert looked about him over the rolling hills, the roofs of the little
+      town, the sea, the dunes, the pine groves, the scene which had grown so
+      familiar to him and which had become in his eyes so precious.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is MY country,&rdquo; he declared, with emphasis.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His grandfather caught his meaning.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm glad you feel that way, son,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;but 'twasn't just South
+      Harniss I meant then. I meant all of it, the whole United States. It's got
+      its faults, of course, lots of 'em. And if I was an Englishman or a
+      Frenchman I'd probably say it wasn't as good as England or France,
+      whichever it happened to be. That's all right; I ain't findin' any fault
+      with 'em for that&mdash;that's the way they'd ought to feel. But you and
+      I, Al, we're Americans. So the rest of the world must excuse us if we say
+      that, take it by and large, it's a mighty good country. We've planned for
+      it, and worked for it, and fought for it, and we know. Eh?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. We know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. And no howlin', wild-eyed bunch from somewhere else that haven't
+      done any of these things are goin' to come here and run it their way if we
+      can help it&mdash;we Americans; eh?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Alberto Miguel Carlos Speranza, American, drew a long breath.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No!&rdquo; he said, with emphasis.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You bet! Well, unless I'm mistaken, I smell salt fish and potatoes,
+      which, accordin' to Cape Cod notion, is a good American dinner. I don't
+      know how you feel, Al, but I'm hungry.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+
+
+
+
+
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+</pre>
+  </body>
+</html>
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Portygee, by Joseph Crosby Lincoln
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Portygee
+
+Author: Joseph Crosby Lincoln
+
+Release Date: May 30, 2006 [EBook #3263]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PORTYGEE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Donald Lainson
+
+
+
+
+
+THE PORTYGEE
+
+
+By Joseph Crosby Lincoln
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+Overhead the clouds cloaked the sky; a ragged cloak it was, and, here
+and there, a star shone through a hole, to be obscured almost instantly
+as more cloud tatters were hurled across the rent. The pines threshed on
+the hill tops. The bare branches of the wild-cherry and silverleaf trees
+scraped and rattled and tossed. And the wind, the raw, chilling December
+wind, driven in, wet and salty, from the sea, tore over the dunes and
+brown uplands and across the frozen salt-meadows, screamed through
+the telegraph wires, and made the platform of the dismal South Harniss
+railway station the lonesomest, coldest, darkest and most miserable spot
+on the face of the earth.
+
+At least that was the opinion of the seventeen-year-old boy whom the
+down train--on time for once and a wonder--had just deposited upon that
+platform. He would not have discounted the statement one iota. The South
+Harniss station platform WAS the most miserable spot on earth and he was
+the most miserable human being upon it. And this last was probably true,
+for there were but three other humans upon that platform and, judging by
+externals, they seemed happy enough. One was the station agent, who was
+just entering the building preparatory to locking up for the night,
+and the others were Jim Young, driver of the "depot wagon," and Doctor
+Holliday, the South Harniss "homeopath," who had been up to a Boston
+hospital with a patient and was returning home. Jim was whistling
+"Silver Bells," a tune much in vogue the previous summer, and Doctor
+Holliday was puffing at a cigar and knocking his feet together to keep
+them warm while waiting to get into the depot wagon. These were the only
+people in sight and they were paying no attention whatever to the lonely
+figure at the other end of the platform.
+
+The boy looked about him. The station, with its sickly yellow gleam
+of kerosene lamp behind its dingy windowpane, was apparently the only
+inhabited spot in a barren wilderness. At the edge of the platform
+civilization seemed to end and beyond was nothing but a black earth
+and a black sky, tossing trees and howling wind, and cold--raw, damp,
+penetrating cold. Compared with this even the stuffy plush seats and
+smelly warmth of the car he had just left appeared temptingly homelike
+and luxurious. All the way down from the city he had sneered inwardly at
+a one-horse railroad which ran no Pullmans on its Cape branch in winter
+time. Now he forgot his longing for mahogany veneer and individual
+chairs and would gladly have boarded a freight car, provided there were
+in it a lamp and a stove.
+
+The light in the station was extinguished and the agent came out with
+a jingling bunch of keys and locked the door. "Good-night, Jim,"
+he shouted, and walked off into the blackness. Jim responded with a
+"good-night" of his own and climbed aboard the wagon, into the dark
+interior of which the doctor had preceded him. The boy at the other end
+of the platform began to be really alarmed. It looked as if all living
+things were abandoning him and he was to be left marooned, to starve or
+freeze, provided he was not blown away first.
+
+He picked up the suitcase--an expensive suitcase it was, elaborately
+strapped and buckled, with a telescope back and gold fittings--and
+hastened toward the wagon. Mr. Young had just picked up the reins.
+
+"Oh,--oh, I say!" faltered the boy. We have called him "the boy" all
+this time, but he did not consider himself a boy, he esteemed himself
+a man, if not full-grown physically, certainly so mentally. A man,
+with all a man's wisdom, and more besides--the great, the all-embracing
+wisdom of his age, or youth.
+
+"Here, I say! Just a minute!" he repeated. Jim Young put his head around
+the edge of the wagon curtain. "Eh?" he queried. "Eh? Who's talkin'? Oh,
+was it you, young feller? Did you want me?"
+
+The young fellow replied that he did. "This is South Harniss, isn't it?"
+he asked.
+
+Mr. Young chuckled. "Darn sure thing," he drawled. "I give in that it
+looks consider'ble like Boston, or Providence, R. I., or some of them
+capitols, but it ain't, it's South Harniss, Cape Cod."
+
+Doctor Holliday, on the back seat of the depot wagon, chuckled. Jim
+did not; he never laughed at his own jokes. And his questioner did not
+chuckle, either.
+
+"Does a--does a Mr. Snow live here?" he asked.
+
+The answer was prompt, if rather indefinite. "Um-hm," said the driver.
+"No less'n fourteen of him lives here. Which one do you want?"
+
+"A Mr. Z. Snow."
+
+"Mr. Z. Snow, eh? Humph! I don't seem to recollect any Mr. Z. Snow
+around nowadays. There used to be a Ziba Snow, but he's dead. 'Twan't
+him you wanted, was it?"
+
+"No. The one I want is--is a Captain Snow. Captain--" he paused before
+uttering the name which to his critical metropolitan ear had seemed
+so dreadfully countrified and humiliating; "Captain Zelotes Snow," he
+blurted, desperately.
+
+Jim Young laughed aloud. "Good land, Doc!" he cried, turning toward his
+passenger; "I swan I clean forgot that Cap'n Lote's name begun with a
+Z. Cap'n Lote Snow? Why, darn sure! I . . . Eh?" He stopped short,
+evidently struck by a new idea. "Sho!" he drawled, slowly. "Why,
+I declare I believe you're . . . Yes, of course! I heard they was
+expectin' you. Doc, you know who 'tis, don't you? Cap'n Lote's grandson;
+Janie's boy."
+
+He took the lighted lantern from under the wagon seat and held it up so
+that its glow shone upon the face of the youth standing by the wheel.
+
+"Hum," he mused. "Don't seem to favor Janie much, does he, Doc. Kind of
+got her mouth and chin, though. Remember that sort of good-lookin' set
+to her mouth she had? And SHE got it from old Cap'n Lo himself. This
+boy's face must be more like his pa's, I cal'late. Don't you cal'late
+so, Doc?"
+
+Whether Doctor Holliday cal'lated so or not he did not say. It may be
+that he thought this cool inspection of and discussion concerning a
+stranger, even a juvenile stranger, somewhat embarrassing to its object.
+Or the lantern light may have shown him an ominous pucker between the
+boy's black brows and a flash of temper in the big black eyes beneath
+them. At any rate, instead of replying to Mr. Young, he said, kindly:
+
+"Yes, Captain Snow lives in the village. If you are going to his house
+get right in here. I live close by, myself."
+
+"Darned sure!" agreed Mr. Young, with enthusiasm. "Hop right in, sonny."
+
+But the boy hesitated. Then, haughtily ignoring the driver, he said: "I
+thought Captain Snow would be here to meet me. He wrote that he would."
+
+The irrepressible Jim had no idea of remaining ignored. "Did Cap'n Lote
+write you that he'd be here to the depot?" he demanded. "All right, then
+he'll be here, don't you fret. I presume likely that everlastin' mare
+of his has eat herself sick again; eh, Doc? By godfreys domino, the way
+they pet and stuff that fool horse is a sin and a shame. It ain't Lote's
+fault so much as 'tis his wife's--she's responsible. Don't you fret,
+Bub, the cap'n'll be here for you some time to-night. If he said he'll
+come he'll come, even if he has to hire one of them limmysines. He, he,
+he! All you've got to do is wait, and . . . Hey! . . . Hold on a minute!
+. . . Bub!"
+
+The boy was walking away. And to hail him as "Bub" was, although Jim
+Young did not know it, the one way least likely to bring him back.
+
+"Bub!" shouted Jim again. Receiving no reply he added what he had
+intended saying. "If I run afoul of Cap'n Lote anywheres on the road,"
+he called, "I'll tell him you're here a-waitin'. So long, Bub. Git dap,
+Chain Lightnin'."
+
+The horse, thus complimented, pricked up one ear, lifted a foot, and
+jogged off. The depot wagon became merely a shadowy smudge against the
+darkness of the night. For a few minutes the "chock, chock" of the hoofs
+upon the frozen road and the rattle of wheels gave audible evidence of
+its progress. Then these died away and upon the windswept platform of
+the South Harniss station descended the black gloom of lonesomeness
+so complete as to make that which had been before seem, by comparison,
+almost cheerful.
+
+The youth upon that platform turned up his coat collar, thrust his
+gloved hands into his pockets, and shivered. Then, still shivering,
+he took a brisk walk up and down beside the suitcase and, finally,
+circumnavigated the little station. The voyage of discovery was
+unprofitable; there was nothing to discover. So far as he could
+see--which was by no means far--upon each side of the building was
+nothing but bare fields and tossing pines, and wind and cold and
+blackness. He came to anchor once more by the suitcase and drew a long,
+hopeless breath.
+
+He thought of the cheery dining room at the school he had left the day
+before. Dinner would be nearly over by now. The fellows were having
+dessert, or, probably, were filing out into the corridors, the younger
+chaps to go to the study hall and the older ones--the lordly seniors, of
+whom he had been one--on the way to their rooms. The picture of his own
+cheerful, gay room in the senior corridor was before his mind; of that
+room as it was before the telegram came, before the lawyer came with
+the letter, before the end of everything as he knew it and the beginning
+of--this. He had not always loved and longed for that school as he loved
+and longed for it now. There had been times when he referred to it as
+"the old jail," and professed to hate it. But it had been the only real
+home he had known since he was eight years old and now he looked back
+upon it as a fallen angel might have looked back upon Paradise. He
+sighed again, choked and hastily drew his gloved hand across his eyes.
+At the age of seventeen it is very unmanly to cry, but, at that age
+also, manhood and boyhood are closely intermingled. He choked again
+and then, squaring his shoulders, reached into his coat pocket for the
+silver cigarette case which, as a recent acquisition, was the pride of
+his soul. He had just succeeded in lighting a cigarette when, borne upon
+the wind, he heard once more the sound of hoofs and wheels and saw in
+the distance a speck of light advancing toward the station.
+
+The sounds drew nearer, so did the light. Then an old-fashioned buggy,
+drawn by a plump little sorrel, pulled up by the platform and a hand
+held a lantern aloft.
+
+"Hello!" hailed a voice. "Where are you?"
+
+The hail did not have to be repeated. Before the vehicle reached the
+station the boy had tossed away the cigarette, picked up the suitcase,
+and was waiting. Now he strode into the lantern light.
+
+"Here I am," he answered, trying hard not to appear too eager. "Were you
+looking for me?"
+
+The holder of the lantern tucked the reins between the whip-socket and
+the dash and climbed out of the buggy. He was a little man, perhaps
+about forty-eight or fifty, with a smooth-shaven face wrinkled at the
+corners of the mouth and eyes. His voice was the most curious thing
+about him; it was high and piping, more like a woman's than a man's. Yet
+his words and manner were masculine enough, and he moved and spoke with
+a nervous, jerky quickness.
+
+He answered the question promptly. "Guess I be, guess I be," he said
+briskly. "Anyhow, I'm lookin' for a boy name of--name of--My soul to
+heavens, I've forgot it again, I do believe! What did you say your name
+was?"
+
+"Speranza. Albert Speranza."
+
+"Sartin, sartin! Sper--er--um--yes, yes. Knew it just as well as I did
+my own. Well, well, well! Ye-es, yes, yes. Get right aboard, Alfred. Let
+me take your satchel."
+
+He picked up the suitcase. The boy, his foot upon the buggy step, still
+hesitated. "Then you're--you're not my grandfather?" he faltered.
+
+"Eh? Who? Your grandfather? Me? He, he, he!" He chuckled shrilly. "No,
+no! No such luck. If I was Cap'n Lote Snow, I'd be some older'n I be now
+and a dum sight richer. Yes, yes. No, I'm Cap'n Lote's bookkeeper over
+at the lumber consarn. He's got a cold, and Olive--that's his wife--she
+said he shouldn't come out to-night. He said he should, and while they
+was Katy-didin' back and forth about it, Rachel--Mrs. Ellis--she's the
+hired housekeeper there--she telephoned me to harness up and come meet
+you up here to the depot. Er--er--little mite late, wan't I?"
+
+"Why, yes, just a little. The other man, the one who drives the mail
+cart--I think that was what it was--said perhaps the horse was sick, or
+something like that."
+
+"No-o, no, that wan't it this time. I--er--All tucked in and warm
+enough, be you? Ye-es, yes, yes. No, I'm to blame, I shouldn't wonder. I
+stopped at the--at the store a minute and met one or two of the fellers,
+and that kind of held me up. All right now? Ye-es, yes, yes. G'long,
+gal."
+
+The buggy moved away from the platform. Its passenger, his chilly feet
+and legs tightly wrapped in the robes, drew a breath of relief between
+his chattering teeth. He was actually going somewhere at last; whatever
+happened, morning would not find him propped frozen stiff against the
+scarred and mangy clapboards of the South Harniss station.
+
+"Warm enough, be you?" inquired his driver cheerfully.
+
+"Yes, thank you."
+
+"That's good, that's good, that's good. Ye-es, yes, yes.
+Well--er--Frederick, how do you think you're goin' to like South
+Harniss?"
+
+The answer was rather non-committal. The boy replied that he had not
+seen very much of it as yet. His companion seemed to find the statement
+highly amusing. He chuckled and slapped his knee.
+
+"Ain't seen much of it, eh? No-o, no, no. I guess you ain't, guess you
+ain't. He, he, he . . . Um . . . Let's see, what was I talkin' about?"
+
+"Why, nothing in particular, I think, Mr.--Mr.--"
+
+"Didn't I tell you my name? Sho, sho! That's funny. My name's
+Keeler--Laban B. Keeler. That's my name and bookkeeper is my station.
+South Harniss is my dwellin' place--and I guess likely you'll have to
+see the minister about the rest of it. He, he, he!"
+
+His passenger, to whom the old schoolbook quatrain was entirely unknown,
+wondered what on earth the man was talking about. However, he smiled
+politely and sniffed with a dawning suspicion. It seemed to him there
+was an unusual scent in the air, a spirituous scent, a--
+
+"Have a peppermint lozenger," suggested Mr. Keeler, with sudden
+enthusiasm. "Peppermint is good for what ails you, so they tell me.
+Ye-es, yes, yes. Have one. Have two, have a lot."
+
+He proceeded to have a lot himself, and the buggy was straightway
+reflavored, so to speak. The boy, his suspicions by no means dispelled,
+leaned back in the corner behind the curtains and awaited developments.
+He was warmer, that was a real physical and consequently a slight mental
+comfort, but the feeling of lonesomeness was still acute. So far his
+acquaintanceship with the citizens of South Harniss had not filled him
+with enthusiasm. They were what he, in his former and very recent state
+of existence, would have called "Rubes." Were the grandparents whom he
+had never met this sort of people? It seemed probable. What sort of
+a place was this to which Fate had consigned him? The sense of utter
+helplessness which had had him in its clutches since the day when he
+received the news of his father's death was as dreadfully real as ever.
+He had not been consulted at all. No one had asked him what he wished to
+do, or where he wished to go. The letter had come from these people, the
+Cape Cod grandparents of whom, up to that time, he had never even
+heard, and he had been shipped to them as though he were a piece of
+merchandise. And what was to become of him now, after he reached his
+destination? What would they expect him to do? Or be? How would he be
+treated?
+
+In his extensive reading--he had been an omnivorous reader--there were
+numerous examples of youths left, like him, to the care of distant
+relatives, or step-parents, or utter strangers. Their experiences,
+generally speaking, had not been cheerful ones. Most of them had run
+away. He might run away; but somehow the idea of running away, with no
+money, to face hardship and poverty and all the rest, did not make an
+alluring appeal. He had been used to comfort and luxury ever since he
+could remember, and his imagination, an unusually active one, visualized
+much more keenly than the average the tribulations and struggles of a
+runaway. David Copperfield, he remembered, had run away, but he did it
+when a kid, not a man like himself. Nicholas Nickleby--no, Nicholas had
+not run away exactly, but his father had died and he had been left to an
+uncle. It would be dreadful if his grandfather should turn out to be a
+man like Ralph Nickleby. Yet Nicholas had gotten on well in spite of his
+wicked relative. Yes, and how gloriously he had defied the old
+rascal, too! He wondered if he would ever be called upon to defy his
+grandfather. He saw himself doing it--quietly, a perfect gentleman
+always, but with the noble determination of one performing a
+disagreeable duty. His chin lifted and his shoulders squared against the
+back of the buggy.
+
+Mr. Keeler, who had apparently forgotten his passenger altogether, broke
+into song,
+
+
+     "She's my darlin' hanky-panky
+        And she wears a number two,
+      Her father keeps a barber shop
+        Way out in Kalamazoo."
+
+
+He sang the foregoing twice over and then added a chorus, plainly
+improvised, made up of "Di doos" and "Di dums" ad lib. And the buggy
+rolled up and over the slope of a little hill and, in the face of a
+screaming sea wind, descended a long, gentle slope to where, scattered
+along a two-mile water frontage, the lights of South Harniss twinkled
+sparsely.
+
+
+     "Did doo dum, dee dum, doo dum
+       Di doo dum, doo dum dee."
+
+
+So sang Mr. Keeler. Then he broke off his solo as the little mare turned
+in between a pair of high wooden posts bordering a drive, jogged along
+that drive for perhaps fifty feet, and stopped beside the stone step
+of a white front door. Through the arched window above that door shone
+lamplight warm and yellow.
+
+"Whoa!" commanded Mr. Keeler, most unnecessarily. Then, as if himself a
+bit uncertain as to his exact whereabouts, he peered out at the door and
+the house of which it was a part, afterward settling back to announce
+triumphantly: "And here we be! Yes, sir, here we be!"
+
+Then the door opened. A flood of lamplight poured upon the buggy and its
+occupants. And the boy saw two people standing in the doorway, a man and
+a woman.
+
+It was the woman who spoke first. It was she who had opened the door.
+The man was standing behind her looking over her shoulder--over her head
+really, for he was tall and broad and she short and slender.
+
+"Is it--?" she faltered.
+
+Mr. Keeler answered. "Yes, ma'am," he declared emphatically, "that's who
+'tis. Here we be--er--er--what's-your-name--Edward. Jump right out."
+
+His passenger alighted from the buggy. The woman bent forward to look at
+him, her hands clasped.
+
+"It--it's Albert, isn't it?" she asked.
+
+The boy nodded. "Yes," he said.
+
+The hands unclasped and she held them out toward him. "Oh, Albert," she
+cried, "I'm your grandmother. I--"
+
+The man interrupted. "Wait till we get him inside, Olive," he said.
+"Come in, son." Then, addressing the driver, he ordered: "Labe, take the
+horse and team out to the barn and unharness for me, will you?"
+
+"Ye-es, yes, yes," replied Mr. Keeler. "Yes indeed, Cap'n. Take her
+right along--right off. Yes indeedy. Git dap!"
+
+He drove off toward the end of the yard, where a large building,
+presumably a barn, loomed black against the dark sky. He sang as
+he drove and the big man on the step looked after him and sniffed
+suspiciously.
+
+Meanwhile the boy had followed the little woman into the house through
+a small front hall, from which a narrow flight of stairs shot aloft with
+almost unbelievable steepness, and into a large room. Albert had a
+swift impression of big windows full of plants, of pictures of ships and
+schooners on the walls, of a table set for four.
+
+"Take your things right off," cried his grandmother. "Here, I'll take
+'em. There! now turn 'round and let me look at you. Don't move till I
+get a good look."
+
+He stood perfectly still while she inspected him from head to foot.
+
+"You've got her mouth," she said slowly. "Yes, you've got her mouth. Her
+hair and eyes were brown and yours are black, but--but I THINK you look
+like her. Oh, I did so want you to! May I kiss you, Albert? I'm your
+grandmother, you know."
+
+With embarrassed shyness he leaned forward while she put her arms about
+his neck and kissed him on the cheek. As he straightened again he
+became aware that the big man had entered the room and was regarding him
+intently beneath a pair of shaggy gray eyebrows. Mrs. Snow turned.
+
+"Oh, Zelotes," she cried, "he's got Janie's mouth, don't you think so?
+And he DOES look like her, doesn't he?"
+
+Her husband shook his head. "Maybe so, Mother," he said, with a half
+smile. "I ain't a great hand for locatin' who folks look like. How are
+you, boy? Glad to see you. I'm your grandfather, you know."
+
+They shook hands, while each inspected and made a mental estimate of the
+other. Albert saw a square, bearded jaw, a firm mouth, gray eyes with
+many wrinkles at the corners, and a shock of thick gray hair. The eyes
+had a way of looking straight at you, through you, as if reading your
+thoughts, divining your motives and making a general appraisal of you
+and them.
+
+Captain Zelotes Snow, for his part, saw a tall young fellow, slim and
+straight, with black curly hair, large black eyes and regular features.
+A good-looking boy, a handsome boy--almost too handsome, perhaps, or
+with just a touch of the effeminate in the good looks. The captain's
+glance took in the well-fitting suit of clothes, the expensive tie, the
+gold watch chain.
+
+"Humph!" grunted Captain Zelotes. "Well, your grandma and I are glad
+to have you with us. Let me see, Albert--that's your right name, ain't
+it--Albert?"
+
+Something in his grandfather's looks or tone aroused a curious feeling
+in the youth. It was not a feeling of antagonism, exactly, but more of
+defiance, of obstinacy. He felt as if this big man, regarding him so
+keenly from under the heavy brows, was looking for faults, was expecting
+to find something wrong, might almost be disappointed if he did not find
+it. He met the gaze for a moment, the color rising to his cheeks.
+
+"My name," he said deliberately, "is Alberto Miguel Carlos Speranza."
+
+Mrs. Snow uttered a little exclamation. "Oh!" she ejaculated. And then
+added: "Why--why, I thought--we--we understood 'twas 'Albert.' We didn't
+know there was--we didn't know there was any more to it. What did you
+say it was?"
+
+Her grandson squared his shoulders. "Alberto Miguel Carlos Speranza,"
+he repeated. "My father"--there was pride in his voice now--"my father's
+name was Miguel Carlos. Of course you knew that."
+
+He spoke as if all creation must have known it. Mrs. Snow looked
+helplessly at her husband. Captain Zelotes rubbed his chin.
+
+"We--ll," he drawled dryly, "I guess likely we'll get along with
+'Albert' for a spell. I cal'late 'twill come more handy to us Cape
+folks. We're kind of plain and everyday 'round here. Sapper's ready,
+ain't it, Mother? Al must be hungry. I'm plaguey sure _I_ am."
+
+"But, Zelotes, maybe he'd like to go up to his bedroom first. He's been
+ridin' a long ways in the cars and maybe he'd like to wash up or change
+his clothes?"
+
+"Change his clothes! Lord sakes, Olive, what would he want to change his
+clothes this time of night for? You don't want to change your clothes,
+do you, boy?"
+
+"No, sir, I guess not."
+
+"Sartin sure you don't. Want to wash? There's a basin and soap and towel
+right out there in the kitchen."
+
+He pointed to the kitchen door. At that moment the door was partially
+opened and a brisk feminine voice from behind it inquired: "How about
+eatin'? Are you all ready in there?"
+
+It was Captain Snow who answered.
+
+"You bet we are, Rachel!" he declared. "All ready and then some. Trot
+her out. Sit down, Mother. Sit down, Al. Now then, Rachel, all aboard."
+
+Rachel, it appeared, was the owner of the brisk feminine voice just
+mentioned. She was brisk herself, as to age about forty, plump, rosy and
+very business-like. She whisked the platter of fried mackerel and the
+dishes of baked potatoes, stewed corn, hot biscuits and all the rest,
+to the table is no time, and then, to Albert's astonishment, sat down at
+that table herself. Mrs. Snow did the honors.
+
+"Albert," she said, "this is Mrs. Ellis, who helps me keep house.
+Rachel, this is my grandson, Albert--er--Speranza."
+
+She pronounced the surname in a tone almost apologetic. Mrs. Ellis did
+not attempt to pronounce it. She extended a plump hand and observed: "Is
+that so? Real glad to know you, Albert. How do you think you're goin' to
+like South Harniss?"
+
+Considering that his acquaintance with the village had been so decidedly
+limited, Albert was somewhat puzzled how to reply. His grandfather saved
+him the trouble.
+
+"Lord sakes, Rachel," he declared, "he ain't seen more'n three square
+foot of it yet. It's darker'n the inside of a nigger's undershirt
+outdoors to-night. Well, Al--Albert, I mean, how are you on mackerel?
+Pretty good stowage room below decks? About so much, eh?"
+
+Mrs. Snow interrupted.
+
+"Zelotes," she said reprovingly, "ain't you forgettin' somethin'?"
+
+"Eh? Forgettin'? Heavens to Betsy, so I am! Lord, we thank thee for
+these and all other gifts, Amen. What did I do with the fork; swallow
+it?"
+
+As long as he lives Albert Speranza will not forget that first meal in
+the home of his grandparents. It was so strange, so different from
+any other meal he had ever eaten. The food was good and there was an
+abundance of it, but the surroundings were so queer. Instead of the
+well-ordered and sedate school meal, here all the eatables from fish
+to pie were put upon the table at the same time and the servant--or
+housekeeper, which to his mind were one and the same--sat down, not
+only to eat with the family, but to take at least an equal part in the
+conversation. And the conversation itself was so different. Beginning
+with questions concerning his own journey from the New York town where
+the school was located, it at length reached South Harniss and there
+centered about the diminutive person of Laban Keeler, his loquacious and
+tuneful rescuer from the platform of the railway station.
+
+"Where are your things, Albert?" asked Mrs. Snow. "Your trunk or
+travelin' bag, or whatever you had, I mean?"
+
+"My trunks are coming by express," began the boy. Captain Zelotes
+interrupted him.
+
+"Your trunks?" he repeated. "Got more'n one, have you?"
+
+"Why--why, yes, there are three. Mr. Holden--he is the headmaster, you
+know--"
+
+"Eh? Headmaster? Oh, you mean the boss teacher up there at the school?
+Yes, yes. Um-hm."
+
+"Yes, sir. Mr. Holden says the trunks should get here in a few days."
+
+Mrs. Ellis, the housekeeper, made the next remark. "Did I understand you
+to say you had THREE trunks?" she demanded.
+
+"Why, yes."
+
+"Three trunks for one boy! For mercy sakes, what have you got in 'em?"
+
+"Why--why, my things. My clothes and--and--everything."
+
+"Everything, or just about, I should say. Goodness gracious me, when
+I go up to Boston I have all I can do to fill up one trunk. And I'm
+bigger'n you are--bigger 'round, anyway."
+
+There was no doubt about that. Captain Zelotes laughed shortly.
+
+"That statement ain't what I'd call exaggerated, Rachel," he declared.
+"Every time I see you and Laban out walkin' together he has to keep on
+the sunny side or be in a total eclipse. And, by the way, speakin'
+of Laban--Say, son, how did you and he get along comin' down from the
+depot?"
+
+"All right. It was pretty dark."
+
+"I'll bet you! Laban wasn't very talkative, was he?"
+
+"Why, yes, sir, he talked a good deal but he sang most of the time."
+
+This simple statement appeared to cause a most surprising sensation. The
+Snows and their housekeeper looked at each other. Captain Zelotes leaned
+back in his chair and whistled.
+
+"Whew!" he observed. "Hum! Sho! Thunderation!"
+
+"Oh, dear!" exclaimed his wife.
+
+Mrs. Ellis, the housekeeper, drew a long breath. "I might have expected
+it," she said tartly. "It's past time. He's pretty nigh a month overdue,
+as 'tis."
+
+Captain Snow rose to his feet. "I was kind of suspicious when he started
+for the barn," he declared. "Seemed to me he was singin' then. WHAT did
+he sing, boy?" he asked, turning suddenly upon his grandson.
+
+"Why--why, I don't know. I didn't notice particularly. You see, it was
+pretty cold and--"
+
+Mrs. Ellis interrupted. "Did he sing anything about somebody's bein' his
+darlin' hanky-panky and wearin' a number two?" she demanded sharply.
+
+"Why--why, yes, he did."
+
+Apparently that settled it. Mrs. Snow said, "Oh, dear!" again and the
+housekeeper also rose from the table.
+
+"You'd better go right out to the barn this minute, Cap'n Lote," she
+said, "and I guess likely I'd better go with you."
+
+The captain already had his cap on his head.
+
+"No, Rachel," he said, "I don't need you. Cal'late I can take care
+of 'most anything that's liable to have happened. If he ain't put the
+bridle to bed in the stall and hung the mare up on the harness pegs I
+judge I can handle the job. Wonder how fur along he'd got. Didn't hear
+him singin' anything about 'Hyannis on the Cape,' did you, boy?"
+
+"No."
+
+"That's some comfort. Now, don't you worry, Mother. I'll be back in a
+few minutes."
+
+Mrs. Snow clasped her hands. "Oh, I HOPE he hasn't set the barn afire,"
+she wailed.
+
+"No danger of that, I guess. No, Rachel, you 'tend to your supper. I
+don't need you."
+
+He tramped out into the hall and the door closed behind him. Mrs. Snow
+turned apologetically to her puzzled grandson, who was entirely at a
+loss to know what the trouble was about.
+
+"You see, Albert," she hesitatingly explained, "Laban--Mr. Keeler--the
+man who drove you down from the depot--he--he's an awful nice man and
+your grandfather thinks the world and all of him, but--but every once in
+a while he--Oh, dear, I don't know how to say it to you, but--"
+
+Evidently Mrs. Ellis knew how to say it, for she broke into the
+conversation and said it then and there.
+
+"Every once in a while he gets tipsy," she snapped. "And I only wish I
+had my fingers this minute in the hair of the scamp that gave him the
+liquor."
+
+A light broke upon Albert's mind. "Oh! Oh, yes!" he exclaimed. "I
+thought he acted a little queer, and once I thought I smelt--Oh, that
+was why he was eating the peppermints!"
+
+Mrs. Snow nodded. There was a moment of silence. Suddenly the
+housekeeper, who had resumed her seat in compliance with Captain
+Zelotes' order, slammed back her chair and stood up.
+
+"I've hated the smell of peppermint for twenty-two year," she declared,
+and went out into the kitchen. Albert, looking after her, felt his
+grandmother's touch upon his sleeve.
+
+"I wouldn't say any more about it before her," she whispered. "She's
+awful sensitive."
+
+Why in the world the housekeeper should be particularly sensitive
+because the man who had driven him from the station ate peppermint was
+quite beyond the boy's comprehension. Nor could he thoroughly understand
+why the suspicion of Mr. Keeler's slight inebriety should cause such a
+sensation in the Snow household. He was inclined to think the tipsiness
+rather funny. Of course alcohol was lectured against often enough
+at school and on one occasion a member of the senior class--a
+twenty-year-old "hold-over" who should have graduated the fall
+before--had been expelled for having beer in his room; but during his
+long summer vacations, spent precariously at hotels or in short visits
+to his father's friends, young Speranza had learned to be tolerant.
+Tolerance was a necessary virtue in the circle surrounding Speranza
+Senior, in his later years. The popping of corks at all hours of the
+night and bottles full, half full or empty, were sounds and sights to
+which Albert had been well accustomed. When one has more than once seen
+his own father overcome by conviviality and the affair treated as a huge
+joke, one is not inclined to be too censorious when others slip. What
+if the queer old Keeler guy was tight? Was that anything to raise such a
+row about?
+
+Plainly, he decided, this was a strange place, this household of his
+grandparents. His premonition that they might be "Rubes" seemed
+likely to have been well founded. What would his father--his great,
+world-famous father--have thought of them? "Bah! these Yankee
+bourgeoisie!" He could almost hear him say it. Miguel Carlos Speranza
+detested--in private--the Yankee bourgeoisie. He took their money and
+he married one of their daughters, but he detested them. During his last
+years, when the money had not flowed his way as copiously, the detest
+grew.
+
+"You won't say anything about Laban before Mrs. Ellis, will you,
+Albert?" persisted Mrs. Snow. "She's dreadful sensitive. I'll explain by
+and by."
+
+He promised, repressing a condescending smile.
+
+Both the housekeeper and Captain Snow returned in a few minutes. The
+latter reported that the mare was safe and sound in her stall.
+
+"The harness was mostly on the floor, but Jess was all right, thank the
+Lord," observed the captain.
+
+"Jess is our horse's name, Albert," explained Mrs. Snow. "That is, her
+name's Jessamine, but Zelotes can't ever seem to say the whole of any
+name. When we first bought Jessamine I named her Magnolia, but he
+called her 'Mag' all the time and I COULDN'T stand that. Have some more
+preserves, Albert, do."
+
+All through the meal Albert was uneasily conscious that his grandfather
+was looking at him from under the shaggy brows, measuring him,
+estimating him, reading him through and through. He resented the
+scrutiny and the twinkle of sardonic humor which, it seemed to him,
+accompanied it. His way of handling his knife and fork, his clothes, his
+tie, his manner of eating and drinking and speaking, all these Captain
+Zelotes seemed to note and appraise. But whatever the results of his
+scrutiny and appraisal might be he kept them entirely to himself. When
+he addressed his grandson directly, which was not often, his remarks
+were trivial commonplaces and, although pleasant enough, were terse and
+to the point.
+
+Several times Mrs. Snow would have questioned Albert concerning the life
+at school, but each time her husband interfered.
+
+"Not now, not now, Mother," he said. "The boy ain't goin' to run away
+to-night. He'll be here to-morrow and a good many to-morrows,
+if"--and here again Albert seemed to detect the slight sarcasm and
+the twinkle--"if we old-fashioned 'down easters' ain't too common and
+every-day for a high-toned young chap like him to put up with. No, no,
+don't make him talk to-night. Can't you see he's so sleepy that it's
+only the exercise of openin' his mouth to eat that keeps his eyes from
+shuttin'? How about that, son?"
+
+It was perfectly true. The long train ride, the excitement, the cold
+wait on the station platform and the subsequent warmth of the room, the
+hearty meal, all these combined to make for sleepiness so overpowering
+that several times the boy had caught his nose descending toward his
+plate in a most inelegant nod. But it hurt his pride to think his
+grandfather had noticed his condition.
+
+"Oh, I'm all right," he said, with dignity.
+
+Somehow the dignity seemed to have little effect upon Captain Zelotes.
+
+"Um--yes, I know," observed the latter dryly, "but I guess likely you'll
+be more all right in bed. Mother, you'll show Albert where to turn in,
+won't you? There's your suitcase out there in the hall, son. I fetched
+it in from the barn just now."
+
+Mrs. Snow ventured a protest.
+
+"Oh, Zelotes," she cried, "ain't we goin' to talk with him at ALL? Why,
+there is so much to say!"
+
+"'Twill say just as well to-morrow mornin', Mother; better, because
+we'll have all day to say it in. Get the lamp."
+
+Albert looked at his watch.
+
+"Why, it's only half-past nine," he said.
+
+Captain Zelotes, who also had been looking at the watch, which was a
+very fine and very expensive one, smiled slightly. "Half-past nine some
+nights," he said, "is equal to half-past twelve others. This is one of
+the some. There, there, son, you're so sleepy this minute that you've
+got a list to starboard. When you and I have that talk that's comin'
+to us we want to be shipshape and on an even keel. Rachel, light that
+lamp."
+
+The housekeeper brought in and lighted a small hand lamp. Mrs. Snow
+took it and led the way to the hall and the narrow, breakneck flight of
+stairs. Captain Zelotes laid a hand on his grandson's shoulder.
+
+"Good-night, son," he said quietly.
+
+Albert looked into the gray eyes. Their expression was not unkindly,
+but there was, or he imagined there was, the same quizzical, sardonic
+twinkle. He resented that twinkle more than ever; it made him feel very
+young indeed, and correspondingly obstinate. Something of that obstinacy
+showed in his own eyes as he returned his grandfather's look.
+
+"Good-night--sir," he said, and for the life of him he could not resist
+hesitating before adding the "sir." As he climbed the steep stairs
+he fancied he heard a short sniff or chuckle--he was not certain
+which--from the big man in the dining-room.
+
+His bedroom was a good-sized room; that is, it would have been of good
+size if the person who designed it had known what the term "square"
+meant. Apparently he did not, and had built the apartment on the
+hit-or-miss, higglety-pigglety pattern, with unexpected alcoves cut into
+the walls and closets and chimneys built out from them. There were
+three windows, a big bed, an old-fashioned bureau, a chest of drawers, a
+washstand, and several old-fashioned chairs. Mrs. Snow put the lamp upon
+the bureau. She watched him anxiously as he looked about the room.
+
+"Do--do you like it?" she asked.
+
+Albert replied that he guessed he did. Perhaps there was not too much
+certainty in his tone. He had never before seen a room like it.
+
+"Oh, I hope you will like it! It was your mother's room, Albert. She
+slept here from the time she was seven until--until she went away."
+
+The boy looked about him with a new interest, an odd thrill. His
+mother's room. His mother. He could just remember her, but that was all.
+The memories were childish and unsatisfactory, but they were memories.
+And she had slept there; this had been her room when she was a girl,
+before she married, before--long before such a person as Alberto Miguel
+Carlos Speranza had been even dreamed of. That was strange, it was queer
+to think about. Long before he was born, when she was years younger than
+he as he stood there now, she had stood there, had looked from those
+windows, had--
+
+His grandmother threw her arms about his neck and kissed him. Her cheek
+was wet.
+
+"Good-night, Albert," she said chokingly, and hurried out of the room.
+
+He undressed quickly, for the room was very cold. He opened the window,
+after a desperate struggle, and climbed into bed. The wind, whistling
+in, obligingly blew out the lamp for him. It shrieked and howled about
+the eaves and the old house squeaked and groaned. Albert pulled the
+comforter up about his neck and concentrated upon the business of going
+to sleep. He, who could scarcely remember when he had had a real home,
+was desperately homesick.
+
+Downstairs in the dining-room Captain Zelotes stood, his hands in his
+pockets, looking through the mica panes of the stove door at the fire
+within. His wife came up behind him and laid a hand on his sleeve.
+
+"What are you thinkin' about, Father?" she asked.
+
+Her husband shook his head. "I was wonderin'," he said, "what my
+granddad, the original Cap'n Lote Snow that built this house, would have
+said if he'd known that he'd have a great-great-grandson come to live in
+it who was," scornfully, "a half-breed."
+
+Olive's grip tightened on his arm.
+
+"Oh, DON'T talk so, Zelotes," she begged. "He's our Janie's boy."
+
+The captain opened the stove door, regarded the red-hot coals for an
+instant, and then slammed the door shut again.
+
+"I know, Mother," he said grimly. "It's for the sake of Janie's half
+that I'm takin' in the other."
+
+"But--but, Zelotes, don't you think he seems like a nice boy?"
+
+The twinkle reappeared in Captain Lote's eyes.
+
+"I think HE thinks he's a nice boy, Mother," he said. "There, there,
+let's go to bed."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+The story of the events which led up to the coming, on this December
+night, of a "half-breed" grandson to the Snow homestead, was an old
+story in South Harniss. The date of its beginning was as far back as the
+year 1892.
+
+In the fall of that year Captain Zelotes Snow was in Savannah. He was in
+command of the coasting schooner Olive S. and the said schooner was then
+discharging a general cargo, preparatory to loading with rice and cotton
+for Philadelphia. With the captain in Savannah was his only daughter,
+Jane Olivia, age a scant eighteen, pretty, charming, romantic and
+head over heels in love with a handsome baritone then singing in a
+popular-priced grand opera company. It was because of this handsome
+baritone, who, by the way, was a Spaniard named Miguel Carlos Speranza,
+that Jane Snow was then aboard her father's vessel. Captain Lote was not
+in the habit of taking his women-folks on his voyages with him. "Skirts
+clutter up the deck too much," was his opinion.
+
+He had taken Jane, however, not only on this voyage, but on that
+preceding it, which had been to Rio. It was Captain Lote's belief,
+and his wife's hope, that a succession of sea winds might blow away
+recollections of Senor Speranza--"fan the garlic out of her head," as
+the captain inelegantly expressed it. Jane had spent her sixteenth and
+seventeenth years at a school for girls near Boston. The opera company
+of which Speranza was a member was performing at one of the
+minor theaters. A party of the school girls, duly chaperoned and
+faculty-guarded, of course, attended a series of matinees. At these
+matinees Jane first saw her hero, brave in doublet and hose, and braver
+still in melody and romance. She and her mates looked and listened
+and worshiped from afar, as is the habit of maidenly youth under such
+circumstances. There is no particular danger in such worship provided
+the worshiper remains always at a safely remote distance from the idol.
+But in Jane's case this safety-bar was removed by Fate. The wife of a
+friend of her father's, the friend being a Boston merchant named Cole
+with whom Captain Zelotes had had business dealings for many years, was
+a music lover. She was in the habit of giving what she was pleased to
+call "musical teas" at her home. Jane, to whom Mr. and Mrs. Cole had
+taken a marked fancy, was often invited to those teas and, because the
+Coles were "among our nicest people," she was permitted by the school
+authorities to attend.
+
+At one of those teas Senor Miguel Carlos Speranza was the brightest
+star. The Senor, then in his twenty-ninth year, handsome, talented and
+picturesque, shone refulgent. Other and far more experienced feminine
+hearts than Jane Snow's were flutteringly disturbed by the glory of
+his rays. Jane and he met, they shook hands, they conversed. And at
+subsequent teas they met again, for Speranza, on his part, was strongly
+attracted to the simple, unaffected Cape Cod schoolgirl. It was not
+her beauty alone--though beauty she had and of an unusual type--it
+was something else, a personality which attracted all who met her.
+The handsome Spaniard had had many love affairs of a more or less
+perfunctory kind, but here was something different, something he had
+not known. He began by exerting his powers of fascination in a lazy,
+careless way. To his astonishment the said powers were not overwhelming.
+If Jane was fascinated she was not conquered. She remained sweet,
+simple, direct, charmingly aloof.
+
+And Speranza was at first puzzled, then piqued, then himself madly
+fascinated. He wrote fervid letters, he begged for interviews, he
+haunted each one of Mrs. Cole's "teas." And, at last, he wrung from Jane
+a confession of her love, her promise to marry him. And that very week
+Miss Donaldson, the head of the school, discovered and read a package of
+the Senor's letters to her pupil.
+
+Captain Zelotes happened to be at home from a voyage. Being summoned
+from South Harniss, he came to Boston and heard the tale from Miss
+Donaldson's agitated lips. Jane was his joy, his pride; her future was
+the great hope and dream of his life. WHEN she married--which was not
+to be thought of for an indefinite number of years to come--she would of
+course marry a--well, not a President of the United States, perhaps--but
+an admiral possibly, or a millionaire, or the owner of a fleet of
+steamships, or something like that. The idea that she should even
+think of marrying a play-actor was unbelievable. The captain had never
+attended the performance of an opera; what was more, he never expected
+to attend one. He had been given to understand that a "parcel of
+play-actin' men and women hollered and screamed to music for a couple
+of hours." Olive, his wife, had attended an opera once and, according
+to her, it was more like a cat fight than anything else. Nobody but
+foreigners ever had anything to do with operas. And for foreigners of
+all kinds--but the Latin variety of foreigner in particular--Captain
+Zelotes Snow cherished a detest which was almost fanatic.
+
+And now his daughter, his own Janie, was receiving ardent love
+letters from a play-acting foreigner, a Spaniard, a "Portygee," a
+"macaroni-eater"! When finally convinced that it was true, that the
+letters had really been written to Jane, which took some time, he
+demanded first of all to be shown the "Portygee." Miss Donaldson could
+not, of course, produce the latter forthwith, but she directed her irate
+visitor to the theater where the opera company was then performing. To
+the theater Captain Zelotes went. He did not find Speranza there, but
+from a frightened attendant he browbeat the information that the singer
+was staying at a certain hotel. So the captain went to the hotel. It was
+eleven o'clock in the morning, Senor Speranza was in bed and could not
+be disturbed. Couldn't, eh? By the great and everlasting et cetera and
+continued he was going to be disturbed then and there. And unless some
+of the hotel's "hired help" set about the disturbing it would be done
+for them. So, rather than summon the police, the hotel management
+summoned its guest, and the first, and only, interview between the
+father and lover of Jane Snow took place.
+
+It was not a long interview, but it was spirited. Captain Zelotes began
+by being what he considered diplomatic. Having assured his wife before
+leaving home, and the alarmed Miss Donaldson subsequently, that there
+was to be no trouble whatever--everything would be settled as smooth
+and easy as slidin' downhill; "that feller won't make any fuss, you'll
+see"--having thus prophesied, the captain felt it incumbent upon himself
+to see to the fulfillment. So he began by condescendingly explaining
+that of course he was kind of sorry for the young man before him, young
+folks were young folks and of course he presumed likely 'twas natural
+enough, and the like of that, you understand. But of course also Mr.
+Speranza must realize that the thing could not go on any further. Jane
+was his daughter and her people were nice people, and naturally, that
+being the case, her mother and he would be pretty particular as to who
+she kept company with, to say nothing of marrying, which event was
+not to be thought of for ten years, anyway. Now he didn't want to
+be--er--personal or anything like that, and of course he wouldn't think
+of saying that Mr. Speranza wasn't a nice enough man for--well, for--for
+. . . You see, everybody wasn't as particular as he and Mrs. Snow were.
+But--
+
+Here Senor Speranza interrupted. He politely desired to know if the
+person speaking was endeavoring to convey the idea that he, Miguel
+Carlos Speranza, was not of sufficient poseetion, goodness, standing,
+what it is? to be considered as suitor for that person's daughter's
+hand. Did Meester Snow comprehend to whom he addressed himself?
+
+The interview terminated not long after. The captain's parting remark
+was in the nature of an ultimatum. It was to the effect that if
+Speranza, or any other condemned undesirable like him, dared to so
+much as look in the direction of Jane Olivia Snow, his daughter, he
+personally would see that the return for that look was a charge of
+buckshot. Speranza, white-faced and furiously gesticulative, commanded
+the astonished bellboy to put that "Bah! pig-idiot!" out into the hall
+and air the room immediately afterward.
+
+Having, as he considered, satisfactorily attended to the presumptuous
+lover, Captain Zelotes returned to the school and to what he believed
+would be the comparatively easy task, the bringing of his daughter to
+reason. Jane had always been an obedient girl, she was devoted to her
+parents. Of course, although she might feel rather disappointed at
+first, she would soon get over it. The idea that she might flatly
+refuse to get over it, that she might have a will of her own, and a
+determination equal to that of the father from whom she inherited it,
+did not occur to the captain at all.
+
+But his enlightenment was prompt and complete. Jane did not rage or
+become hysterical, she did not even weep in his presence. But, quietly,
+with a set of her square little chin, she informed Captain Zelotes that
+she loved Speranza, that she meant to marry him and that she should
+marry him, some day or other. The captain raged, commanded, pleaded,
+begged. What was the matter with her? What had come over her? Didn't she
+love her father and mother any more that she should set out to act this
+way? Yes, she declared that she loved them as much as ever, but that
+she loved her lover more than all the world, and no one--not even her
+parents--should separate them.
+
+Captain Zelotes gave it up at last. That is, he gave up the appeal to
+reason and the pleadings. But he did not give up the idea of having his
+own way in the matter; being Zelotes Snow, he certainly did not give
+that up. Instead he took his daughter home with him to South Harniss,
+where a tearful and heart-broken Olive added her persuasions to his.
+But, when she found Jane obdurate, Mrs. Snow might have surrendered.
+Not her husband, however. Instead he conceived a brilliant idea. He was
+about to start on a voyage to Rio Janeiro; he would take his wife and
+daughter with him. Under their immediate observation and far removed
+from the influence of "that Portygee," Jane would be in no danger and
+might forget.
+
+Jane made no remonstrance. She went to Rio and returned. She was always
+calm, outwardly pleasant and quiet, never mentioned her lover unless in
+answer to a question; but she never once varied from her determination
+not to give him up. The Snows remained at home for a month. Then
+Zelotes, Jane accompanying him, sailed from Boston to Savannah. Olive
+did not go with them; she hated the sea and by this time both she and
+her husband were somewhat reassured. So far as they could learn by
+watchful observation of their daughter, the latter had not communicated
+with Speranza nor received communications from him. If she had not
+forgotten him it seemed likely that he had forgotten her. The thought
+made the captain furiously angry, but it comforted him, too.
+
+During the voyage to Savannah this sense of comfort became stronger.
+Jane seemed in better spirits. She was always obedient, but now she
+began to seem almost cheerful, to speak, and even laugh occasionally
+just as she used to. Captain Zelotes patted himself on the back,
+figuratively. His scheme had been a good one.
+
+And in Savannah, one afternoon, Jane managed to elude her father's
+observation, to leave the schooner and to disappear completely. And
+that night came a letter. She and Miguel Carlos Speranza had been
+in correspondence all the time, how or through whose connivance is a
+mystery never disclosed. He had come to Savannah, in accordance with
+mutual arrangement; they had met, were married, and had gone away
+together.
+
+"I love you, Father," Jane wrote in the letter. "I love you and Mother
+so very, VERY much. Oh, PLEASE believe that! But I love him, too. And I
+could not give him up. You will see why when you know him, really know
+him. If it were not for you I should be SO happy. I know you can't
+forgive me now, but some day I am sure you will forgive us both."
+
+Captain Zelotes was far, far from forgiveness as he read that letter.
+His first mate, who was beside him when he opened and read it, was
+actually frightened when he saw the look on the skipper's face. "He went
+white," said the mate; "not pale, but white, same as a dead man, or--or
+the underside of a flatfish, or somethin'. 'For the Lord sakes, Cap'n,'
+says I, 'what's the matter?' He never answered me, stood starin' at
+the letter. Then he looked up, not at me, but as if somebody else was
+standin' there on t'other side of the cabin table. 'Forgive him!' he
+says, kind of slow and under his breath. 'I won't forgive his black soul
+in hell.' When I heard him say it I give you my word my hair riz under
+my cap. If ever there was killin' in a man's voice and in his looks
+'twas in Cap'n Lote's that night. When I asked him again what was the
+matter he didn't answer any more than he had the first time. A few
+minutes afterwards he went into his stateroom and shut the door. I
+didn't see him again until the next mornin'."
+
+Captain Zelotes made no attempt to follow the runaway couple. He did
+take pains to ascertain that they were legally married, but that
+was all. He left his schooner in charge of the mate at Savannah and
+journeyed north to South Harniss and his wife. A week he remained at
+home with her, then returned to the Olive S. and took up his command and
+its duties as if nothing had happened. But what had happened changed his
+whole life. He became more taciturn, a trifle less charitable, a little
+harder and more worldly. Before the catastrophe he had been interested
+in business success and the making of money chiefly because of his plans
+for his daughter's future. Now he worked even harder because it helped
+him to forget. He became sole owner of the Olive S., then of other
+schooners. People spoke of him as one destined to become a wealthy man.
+
+Jane lived only a few years after her marriage. She died at the birth of
+her second child, who died with her. Her first, a boy, was born a year
+after the elopement. She wrote her mother to tell that news and Olive
+answered the letter. She begged permission of her husband to invite Jane
+and the baby to visit the old home. At first Zelotes said no, flatly;
+the girl had made her bed, let her lie in it. But a year later he had
+so far relented as to give reluctant consent for Jane and the child to
+come, provided her condemned husband did not accompany them. "If that
+low-lived Portygee sets foot on my premises, so help me God, I'll
+kill him!" declared the captain. In his vernacular all foreigners were
+"Portygees."
+
+But Jane was as proud and stubborn as he. Where her husband was not
+welcome she would not go. And a little later she had gone on the longest
+of all journeys. Speranza did not notify her parents except to send a
+clipped newspaper account of her death and burial, which arrived a week
+after the latter had taken place. The news prostrated Olive, who was ill
+for a month. Captain Zelotes bore it, as he had borne the other great
+shock, with outward calm and quiet. Yet a year afterward he suddenly
+announced his determination of giving up the sea and his prosperous and
+growing shipping business and of spending the rest of his days on the
+Cape.
+
+Olive was delighted, of course. Riches--that is, more than a comfortable
+competency--had no temptations for her. The old house, home of three
+generations of Snows, was painted, repaired and, to some extent,
+modernized. For another year Captain Zelotes "loafed," as he called it,
+although others might have considered his activities about the place
+anything but that. At the end of that year he surprised every one by
+buying from the heirs of the estate the business equipment of the late
+Eben Raymond, hardware dealer and lumber merchant of South Harniss,
+said equipment comprising an office, a store and lumber yards near
+the railway station. "Got to have somethin' to keep me from gettin'
+barnacled," declared Captain Lote. "There's enough old hulks rottin' at
+their moorin's down here as 'tis. I don't know anything about lumber and
+half as much about hardware, but I cal'late I can learn." As an aid in
+the learning process he retained as bookkeeper Laban Keeler, who had
+acted in that capacity for the former proprietor.
+
+The years slipped away, a dozen of them, as smoothly and lazily as South
+Harniss years have always slipped. Captain Zelotes was past sixty
+now, but as vigorous as when forty, stubborn as ever, fond of using
+quarter-deck methods on shore and especially in town-meeting, and
+very often in trouble in consequence. He was a member of the Board of
+Selectmen and was in the habit of characterizing those whose opinions
+differed from his as "narrow-minded." They retorted by accusing him of
+being "pig-headed." There was some truth on both sides. His detest of
+foreigners had not abated in the least.
+
+And then, in this December of the year 1910, fell as from a clear sky
+the legacy of a grandson. From Senor Miguel Carlos Speranza the Snows
+had had no direct word, had received nothing save the newspaper clipping
+already mentioned. Olive had never seen him; her husband had seen him
+only on the occasion of the memorable interview in the hotel room. They
+never spoke of him, never mentioned him to each other. Occasionally,
+in the Boston newspapers, his likeness in costume had appeared amid the
+music notes or theatrical jottings. But these had not been as numerous
+of late. Of his son, their own daughter's child, they knew nothing;
+he might be alive or he might be dead. Sometimes Olive found herself
+speculating concerning him, wondering if he was alive, and if he
+resembled Jane. But she put the speculation from her thoughts; she
+could not bear to bring back memories of the old hopes and their bitter
+ending. Sometimes Captain Lote at his desk in the office of "Z. Snow
+& Co., Lumber and Builders' Hardware," caught himself dreaming of his
+idolized daughter and thinking how different the future might have been
+for him had she married a "white man," the kind of man he had meant for
+her to marry. There might be grandchildren growing up now, fine boys
+and girls, to visit the old home at South Harniss. "Ah hum! Well! . . .
+Labe, how long has this bill of Abner Parker's been hangin' on?
+For thunder sakes, why don't he pay up? He must think we're runnin' a
+meetin'-house Christmas tree."
+
+The letter from the lawyer had come first. It was written in New York,
+was addressed to "Captain Lotus Snow," and began by taking for granted
+the fact that the recipient knew all about matters of which he knew
+nothing. Speranza was dead, so much was plain, and the inference was
+that he had been fatally injured in an automobile accident, "particulars
+of which you have of course read in the papers." Neither Captain Lote
+nor his wife had read anything of the kind in the papers. The captain
+had been very busy of late and had read little except political news,
+and Mrs. Snow never read of murders and accidents, their details at
+least. She looked up from the letter, which her husband had hastened
+home from the office to bring her, with a startled face.
+
+"Oh, Zelotes," she cried, "he's dead!"
+
+The captain nodded.
+
+"Seems so," he said. "That part's plain enough, but go on. The rest of
+it is what I can't get a hand-hold on. See what you make of the rest of
+it, Olive."
+
+The rest of it was to the effect that the writer, being Mr. Speranza's
+business adviser, "that is to say, as much or more so than any one
+else," had been called in at the time of the accident, had conferred
+with the injured man, and had learned his last wishes. "He expressed
+himself coherently concerning his son," went on the letter, "and it is
+in regard to that son that I am asking an interview with you. I should
+have written sooner, but have been engaged with matters pertaining to
+Mr. Speranza's estate and personal debts. The latter seem to be large--"
+
+"I'LL bet you!" observed Captain Zelotes, sententiously, interrupting
+his wife's reading by pointing to this sentence with a big forefinger.
+
+"'And the estate's affairs much tangled,'" went on Olive, reading aloud.
+"'It seems best that I should see you concerning the boy at once. I
+don't know whether or not you are aware that he is at school in ----,
+New York. I am inclined to think that the estate itself will scarcely
+warrant the expense of his remaining there. Could you make it convenient
+to come to New York and see me at once? Or, if not, I shall be in
+Boston on Friday of next week and can you meet me there? It seems almost
+impossible for me to come to you just now, and, of course, you will
+understand that I am acting as a sort of temporary executor merely
+because Mr. Speranza was formerly my friend and not because I have any
+pecuniary interest in the settlement of his affairs.
+
+"'Very truly yours,
+
+"'MARCUS W. WEISSMANN.'"
+
+
+"Weissman! Another Portygee!" snorted Captain Lote.
+
+"But--but what does it MEAN?" begged Mrs. Snow. "Why--why should he want
+to see you, Zelotes? And the boy--why--why, that's HER boy. It's Janie's
+boy he must mean, Zelotes."
+
+Her husband nodded.
+
+"Hers and that blasted furriner's," he muttered. "I suppose so."
+
+"Oh, DON'T speak that way, Zelotes! Don't! He's dead."
+
+Captain Lote's lips tightened. "If he'd died twenty years ago 'twould
+have been better for all hands," he growled.
+
+"Janie's boy!" repeated Olive slowly. "Why--why, he must be a big boy
+now. Almost grown up."
+
+Her husband did not speak. He was pacing the floor, his hands in his
+pockets.
+
+"And this man wants to see you about him," said Olive. Then, after a
+moment, she added timidly: "Are you goin', Zelotes?"
+
+"Goin'? Where?"
+
+"To New York? To see this lawyer man?"
+
+"I? Not by a jugful! What in blazes should I go to see him for?"
+
+"Well--well, he wants you to, you know. He wants to talk with you about
+the--the boy."
+
+"Humph!"
+
+"It's her boy, Zelotes."
+
+"Humph! Young Portygee!"
+
+"Don't, Zelotes! Please! . . . I know you can't forgive that--that man.
+We can't either of us forgive him; but--"
+
+The captain stopped in his stride. "Forgive him!" he repeated. "Mother,
+don't talk like a fool. Didn't he take away the one thing that I was
+workin' for, that I was plannin' for, that I was LIVIN' for? I--"
+
+She interrupted, putting a hand on his sleeve.
+
+"Not the only thing, dear," she said. "You had me, you know."
+
+His expression changed. He looked down at her and smiled.
+
+"That's right, old lady," he admitted. "I had you, and thank the
+Almighty for it. Yes, I had you . . . But," his anger returning, "when
+I think how that damned scamp stole our girl from us and then neglected
+her and killed her--"
+
+"ZELOTES! How you talk! He DIDN'T kill her. How can you!"
+
+"Oh, I don't mean he murdered her, of course. But I'll bet all I've got
+that he made her miserable. Look here, Mother, you and she used to write
+back and forth once in a while. In any one of those letters did she ever
+say she was happy?"
+
+Mrs. Snow's answer was somewhat equivocal. "She never said she was
+unhappy," she replied. Her husband sniffed and resumed his pacing up and
+down.
+
+After a little Olive spoke again.
+
+"New York IS a good ways," she said. "Maybe 'twould be better for you to
+meet this lawyer man in Boston. Don't you think so?"
+
+"Bah!"
+
+Another interval. Then: "Zelotes?"
+
+"Yes," impatiently. "What is it?"
+
+"It's her boy, after all, isn't it? Our grandson, yours and mine. Don't
+you think--don't you think it's your duty to go, Zelotes?"
+
+Captain Lote stamped his foot.
+
+"For thunderation sakes, Olive, let up!" he commanded. "You ought to
+know by this time that there's one thing I hate worse than doin' my
+duty, that's bein' preached to about it. Let up! Don't you say another
+word."
+
+She did not, having learned much by years of experience. He said the
+next word on the subject himself. At noon, when he came home for dinner,
+he said, as they rose from the table: "Where's my suitcase, up attic?"
+
+"Why, yes, I guess likely 'tis. Why?"
+
+Instead of answering he turned to the housekeeper, Mrs. Ellis.
+
+"Rachel," he said, "go up and get that case and fetch it down to the
+bedroom, will you? Hurry up! Train leaves at half-past two and it's
+'most one now."
+
+Both women stared at him. Mrs. Ellis spoke first.
+
+"Why, Cap'n Lote," she cried; "be you goin' away?"
+
+Her employer's answer was crisp and very much to the point. "I am if
+I can get that case time enough to pack it and make the train," he
+observed. "If you stand here askin' questions I probably shall stay to
+home."
+
+The housekeeper made a hasty exit by way of the back stairs. Mrs. Snow
+still gazed wonderingly at her husband.
+
+"Zelotes," she faltered, "are you--are you--"
+
+"I'm goin' to New York on to-night's boat. I've telegraphed that--that
+Weiss--Weiss--what-do-you-call-it--that Portygee lawyer--that I'll be to
+his office to-morrow mornin'."
+
+"But, Zelotes, we haven't scarcely talked about it, you and I, at all.
+You might have waited till he came to Boston. Why do you go so SOON?"
+
+The captain's heavy brows drew together.
+
+"You went to the dentist's last Friday," he said. "Why didn't you wait
+till next week?"
+
+"Why--why, what a question! My tooth ached and I wanted to have it fixed
+quick as possible."
+
+"Um-m, yes. Well, this tooth aches and I want it fixed or hauled out,
+one or t'other. I want the thing off my mind. . . . Don't TALK to me?"
+he added, irritably. "I know I'm a fool. And," with a peremptory wave of
+the hand, "don't you DARE say anything about DUTY!"
+
+He was back again two days later. His wife did not question him, but
+waited for him to speak. Those years of experience already mentioned had
+taught her diplomacy. He looked at her and pulled his beard. "Well," he
+observed, when they were alone together, "I saw him."
+
+"The--the boy?" eagerly.
+
+"No, no! Course not! The boy's at school somewhere up in New York State;
+how could I see him! I saw that lawyer and I found out about--about the
+other scamp. He was killed in an auto accident, drunk at the time, I
+cal'late. Nigh's I can gather he's been drinkin' pretty heavy for the
+last six or seven years. Always lived high, same as his kind generally
+does, and spent money like water, I judge--but goin' down hill fast
+lately. His voice was givin' out on him and he realized it, I presume
+likely. Now he's dead and left nothin' but trunks full of stage clothes
+and photographs and," contemptuously, "letters from fool women, and
+debts--Lord, yes! debts enough."
+
+"But the boy, Zelotes. Janie's boy?"
+
+"He's been at this school place for pretty nigh ten years, so the lawyer
+feller said. That lawyer was a pretty decent chap, too, for a furriner.
+Seems he used to know this--Speranza rascal--when Speranza was younger
+and more decent--if he ever was really decent, which I doubt. But this
+lawyer man was his friend then and about the only one he really had when
+he was hurt. There was plenty of make-believe friends hangin' on, like
+pilot-fish to a shark, for what they could get by spongin' on him, but
+real friends were scarce."
+
+"And the boy--"
+
+"For the Lord sakes, Mother, don't keep sayin' 'The boy,' 'the boy,'
+over and over again like a talkin' machine! Let me finish about the
+father first. This Weis--er--thingamajig--the lawyer, had quite a talk
+with Speranza afore he died, or while he was dyin'; he only lived a few
+hours after the accident and was out of his head part of that. But
+he said enough to let Weiss--er--er--Oh, why CAN'T I remember that
+Portygee's name?--to let him know that he'd like to have him settle up
+what was left of his affairs, and to send word to us about--about the
+boy. There! I hope you feel easier, Mother; I've got 'round to 'the boy'
+at last."
+
+"But why did he want word sent to us, Zelotes? He never wrote a line to
+us in his life."
+
+"You bet he didn't!" bitterly; "he knew better. Why did he want word
+sent now? The answer to that's easy enough. 'Cause he wanted to get
+somethin' out of us, that's the reason. From what that lawyer could
+gather, and from what he's found out since, there ain't money enough
+for the boy to stay another six weeks at that school, or anywhere else,
+unless the young feller earns it himself. And, leavin' us out of the
+count, there isn't a relation this side of the salt pond. There's
+probably a million or so over there in Portygee-land," with a derisive
+sniff; "those foreigners breed like flies. But THEY don't count."
+
+"But did he want word sent to us about the--"
+
+"Sshh! I'm tellin' you, Olive, I'm tellin' you. He wanted word sent
+because he was in hopes that we--you and I, Mother--would take that son
+of his in at our house here and give him a home. The cheek of it! After
+what he'd done to you and me, blast him! The solid brass nerve of it!"
+
+He stormed up and down the room. His wife did not seem nearly so much
+disturbed as he at the thought of the Speranza presumption. She looked
+anxious--yes, but she looked eager, too, and her gaze was fixed upon her
+husband's face.
+
+"Oh!" she said, softly. "Oh! . . . And--and what did you say, Zelotes?"
+
+"What did I say? What do you suppose I said? I said no, and I said it
+good and loud, too."
+
+Olive made no comment. She turned away her head, and the captain,
+who now in his turn was watching her, saw a suspicious gleam, as of
+moisture, on her cheek. He stopped his pacing and laid a hand on her
+shoulder.
+
+"There, there, Mother," he said, gently. "Don't cry. He's comin'."
+
+"Comin'?" She turned pale. "Comin'?" she repeated. "Who?"
+
+"That boy! . . . Sshh! shh!" impatiently. "Now don't go askin' me
+questions or tellin' me what I just said I said. I SAID the right thing,
+but--Well, hang it all, what else could I DO? I wrote the boy--Albert--a
+letter and I wrote the boss of the school another one. I sent a check
+along for expenses and--Well, he'll be here 'most any day now, I
+shouldn't wonder. And WHAT in the devil are we goin' to do with him?"
+
+His wife did not reply to this outburst. She was trembling with
+excitement.
+
+"Is--is his name Albert?" she faltered.
+
+"Um-hm. Seems so."
+
+"Why, that's your middle name! Do you--do you s'pose Janie could have
+named him for--for you?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"Of course," with some hesitation, "it may be she didn't. If she'd named
+him Zelotes--"
+
+"Good heavens, woman! Isn't one name like that enough in the family?
+Thank the Lord we're spared two of 'em! But there! he's comin'. And when
+he gets here--then what?"
+
+Olive put her arm about her big husband.
+
+"I hope--yes, I'm sure you did right, Zelotes, and that all's goin' to
+turn out to be for the best."
+
+"Are you? Well, _I_ ain't sure, not by a thousand fathom."
+
+"He's Janie's boy."
+
+"Yes. And he's that play-actor's boy, too. One Speranza pretty nigh
+ruined your life and mine, Olive. What'll this one do? . . . Well, God
+knows, I suppose likely, but He won't tell. All we can do is wait and
+see. I tell you honest I ain't very hopeful."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+A brisk rap on the door; then a man's voice.
+
+"Hello, there! Wake up."
+
+Albert rolled over, opened one eye, then the other and raised himself on
+his elbow.
+
+"Eh? Wh-what?" he stammered.
+
+"Seven o'clock! Time to turn out."
+
+The voice was his grandfather's. "Oh--oh, all right!" he answered.
+
+"Understand me, do you?"
+
+"Yes--yes, sir. I'll be right down."
+
+The stairs creaked as Captain Zelotes descended them. Albert yawned
+cavernously, stretched and slid one foot out of bed. He drew it back
+instantly, however, for the sensation was that of having thrust it into
+a bucket of cold water. The room had been cold the previous evening;
+plainly it was colder still now. The temptation was to turn back and go
+to sleep again, but he fought against it. Somehow he had a feeling that
+to disregard his grandfather's summons would be poor diplomacy.
+
+He set his teeth and, tossing back the bed clothes, jumped to the floor.
+Then he jumped again, for the floor was like ice. The window was wide
+open and he closed it, but there was no warm radiator to cuddle against
+while dressing. He missed his compulsory morning shower, a miss which
+did not distress him greatly. He shook himself into his clothes, soused
+his head and neck in a basin of ice water poured from a pitcher, and,
+before brushing his hair, looked out of the window.
+
+It was a sharp winter morning. The wind had gone down, but before
+subsiding it had blown every trace of mist or haze from the air, and
+from his window-sill to the horizon every detail was clean cut and
+distinct. He was looking out, it seemed, from the back of the house. The
+roof of the kitchen extension was below him and, to the right, the high
+roof of the barn. Over the kitchen roof and to the left he saw little
+rolling hills, valleys, cranberry swamps, a pond. A road wound in
+and out and, scattered along it, were houses, mostly white with green
+blinds, but occasionally varied by the gray of unpainted, weathered
+shingles. A long, low-spreading building a half mile off looked as if
+it might be a summer hotel, now closed and shuttered. Beyond it was a
+cluster of gray shanties and a gleam of water, evidently a wharf and a
+miniature harbor. And, beyond that, the deep, brilliant blue of the sea.
+Brown and blue were the prevailing colors, but, here and there, clumps
+and groves of pines gave splashes of green.
+
+There was an exhilaration in the crisp air. He felt an unwonted
+liveliness and a desire to be active which would have surprised some of
+his teachers at the school he had just left. The depression of spirits
+of which he had been conscious the previous night had disappeared
+along with his premonitions of unpleasantness. He felt optimistic this
+morning. After giving his curls a rake with the comb, he opened the door
+and descended the steep stairs to the lower floor.
+
+His grandmother was setting the breakfast table. He was a little
+surprised to see her doing it. What was the use of having servants if
+one did the work oneself? But perhaps the housekeeper was ill.
+
+"Good morning," he said.
+
+Mrs. Snow, who had not heard him enter, turned and saw him. When he
+crossed the room, she kissed him on the cheek.
+
+"Good morning, Albert," she said. "I hope you slept well."
+
+Albert replied that he had slept very well indeed. He was a trifle
+disappointed that she made no comment on his promptness in answering his
+grandfather's summons. He felt such promptness deserved commendation. At
+school they rang two bells at ten minute intervals, thus giving a fellow
+a second chance. It had been a point of senior etiquette to accept
+nothing but that second chance. Here, apparently, he was expected to
+jump at the first. There was a matter of course about his grandmother's
+attitude which was disturbing.
+
+She went on setting the table, talking as she did so.
+
+"I'm real glad you did sleep," she said. "Some folks can hardly
+ever sleep the first night in a strange room. Zelotes--I mean your
+grandpa--'s gone out to see to the horse and feed the hens and the pig.
+He'll be in pretty soon. Then we'll have breakfast. I suppose you're
+awful hungry."
+
+As a matter of fact he was not very hungry. Breakfast was always a
+more or less perfunctory meal with him. But he was surprised to see
+the variety of eatables upon that table. There were cookies there, and
+doughnuts, and even half an apple pie. Pie for breakfast! It had been a
+newspaper joke at which he had laughed many times. But it seemed not to
+be a joke here, rather a solemn reality.
+
+The kitchen door opened and Mrs. Ellis put in her head. To Albert's
+astonishment the upper part of the head, beginning just above the brows,
+was swathed in a huge bandage. The lower part was a picture of hopeless
+misery.
+
+"Has Cap'n Lote come in yet?" inquired the housekeeper, faintly.
+
+"Not yet, Rachel," replied Mrs. Snow. "He'll be here in a minute,
+though. Albert's down, so you can begin takin' up the things."
+
+The head disappeared. A sigh of complete wretchedness drifted in as the
+door closed. Albert looked at his grandmother in alarm.
+
+"Is she sick?" he faltered.
+
+"Who? Rachel? No, she ain't exactly sick . . . Dear me! Where did I put
+that clean napkin?"
+
+The boy stared at the kitchen door. If his grandmother had said the
+housekeeper was not exactly dead he might have understood. But to say
+she was not exactly sick--
+
+"But--but what makes her look so?" he stammered. "And--and what's she
+got that on her head for? And she groaned! Why, she MUST be sick!"
+
+Mrs. Snow, having found the clean napkin, laid it beside her husband's
+plate.
+
+"No," she said calmly. "It's one of her sympathetic attacks; that's what
+she calls 'em, sympathetic attacks. She has 'em every time Laban
+Keeler starts in on one of his periodics. It's nerves, I suppose. Cap'n
+Zelotes--your grandfather--says it's everlastin' foolishness. Whatever
+'tis, it's a nuisance. And she's so sensible other times, too."
+
+Albert was more puzzled than ever. Why in the world Mrs. Ellis should
+tie up her head and groan because the little Keeler person had gone on a
+spree was beyond his comprehension.
+
+His grandmother enlightened him a trifle.
+
+"You see," she went on, "she and Laban have been engaged to be married
+ever since they were young folks. It's Laban's weakness for liquor
+that's kept 'em apart so long. She won't marry him while he drinks and
+he keeps swearin' off and then breaking down. He's a good man, too; an
+awful good man and capable as all get-out when he's sober. Lately that
+is, for the last seven or eight years, beginnin' with the time when that
+lecturer on mesmerism and telegraphy--no, telepathy--thought-transfers
+and such--was at the town hall--Rachel has been havin' these sympathetic
+attacks of hers. She declares that alcohol-takin' is a disease and
+that Laban suffers when he's tipsy and that she and he are so bound up
+together that she suffers just the same as he does. I must say I never
+noticed him sufferin' very much, not at the beginnin,' anyhow--acts
+more as he was havin' a good time--but she seems to. I don't wonder you
+smile," she added. "'Tis funny, in a way, and it's queer that such a
+practical, common-sense woman as Rachel Ellis is, should have such a
+notion. It's hard on us, though. Don't say anything to her about it, and
+don't laugh at her, whatever you do."
+
+Albert wanted to laugh very much. "But, Mrs. Snow--" he began.
+
+"Mercy sakes alive! You ain't goin' to call me 'Mrs. Snow,' I hope."
+
+"No, of course not. But, Grandmother why do you and Captain--you and
+Grandfather keep her and Keeler if they are so much trouble? Why don't
+you let them go and get someone else?"
+
+"Let 'em go? Get someone else! Why, we COULDN'T get anybody else, anyone
+who would be like them. They're almost a part of our family; that is,
+Rachel is, she's been here since goodness knows when. And, when he's
+sober Laban almost runs the lumber business. Besides, they're nice
+folks--almost always."
+
+Plainly the ways of South Harniss were not the ways of the world he had
+known. Certainly these people were "Rubes" and queer Rubes, too. Then he
+remembered that two of them were his grandparents and that his immediate
+future was, so to speak, in their hands. The thought was not entirely
+comforting or delightful. He was still pondering upon it when his
+grandfather came in from the barn.
+
+The captain said good morning in the same way he had said good night,
+that is, he and Albert shook hands and the boy was again conscious of
+the gaze which took him in from head to foot and of the quiet twinkle in
+the gray eyes.
+
+"Sleep well, son?" inquired Captain Zelotes.
+
+"Yes . . . Yes, sir."
+
+"That's good. I judged you was makin' a pretty good try at it when I
+thumped on your door this mornin'. Somethin' new for you to be turned
+out at seven, eh?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"Eh? It wasn't?"
+
+"No, sir. The rising bell rang at seven up at school. We were supposed
+to be down at breakfast at a quarter past."
+
+"Humph! You were, eh? Supposed to be? Does that mean that you were
+there?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+There was a surprised look in the gray eyes now, a fact which Albert
+noticed with inward delight. He had taken one "rise" out of his
+grandfather, at any rate. He waited, hoping for another opportunity, but
+it did not come. Instead they sat down to breakfast.
+
+Breakfast, in spite of the morning sunshine at the windows, was somewhat
+gloomy. The homesickness, although not as acute as on the previous
+night, was still in evidence. Albert felt lost, out of his element,
+lonely. And, to add a touch of real miserableness, the housekeeper
+served and ate like a near relative of the deceased at a funeral feast.
+She moved slowly, she sighed heavily, and the bandage upon her forehead
+loomed large and portentous. When spoken to she seldom replied before
+the third attempt. Captain Zelotes lost patience.
+
+"Have another egg?" he roared, brandishing the spoon containing it at
+arm's length and almost under her nose. "Egg! Egg! EGG! If you can't
+hear it, smell it. Only answer, for heaven sakes!"
+
+The effect of this outburst was obviously not what he had hoped. Mrs.
+Ellis stared first at the egg quivering before her face, then at the
+captain. Then she rose and marched majestically to the kitchen. The door
+closed, but a heartrending sniff drifted in through the crack. Olive
+laid down her knife and fork.
+
+"There!" she exclaimed, despairingly. "Now see what you've done. Oh,
+Zelotes, how many times have I told you you've got to treat her tactful
+when she's this way?"
+
+Captain Lote put the egg back in the bowl.
+
+"DAMN!" he observed, with intense enthusiasm.
+
+His wife shook her head.
+
+"Swearin' don't help it a mite, either," she declared. "Besides I
+don't know what Albert here must think of you." Albert, who, between
+astonishment and a wild desire to laugh, was in a critical condition,
+appeared rather embarrassed. His grandfather looked at him and smiled
+grimly.
+
+"I cal'late one damn won't scare him to death," he observed. "Maybe he's
+heard somethin' like it afore. Or do they say, 'Oh, sugar!' up at that
+school you come from?" he added.
+
+Albert, not knowing how to reply, looked more embarrassed than ever.
+Olive seemed on the point of weeping.
+
+"Oh, Zelotes, how CAN you!" she wailed. "And to-day, of all days! His
+very first mornin'!"
+
+Captain Lote relented.
+
+"There, there, Mother!" he said. "I'm sorry. Forget it. Sorry if I
+shocked you, Albert. There's times when salt-water language is the only
+thing that seems to help me out . . . Well, Mother, what next? What'll
+we do now?"
+
+"You know just as well as I do, Zelotes. There's only one thing you can
+do. That's go out and beg her pardon this minute. There's a dozen places
+she could get right here in South Harniss without turnin' her hand over.
+And if she should leave I don't know WHAT I'd do."
+
+"Leave! She ain't goin' to leave any more'n than the ship's cat's goin'
+to jump overboard. She's been here so long she wouldn't know how to
+leave if she wanted to."
+
+"That don't make any difference. The pitcher that goes to the
+well--er--er--"
+
+She had evidently forgotten the rest of the proverb. Her husband helped
+her out.
+
+"Flocks together or gathers no moss, or somethin', eh? All right,
+Mother, don't fret. There ain't really any occasion to, considerin'
+we've been through somethin' like this at least once every six months
+for ten years."
+
+"Zelotes, won't you PLEASE go and ask her pardon?"
+
+The captain pushed back his chair. "I'll be hanged if it ain't a healthy
+note," he grumbled, "when the skipper has to go and apologize to the
+cook because the cook's made a fool of herself! I'd like to know what
+kind of rum Labe drinks. I never saw any but his kind that would go
+to somebody else's head. Two people gettin' tight and only one of 'em
+drinkin' is somethin'--"
+
+He disappeared into the kitchen, still muttering. Mrs. Snow smiled
+feebly at her grandson.
+
+"I guess you think we're funny folks, Albert," she said. "But Rachel is
+one hired help in a thousand and she has to be treated just so."
+
+Five minutes later Cap'n 'Lote returned. He shrugged his shoulders and
+sat down at his place.
+
+"All right, Mother, all right," he observed. "I've been heavin' ile on
+the troubled waters and the sea's smoothin' down. She'll be kind and
+condescendin' enough to eat with us in a minute or so."
+
+She was. She came into the dining-room with the air of a saint going to
+martyrdom and the remainder of the meal was eaten by the quartet almost
+in silence. When it was over the captain said:
+
+"Well, Al, feel like walkin', do you?"
+
+"Why, why, yes, sir, I guess so."
+
+"Humph! You don't seem very wild at the prospect. Walkin' ain't much in
+your line, maybe. More used to autoin', perhaps?"
+
+Mrs. Snow put in a word. "Don't talk so, Zelotes," she said. "He'll
+think you're makin' fun of him."
+
+"Who? Me? Not a bit of it. Well, Al, do you want to walk down to the
+lumber yard with me?"
+
+The boy hesitated. The quiet note of sarcasm in his grandfather's voice
+was making him furiously angry once more, just as it had done on the
+previous night.
+
+"Do you want me to?" he asked, shortly.
+
+"Why, yes, I cal'late I do."
+
+Albert, without another word, walked to the hat-rack in the hall and
+began putting on his coat. Captain Lote watched him for a moment and
+then put on his own.
+
+"We'll be back to dinner, Mother," he said. "Heave ahead, Al, if you're
+ready."
+
+There was little conversation between the pair during the half mile
+walk to the office and yards of "Z. Snow and Co., Lumber and Builders'
+Hardware." Only once did the captain offer a remark. That was just as
+they came out by the big posts at the entrance to the driveway. Then he
+said:
+
+"Al, I don't want you to get the idea from what happened at the table
+just now--that foolishness about Rachel Ellis--that your grandmother
+ain't a sensible woman. She is, and there's no better one on earth.
+Don't let that fact slip your mind."
+
+Albert, somewhat startled by the abruptness of the observation, looked
+up in surprise. He found the gray eyes looking down at him.
+
+"I noticed you lookin' at her," went on his grandfather, "as if you was
+kind of wonderin' whether to laugh at her or pity her. You needn't
+do either. She's kind-hearted and that makes her put up with Rachel's
+silliness. Then, besides, Rachel herself is common sense and practical
+nine-tenths of the time. It's always a good idea, son, to sail one
+v'yage along with a person before you decide whether to class 'em as A.
+B. or just roustabout."
+
+The blood rushed to the boy's face. He felt guilty and the feeling made
+him angrier than ever.
+
+"I don't see why," he burst out, indignantly, "you should say I was
+laughing at--at Mrs. Snow--"
+
+"At your grandmother."
+
+"Well--yes--at my grandmother. I don't see why you should say that. I
+wasn't."
+
+"Wasn't you? Good! I'm glad of it. I wouldn't, anyhow. She's liable to
+be about the best friend you'll have in this world."
+
+To Albert's mind flashed the addition: "Better than you, that means,"
+but he kept it to himself.
+
+The lumber yards were on a spur track not very far from the railway
+station where he had spent that miserable half hour the previous
+evening. The darkness then had prevented his seeing them. Not that he
+would have been greatly interested if he had seen them, nor was he
+more interested now, although his grandfather took him on a personally
+conducted tour between the piles of spruce and pine and hemlock and
+pointed out which was which and added further details. "Those are two by
+fours," he said. Or, "Those are larger joist, different sizes." "This is
+good, clear stock, as good a lot of white pine as we've got hold of for
+a long spell." He gave particulars concerning the "handiest way to drive
+a team" to one or the other of the piles. Albert found it rather boring.
+He longed to speak concerning enormous lumber yards he had seen in New
+York or Chicago or elsewhere. He felt almost a pitying condescension
+toward this provincial grandparent who seemed to think his little piles
+of "two by fours" so important.
+
+It was much the same, perhaps a little worse, when they entered the
+hardware shop and the office. The rows and rows of little drawers and
+boxes, each with samples of its contents--screws, or bolts, or hooks,
+or knobs--affixed to its front, were even more boring than the lumber
+piles. There was a countryfied, middle-aged person in overalls sweeping
+out the shop and Captain Zelotes introduced him.
+
+"Albert," he said, "this is Mr. Issachar Price, who works around the
+place here. Issy, let me make you acquainted with my grandson, Albert."
+
+Mr. Price, looking over his spectacles, extended a horny hand and
+observed: "Yus, yus. Pleased to meet you, Albert. I've heard tell of
+you."
+
+Albert's private appraisal of "Issy" was that the latter was another
+funny Rube. Whatever Issy's estimate of his employer's grandson might
+have been, he, also, kept it to himself.
+
+Captain Zelotes looked about the shop and glanced into the office.
+
+"Humph!" he grunted. "No sign or symptoms of Laban this mornin', I
+presume likely?"
+
+Issachar went on with his sweeping.
+
+"Nary one," was his laconic reply.
+
+"Humph! Heard anything about him?"
+
+Mr. Price moistened his broom in a bucket of water. "I see Tim Kelley
+on my way down street," he said. "Tim said he run afoul of Laban along
+about ten last night. Said he cal'lated Labe was on his way. He was
+singin' 'Hyannis on the Cape' and so Tim figgered he'd got a pretty fair
+start already."
+
+The captain shook his head. "Tut, tut, tut!" he muttered. "Well, that
+means I'll have to do office work for the next week or so. Humph! I
+declare it's too bad just now when I was countin' on him to--" He did
+not finish the sentence, but instead turned to his grandson and said:
+"Al, why don't you look around the hardware store here while I open
+the mail and the safe. If there's anything you see you don't understand
+Issy'll tell you about it."
+
+He went into the office. Albert sauntered listlessly to the window
+and looked out. So far as not understanding anything in the shop was
+concerned he was quite willing to remain in ignorance. It did not
+interest him in the least. A moment later he felt a touch on his elbow.
+He turned, to find Mr. Price standing beside him.
+
+"I'm all ready to tell you about it now," volunteered the unsmiling
+Issy. "Sweepin's all finished up."
+
+Albert was amused. "I guess I can get along," he said.
+
+"Don't worry."
+
+"_I_ ain't worried none. I don't believe in worryin'; worryin' don't do
+folks no good, the way I look at it. But long's Cap'n Lote wants me to
+tell you about the hardware I'd ruther do it now, than any time. Henry
+Cahoon's team'll be here for a load of lath in about ten minutes or so,
+and then I'll have to leave you. This here's the shelf where we keep
+the butts--hinges, you understand. Brass along here, and iron here. Got
+quite a stock, ain't we."
+
+He took the visitor's arm in his mighty paw and led him from shelves
+to drawers and from drawers to boxes, talking all the time, so the boy
+thought, "like a catalogue." Albert tried gently to break away several
+times and yawned often, but yawns and hints were quite lost on his
+guide, who was intent only upon the business--and victim--in hand. At
+the window looking across toward the main road Albert paused longest.
+There was a girl in sight--she looked, at that distance, as if she might
+be a rather pretty girl--and the young man was languidly interested.
+He had recently made the discovery that pretty girls may be quite
+interesting; and, moreover, one or two of them whom he had met at the
+school dances--when the young ladies from the Misses Bradshaws' seminary
+had come over, duly guarded and chaperoned, to one-step and fox-trot
+with the young gentlemen of the school--one or two of these young ladies
+had intimated a certain interest in him. So the feminine possibility
+across the road attracted his notice--only slightly, of course; the
+sophisticated metropolitan notice is not easily aroused--but still,
+slightly.
+
+"Come on, come on," urged Issachar Price. "I ain't begun to show ye the
+whole of it yet . . . Eh? Oh, Lord, there comes Cahoon's team now! Well,
+I got to go. Show you the rest some other time. So long . . . Eh? Cap'n
+Lote's callin' you, ain't he?"
+
+Albert went into the office in response to his grandfather's call to
+find the latter seated at an old-fashioned roll-top desk, piled with
+papers.
+
+"I've got to go down to the bank, Al," he said. "Some business about
+a note that Laban ought to be here to see to, but ain't. I'll be back
+pretty soon. You just stay here and wait for me. You might be lookin'
+over the books, if you want to. I took 'em out of the safe and they're
+on Labe's desk there," pointing to the high standing desk by the window.
+"They're worth lookin' at, if only to see how neat they're kept. A set
+of books like that is an example to any young man. You might be lookin'
+'em over."
+
+He hurried out. Albert smiled condescendingly and, instead of looking
+over Mr. Keeler's books, walked over to the window and looked out of
+that. The girl was not in sight now, but she might be soon. At any rate
+watching for her was as exciting as any amusement he could think of
+about that dull hole. Ah hum! he wondered how the fellows were at
+school.
+
+The girl did not reappear. Signs of animation along the main road were
+limited. One or two men went by, then a group of children obviously on
+their way to school. Albert yawned again, took the silver cigarette case
+from his pocket and looked longingly at its contents. He wondered
+what his grandfather's ideas might be on the tobacco question. But his
+grandfather was not there then . . . and he might not return for some
+time . . . and . . . He took a cigarette from the case, tapped, with
+careful carelessness, its end upon the case--he would not have dreamed
+of smoking without first going through the tapping process--lighted the
+cigarette and blew a large and satisfying cloud. Between puffs he sang:
+
+
+      "To you, beautiful lady,
+       I raise my eyes.
+     My heart, beautiful lady,
+       To your heart cries:
+     Come, come, beautiful lady,
+       To Par-a-dise,
+     As the sweet, sweet--'"
+
+
+Some one behind him said: "Excuse me." The appeal to the beautiful lady
+broke off in the middle, and he whirled about to find the girl whom he
+had seen across the road and for whose reappearance he had been watching
+at the window, standing in the office doorway. He looked at her and she
+looked at him. He was embarrassed. She did not seem to be.
+
+"Excuse me," she said: "Is Mr. Keeler here?"
+
+She was a pretty girl, so his hasty estimate made when he had first
+sighted her was correct. Her hair was dark, so were her eyes, and her
+cheeks were becomingly colored by the chill of the winter air. She was
+a country girl, her hat and coat proved that; not that they were in bad
+taste or unbecoming, but they were simple and their style perhaps nearer
+to that which the young ladies of the Misses Bradshaws' seminary had
+worn the previous winter. All this Albert noticed in detail later on.
+Just then the particular point which attracted his embarrassed attention
+was the look in the dark eyes. They seemed to have almost the same
+disturbing quality which he had noticed in his grandfather's gray ones.
+Her mouth was very proper and grave, but her eyes looked as if she were
+laughing at him.
+
+Now to be laughed at by an attractive young lady is disturbing and
+unpleasant. It is particularly so when the laughter is from the
+provinces and the laughee--so to speak--a dignified and sophisticated
+city man. Albert summoned the said dignity and sophistication to his
+rescue, knocked the ashes from his cigarette and said, haughtily:
+
+"I beg your pardon?"
+
+"Is Mr. Keeler here?" repeated the girl.
+
+"No, he is out."
+
+"Will he be back soon, do you think?"
+
+Recollections of Mr. Price's recent remark concerning the missing
+bookkeeper's "good start" came to Albert's mind and he smiled, slightly.
+"I should say not," he observed, with delicate irony.
+
+"Is Issy--I mean Mr. Price, busy?"
+
+"He's out in the yard there somewhere, I believe. Would you like to have
+me call him?"
+
+"Why, yes--if you please--sir."
+
+The "sir" was flattering, if it was sincere. He glanced at her. The
+expression of the mouth was as grave as ever, but he was still uncertain
+about those eyes. However, he was disposed to give her the benefit of
+the doubt, so, stepping to the side door of the office--that leading to
+the yards--he opened it and shouted: "Price! . . . Hey, Price!"
+
+There was no answer, although he could hear Issachar's voice and another
+above the rattle of lath bundles.
+
+"Price!" he shouted, again. "Pri-i-ce!"
+
+The rattling ceased. Then, in the middle distance, above a pile of
+"two by fours," appeared Issachar's head, the features agitated and the
+forehead bedewed with the moisture of honest toil.
+
+"Huh?" yelled Issy. "What's the matter? Be you hollerin' to me?"
+
+"Yes. There's some one here wants to see you."
+
+"Hey?"
+
+"I say there's some one here who wants to see you."
+
+"What for?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"Well, find out, can't ye? I'm busy."
+
+Was that a laugh which Albert heard behind him? He turned around, but
+the young lady's face wore the same grave, even demure, expression.
+
+"What do you want to see him for?" he asked.
+
+"I wanted to buy something."
+
+"She wants to buy something," repeated Albert, shouting.
+
+"Hey?"
+
+"She wants to--BUY--something." It was humiliating to have to scream in
+this way.
+
+"Buy? Buy what?"
+
+"What do you want to buy?"
+
+"A hook, that's all. A hook for our kitchen door. Would you mind asking
+him to hurry? I haven't much time."
+
+"She wants a hook."
+
+"Eh? We don't keep books. What kind of a book?"
+
+"Not book--HOOK. H-O-O-K! Oh, great Scott! Hook! HOOK! Hook for a door!
+And she wants you to hurry."
+
+"Eh? Well, I can't hurry now for nobody. I got to load these laths
+and that's all there is to it. Can't you wait on him?" Evidently the
+customer's sex had not yet been made clear to the Price understanding.
+"You can get a hook for him, can't ye? You know where they be, I showed
+ye. Ain't forgot so soon, 'tain't likely."
+
+The head disappeared behind the "two by fours." Its face was red, but no
+redder than Mr. Speranza's at that moment.
+
+"Fool rube!" he snorted, disgustedly.
+
+"Excuse me, but you've dropped your cigarette," observed the young lady.
+
+Albert savagely slammed down the window and turned away. The dropped
+cigarette stump lay where it had fallen, smudging and smelling.
+
+His caller looked at it and then at him.
+
+"I'd pick it up, if I were you," she said. "Cap'n Snow HATES
+cigarettes."
+
+Albert, his dignity and indignation forgotten, returned her look with
+one of anxiety.
+
+"Does he, honest?" he asked.
+
+"Yes. He hates them worse than anything."
+
+The cigarette stump was hastily picked up by its owner.
+
+"Where'll I put it?" he asked, hurriedly.
+
+"Why don't you--Oh, don't put it in your pocket! It will set you on
+fire. Put it in the stove, quick."
+
+Into the stove it went, all but its fragrance, which lingered.
+
+"Do you think you COULD find me that hook?" asked the girl.
+
+"I'll try. _I_ don't know anything about the confounded things."
+
+"Oh!" innocently. "Don't you?"
+
+"No, of course I don't. Why should I?"
+
+"Aren't you working here?"
+
+"Here? Work HERE? ME? Well, I--should--say--NOT!"
+
+"Oh, excuse me. I thought you must be a new bookkeeper, or--or a new
+partner, or something."
+
+Albert regarded her intently and suspiciously for some seconds before
+making another remark. She was as demurely grave as ever, but his
+suspicions were again aroused. However, she WAS pretty, there could be
+no doubt about that.
+
+"Maybe I can find the hook for you," he said. "I can try, anyway."
+
+"Oh, thank you ever so much," gratefully. "It's VERY kind of you to take
+so much trouble."
+
+"Oh," airily, "that's all right. Come on; perhaps we can find it
+together."
+
+They were still looking when Mr. Price came panting in.
+
+"Whew!" he observed, with emphasis. "If anybody tells you heavin'
+bundles of laths aboard a truck-wagon ain't hard work you tell him for
+me he's a liar, will ye. Whew! And I had to do the heft of everything,
+'cause Cahoon sent that one-armed nephew of his to drive the team. A
+healthy lot of good a one-armed man is to help heave lumber! I says to
+him, says I: 'What in time did--' Eh? Why, hello, Helen! Good mornin'.
+Land sakes! you're out airly, ain't ye?"
+
+The young lady nodded. "Good morning, Issachar," she said. "Yes, I am
+pretty early and I'm in a dreadful hurry. The wind blew our kitchen door
+back against the house last night and broke the hook. I promised Father
+I would run over here and get him a new one and bring it back to him
+before I went to school. And it's quarter to nine now."
+
+"Land sakes, so 'tis! Ain't--er--er--what's-his-name--Albert here, found
+it for you yet? He ain't no kind of a hand to find things, is he? We'll
+have to larn him better'n that. Yes indeed!"
+
+Albert laughed, sarcastically. He was about to make a satisfyingly
+crushing reproof to this piece of impertinence when Mr. Price began to
+sniff the air.
+
+"What in tunket?" he demanded. "Sn'f! Sn'f! Who's been smokin' in here?
+And cigarettes, too, by crimus! Sn'f! Sn'f! Yes, sir, cigarettes, by
+crimustee! Who's been smokin' cigarettes in here? If Cap'n Lote knew
+anybody'd smoked a cigarette in here I don't know's he wouldn't kill
+'em. Who done it?"
+
+Albert shivered. The girl with the dark blue eyes flashed a quick glance
+at him. "I think perhaps someone went by the window when it was open
+just now," she suggested. "Perhaps they were smoking and the smoke blew
+in."
+
+"Eh? Well, maybe so. Must have been a mighty rank cigarette to smell up
+the whole premises like this just goin' past a window. Whew! Gosh!
+no wonder they say them things are rank pison. I'd sooner smoke
+skunk-cabbage myself; 'twouldn't smell no worse and 'twould be a dum
+sight safer. Whew! . . . Well, Helen, there's about the kind of hook I
+cal'late you need. Fifteen cents 'll let you out on that. Cheap enough
+for half the money, eh? Give my respects to your pa, will ye. Tell him
+that sermon he preached last Sunday was fine, but I'd like it better if
+he'd laid it on to the Univer'lists a little harder. Folks that don't
+believe in hell don't deserve no consideration, 'cordin' to my notion.
+So long, Helen . . . Oh say," he added, as an afterthought, "I guess
+you and Albert ain't been introduced, have ye? Albert, this is Helen
+Kendall, she's our Orthodox minister's daughter. Helen, this young
+feller is Albert--er--er--Consarn it, I've asked Cap'n Lote that name a
+dozen times if I have once! What is it, anyway?"
+
+"Speranza," replied the owner of the name.
+
+"That's it, Sperandy. This is Albert Sperandy, Cap'n Lote's grandson."
+
+Albert and Miss Kendall shook hands.
+
+"Thanks," said the former, gratefully and significantly.
+
+The young lady smiled.
+
+"Oh, you're welcome," she said. "I knew who you were all the time--or I
+guessed who you must be. Cap'n Snow told me you were coming."
+
+She went out. Issachar, staring after her, chuckled admiringly.
+"Smartest girl in THIS town," he observed, with emphasis. "Head of her
+class up to high school and only sixteen and three-quarters at that."
+
+Captain Zelotes came bustling in a few minutes later. He went to his
+desk, paying little attention to his grandson. The latter loitered idly
+up and down the office and hardware shop, watching Issachar wait on
+customers or rush shouting into the yard to attend to the wants of
+others there. Plainly this was Issachar's busy day.
+
+"Crimus!" he exclaimed, returning from one such excursion and mopping
+his forehead. "This doin' two men's work ain't no fun. Every time Labe
+goes on a time seem's if trade was brisker'n it's been for a month.
+Seems as if all creation and part of East Harniss had been hangin' back
+waitin' till he had a shade on 'fore they come to trade. Makes a feller
+feel like votin' the Prohibition ticket. I WOULD vote it, by crimustee,
+if I thought 'twould do any good. 'Twouldn't though; Labe would take
+to drinkin' bay rum or Florida water or somethin', same as Hoppy Rogers
+done when he was alive. Jim Young says he went into Hoppy's barber-shop
+once and there was Hoppy with a bottle of a new kind of hair-tonic in
+his hand. 'Drummer that was here left it for a sample,' says Hoppy.
+'Wanted me to try it and, if I liked it, he cal'lated maybe I'd buy
+some. I don't think I shall, though,' he says; 'don't taste right to
+me.' Yes, sir, Jim Young swears that's true. Wan't enough snake-killer
+in that hair tonic to suit Hoppy. I--Yes, Cap'n Lote, what is it? Want
+me, do ye?"
+
+But the captain did not, as it happened, want Mr. Price at that time.
+It was Albert whose name he had called. The boy went into the office and
+his grandfather rose and shut the door.
+
+"Sit down, Al," he said, motioning toward a chair. When his grandson had
+seated himself Captain Zelotes tilted back his own desk chair upon its
+springs and looked at him.
+
+"Well, son," he said, after a moment, "what do you think of it?"
+
+"Think of it? I don't know exactly what--"
+
+"Of the place here. Shop, yards, the whole business. Z. Snow and
+Company--what do you think of it?"
+
+Privately Albert was inclined to classify the entire outfit as one-horse
+and countrified, but he deemed it wiser not to express this opinion. So
+he compromised and replied that it "seemed to be all right."
+
+His grandfather nodded. "Thanks," he observed, dryly. "Glad you find it
+that way. Well, then, changin' the subject for a minute or two, what do
+you think about yourself?"
+
+"About myself? About me? I don't understand?"
+
+"No, I don't suppose you do. That's what I got you over here this
+mornin' for, so as we could understand--you and me. Al, have you given
+any thought to what you're goin' to do from this on? How you're goin' to
+live?"
+
+Albert looked at him uncomprehendingly.
+
+"How I'm going to live?" he repeated. "Why--why, I thought--I supposed I
+was going to live with you--with you and Grandmother."
+
+"Um-hm, I see."
+
+"I just kind of took that for granted, I guess. You sent for me to come
+here. You took me away from school, you know."
+
+"Yes, so I did. You know why I took you from school?"
+
+"No, I--I guess I DON'T, exactly. I thought--I supposed it was because
+you didn't want me to go there any more."
+
+"'Twasn't that. I don't know whether I would have wanted you to go there
+or not if things had been different. From what I hear it was a pretty
+extravagant place, and lookin' at it from the outside without knowin'
+too much about it, I should say it was liable to put a lot of foolish
+and expensive notions into a boy's head. I may be wrong, of course; I
+have been wrong at least a few times in my life."
+
+It was evident that he considered the chances of his being wrong in this
+instance very remote. His tone again aroused in the youth the feeling of
+obstinacy, of rebellion, of desire to take the other side.
+
+"It is one of the best schools in this country," he declared. "My father
+said so."
+
+Captain Zelotes picked up a pencil on his desk and tapped his chin
+lightly with the blunt end. "Um," he mused. "Well, I presume likely he
+knew all about it."
+
+"He knew as much as--most people," with a slight but significant
+hesitation before the "most."
+
+"Um-hm. Naturally, havin' been schooled there himself, I suppose."
+
+"He wasn't schooled there. My father was a Spaniard."
+
+"So I've heard. . . . Well, we're kind of off the subject, ain't we?
+Let's leave your father's nationality out of it for a while. And we'll
+leave the school, too, because no matter if it was the best one on earth
+you couldn't go there. I shouldn't feel 'twas right to spend as much
+money as that at any school, and you--well, son, you ain't got it to
+spend. Did you have any idea what your father left you, in the way of
+tangible assets?"
+
+"No. I knew he had plenty of money always. He was one of the most famous
+singers in this country."
+
+"Maybe so."
+
+"It WAS so," hotly. "And he was paid enough in one week to buy this
+whole town--or almost. Why, my father--"
+
+"Sshh! Sssh!"
+
+"No, I'm not going to hush. I'm proud of my father. He was a--a great
+man. And--and I'm not going to stand here and have you--"
+
+Between indignation and emotion he choked and could not finish the
+sentence. The tears came to his eyes.
+
+"I'm not going to have you or anyone else talk about him that way," he
+concluded, fiercely.
+
+His grandfather regarded him with a steady, but not at all unkindly,
+gaze.
+
+"I ain't runnin' down your father, Albert," he said.
+
+"Yes, you are. You hated him. Anybody could see you hated him."
+
+The captain slowly rapped the desk with the pencil. He did not answer at
+once.
+
+"Well," he said, after a moment, "I don't know as I ought to deny that.
+I don't know as I can deny it and be honest. Years ago he took away from
+me what amounted to three-quarters of everything that made my life worth
+while. Some day you'll know more about it than you do now, and maybe
+you'll understand my p'int of view better. No, I didn't like your
+father--Eh? What was you sayin'?"
+
+Albert, who had muttered something, was rather confused. However, he
+did not attempt to equivocate. "I said I guessed that didn't make much
+difference to Father," he answered, sullenly.
+
+"I presume likely it didn't. But we won't go into that question now.
+What I'm tryin' to get at in this talk we're having is you and your
+future. Now you can't go back to school because you can't afford it. All
+your father left when he died was--this is the honest truth I'm tellin'
+you now, and if I'm puttin' it pretty blunt it's because I always think
+it's best to get a bad mess out of the way in a hurry--all your father
+left was debts. He didn't leave money enough to bury him, hardly."
+
+The boy stared at him aghast. His grandfather, leaning a little toward
+him, would have put a hand on his knee, but the knee was jerked out of
+the way.
+
+"There, that's over, Al," went on Captain Zelotes. "You know the worst
+now and you can say, 'What of it?' I mean just that: What of it? Bein'
+left without a cent, but with your health and a fair chance to make
+good--that, at seventeen or eighteen ain't a bad lookout, by any manner
+of means. It's the outlook _I_ had at fifteen--exceptin' the chance--and
+I ain't asked many favors of anybody since. At your age, or a month or
+two older, do you know where I was? I was first mate of a three-masted
+schooner. At twenty I was skipper; and at twenty-five, by the Almighty,
+I owned a share in her. Al, all you need now is a chance to go to work.
+And I'm goin' to give you that chance."
+
+Albert gasped. "Do you mean--do you mean I've got to be a--a sailor?" he
+stammered.
+
+Captain Zelotes put back his head and laughed, laughed aloud.
+
+"A sailor!" he repeated. "Ho, ho! No wonder you looked scared. No,
+I wan't cal'latin' to make a sailor out of you, son. For one reason,
+sailorin' ain't what it used to be; and, for another, I have my doubts
+whether a young feller of your bringin' up would make much of a go
+handlin' a bunch of fo'mast hands the first day out. No, I wasn't
+figgerin' to send you to sea . . . What do you suppose I brought you
+down to this place for this mornin'?"
+
+And then Albert understood. He knew why he had been conducted through
+the lumber yards, about the hardware shop, why his grandfather and Mr.
+Price had taken so much pains to exhibit and explain. His heart sank.
+
+"I brought you down here," continued the captain, "because it's a
+first-rate idea to look a vessel over afore you ship aboard her. It's
+kind of late to back out after you have shipped. Ever since I made up my
+mind to send for you and have you live along with your grandmother and
+me I've been plannin' what to do with you. I knew, if you was a decent,
+ambitious young chap, you'd want to do somethin' towards makin' a start
+in life. We can use--that is, this business can use that kind of a chap
+right now. He could larn to keep books and know lumber and hardware
+and how to sell and how to buy. He can larn the whole thing. There's
+a chance here, son. It's your chance; I'm givin' it to you. How big a
+chance it turns out to be 'll depend on you, yourself."
+
+He stopped. Albert was silent. His thoughts were confused, but out of
+their dismayed confusion two or three fixed ideas reared themselves like
+crags from a whirlpool. He was to live in South Hamiss always--always;
+he was to keep books--Heavens, how he hated mathematics, detail work of
+any kind!--for drunken old Keeler; he was to "heave lumber" with
+Issy Price. He--Oh, it was dreadful! It was horrible. He couldn't! He
+wouldn't! He--
+
+Captain Zelotes had been watching him, his heavy brows drawing closer
+together as the boy delayed answering.
+
+"Well?" he asked, for another minute. "Did you hear what I said?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Understood, did you?"
+
+"Yes--sir."
+
+"Well?"
+
+Albert was clutching at straws. "I--I don't know how to keep books," he
+faltered.
+
+"I didn't suppose you did. Don't imagine they teach anything as
+practical as bookkeepin' up at that school of yours. But you can larn,
+can't you?"
+
+"I--I guess so."
+
+"I guess so, too. Good Lord, I HOPE so! Humph! You don't seem to be
+jumpin' for joy over the prospect. There's a half dozen smart young
+fellers here in South Harniss that would, I tell you that."
+
+Albert devoutly wished they had jumped--and landed--before his arrival.
+His grandfather's tone grew more brusque.
+
+"Don't you want to work?" he demanded.
+
+"Why, yes, I--I suppose I do. I--I hadn't thought much about it."
+
+"Humph! Then I think it's time you begun. Hadn't you had ANY notion of
+what you wanted to do when you got out of that school of yours?"
+
+"I was going to college."
+
+"Humph! . . . Yes, I presume likely. Well, after you got out of college,
+what was you plannin' to do then?"
+
+"I wasn't sure. I thought I might do something with my music. I can
+play a little. I can't sing--that is, not well enough. If I could,"
+wistfully, "I should have liked to be in opera, as father was, of
+course."
+
+Captain Zelotes' only comment was a sniff or snort, or combination of
+both. Albert went on.
+
+"I had thought of writing--writing books and poems, you know. I've
+written quite a good deal for the school magazine. And I think I should
+like to be an actor, perhaps. I--"
+
+"Good God!" His grandfather's fist came down upon the desk before him.
+Slowly he shook his head.
+
+"A--a poetry writer and an actor!" he repeated. "Whew! . . . Well,
+there! Perhaps maybe we hadn't better talk any more just now. You can
+have the rest of the day to run around town and sort of get acquainted,
+if you want to. Then to-morrow mornin' you and I'll come over here
+together and we'll begin to break you in. I shouldn't wonder," he added,
+dryly, "if you found it kind of dull at first--compared to that school
+and poetry makin' and such--but it'll be respectable and it'll pay for
+board and clothes and somethin' to eat once in a while, which may
+not seem so important to you now as 'twill later on. And some day I
+cal'late--anyhow we'll hope--you'll be mighty glad you did it."
+
+Poor Albert looked and felt anything but glad just then. Captain
+Zelotes, his hands in his pockets, stood regarding him. He, too, did not
+look particularly happy.
+
+"You'll remember," he observed, "or perhaps you don't know, that when
+your father asked us to look out for you--"
+
+Albert interrupted. "Did--did father ask you to take care of me?" he
+cried, in surprise.
+
+"Um-hm. He asked somebody who was with him to ask us to do just that."
+
+The boy drew a long breath. "Well, then," he said, hopelessly,
+"I'll--I'll try."
+
+"Thanks. Now you run around town and see the sights. Dinner's at half
+past twelve prompt, so be on hand for that."
+
+After his grandson had gone, the captain, hands still in his pockets,
+stood for some time looking out of the window. At length he spoke aloud.
+
+"A play actor or a poetry writer!" he exclaimed. "Tut, tut, tut! No use
+talkin', blood will tell!"
+
+Issachar, who was putting coal on the office fire, turned his head.
+
+"Eh?" he queried.
+
+"Nothin'," said Captain Lote.
+
+He would have been surprised if he could have seen his grandson just at
+that moment. Albert, on the beach whither he had strayed in his desire
+to be alone, safely hidden from observation behind a sand dune, was
+lying with his head upon his arms and sobbing bitterly.
+
+A disinterested person might have decided that the interview which had
+just taken place and which Captain Zelotes hopefully told his wife that
+morning would probably result in "a clear, comf'table understandin'
+between the boy and me"--such a disinterested person might have decided
+that it had resulted in exactly the opposite. In calculating the results
+to be obtained from that interview the captain had not taken into
+consideration two elements, one his own and the other his grandson's.
+These elements were prejudice and temperament.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+The next morning, with much the same feeling that a convict must
+experience when he enters upon a life imprisonment, Albert entered the
+employ of "Z. Snow and Co., Lumber and Builders' Hardware." The day,
+he would have sworn it, was at least a year long. The interval between
+breakfast and dinner was quite six months, yet the dinner hour itself
+was the shortest sixty minutes he had ever known. Mr. Keeler had not yet
+returned to his labors, so there was no instruction in bookkeeping;
+but his grandfather gave him letters to file and long dreary columns of
+invoice figures to add. Twice Captain Zelotes went out and then, just
+as Albert settled back for a rest and breathing spell, Issachar Price
+appeared, warned apparently by some sort of devilish intuition, and
+invented "checking up stock" and similar menial and tiresome tasks to
+keep him uncomfortable till the captain returned. The customers who came
+in asked questions concerning him and he was introduced to at least
+a dozen citizens of South Harniss, who observed "Sho!" and "I want to
+know!" when told his identity and, in some instances, addressed him as
+"Bub," which was of itself a crime deserving capital punishment.
+
+That night, as he lay in bed in the back bedroom, he fell asleep facing
+the dreary prospect of another monotonous imprisonment the following
+day, and the next day, and the day after that, and after that--and
+after that--and so on--and on--and on--forever and ever, as long as
+life should last. This, then, was to be the end of all his dreams, this
+drudgery in a country town among these commonplace country people. This
+was the end of his dreams of some day writing deathless odes and sonnets
+or thrilling romances; of treading the boards as the hero of romantic
+drama while star-eyed daughters of multi-millionaires gazed from the
+boxes in spellbound rapture. This . . . The thought of the star-eyed
+ones reminded him of the girl who had come into the office the afternoon
+of his first visit to that torture chamber. He had thought of her many
+times since their meeting and always with humiliation and resentment. It
+was his own foolish tongue which had brought the humiliation upon him.
+When she had suggested that he might be employed by Z. Snow and Co. he
+had replied: "Me? Work HERE! Well, I should say NOT!" And all the time
+she, knowing who he was, must have known he was doomed to work there. He
+resented that superior knowledge of hers. He had made a fool of himself
+but she was to blame for it. Well, by George, he would NOT work there!
+He would run away, he would show her, and his grandfather and all the
+rest what was what. Night after night he fell asleep vowing to run away,
+to do all sorts of desperate deeds, and morning after morning he went
+back to that office.
+
+On the fourth morning the prodigal came home, the stray lamb returned
+to the fold--Mr. Keeler returned to his desk and his duties. There was
+a premonition of his return at the Snow breakfast table. For three days
+Mrs. Ellis had swathed her head in white and her soul in black. For
+three days her favorite accompaniment to conversation had been a groan
+or a sigh. Now, on this fourth morning, she appeared without the bandage
+on her brow or the crape upon her spirit. She was not hilarious but
+she did not groan once, and twice during the meal she actually smiled.
+Captain Lote commented upon the change, she being absent from table
+momentarily.
+
+"Whew!" he observed, in an undertone, addressing his wife. "If it ain't
+a comfort to see the wrinkles on Rachel's face curvin' up instead of
+down. I'm scared to death that she'll go out some time in a cold spell
+when she's havin' one of them sympathetics of hers, and her face'll
+freeze that way. Well, Albert," turning to his grandson, "the colors'll
+be h'isted to the truck now instead of half-mast and life'll be
+somethin' besides one everlastin' 'last look at the remains.' Now we can
+take off the mournin' till the next funeral."
+
+"Yes," said Olive, "and Laban'll be back, too. I'm sure you must have
+missed him awfully, Zelotes."
+
+"Missed him! I should say so. For one thing, I miss havin' him between
+me and Issy. When Labe's there Is talks to him and Labe keeps on
+thinkin' of somethin' else and so it don't worry him any. I can't do
+that, and my eardrums get to wearin' thin and that makes me nervous.
+Maybe you've noticed that Issy's flow of conversation ain't what you'd
+call a trickle," he added, turning to Albert.
+
+Albert had noticed it. "But," he asked, "what makes Rachel--Mrs.
+Ellis--so cheerful this morning? Does she know that Mr. Keeler will be
+back at work? How does she know? She hasn't seen him, has she?"
+
+"No," replied the captain. "She ain't seen him. Nobody sees him, far's
+that goes. He generally clears out somewheres and locks himself up in
+a room, I judge, till his vacation's over. I suppose that's one way to
+have fun, but it ain't what I'd call hilarious."
+
+"Don't, Zelotes," said Mrs. Snow. "I do wish you wouldn't call it fun."
+
+"I don't, but Laban seems to. If he don't do it for fun I don't know
+what he does it for. Maybe it's from a sense of duty. It ain't to oblige
+me, I know that."
+
+Albert repeated his question. "But how does she know he will be back
+to-day?" he asked.
+
+His grandmother shook her head. "That's the mysterious part about it,"
+she whispered. "It makes a person think there may be somethin' in the
+sympathetic notion she talks so much about. She don't see him at all and
+yet we can always tell when he's comin' back to work by her spirits. If
+he ain't back to-day he will be to-morrow, you'll see. She never misses
+by more than a day. _I_ think it's real sort of mysterious, but Zelotes
+laughs at me."
+
+Captain Lote's lip twitched. "Yes, Mother," he said, "it's about as
+mysterious as the clock's strikin' twelve when it's noon. _I_ know it's
+morally sartin that Labe'll be back aboard to-day or to-morrow because
+his sprees don't ever last more than five days. I can't swear to how
+she knows, but that's how _I_ know--and I'm darned sure there's no
+'sympathy' about my part." Then, as if realizing that he had talked more
+than usual, he called, brusquely: "Come on, Al, come on. Time we were on
+the job, boy."
+
+Sure enough, as they passed the window of the office, there, seated on
+the stool behind the tall desk, Albert saw the diminutive figure of the
+man who had been his driver on the night of his arrival. He was curious
+to see how the delinquent would apologize for or explain his absence.
+But Mr. Keeler did neither, nor did Captain Snow ask a question. Instead
+the pair greeted each other as if they had parted in that office at the
+close of business on the previous day.
+
+"Mornin', Cap'n Lote," said Laban, quietly.
+
+"Mornin', Labe," replied the captain, just as calmly.
+
+He went on and opened his own desk, leaving his grandson standing by
+the door, not knowing whether to speak or offer to shake hands. The
+situation was a little difficult, particularly as Mr. Keeler gave no
+sign of recognition, but, after a glance at his employer's companion,
+went on making entries in the ledger.
+
+Captain Zelotes looked up a moment later. His gray eyes inspected
+the pair and the expression on Albert's face caused them to twinkle
+slightly. "Labe," he said, "this is my grandson, Albert, the one I told
+you was comin' to live with us."
+
+Laban turned on the stool, regarded Albert over his spectacles, and
+extended a hand.
+
+"Pleased to meet you," he said. "Yes, yes . . . Yes, yes, yes. . .
+Pleased to meet you. Cap'n Lote said you was comin'--er--er--Alfred.
+Howdy do."
+
+They shook hands. Mr. Keeler's hand trembled a little, but that was
+the only symptom of his recent "vacation" which the youth could notice.
+Certain vivid remembrances of his father's bad humor on mornings
+following convivial evenings recurred to him. Was it possible that this
+odd, precise, dried-up little man had been on a spree for four days? It
+did not seem possible. He looked more as if he might be expected to rap
+on the desk and ask the school to come to order.
+
+"Albert's goin' to take hold here with us in the office," went on
+Captain Lote. "You'll remember I spoke to you about that when we talked
+about his comin'. Al, Labe--Mr. Keeler here--will start you in larnin'
+to bookkeep. He'll be your first mate from now on. Don't forget you're
+a fo'mast hand yet awhile and the way for a fo'mast hand to get ahead
+is to obey orders. And don't," he added, with a quiet chuckle, "do any
+play-actin' or poetry-makin' when it's your watch on deck. Laban nor I
+ain't very strong for play-actin', are we, Labe?"
+
+Laban, to whom the reference was anything but clear, replied rather
+vaguely that he didn't know as he was, very. Albert's temper flared
+up again. His grandfather was sneering at him once more; he was always
+sneering at him. All right, let him sneer--now. Some day he would be
+shown. He scowled and turned away. And Captain Zelotes, noticing the
+scowl, was reminded of a scowl he had seen upon the face of a Spanish
+opera singer some twenty years before. He did not like to be reminded of
+that man.
+
+He went out soon afterward and then Laban, turning to Albert, asked a
+few questions.
+
+"How do you think you're goin' to like South Harniss, Ansel?" he asked.
+
+Albert was tempted to reply that he, Keeler, had asked him that very
+question before, but he thought it best not to do so.
+
+"I don't know yet," he answered, carelessly. "Well enough, I guess."
+
+"You'll like it fust-rate bimeby. Everybody does when they get used
+to it. Takes some time to get used to a place, don't you know it does,
+Ansel?"
+
+"My name is Albert."
+
+"Eh? Yes, yes, so 'tis. Yes, yes, yes. I don't know why I called you
+Ansel, 'less 'twas on account of my knowin' an Ansel Olsen once . . .
+Hum . . . Yes, yes. Well, you'll like South Harniss when you get used to
+it."
+
+The boy did not answer. He was of the opinion that he should die long
+before the getting used process was completed. Mr. Keeler continued.
+
+"Come on yesterday's train, did you?" he asked.
+
+Albert looked at him. Was the fellow joking? He did not look as if he
+was.
+
+"Why no," he replied. "I came last Monday night. Don't you remember?"
+
+"Eh? Oh, yes . . . Yes, yes, yes . . . Last Monday night you come, eh?
+On the night train, eh?" He hesitated a moment and then asked. "Cap'n
+Lote fetch you down from the depot?"
+
+Albert stared at him open-mouthed.
+
+"Why, no!" he retorted. "You drove me down yourself."
+
+For the first time a slight shade of embarrassment crossed the
+bookkeeper's features. He drew a long breath.
+
+"Yes," he mused. "Yes, yes, yes. I kind of thought I--yes, yes,--I--I
+thought likely I did . . . Yes, yes, course I did, course I did. Well,
+now maybe we'd better be startin' you in to work--er--Augustus. Know
+anything about double-entry, do you?"
+
+Albert did not, nor had he the slightest desire to learn. But before
+the first hour was over he foresaw that he was destined to learn, if he
+remained in that office, whether he wanted to or not. Laban Keeler might
+be, and evidently was, peculiar in his ways, but as a bookkeeper he was
+thoroughness personified. And as a teacher of his profession he was just
+as thorough. All that forenoon Albert practiced the first principles
+of "double entry" and, after the blessed hour for dinner, came back to
+practice the remainder of the working day.
+
+And so for many days. Little by little he learned to invoice and
+journalize and "post in the ledger" and all the rest of the detail of
+bookkeeping. Not that his instructor permitted him to do a great deal
+of actual work upon the books of Z. Snow and Co. Those books were too
+spotless and precious for that. Looking over them Albert was surprised
+and obliged to admit a grudging admiration at the manner in which, for
+the most part, they had been kept. Page after page of the neatest of
+minute figures, not a blot, not a blur, not an erasure. So for months;
+then, in the minor books, like the day-book or journal, would suddenly
+break out an eruption of smudges and scrawls in the rugged handwriting
+of Captain Zelotes. When he first happened upon one of these Albert
+unthinkingly spoke to Mr. Keeler about it. He asked the latter what it
+meant.
+
+Laban slowly stroked his nose with his thumb and finger, a habit he had.
+
+"I cal'late I was away for a spell then," he said, gravely. "Yes,
+yes . . . Yes, yes, yes. I was away for a little spell."
+
+He went soberly back to his desk. His new assistant, catching a glimpse
+of his face, felt a pang of real pity for the little man. Of course the
+reason for the hiatus in the books was plain enough. He knew about those
+"little spells." Oddly enough Laban seemed to feel sorry for them. He
+remembered how funny the bookkeeper had appeared at their first meeting,
+when one "spell" was just developing, and the contrast between the
+singing, chirruping clown and the precise, grave little person at the
+desk struck even his youthful mind as peculiar. He had read "Doctor
+Jekyll and Mr. Hyde," and now here was an example of something similar.
+He was beginning to like Laban Keeler, although he was perfectly sure
+that he should never like bookkeeping.
+
+He did not slave at the books all the time, of course. For stretches,
+sometimes lasting whole days, his slavery was of another sort. Then he
+was working in the lumber yard with Issachar, or waiting on customers in
+the hardware shop. The cold of winter set in in earnest now and handling
+"two by fours" and other timber out where the raw winds swept piercingly
+through one's overcoat and garments and flesh to the very bone was a
+trying experience. His hands were chapped and cracked, even though his
+grandmother had knit him a pair of enormous red mittens. He appreciated
+the warmth of the mittens, but he hated the color. Why in the name of
+all that was inartistic did she choose red; not a deep, rich crimson,
+but a screeching vermilion, like a fireman's shirt?
+
+Issachar, when he had the opportunity, was a hard boss. It suited Mr.
+Price to display his superior knowledge and to find fault with his
+helper's lack of skill. Albert's hot temper was at the boiling point
+many times, but he fought it down. Occasionally he retorted in kind, but
+his usual and most effective weapon was a more or less delicate sarcasm.
+Issachar did not understand sarcasm and under rapid fire he was inclined
+to lose his head.
+
+"Consarn it!" he snapped, irritably, on one occasion. "Consarn it,
+Al, why don't you h'ist up on t'other end of that j'ist? What do you
+cal'late you're out here along of me for; to look harnsome?"
+
+Albert shook his head. "No, Is," he answered, gravely. "No, that
+wouldn't be any use. With you around nobody else has a look-in at the
+'handsome' game. Issy, what do you do to your face?"
+
+"Do to it? What do you mean by do to it?"
+
+"What do you do to it to make it look the way it does? Don't tell me it
+grew that way naturally."
+
+"Grew! Course it grew! What kind of talk's that?"
+
+"Issy, with a face like yours how do you keep the birds away?"
+
+"Eh? Keep the birds away! Now look here, just--"
+
+"Excuse me. Did I say 'birds,' Issy? I didn't mean birds like--like
+crows. Of course a face like yours would keep the crows away all right
+enough. I meant girls. How do you keep the girls away? I should think
+they would be making love all the time."
+
+"Aw, you shut up! Just 'cause you're Cap'n Lote's grandson I presume
+likely you think you can talk any kind of talk, don't ye?"
+
+"Not any kind, Is. I can't talk like you. Will you teach me?"
+
+"Shut up! Now, by Crimus, you--you furriner--you Speranzy--"
+
+Mr. Keeler appeared at the office window. His shrill voice rose pipingly
+in the wintry air as he demanded to know what was the trouble out there.
+
+Mr. Price, still foaming, strode toward the window; Albert laughingly
+followed him.
+
+"What's the matter?" repeated Laban. "There's enough noise for a sewin'
+circle. Be still, Is, can't you, for a minute. Al, what's the trouble?"
+
+"Issy's been talking about his face," explained Albert, soberly.
+
+"I ain't neither. I was h'istin' up my end of a j'ist, same as I'm
+paid to do, and, 'stead of helpin' he stands there and heaves out talk
+about--about--"
+
+"Well, about what?"
+
+"Aw, about--about me and--and girls--and all sorts of dum foolishness.
+I tell ye, I've got somethin' else to do beside listen to that kind of
+cheap talk."
+
+"Um. Yes, yes. I see. Well, Al, what have you got to say?"
+
+"Nothing. I'm sure I don't know what it is all about. I was working as
+hard as I could and all at once he began pitching into me."
+
+"Pitchin' into you? How?"
+
+"Oh, I don't know. Something about my looks he didn't like, I guess.
+Wanted to know if I thought I was as handsome as he was, or something
+like that."
+
+"Eh? I never neither! All I said was--"
+
+Mr. Keeler raised his hand. "Seems to be a case for an umpire," he
+observed. "Um. Seem's if 'twas, seems so, seems so. Well, Captain Lote's
+just comin' across the road and, if you say the word, I'll call him in
+to referee. What do you say?"
+
+They said nothing relevant to the subject in hand. Issachar made the
+only remark. "Crimus-TEE!" he ejaculated. "Come on, Al, come on."
+
+The pair hurried away to resume lumber piling. Laban smiled slightly and
+closed the window. It may be gathered from this incident that when the
+captain was in charge of the deck there was little idle persiflage among
+the "fo'mast hands." They, like others in South Harniss, did not presume
+to trifle with Captain Lote Snow.
+
+So the business education of Alberto Miguel Carlos Speranza progressed.
+At the end of the first six weeks in South Harniss he had learned a
+little about bookkeeping, a little about selling hardware, a little
+about measuring and marking lumber. And it must be admitted that that
+little had been acquired, not because of vigorous application on the
+part of the pupil, but because, being naturally quick and intelligent,
+he could not help learning something. He liked the work just as little
+as he had in the beginning of his apprenticeship. And, although he was
+forgetting his thoughts of running away, of attempting fortune on his
+own hook, he was just as rebellious as ever against a future to be spent
+in that office and at that work.
+
+Outside the office and the hateful bookkeeping he was beginning to find
+several real interests. At the old house which had for generations been
+called "the Snow place," he was beginning to feel almost at home. He
+and his grandmother were becoming close friends. She was not looking for
+trouble, she never sat for long intervals gazing at him as if she were
+guessing, guessing, guessing concerning him. Captain Zelotes did that,
+but Olive did not. She had taken the boy, her "Janie's boy," to her
+heart from the moment she saw him and she mothered him and loved him in
+a way which--so long as it was not done in public--comforted his lonely
+soul. They had not yet reached the stage where he confided in her to
+any great extent, but that was certain to come later. It was his
+grandmother's love and the affection he was already beginning to feel
+for her which, during these first lonesome, miserable weeks, kept him
+from, perhaps, turning the running away fantasy into a reality.
+
+Another inmate of the Snow household with whom Albert was
+becoming better acquainted with was Mrs. Rachel Ellis. Their real
+acquaintanceship began one Sunday forenoon when Captain Zelotes and
+Olive had gone to church. Ordinarily he would have accompanied them,
+to sit in the straight-backed old pew on a cushion which felt lumpy and
+smelt ancient and musty, and pretend to listen while old Mr. Kendall
+preached a sermon which was ancient and musty likewise.
+
+But this Sunday morning he awoke with a headache and his grandmother had
+pleaded for him, declaring that he ought to "lay to bed" a while and get
+over it. He got over it with surprising quickness after the church bell
+ceased ringing, and came downstairs to read Ivanhoe in the sitting room.
+He had read it several times before, but he wanted to read something and
+the choice of volumes in the Snow bookcase was limited. He was stretched
+out on the sofa with the book in his hand when the housekeeper entered,
+armed with a dust-cloth. She went to church only "every other" Sunday.
+This was one of the others without an every, and she was at home.
+
+"What are you readin', Albert?" she asked, after a few' minutes vigorous
+wielding of the dust-cloth. "It must be awful interestin', you stick at
+it so close."
+
+The Black Knight was just then hammering with his battle-axe at the gate
+of Front de Buef's castle, not minding the stones and beams cast
+down upon him from above "no more than if they were thistle-down or
+feathers." Albert absently admitted that the story was interesting. The
+housekeeper repeated her request to be told its name.
+
+"Ivanhoe," replied the boy; adding, as the name did not seem to convey
+any definite idea to his interrogator's mind: "It's by Walter Scott, you
+know."
+
+Mrs. Ellis made no remark immediately. When she did it was to the effect
+that she used to know a colored man named Scott who worked at the hotel
+once. "He swept out and carried trunks and such things," she explained.
+"He seemed to be a real nice sort of colored man, far as ever I heard."
+
+Albert was more interested in the Black Knight of Ivanhoe than the black
+man of the hotel, so he went on reading. Rachel sat down in a chair by
+the window and looked out, twisting and untwisting the dust-cloth in her
+lap.
+
+"I presume likely lots and lots of folks have read that book, ain't
+they?" she asked, after another interval.
+
+"What? Oh, yes, almost everybody. It's a classic, I suppose."
+
+"What's that?"
+
+"What's what?"
+
+"What you said the book was. A class-somethin' or other?"
+
+"Oh, a classic. Why, it's--it's something everybody knows about,
+or--or ought to know about. One of the big things, you know. Like--like
+Shakespeare or--or Robinson Crusoe or Paradise Lost or--lots of them.
+It's a book everybody reads and always will."
+
+"I see. Humph! Well, I never read it. . . . I presume likely you think
+that's pretty funny, don't you?"
+
+Albert tore himself away from the fight at the gate.
+
+"Why, I don't know," he replied.
+
+"Yes, you do. You think it's awful funny. Well, you wouldn't if you knew
+more about how busy I've been all my life. I ain't had time to read the
+way I'd ought to. I read a book once though that I'll never forget. Did
+you ever read a book called Foul Play?"
+
+"No. . . . Why, hold on, though; I think I have. By Charles Reade,
+wasn't it?"
+
+"Yes, that's who wrote it, a man named Charles Reade. Laban told me that
+part of it; he reads a lot, Laban does. I never noticed who wrote it,
+myself. I was too interested in it to notice little extry things like
+that. But ain't that a WONDERFUL book? Ain't that the best book you ever
+read in all your LIFE?"
+
+She dropped the dust-cloth and was too excited and enthusiastic to pick
+it up. Albert did his best to recall something definite concerning Foul
+Play. The book had been in the school library and he, who read almost
+everything, had read it along with the others.
+
+"Let me see," he said musingly. "About a shipwreck--something about a
+shipwreck in it, wasn't there?"
+
+"I should say there was! My stars above! Not the common kind of
+shipwreck, neither, the kind they have down to Setuckit P'int on the
+shoals. No sir-ee! This one was sunk on purpose. That Joe Wylie bored
+holes right down through her with a gimlet, the wicked thing! And that
+set 'em afloat right out on the sea in a boat, and there wan't anything
+to eat till Robert Penfold--oh, HE was the smart one; he'd find
+anything, that man!--he found the barnacles on the bottom of the boat,
+just the same as he found out how to diffuse intelligence tied onto a
+duck's leg over land knows how many legs--leagues, I mean--of ocean. But
+that come later. Don't you remember THAT?"
+
+Albert laughed. The story was beginning to come back to him.
+
+"Oh, sure!" he exclaimed. "I remember now. He--the Penfold fellow--and
+the girl landed on this island and had all sorts of adventures, and fell
+in love and all that sort of stuff, and then her dad came and took her
+back to England and she--she did something or other there to--to get the
+Penfold guy out of trouble."
+
+"Did somethin'! I should say she did! Why, she found out all about who
+forged the letter--the note, I mean--that's what she done. 'Twas Arthur
+Wardlaw, that's who 'twas. And he was tryin' to get Helen all the time
+for himself, the skinner! Don't talk to me about that Arthur Wardlaw! I
+never could bear HIM."
+
+She spoke as if she had known the detested Wardlaw intimately from
+childhood. Young Speranza was hugely amused. Ivanhoe was quite
+forgotten.
+
+"Foul Play was great stuff," he observed. "When did you read it?"
+
+"Eh? When? Oh, ever and ever so long ago. When I was about twenty, I
+guess, and laid up with the measles. That's the only time I ever was
+real what you might call down sick in my life, and I commenced with
+measles. That's the way a good many folks commence, I know, but they
+don't generally wait till they're out of their 'teens afore they start.
+I was workin' for Mrs. Philander Bassett at the time, and she says to
+me: 'Rachel,' she says, 'you're on the mendin' hand now, wouldn't you
+like a book to read?' I says, 'Why, maybe I would.' And she fetched
+up three of 'em. I can see 'em now, all three, plain as day. One was
+Barriers Burned Away. She said that was somethin' about a big fire.
+Well, I'm awful nervous about fires, have been from a child, so I didn't
+read that. And another had the queerest kind of a name, if you'd call it
+a name at all; 'twas She."
+
+Albert nodded.
+
+"Yes," he said. "I've read that."
+
+"Have you? Well, I begun to, but my stars, THAT wasn't any book to give
+to a person with nerve symptoms. I got as far as where those Indians or
+whatever they was started to put red-hot kettles on folks's heads, and
+that was enough for ME. 'Give me somethin' civilized,' says I, 'or not
+at all.' So I commenced Foul Play, and I tell you I kept right on to the
+end.
+
+"I don't suppose," she went on, "that there ever was a much better book
+than that wrote, was there?"
+
+Albert temporized. "It is a good one," he admitted.
+
+"Don't seem to me there could be much better. Laban says it's good,
+though he won't go so far as to say it's the very best. He's read lots
+and lots of books, Laban has. Reads an awful lot in his spare time. He's
+what you'd call an educated person, which is what I ain't. And I guess
+you'll say that last is plain enough without bein' told," she added.
+
+Her companion, not exactly knowing how to answer, was silent for a
+moment. Rachel, who had picked up and was again twisting the dust-cloth,
+returned to the subject she so delighted in.
+
+"But that Foul Play book," she continued, "I've read till I've pretty
+nigh wore the covers off. When Mrs. Bassett saw how much I liked it
+she gave it to me for a present. I read a little bit in it every little
+while. I kind of fit the folks in that book to folks in real life, sort
+of compare 'em, you know. Do you ever do that?"
+
+Albert, repressing a chuckle, said, "Sure!" again. She nodded.
+
+"Now there's General Rolleson in that book," she said. "Do you know who
+he makes me think of? Cap'n Lote, your grandpa, that's who."
+
+General Rolleson, as Albert remembered him, was an extremely dignified,
+cultured and precise old gentleman. Just what resemblance there might
+be between him and Captain Zelotes Snow, ex-skipper of the Olive S.,
+he could not imagine. He could not repress a grin, and the housekeeper
+noticed it.
+
+"Seems funny to you, I presume likely," she said. "Well, now you think
+about it. This General Rolleson man was kind of proud and sot in his
+ways just as your grandpa is, Albert. He had a daughter he thought all
+the world of; so did Cap'n Lote. Along come a person that wanted to
+marry the daughter. In the book 'twas Robert Penfold, who had been
+a convict. In your grandpa's case, 'twas your pa, who had been a
+play-actor. So you see--"
+
+Albert sat up on the sofa. "Hold on!" he interrupted indignantly. "Do
+you mean to compare my father with a--with a CONVICT? I want you to
+understand--"
+
+Mrs. Ellis held up the dust-cloth. "Now, now, now," she protested.
+"Don't go puttin' words in my mouth that I didn't say. I don't doubt
+your pa was a nice man, in his way, though I never met him. But 'twan't
+Cap'n Lote's way any more than Robert Penfold's was General Rolleson's."
+
+"My father was famous," declared the youth hotly. "He was one of the
+most famous singers in this country. Everybody knows that--that is,
+everybody but Grandfather and the gang down here," he added, in disgust.
+
+"I don't say you're wrong. Laban tells me that some of those singin'
+folks get awful high wages, more than the cap'n of a steamboat, he says,
+though that seems like stretchin' it to me. But, as I say, Cap'n Lote
+was proud, and nobody but the best would satisfy him for Janie, your
+mother. Well, in that way, you see, he reminds me of General Rolleson in
+the book."
+
+"Look here, Mrs. Ellis. Tell me about this business of Dad's marrying my
+mother. I never knew much of anything about it."
+
+"You didn't? Did your pa never tell you?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Humph! That's funny. Still, I don't know's as 'twas, after all,
+considerin' you was only a boy. Probably he'd have told you some day.
+Well, I don't suppose there's any secret about it. 'Twas town talk down
+here when it happened."
+
+She told him the story of the runaway marriage. Albert listened with
+interest and the almost incredulous amazement with which the young
+always receive tales of their parents' love affairs. Love, for people of
+his age or a trifle older, was a natural and understandable thing, but
+for his father, as he remembered him, to have behaved in this way was
+incomprehensible.
+
+"So," said Rachel, in conclusion, "that's how it happened. That's why
+Cap'n Lote couldn't ever forgive your father."
+
+He tossed his head. "Well, he ought to have forgiven him," he declared.
+"He was dead lucky to get such a man for a son-in-law, if you ask me."
+
+"He didn't think so. And he wouldn't ever mention your pa's name."
+
+"Oh, I don't doubt that. Anybody can see how he hated Father. And he
+hates me the same way," he added moodily.
+
+Mrs. Ellis was much disturbed. "Oh, no, he don't," she cried. "You
+mustn't think that, Albert. He don't hate you, I'm sure of it. He's
+just kind of doubtful about you, that's all. He remembers how your pa
+acted--or how he thinks he acted--and so he can't help bein' the least
+mite afraid the same thing may crop out in you. If you just stick to
+your job over there at the lumber yards and keep on tryin' to please
+him, he'll get all over that suspicion, see if he don't. Cap'n Lote
+Snow is stubborn sometimes and hard to turn, but he's square as a brick.
+There's some that don't like him, and a good many that don't agree with
+him--but everybody respects him."
+
+Albert did not answer. The housekeeper rose from her chair.
+
+"There!" she exclaimed. "I don't know when I've set down for so long.
+Goodness knows I've got work enough to do without settin' around
+talkin'. I can't think what possessed me to do it this time, unless
+'twas seein' you readin' that book." She paused a moment and then said:
+"Albert, I--I don't want you and your grandpa to have any quarrels. You
+see--well, you see, I used to know your mother real well, and--and I
+thought an awful sight of her. I wish--I do wish when you and the cap'n
+have any trouble or anything, or when you think you're liable to have
+any, you'd come and talk it over with me. I'm like the feller that Laban
+tells about in his dog-fight yarn. This feller was watchin' the fight
+and when they asked him to stop it afore one or t'other of the dogs
+was killed, he just shook his head. 'No-o,' he says, kind of slow and
+moderate, 'I guess I shan't interfere. One of 'em's been stealin' my
+chickens and the other one bit me. I'm a friend to both parties,' he
+says. Course I don't mean it exactly that way," she added, with a smile,
+"but you know what I do mean, I guess. WILL you talk things over with me
+sometimes, Albert?"
+
+His answer was not very enthusiastic, but he said he guessed so, and
+Rachel seemed satisfied with that. She went on with her dusting, and he
+with his reading, but the conversation was the first of many between the
+pair. The housekeeper appeared to consider his having read her beloved
+Foul Play a sort of password admitting him to her lodge and that
+thereafter they were, in consequence, to be confidants and comrades. She
+never hesitated to ask him the most personal questions concerning his
+work, his plans, the friends or acquaintances he was making in the
+village. Some of those questions he answered honestly and fully, some he
+dodged, some he did not answer at all. Mrs. Ellis never resented his not
+answering. "I presume likely that ain't any of my business, is it?" she
+would say, and ask about something else.
+
+On the other hand, she was perfectly outspoken concerning her own
+affairs. He was nearly overcome with hilarious joy when, one day, she
+admitted that, in her mind, Robert Penfold, the hero of Foul Play, lived
+again in the person of Laban Keeler.
+
+"Why, Mrs. Ellis," he cried, as soon as he could trust himself to speak
+at all, "I don't see THAT. Penfold was a six-footer, wasn't he?
+And--and athletic, you know, and--and a minister, and young--younger, I
+mean--and--"
+
+Rachel interrupted. "Yes, yes, I know," she said. "And Laban is little,
+and not very young, and, whatever else he is, he ain't a minister. I
+know all that. I know the outside of him don't look like Robert Penfold
+at all. But," somewhat apologetically, "you see I've been acquainted
+with him so many years I've got into the habit of seein' his INSIDE.
+Now that sounds kind of ridiculous, I know," she added. "Sounds as if
+I--I--well, as if I was in the habit of takin' him apart, like a watch
+or somethin'. What I mean is that I know him all through. I've known him
+for a long, long while. He ain't much to look at, bein' so little and
+sort of dried up, but he's got a big, fine heart and big brains. He can
+do 'most anything he sets his hand to. When I used to know him, when I
+was a girl, folks was always prophesyin' that Laban Keeler would turn
+out to be a whole lot more'n the average. He would, too, only for one
+thing, and you know what that is. It's what has kept me from marryin'
+him all this time. I swore I'd never marry a man that drinks, and I
+never will. Why, if it wasn't for liquor Labe would have been runnin'
+his own business and gettin' rich long ago. He all but runs Cap'n Lote's
+place as 'tis. The cap'n and a good many other folks don't realize that,
+but it's so."
+
+It was plain that she worshiped the little bookkeeper and, except during
+the periods of "vacation" and "sympathetics," was tremendously proud
+of him. Albert soon discovered that Mr. Keeler's feeling for her was
+equally strong. In his case, though, there was also a strong strain of
+gratitude.
+
+"She's a fine woman, Al," he confided to his assistant on one occasion.
+"A fine woman. . . . Yes, yes, yes. They don't make 'em any finer. Ah
+hum! And not so long ago I read about a passel of darn fools arguin'
+that the angels in heaven was all he-ones. . . . Umph! . . . Sho, sho!
+If men was as good as women, Ansel--Alfred--Albert, I mean--we could
+start an opposition heaven down here most any time. 'Most any time--yes,
+yes."
+
+It was considerable for him to say. Except when on a vacation, Laban was
+not loquacious.
+
+Each Sunday afternoon, when the weather was pleasant, he came, dressed
+in his best black cutaway, shiny at elbows and the under part of the
+sleeves, striped trousers and a pearl gray soft hat with a black band,
+a hat which looked as much out of place above his round, withered little
+face as a red roof might have looked on a family vault, and he and the
+housekeeper went for a walk.
+
+Rachel, in her Sunday black, bulked large beside him. As Captain Zelotes
+said, the pair looked like "a tug takin' a liner out to sea."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+Outside of the gates of the Snow place Albert was making many
+acquaintances and a few friends. After church on Sundays his grandmother
+had a distressful habit of suddenly seizing his arm or his coat-tail as
+he was hurrying toward the vestibule and the sunshine of outdoors, and
+saying: "Oh, Albert, just a minute! Here's somebody you haven't met
+yet, I guess. Elsie"--or Nellie or Mabel or Henry or Charlie or George,
+whichever it happened to be--"this is my grandson, Albert Speranza." And
+the young person to whom he was thus introduced would, if a male, extend
+a hesitating hand, give his own an embarrassed shake, smile uncertainly
+and say, "Yes--er--yes. Pleased to meet you." Or, if of the other sex,
+would blush a little and venture the observation that it was a lovely
+morning, and wasn't the sermon splendid.
+
+These Sabbath introductions led to week-day, or rather week-evening,
+meetings. The principal excitement in South Harniss was "going for the
+mail." At noon and after supper fully one-half of the village population
+journeyed to the post office. Albert's labors for Z. Snow and Co.
+prevented his attending the noon gatherings--his grandfather usually
+got the morning mail--but he early formed the habit of sauntering "down
+street" in the evening if the weather was not too cold or disagreeable.
+There he was certain to find groups of South Harniss youth of both
+sexes, talking, giggling, skylarking and flirting. Sometimes he joined
+one or the other of these groups; quite as often he did not, but kept
+aloof and by himself, for it may as well be acknowledged now, if it is
+not already plain, that the son of Miguel Carlos Speranza had inherited
+a share of his father's temperament and self-esteem. The whim of the
+moment might lead him to favor these young people with his society, but
+he was far from considering himself under obligation to do so. He had
+not the least idea that he was in any way a snob, he would have hotly
+resented being called one, but he accepted his estimate of his own worth
+as something absolute and certain, to be taken for granted.
+
+Now this attitude of mind had its dangers. Coupled with its possessor's
+extraordinary good looks, it was fascinating to a large percentage of
+the village girls. The Speranza eyes and the Speranza curls and nose
+and chin were, when joined with the easy condescension of the Speranza
+manner, a combination fatal to the susceptible. The South Harniss
+"flappers," most of them, enthused over the new bookkeeper in the lumber
+office. They ogled and giggled and gushed in his presence, and he was
+tolerant or bored, just as he happened to be feeling at the moment. But
+he never displayed a marked interest in any one of them, for the very
+good reason that he had no such interest. To him they were merely girls,
+nice enough in their way, perhaps, but that way not his. Most of the
+town young fellows of his age he found had a "girl" and almost every
+girl had a "fellow"; there was calf love in abundance, but he was a
+different brand of veal.
+
+However, a great man must amuse himself, and so he accepted invitations
+to church socials and suppers and to an occasional dance or party. His
+style of dancing was not that of South Harniss in the winter. It was
+common enough at the hotel or the "tea house" in July and August when
+the summer people were there, but not at the town hall at the Red Men's
+Annual Ball in February. A fellow who could foxtrot as he could swept
+all before him. Sam Thatcher, of last year's class in the high school,
+but now clerking in the drug store, who had hitherto reigned as the best
+"two-stepper" in town, suddenly became conscious of his feet. Then, too,
+the contents of the three trunks which had been sent on from school were
+now in evidence. No Boston or Brockton "Advanced Styles" held a candle
+to those suits which the tailor of the late Miguel Carlos had turned out
+for his patron's only son. No other eighteen-year-older among the town's
+year-around residents possessed a suit of evening clothes. Albert wore
+his "Tux" at the Red Men's Ball and hearts palpitated beneath new muslin
+gowns and bitter envy stirred beneath the Brockton "Advanced Styles."
+
+In consequence, by spring the social status of Albert Speranza among
+those of his own age in the village had become something like this: He
+was in high favor with most of the girls and in corresponding disfavor
+with most of the young fellows. The girls, although they agreed that he
+was "stand-offish and kind of queer," voted him "just lovely, all the
+same." Their envious beaux referred to him sneeringly among themselves
+as a "stuck-up dude." Some one of them remembered having been told that
+Captain Zelotes, years before, had been accustomed to speak of his hated
+son-in-law as "the Portygee." Behind his back they formed the habit
+of referring to their new rival in the same way. The first time Albert
+heard himself called a "Portygee" was after prayer meeting on Friday
+evening, when, obeying a whim, he had walked home with Gertie Kendrick,
+quite forgetful of the fact that Sam Thatcher, who aspired to be
+Gertie's "steady," was himself waiting on the church steps for that
+privilege.
+
+Even then nothing might have come of it had he and Sam not met in the
+path as he was sauntering back across lots to the main road and home. It
+was a brilliant moonlight night and the pair came together, literally,
+at the bend where the path turns sharply around the corner of Elijah
+Doane's cranberry shanty. Sam, plowing along, head down and hands in his
+pockets, swung around that corner and bumped violently into Albert,
+who, a cigarette between his lips--out here in the fields, away from
+civilization and Captain Zelotes, was a satisfyingly comfortable place
+to smoke a cigarette--was dreaming dreams of a future far away from
+South Harniss. Sam had been thinking of Gertie. Albert had not. She had
+been a mere incident of the evening; he had walked home with her because
+he happened to be in the mood for companionship and she was rather
+pretty and always talkative. His dreams during the stroll back alone
+in the moonlight had been of lofty things, of poetry and fame and
+high emprise; giggling Gerties had no place in them. It was distinctly
+different with Sam Thatcher.
+
+They crashed together, gasped and recoiled.
+
+"Oh, I'm sorry!" exclaimed Albert.
+
+"Can't you see where you're goin', you darned Portygee half-breed?"
+demanded Sam.
+
+Albert, who had stepped past him, turned and came back.
+
+"What did you say?" he asked.
+
+"I said you was a darned half-breed, and you are. You're a no-good
+Portygee, like your father."
+
+It was all he had time to say. For the next few minutes he was too busy
+to talk. The Speranzas, father and son, possessed temperament; also they
+possessed temper. Sam's face, usually placid and good-natured, for Sam
+was by no means a bad fellow in his way, was fiery red. Albert's, on the
+contrary, went perfectly white. He seemed to settle back on his heels
+and from there almost to fly at his insulter. Five minutes or so later
+they were both dusty and dirty and dishevelled and bruised, but Sam was
+pretty thoroughly licked. For one thing, he had been taken by surprise
+by his adversary's quickness; for another, Albert's compulsory training
+in athletics at school gave him an advantage. He was by no means an
+unscarred victor, but victor he was. Sam was defeated, and very much
+astonished. He leaned against the cranberry house and held on to his
+nose. It had been a large nose in the beginning, it was larger now.
+
+Albert stood before him, his face--where it was not a pleasing
+combination of black and blue--still white.
+
+"If you--if you speak of my father or me again like that," he panted,
+"I'll--I'll kill you!"
+
+Then he strode off, a bit wobbly on his legs, but with dignity.
+
+Oddly enough, no one except the two most interested ever knew of this
+encounter. Albert, of course, did not tell. He was rather ashamed of it.
+For the son of Miguel Carlos Speranza to conquer dragons was a worthy
+and heroic business, but there seemed to be mighty little heroism in
+licking Sam Thatcher behind 'Lije Doane's cranberry shack. And Sam did
+not tell. Gertie next day confided that she didn't care two cents for
+that stuck-up Al Speranza, anyway; she had let him see her home only
+because Sam had danced so many times with Elsie Wixon at the ball
+that night. So Sam said nothing concerning the fight, explaining the
+condition of his nose by saying that he had run into something in the
+dark. And he did not appear to hold a grudge against his conqueror; on
+the contrary when others spoke of the latter as a "sissy," Sam defended
+him. "He may be a dude," said Sam; "I don't say he ain't. But he ain't
+no sissy."
+
+When pressed to tell why he was so certain, his answer was: "Because he
+don't act like one." It was not a convincing answer, the general opinion
+being that that was exactly how Al Speranza did act.
+
+There was one young person in the village toward whom Albert found
+himself making exceptions in his attitude of serenely impersonal
+tolerance. That person was Helen Kendall, the girl who had come into his
+grandfather's office the first morning of his stay in South Harniss. He
+was forced to make these exceptions by the young lady herself. When he
+met her the second time--which was after church on his first Sunday--his
+manner was even more loftily reserved than usual. He had distinct
+recollections of their first conversation. His own part in it had not
+been brilliant, and in it he had made the absurd statement--absurd in
+the light of what came after--that he was certainly NOT employed by Z.
+Snow and Co.
+
+So he was cool and superior when his grandmother brought them together
+after the meeting was over. If Helen noticed the superiority, she was
+certainly not over-awed by it, for she was so simple and natural and
+pleasant that he was obliged to unbend and be natural too. In fact,
+at their third meeting he himself spoke of the interview in the
+lumber office and again expressed his thanks for warning him of his
+grandfather's detestation of cigarettes.
+
+"Gee!" he exclaimed, "I'm certainly glad that you put me on to the old
+boy's feelings. I think he'd have murdered me if he had come back and
+found me puffing a Pall Mall in there."
+
+She smiled. "He does hate them, doesn't he?" she said.
+
+"Hate them! I should say he did. Hating cigarettes is about the only
+point where he and Issy get along without an argument. If a traveler for
+a hardware house comes into the office smoking a cig, Issy opens all the
+windows to let the smell out, and Grandfather opens the door to throw
+the salesman out. Well, not exactly to throw him out, of course, but he
+never buys a single cent's worth of a cigarette smoker."
+
+Helen glanced at him. "You must be awfully glad you're not a traveling
+salesman," she said demurely.
+
+Albert did not know exactly what to make of that remark. He, in his
+turn, looked at her, but she was grave and quite unconcerned.
+
+"Why?" he asked, after a moment.
+
+"Why--what?"
+
+"Why ought I to be glad I'm not a traveling salesman?"
+
+"Oh, I don't know. It just seemed to me that you ought, that's all."
+
+"But why?"
+
+"Well, if you were you wouldn't make a great hit with your grandfather,
+would you?"
+
+"Eh? . . . Oh, you mean because I smoke. Say, YOU'RE not silly enough to
+be down on cigarettes the way grandfather is, are you?"
+
+"No-o, I'm not down on them, especially. I'm not very well acquainted
+with them."
+
+"Neither is he. He never smoked one in his life. It's just country
+prejudice, that's all."
+
+"Well, I live in the country, too, you know."
+
+"Yes, but you're different."
+
+"How do you know I am?"
+
+"Oh, because any one can see you are." The manner in which this remark
+was made, a manner implying a wide knowledge of humanity and a hint of
+personal interest and discriminating appreciation, had been found quite
+effective by the precocious young gentleman uttering it. With variations
+to suit the case and the individual it had been pleasantly received by
+several of the Misses Bradshaw's pupils. He followed it with another
+equally tried and trustworthy.
+
+"Say," he added, "would YOU rather I didn't smoke?"
+
+The obvious reply should have been, "Oh, would you stop if I asked you
+to?" But Helen Kendall was a most disconcerting girl. Instead of purring
+a pleased recognition of the implied flattery, she laughed merrily. The
+Speranza dignity was hurt.
+
+"What is there to laugh at?" he demanded. "Are you laughing at me?"
+
+The answer was as truthful as truth itself.
+
+"Why, of course I am," she replied; and then completed his discomfiture
+by adding, "Why should I care whether you smoke or not? You had better
+ask your grandfather that question, I should think."
+
+Now Alberto Miguel Carlos Speranza had not been accustomed to this sort
+of treatment from young persons of the other sex, and he walked away in
+a huff. But the unusual is always attractive, and the next time he and
+Miss Kendall met he was as gracious and cordial as ever. But it was
+not long before he learned that the graciousness was, in her case, a
+mistake. Whenever he grew lofty, she took him down, laughed at him with
+complete frankness, and refused to treat him as anything but a boy. So
+they gradually grew friendly, and when they met at parties or church
+socials he spent most of the time in her company, or, rather, he would
+have so spent it had she permitted. But she was provokingly impartial
+and was quite as likely to refuse a dance with him to sit out one
+with Sam Thatcher or Ben Hammond or any other village youth of her
+acquaintance. However, although she piqued and irritated him, he was
+obliged to admit to his inner consciousness that she was the most
+interesting person he had yet discovered in South Harniss, also that
+even in the eyes of such connoisseurs as his fellow members of the
+senior class at school she would have been judged a "good looker," in
+spite of her country clothes.
+
+He met her father, of course. The Reverend Mr. Kendall was a dreamy
+little old gentleman with white hair and the stooped shoulders of a
+student. Everybody liked him, and it was for that reason principally
+that he was still the occupant of the Congregational pulpit, for to
+quote Captain Zelotes, his sermons were inclined to be like the sandy
+road down to Setuckit Point, "ten mile long and dry all the way." He was
+a widower and his daughter was his companion and managing housekeeper.
+There was a half-grown girl, one of the numerous Price family, a cousin
+of Issachar's, who helped out with the sweeping, dish-washing and
+cooking, but Helen was the real head of the household.
+
+"And she's a capable one, too," declared Mrs. Snow, when at supper one
+evening Helen's name had come into the conversation. "I declare when I
+was there yesterday to see the minister about readin' poetry to us at
+sewin'-circle next Monday that parlor was as neat as wax. And 'twas all
+Helen's work that kept it so, that was plain enough. You could see her
+way of settin' a vase or puttin' on a table cloth wherever you looked.
+Nobody else has just that way. And she does it after school or before
+school or 'most any odd time. And whatever 'tis is done right."
+
+The housekeeper put in a word. "There's no doubt about that," she said,
+"and there ain't any more doubt that she don't get much help from her pa
+or that Maria B." There were so many Prices within the township limits
+that individuals were usually distinguished by their middle initial. "As
+for Mr. Kendall," went on Rachel, "he moves with his head in the clouds
+and his feet cruisin' with nobody at the wheel two-thirds of the time.
+Emma Smith says to me yesterday, says she, 'Mr. Kendall is a saint on
+earth, ain't he,' says she. 'Yes,' says I, 'and he'll be one in heaven
+any minute if he goes stumblin' acrost the road in front of Doctor
+Holliday's automobile the way I see him yesterday.' The doctor put on
+the brakes with a slam and a yell. The minister stopped right there in
+the middle of the road with the front wheels of that auto not MORE'N two
+foot from his old baggy trousers' knees, and says he, 'Eh? Did you want
+me, Doctor?' The doctor fetched a long breath. 'Why, no, Mr. Kendall,'
+he says, 'I didn't, but I come darn nigh gettin' you.' I don't know what
+WOULD become of him if he didn't have Helen to look out for him."
+
+As they came to know each other better their conversation dealt with
+matters more personal. They sometimes spoke of plans for the future.
+Albert's plans and ambitions were lofty, but rather vague. Helen's
+were practical and definite. She was to graduate from high school that
+spring. Then she was hoping to teach in the primary school there in the
+village; the selectmen had promised her the opportunity.
+
+"But, of course," she said, "I don't mean to stay here always. When I
+can, after I have saved some money and if Father doesn't need me
+too badly, I shall go away somewhere, to Bridgewater, or perhaps to
+Radcliffe, and study. I want to specialize in my teaching, you know."
+
+Albert regarded her with amused superiority.
+
+"I don't see why on earth you are so anxious to be a school-marm," he
+said. "That's the last job I'd want."
+
+Her answer was given promptly, but without the least trace of temper.
+That was one of the most provoking things about this girl, she would not
+lose her temper. He usually lost his trying to make her. She spoke now,
+pleasantly, and deliberately, but as if she were stating an undesirable
+fact.
+
+"I think it would be the last one you would get," she said.
+
+"Why? Great Scott! I guess I could teach school if I wanted to. But you
+bet I wouldn't want to! . . . NOW what are you laughing at?"
+
+"I'm not laughing."
+
+"Yes, you are. I can always tell when you're laughing; you get that look
+in your eyes, that sort of--of--Oh, I can't tell you what kind of look
+it is, but it makes me mad. It's the same kind of look my grandfather
+has, and I could punch him for it sometimes. Why should you and he think
+I'm not going to amount to anything?"
+
+"I don't think so. And I'm sure he doesn't either. And I wasn't laughing
+at you. Or, if I was, it--it was only because--"
+
+"Well, because what?"
+
+"Oh, because you are so AWFULLY sure you know--well, know more than most
+people."
+
+"Meaning I'm stuck on myself, I suppose. Well, now I tell you I'm
+not going to hang around in this one-horse town all my life to please
+grandfather or any one else."
+
+When he mentioned his determination to win literary glory she was always
+greatly interested. Dreams of histrionic achievement were more coldly
+received. The daughter of a New England country clergyman, even in these
+days of broadening horizons, could scarcely be expected to look with
+favor upon an actor's career.
+
+June came and with it the first of the summer visitors. For the next
+three months Albert was happy with a new set of acquaintances. They were
+HIS kind, these young folks from the city, and his spare moments were
+for the most part spent in their society. He was popular with them, too.
+Some of them thought it queer that he should be living all the year in
+the village and keeping books for a concern like Z. Snow and Co., but
+juvenile society is tolerant and a youth who could sing passably, dance
+wonderfully and, above all, was as beautifully picturesque as Albert
+Speranza, was welcomed, especially by the girls. So the Saturdays and
+Sundays and evenings of that summer were pleasant for him. He saw little
+of Helen or Gertie Kendrick while the hotel or the cottages remained
+open.
+
+Then came the fall and another long, dreary winter. Albert plodded on at
+his desk or in the yard, following Mr. Keeler's suggestions, obeying his
+grandfather's orders, tormenting Issy, doing his daily stint because he
+had to, not because he liked it. For amusement he read a good deal, went
+to the usual number of sociables and entertainments, and once took part
+in amateur theatricals, a play given by the church society in the
+town hall. There was where he shone. As the dashing young hero he was
+resplendent. Gertie Kendrick gazed upon him from the third settee
+center with shining eyes. When he returned home after it was over his
+grandmother and Mrs. Ellis overwhelmed him with praises.
+
+"I declare you was perfectly splendid, Albert!" exclaimed Olive. "I was
+so proud of you I didn't know what to do."
+
+Rachel looked upon him as one might look upon a god from Olympus.
+
+"All I could think of was Robert Penfold," she said. "I says so to
+Laban: 'Laban,' says I, ain't he Robert Penfold and nobody else?' There
+you was, tellin' that Hannibal Ellis that you was innocent and some day
+the world would know you was, just the way Robert Penfold done in the
+book. I never did like that Hannie Ellis!"
+
+Mrs. Snow smiled. "Mercy, Rachel," she said, "I hope you're not blamin'
+Hannie because of what he did in that play. That was his part, he had to
+do it."
+
+But Rachel was not convinced. "He didn't have to be so everlastin' mean
+and spiteful about it, anyhow," she declared. "But there, that family
+of Ellises never did amount to nothin' much. But, as I said to Laban,
+Albert, you was Robert Penfold all over."
+
+"What did Labe say to that?" asked Albert, laughing.
+
+"He never had a chance to say nothin'. Afore he could answer, that Maria
+B. Price--she was settin' right back of me and eatin' molasses candy out
+of a rattly paper bag till I thought I SHOULD die--she leaned forward
+and she whispered: 'He looks more to me like that Stevie D. that used to
+work for Cap'n Crowell over to the Center. Stevie D. had curly hair like
+that and HE was part Portygee, you remember; though there was a little
+nigger blood in him, too,' she says. I could have shook her! And then
+she went to rattlin' that bag again."
+
+Even Mr. Keeler congratulated him at the office next morning. "You done
+well, Al," he said. "Yes--yes--yes. You done fust-rate, fust-rate."
+
+His grandfather was the only one who refused to enthuse.
+
+"Well," inquired Captain Zelotes, sitting down at his desk and glancing
+at his grandson over his spectacles, "do you cal'late to be able to get
+down to earth this mornin' far enough to figger up the payroll? You can
+put what you made from play-actin' on a separate sheet. It's about as
+much as the average person makes at that job," he added.
+
+Albert's face flushed. There were times when he hated his grandfather.
+Mr. Keeler, a moment later, put a hand on his shoulder.
+
+"You mustn't mind the old man, Al," he whispered. "I expect that seein'
+you last night brought your dad's job back to him strong. He can't bear
+play-actin', you know, on your dad's account. Yes--yes. That was it.
+Yes--yes--yes."
+
+It may have been a truthful explanation, but as an apology it was a
+limited success.
+
+"My father was a gentleman, at any rate," snapped Albert. Laban opened
+his mouth to reply, but closed it again and walked back to his books.
+
+In May, which was an unusually balmy month, the Congregational Sunday
+School gave an automobile excursion and box-luncheon party at High Point
+Light down at Trumet. As Rachel Ellis said, it was pretty early for
+picnickin', but if the Almighty's season was ahead of time there didn't
+seem to be any real good reason why one of his Sunday schools shouldn't
+be. And, which was the principal excuse for the hurry, the hotel busses
+could be secured, which would not be the case after the season opened.
+
+Albert went to the picnic. He was not very keen on going, but his
+grandfather had offered him a holiday for the purpose, and it was one
+of his principles never to refuse a chance to get away from that office.
+Besides, a number of the young people of his age were going, and Gertie
+Kendrick had been particularly insistent.
+
+"You just MUST come, Al," she said. "It won't be any fun at all if you
+don't come."
+
+It is possible that Gertie found it almost as little fun when he
+did come. He happened to be in one of his moods that day; "Portygee
+streaks," his grandfather termed these moods, and told Olive that they
+were "that play-actor breakin' out in him." He talked but little during
+the ride down in the bus, refused to sing when called upon, and, after
+dinner, when the dancing in the pavilion was going on, stepped quietly
+out of the side door and went tramping along the edge of the bluff,
+looking out over the sea or down to the beach, where, one hundred and
+fifty feet below, the big waves were curling over to crash into a creamy
+mass of froth and edge the strand with lacy ripples.
+
+The high clay bluffs of Trumet are unique. No other part of the Cape
+shows anything just like them. High Point Light crowns their highest
+and steepest point and is the flashing beacon the rays of which spell
+"America" to the incoming liner Boston bound.
+
+Along the path skirting the edge of the bluff Albert strolled, his hands
+in his pockets and his thoughts almost anywhere except on the picnic
+and the picnickers of the South Harniss Congregational Church. His
+particular mood on this day was one of discontent and rebellion against
+the fate which had sentenced him to the assistant bookkeeper's position
+in the office of Z. Snow and Co. At no time had he reconciled himself to
+the idea of that position as a permanent one; some day, somehow he was
+going to break away and do--marvelous things. But occasionally, and
+usually after a disagreeable happening in the office, he awoke from his
+youthful day dreams of glorious futures to a realization of the dismal
+to-day.
+
+The happening which had brought about realization in this instance was
+humorous in the eyes of two-thirds of South Harniss's population. They
+were chuckling over it yet. The majority of the remaining third were
+shocked. Albert, who was primarily responsible for the whole affair, was
+neither amused nor shocked; he was angry and humiliated.
+
+The Reverend Seabury Calvin, of Providence, R. I., had arrived in town
+and opened his summer cottage unusually early in the season. What
+was quite as important, Mrs. Seabury Calvin had arrived with him. The
+Reverend Calvin, whose stay was in this case merely temporary, was
+planning to build an addition to his cottage porch. Mrs. Calvin, who was
+the head of the summer "Welfare Workers," whatever they were, had called
+a meeting at the Calvin house to make Welfare plans for the season.
+
+The lumber for the new porch was ordered of Z. Snow and Co. The Reverend
+Calvin ordered it himself in person. Albert received the order.
+
+"I wish this delivered to-morrow without fail," said Mr. Calvin. Albert
+promised.
+
+But promises are not always easy to keep. One of Z. Snow and Co.'s teams
+was busy hauling lumber for the new schoolhouse at Bayport. The other
+Issachar had commandeered for deliveries at Harniss Center and refused
+to give up his claim. And Laban Keeler, as it happened, was absent
+on one of his "vacations." Captain Zelotes was attending a directors'
+meeting at Osham and from there was going to Boston for a day's stay.
+
+"The ship's in your hands, Al," he had said to his grandson. "Let me see
+how you handle her."
+
+So, in spite of Albert's promise, the Calvin lumber was not delivered on
+time. The Reverend gentleman called to ask why. His manner was anything
+but receptive so far as excuses were concerned.
+
+"Young man," he said loftily, "I am accustomed to do business with
+business people. Did you or did you not promise to deliver my order
+yesterday?"
+
+"Why, yes sir, I promised, but we couldn't do it. We--"
+
+"I don't care to know why you didn't do it. The fact that you did not is
+sufficient. Will that order of mine be delivered to-day?"
+
+"If it is a possible thing, Mr. Calvin, it--"
+
+"Pardon me. Will it be delivered?"
+
+The Speranza temper was rising. "Yes," said the owner of that temper,
+succinctly.
+
+"Does yes mean yes, in this case; or does it mean what it meant before?"
+
+"I have told you why--"
+
+"Never mind. Young man, if that lumber is not delivered to-day I shall
+cancel the order. Do you understand?"
+
+Albert swallowed hard. "I tell you, Mr. Calvin, that it shall be
+delivered," he said. "And it will be."
+
+But delivering it was not so easy. The team simply could NOT be taken
+off the schoolhouse job, fulfillment of a contract was involved there.
+And the other horse had gone lame and Issachar swore by all that was
+solemn that the animal must not be used.
+
+"Let old Calvin wait till to-morrow," said Issy. "You can use the big
+team then. And Cap'n Lote'll be home, besides."
+
+But Albert was not going to let "old Calvin" wait. That lumber was going
+to be delivered, if he had to carry it himself, stick by stick. He asked
+Mr. Price if an extra team might not be hired.
+
+"Ain't none," said Issy. "Besides, where'd your granddad's profits be
+if you spent money hirin' extry teams to haul that little mite of stuff?
+I've been in this business a good long spell, and I tell you--"
+
+He did not get a chance to tell it, for Albert walked off and left him.
+At half-past twelve that afternoon he engaged "Vessie" Young--christened
+Sylvester Young and a brother to the driver of the depot wagon--to
+haul the Calvin lumber in his rickety, fragrant old wagon. Simpson
+Mullen--commonly called "Simp"--was to help in the delivery.
+
+Against violent protests from Issy, who declared that Ves Young's
+rattle-trap wan't fit to do nothin' but haul fish heads to the
+fertilizer factory, the Calvin beams and boards were piled high on
+the wagon and with Ves on the driver's seat and Simp perched, like a
+disreputable carrion crow on top of the load, the equipage started.
+
+"There!" exclaimed Albert, with satisfaction. "He can't say it wasn't
+delivered this time according to promise."
+
+"Godfreys!" snorted Issy, gazing after the departing wagon. "He won't be
+able to say nothin' when he sees that git-up--and smells it. Ves carts
+everything in that cart from dead cows to gurry barrels. Whew! I'd
+hate to have to set on that porch when 'twas built of that lumber. And,
+unless I'm mistook, Ves and Simp had been havin' a little somethin'
+strong to take, too."
+
+Mr. Price, as it happened, was not "mistook." Mr. Young had, as the
+South Harniss saying used to be, "had a jug come down" on the train from
+Boston that very morning. The jug was under the seat of his wagon and
+its contents had already been sampled by him and by Simp. The journey to
+the Calvin cottage was enlivened by frequent stops for refreshment.
+
+Consequently it happened that, just as Mrs. Calvin's gathering of
+Welfare Workers had reached the cake and chocolate stage in their
+proceedings and just as the Reverend Mr. Calvin had risen by invitation
+to say a few words of encouragement, the westerly wind blowing in at
+the open windows bore to the noses and ears of the assembled faithful a
+perfume and a sound neither of which was sweet.
+
+Above the rattle and squeak of the Young wagon turning in at the Calvin
+gate arose the voices of Vessie and Simp uplifted in song.
+
+"'Here's to the good old whiskey, drink 'er daown,'" sang Mr. Young.
+
+
+     "'Here's to the good old whiskey,
+         Drink 'er daown!
+       Here's to the good old whiskey,
+       It makes you feel so frisky,
+         Drink 'er--'
+
+
+Git up there, blank blank ye! What the blankety blank you stoppin' here
+for? Git up!"
+
+The horse was not the only creature that got up. Mrs. Calvin rose from
+her chair and gazed in horror at the window. Her husband, being already
+on his feet, could not rise but he broke off short the opening sentence
+of his "few words" and stared and listened. Each Welfare Worker stared
+and listened also.
+
+"Git up, you blankety blank blank," repeated Ves Young, with cheerful
+enthusiasm. Mr. Mullen, from the top of the load of lumber, caroled
+dreamily on:
+
+
+     "'Here's to the good old rum,
+         Drink 'er daown!
+       Here's to the good old rum,
+         Drink 'er daown!
+       Here's to the good old rum,
+       Ain't you glad that you've got some?
+       Drink 'er daown!  Drink 'er daown!
+         Drink 'er daown!'"
+
+
+And floating, as it were, upon the waves of melody came the odor of the
+Young wagon, an odor combining deceased fish and late lamented cow and
+goodness knows what beside.
+
+The dissipated vehicle stopped beneath the parlor windows of the Calvin
+cottage. Mr. Young called to his assistant.
+
+"Here we be, Simp!" he yelled. "A-a-ll ashore that's goin' ashore! Wake
+up there, you unmentionably described old rum barrel and help unload
+this everlastingly condemned lumber."
+
+Mr. Calvin rushed to the window. "What does this mean?" he demanded, in
+frothing indignation.
+
+Vessie waved at him reassuringly. "'Sall right, Mr. Calvin," he shouted.
+"Here's your lumber from Ze-lotes Snow and Co., South Harniss, Mass., U.
+S. A. 'Sall right. Let 'er go, Simp! Let 'er blankety-blank go!"
+
+Mr. Mullen responded with alacrity and a whoop. A half dozen boards
+crashed to the ground beneath the parlor windows. Mrs. Calvin rushed to
+her husband's side.
+
+"This is DREADFUL, Seabury!" she cried. "Send those creatures and--and
+that horrible wagon away at once."
+
+The Reverend Calvin tried to obey orders. He commanded Mr. Young to go
+away from there that very moment. Vessie was surprised.
+
+"Ain't this your lumber?" he demanded.
+
+"It doesn't make any difference whether it is or not, I--"
+
+"Didn't you tell Z. Snow and Co. that this lumber'd got to be delivered
+to-day or you'd cancel the order?"
+
+"Never mind. That is my business, sir. You--"
+
+"Hold on! Ho-o-ld on! _I_ got a business, too. My business is deliverin'
+what I'm paid to deliver. Al Speranzy he says to me: 'Ves,' he says, 'if
+you don't deliver that lumber to old man Calvin to-day you don't get no
+money, see. Will you deliver it?' Says I, 'You bet your crashety-blank
+life I'll (hic) d'liver it! What I say I'll do, I'll do!' And I'm
+deliverin' it, ain't I? Hey? Ain't I? Well, then, what the--" And so
+forth and at length, while Mrs. Calvin collapsed half fainting in an
+easy-chair, and horrified Welfare Workers covered their ears--and longed
+to cover their noses.
+
+The lumber was delivered that day. Its delivery was, from the viewpoint
+of Messrs. Young and Mullen, a success. The spring meeting of the
+Welfare Workers was not a success.
+
+The following day Mr. Calvin called at the office of Z. Snow and Co. He
+had things to say and said them. Captain Zelotes, who had returned from
+Boston, listened. Then he called his grandson.
+
+"Tell him what you've just told me, Mr. Calvin," he said.
+
+The reverend gentleman told it, with added details.
+
+"And in my opinion, if you'll excuse me, Captain Snow," he said, in
+conclusion, "this young man knew what he was doing when he sent those
+drunken scoundrels to my house. He did it purposely, I am convinced."
+
+Captain Zelotes looked at him.
+
+"Why?" he asked.
+
+"Why, because--because of--of what I said to him--er--er--when I called
+here yesterday morning. He--I presume he took offense and--and this
+outrage is the result. I am convinced that--"
+
+"Wait a minute. What did you say for him to take offense at?"
+
+"I demanded that order should be delivered as promised. I am accustomed
+to do business with business men and--"
+
+"Hold on just a minute more, Mr. Calvin. We don't seem to be gettin' at
+the clam in this shell as fast as we'd ought to. Al, what have you got
+to say about all this business?"
+
+Albert was white, almost as white as when he fought Sam Thatcher, but as
+he stood up to Sam so also did he face the irate clergyman. He told
+of the latter's visit to the office, of the threat to cancel the order
+unless delivery was promised that day, of how his promise to deliver was
+exacted, of his effort to keep that promise.
+
+"I HAD to deliver it, Grandfather," he said hotly. "He had all but
+called me a liar and--and by George, I wasn't going to--"
+
+His grandfather held up a warning hand.
+
+"Sshh! Ssh!" he said. "Go on with your yarn, boy."
+
+Albert told of the lame horse, of his effort to hire another team, and
+finally how in desperation he had engaged Ves Young as a last resort.
+The captain's face was serious but there was the twinkle under his heavy
+brows. He pulled at his beard.
+
+"Humph!" he grunted. "Did you know Ves and Simp had been drinkin' when
+you hired 'em?"
+
+"Of course I didn't. After they had gone Issy said he suspected that
+they had been drinking a little, but _I_ didn't know it. All I wanted
+was to prove to HIM," with a motion toward Mr. Calvin, "that I kept my
+word."
+
+Captain Zelotes pulled at his beard. "All right, Al," he said, after a
+moment; "you can go."
+
+Albert went out of the private office. After he had gone the captain
+turned to his irate customer.
+
+"I'm sorry this happened, Mr. Calvin," he said, "and if Keeler or I had
+been here it probably wouldn't. But," he added, "as far as I can see,
+the boy did what he thought was the best thing to do. And," the twinkle
+reappeared in the gray eyes, "you sartinly did get your lumber when
+'twas promised."
+
+Mr. Calvin stiffened. He had his good points, but he suffered from what
+Laban Keeler once called "ingrowin' importance," and this ailment often
+affected his judgment. Also he had to face Mrs. Calvin upon his return
+home.
+
+"Do I understand," he demanded, "that you are excusing that young man
+for putting that outrage upon me?"
+
+"We-ll, as I say, I'm sorry it happened. But, honest, Mr. Calvin, I
+don't know's the boy's to blame so very much, after all. He delivered
+your lumber, and that's somethin'."
+
+"Is that all you have to say, Captain Snow? Is that--that impudent young
+clerk of yours to go unpunished?"
+
+"Why, yes, I guess likely he is."
+
+"Then I shall NEVER buy another dollar's worth of your house again,
+sir."
+
+Captain Zelotes bowed. "I'm sorry to lose your trade, Mr. Calvin," he
+said. "Good mornin'."
+
+Albert, at his desk in the outer office, was waiting rebelliously to be
+called before his grandfather and upbraided. And when so called he was
+in a mood to speak his mind. He would say a few things, no matter what
+happened in consequence. But he had no chance to say them. Captain
+Zelotes did not mention the Calvin affair to him, either that day or
+afterward. Albert waited and waited, expecting trouble, but the trouble,
+so far as his grandfather was concerned, did not materialize. He could
+not understand it.
+
+But if in that office there was silence concerning the unusual delivery
+of the lumber for the Calvin porch, outside there was talk enough and
+to spare. Each Welfare Worker talked when she reached home and the story
+spread. Small boys shouted after Albert when he walked down the main
+street, demanding to know how Ves Young's cart was smellin' these days.
+When he entered the post office some one in the crowd was almost sure to
+hum, "Here's to the good old whiskey, drink her down." On the train
+on the way to the picnic, girls and young fellows had slyly nagged him
+about it. The affair and its consequence were the principal causes of
+his mood that day; this particular "Portygee streak" was due to it.
+
+The path along the edge of the high bluff entered a grove of scraggy
+pitch pines about a mile from the lighthouse and the picnic ground.
+Albert stalked gloomily through the shadows of the little grove and
+emerged on the other side. There he saw another person ahead of him on
+the path. This other person was a girl. He recognized her even at this
+distance. She was Helen Kendall.
+
+She and he had not been quite as friendly of late. Not that there was
+any unfriendliness between them, but she was teaching in the primary
+school and, as her father had not been well, spent most of her evenings
+at home. During the early part of the winter he had called occasionally
+but, somehow, it had seemed to him that she was not quite as cordial, or
+as interested in his society and conversation as she used to be. It was
+but a slight indifference on her part, perhaps, but Albert Speranza
+was not accustomed to indifference on the part of his feminine
+acquaintances. So he did not call again. He had seen her at the picnic
+ground and they had spoken, but not at any length.
+
+And he did not care to speak with her now. He had left the pavilion
+because of his desire to be alone, and that desire still persisted.
+However, she was some little distance ahead of him and he waited in the
+edge of the grove until she should go over the crest of the little hill
+at the next point.
+
+But she did not go over the crest. Instead, when she reached it, she
+walked to the very edge of the bluff and stood there looking off at the
+ocean. The sea breeze ruffled her hair and blew her skirts about her and
+she made a pretty picture. But to Albert it seemed that she was standing
+much too near the edge. She could not see it, of course, but from where
+he stood he could see that the bank at that point was much undercut by
+the winter rains and winds, and although the sod looked firm enough from
+above, in reality there was little to support it. Her standing there
+made him a trifle uneasy and he had a mind to shout and warn her.
+He hesitated, however, and as he watched she stepped back of her own
+accord. He turned, re-entered the grove and started to walk back to the
+pavilion.
+
+He had scarcely done so when he heard a short scream followed by a
+thump and a rumbling, rattling sound. He turned like a flash, his heart
+pounding violently.
+
+The bluff edge was untenanted. A semi-circular section of the sod where
+Helen had stood was missing. From the torn opening where it had been
+rose a yellow cloud of dust.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+
+A goodly number of the South Harniss "natives," those who had not seen
+him play tennis, would have been willing to swear that running was, for
+Albert Speranza, an impossibility. His usual gait was a rather languid
+saunter. They would have changed their minds had they seen him now.
+
+He ran along that path as he had run in school at the last track meet,
+where he had been second in the hundred-yard dash. He reached the spot
+where the sod had broken and, dropping on his knees, looked fearfully
+over. The dust was still rising, the sand and pebbles were still
+rattling in a diminishing shower down to the beach so far below. But he
+did not see what he had so feared to see.
+
+What he did see, however, was neither pleasant nor altogether
+reassuring. The bluff below the sod at its top dropped sheer and
+undercut for perhaps ten feet. Then the sand and clay sloped outward and
+the slope extended down for another fifty feet, its surface broken by
+occasional clinging chunks of beach grass. Then it broke sharply again,
+a straight drop of eighty feet to the mounds and dunes bordering the
+beach.
+
+Helen had of course fallen straight to the upper edge of the slope,
+where she had struck feet first, and from there had slid and rolled to
+the very edge of the long drop to the beach. Her skirt had caught in
+the branches of an enterprising bayberry bush which had managed to find
+roothold there, and to this bush and a clump of beach grass she was
+clinging, her hands outstretched and her body extended along the edge of
+the clay precipice.
+
+Albert gasped.
+
+"Helen!" he called breathlessly.
+
+She turned her head and looked up at him. Her face was white, but she
+did not scream.
+
+"Helen!" cried Albert, again. "Helen, do you hear me?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Are you badly hurt?"
+
+"No. No, I don't think so."
+
+"Can you hold on just as you are for a few minutes?"
+
+"Yes, I--I think so."
+
+"You've got to, you know. Here! You're not going to faint, are you?"
+
+"No, I--I don't think I am."
+
+"You can't! You mustn't! Here! Don't you do it! Stop!"
+
+There was just a trace of his grandfather in the way he shouted the
+order. Whether or not the vigor of the command produced the result is a
+question, but at any rate she did not faint.
+
+"Now you stay right where you are," he ordered again. "And hang on as
+tight as you can. I'm coming down."
+
+Come down he did, swinging over the brink with his face to the bank,
+dropping on his toes to the upper edge of the slope and digging boots
+and fingers into the clay to prevent sliding further.
+
+"Hang on!" he cautioned, over his shoulder. "I'll be there in a second.
+There! Now wait until I get my feet braced. Now give me your hand--your
+left hand. Hold on with your right."
+
+Slowly and cautiously, clinging to his hand, he pulled her away from the
+edge of the precipice and helped her to scramble up to where he clung.
+There she lay and panted. He looked at her apprehensively.
+
+"Don't go and faint now, or any foolishness like that," he ordered
+sharply.
+
+"No, no, I won't. I'll try not to. But how are we ever going to climb
+up--up there?"
+
+Above them and at least four feet out of reach, even if they stood up,
+and that would be a frightfully risky proceeding, the sod projected over
+their heads like the eaves of a house.
+
+Helen glanced up at it and shuddered.
+
+"Oh, how CAN we?" she gasped.
+
+"We can't. And we won't try."
+
+"Shall we call for help?"
+
+"Not much use. Nobody to hear us. Besides, we can always do that if
+we have to. I think I see a way out of the mess. If we can't get up,
+perhaps we can get down."
+
+"Get DOWN?"
+
+"Yes, it isn't all as steep as it is here. I believe we might sort of
+zig-zag down if we were careful. You hold on here just as you are; I'm
+going to see what it looks like around this next point."
+
+The "point" was merely a projection of the bluff about twenty feet away.
+He crawfished along the face of the slope, until he could see beyond it.
+Helen kept urging him to be careful--oh, be careful!
+
+"Of course I'll be careful," he said curtly. "I don't want to break my
+neck. Yes--yes, by George, it IS easier around there! We could get down
+a good way. Here, here; don't start until you take my hand. And be sure
+your feet are braced before you move. Come on, now."
+
+"I--I don't believe I can."
+
+"Of course you can. You've GOT to. Come on. Don't look down. Look at the
+sand right in front of you."
+
+Getting around that point was a decidedly ticklish operation, but they
+managed it, he leading the way, making sure of his foothold before
+moving and then setting her foot in the print his own had made. On the
+other side of the projection the slope was less abrupt and extended much
+nearer to the ground below. They zigzagged down until nearly to the edge
+of the steep drop. Then Albert looked about for a new path to safety. He
+found it still farther on.
+
+"It takes us down farther," he said, "and there are bushes to hold on to
+after we get there. Come on, Helen! Brace up now, be a sport!"
+
+She was trying her best to obey orders, but being a sport was no slight
+undertaking under the circumstances. When they reached the clump of
+bushes her guide ordered her to rest.
+
+"Just stop and catch your breath," he said. "The rest is going to be
+easier, I think. And we haven't so very far to go."
+
+He was too optimistic. It was anything but easy; in fact, the last
+thirty feet was almost a tumble, owing to the clay giving way beneath
+their feet. But there was soft sand to tumble into and they reached the
+beach safe, though in a dishevelled, scratched and thoroughly smeared
+condition. Then Helen sat down and covered her face with her hands.
+Her rescuer gazed triumphantly up at the distant rim of broken sod and
+grinned.
+
+"There, by George!" he exclaimed. "We did it, didn't we? Say, that was
+fun!"
+
+She removed her hands and looked at him.
+
+"WHAT did you say it was?" she faltered.
+
+"I said it was fun. It was great! Like something out of a book, eh?"
+
+She began to laugh hysterically. He turned to her in indignant surprise.
+"What are you laughing at?" he demanded.
+
+"Oh--oh, don't, please! Just let me laugh. If I don't laugh I shall cry,
+and I don't want to do that. Just don't talk to me for a few minutes,
+that's all."
+
+When the few minutes were over she rose to her feet.
+
+"Now we must get back to the pavilion, I suppose," she said. "My, but
+we are sights, though! Do let's see if we can't make ourselves a little
+more presentable."
+
+She did her best to wipe off the thickest of the clay smears with her
+handkerchief, but the experiment was rather a failure. As they started
+to walk back along the beach she suddenly turned to him and said:
+
+"I haven't told you how--how much obliged I am for--for what you did. If
+you hadn't come, I don't know what would have happened to me."
+
+"Oh, that's all right," he answered lightly. He was reveling in the
+dramatic qualities of the situation. She did not speak again for some
+time and he, too, walked on in silence enjoying his day dream. Suddenly
+he became aware that she was looking at him steadily and with an odd
+expression on her face.
+
+"What is it?" he asked. "Why do you look at me that way?"
+
+Her answer was, as usual, direct and frank.
+
+"I was thinking about you," she said. "I was thinking that I must have
+been mistaken, partly mistaken, at least."
+
+"Mistaken? About me, do you mean?"
+
+"Yes; I had made up my mind that you were--well, one sort of fellow, and
+now I see that you are an entirely different sort. That is, you've shown
+that you can be different."
+
+"What on earth do you mean by that?"
+
+"Why, I mean--I mean--Oh, I'm sure I had better not say it. You won't
+like it, and will think I had better mind my own affairs--which I should
+do, of course."
+
+"Go on; say it."
+
+She looked at him again, evidently deliberating whether or not to speak
+her thought. Then she said:
+
+"Well, I will say it. Not that it is really my business, but because in
+a way it is begging your pardon, and I ought to do that. You see, I had
+begun to believe that you were--that you were--well, that you were not
+very--very active, you know."
+
+"Active? Say, look here, Helen! What--"
+
+"Oh, I don't wonder you don't understand. I mean that you were
+rather--rather fond of not doing much--of--of--"
+
+"Eh? Not doing much? That I was lazy, do you mean?"
+
+"Why, not exactly lazy, perhaps, but--but--Oh, how CAN I say just what
+I mean! I mean that you were always saying that you didn't like the work
+in your grandfather's office."
+
+"Which I don't."
+
+"And that some day you were going to do something else."
+
+"Which I am."
+
+"Write or act or do something--"
+
+"Yes, and that's true, too."
+
+"But you don't, you know. You don't do anything. You've been talking
+that way ever since I knew you, calling this a one-horse town and saying
+how you hated it, and that you weren't going to waste your life here,
+and all that, but you keep staying here and doing just the same things.
+The last long talk we had together you told me you knew you could write
+poems and plays and all sorts of things, you just felt that you could.
+You were going to begin right away. You said that some months ago, and
+you haven't done any writing at all. Now, have you?"
+
+"No-o. No, but that doesn't mean I shan't by and by."
+
+"But you didn't begin as you said you would. That was last spring, more
+than a year ago, and I don't believe you have tried to write a single
+poem. Have you?"
+
+He was beginning to be ruffled. It was quite unusual for any one, most
+of all for a girl, to talk to him in this way.
+
+"I don't know that I have," he said loftily. "And, anyway, I don't see
+that it is--is--"
+
+"My business whether you have or not. I know it isn't. I'm sorry I
+spoke. But, you see, I--Oh, well, never mind. And I do want you to know
+how much I appreciate your helping me as you did just now. I don't know
+how to thank you for that."
+
+But thanks were not exactly what he wanted at that moment.
+
+"Go ahead and say the rest," he ordered, after a short pause. "You've
+said so much that you had better finish it, seems to me. I'm lazy, you
+think. What else am I?"
+
+"You're brave, awfully brave, and you are so strong and quick--yes,
+and--and--masterful; I think that is the right word. You ordered me
+about as if I were a little girl. I didn't want to keep still, as you
+told me to; I wanted to scream. And I wanted to faint, too, but you
+wouldn't let me. I had never seen you that way before. I didn't know you
+could be like that. That is what surprises me so. That is why I said you
+were so different."
+
+Here was balm for wounded pride. Albert's chin lifted. "Oh, that was
+nothing," he said. "Whatever had to be done must be done right off, I
+could see that. You couldn't hang on where you were very long."
+
+She shuddered. "No," she replied, "I could not. But _I_ couldn't think
+WHAT to do, and you could. Yes, and did it, and made me do it."
+
+The chin lifted still more and the Speranza chest began to expand.
+Helen's next remark was in the natures of a reducer for the said
+expansion.
+
+"If you could be so prompt and strong and--and energetic then," she
+said, "I can't help wondering why you aren't like that all the time. I
+had begun to think you were just--just--"
+
+"Lazy, eh?" he suggested.
+
+"Why--why, no-o, but careless and indifferent and with not much
+ambition, certainly. You had talked so much about writing and yet you
+never tried to write anything, that--that--"
+
+"That you thought I was all bluff. Thanks! Any more compliments?"
+
+She turned on him impulsively. "Oh, don't!" she exclaimed. "Please
+don't! I know what I am saying sounds perfectly horrid, and especially
+now when you have just saved me from being badly hurt, if not killed.
+But don't you see that--that I am saying it because I am interested in
+you and sure you COULD do so much if you only would? If you would only
+try."
+
+This speech was a compound of sweet and bitter. Albert
+characteristically selected the sweet.
+
+"Helen," he asked, in his most confidential tone, "would you like to
+have me try and write something? Say, would you?"
+
+"Of course I would. Oh, will you?"
+
+"Well, if YOU asked me I might. For your sake, you know."
+
+She stopped and stamped her foot impatiently.
+
+"Oh, DON'T be silly!" she exclaimed. "I don't want you to do it for
+my sake. I want you to do it for your own sake. Yes, and for your
+grandfather's sake."
+
+"My grandfather's sake! Great Scott, why do you drag him in? HE doesn't
+want me to write poetry."
+
+"He wants you to do something, to succeed. I know that."
+
+"He wants me to stay here and help Labe Keeler and Issy Price. He wants
+me to spend all my life in that office of his; that's what HE wants.
+Now hold on, Helen! I'm not saying anything against the old fellow. He
+doesn't like me, I know, but--"
+
+"You DON'T know. He does like you. Or he wants to like you very much
+indeed. He would like to have you carry on the Snow Company's business
+after he has gone, but if you can't--or won't--do that, I know he would
+be very happy to see you succeed at anything--anything."
+
+Albert laughed scornfully. "Even at writing poetry?" he asked.
+
+"Why, yes, at writing; although of course he doesn't know a thing about
+it and can't understand how any one can possibly earn a living that way.
+He has read or heard about poets and authors starving in garrets and he
+thinks they're all like that. But if you could only show him and prove
+to him that you could succeed by writing, he would be prouder of you
+than any one else would be. I know it."
+
+He regarded her curiously. "You seem to know a lot about my
+grandfather," he observed.
+
+"I do know something about him. He and I have been friends ever since
+I was a little girl, and I like him very much indeed. If he were my
+grandfather I should be proud of him. And I think you ought to be."
+
+She flashed the last sentence at him in a sudden heat of enthusiasm. He
+was surprised at her manner.
+
+"Gee! You ARE strong for the old chap, aren't you?" he said. "Well,
+admitting that he is all right, just why should I be proud of him? I AM
+proud of my father, of course; he was somebody in the world."
+
+"You mean he was somebody just because he was celebrated and lots of
+people knew about him. Celebrated people aren't the only ones who do
+worth while things. If I were you, I should be proud of Captain Zelotes
+because he is what he has made himself. Nobody helped him; he did it
+all. He was a sea captain and a good one. He has been a business man and
+a good one, even if the business isn't so very big. Everybody here
+in South Harniss--yes, and all up and down the Cape--knows of him and
+respects him. My father says in all the years he has preached in his
+church he has never heard a single person as much as hint that Captain
+Snow wasn't absolutely honest, absolutely brave, and the same to
+everybody, rich or poor. And all his life he has worked and worked hard.
+What HE has belongs to him; he has earned it. That's why I should be
+proud of him if he were my grandfather."
+
+Her enthusiasm had continued all through this long speech. Albert
+whistled.
+
+"Whew!" he exclaimed. "Regular cheer for Zelotes, fellows! One--two--!
+Grandfather's got one person to stand up for him, I'll say that. But why
+this sudden outbreak about him, anyhow? It was me you were talking about
+in the beginning--though I didn't notice any loud calls for cheers in
+that direction," he added.
+
+She ignored the last part of the speech. "I think you yourself made me
+think of him," she replied. "Sometimes you remind me of him. Not often,
+but once in a while. Just now, when we were climbing down that awful
+place you seemed almost exactly like him. The way you knew just what to
+do all the time, and your not hesitating a minute, and the way you took
+command of the situation and," with a sudden laugh, "bossed me around;
+every bit of that was like him, and not like you at all. Oh, I don't
+mean that," she added hurriedly. "I mean it wasn't like you as you
+usually are. It was different."
+
+"Humph! Well, I must say--See here, Helen Kendall, what is it you expect
+me to do; sail in and write two or three sonnets and a 'Come Into
+the Garden, Maud,' some time next week? You're terribly keen about
+Grandfather, but he has rather got the edge on me so far as age goes.
+He's in the sixties, and I'm just about nineteen."
+
+"When he was nineteen he was first mate of a ship."
+
+"Yes, so I've heard him say. Maybe first-mating is a little bit easier
+than writing poetry."
+
+"And maybe it isn't. At any rate, he didn't know whether it was easy or
+not until he tried. Oh, THAT'S what I would like to see you do--TRY
+to do something. You could do it, too, almost anything you tried, I do
+believe. I am confident you could. But--Oh, well, as you said at the
+beginning, it isn't my business at all, and I've said ever and ever so
+much more than I meant to. Please forgive me, if you can. I think my
+tumble and all the rest must have made me silly. I'm sorry, Albert.
+There are the steps up to the pavilion. See them!"
+
+He was tramping on beside her, his hands in his pockets. He did not look
+at the long flight of steps which had suddenly come into view around the
+curve of the bluff. When he did look up and speak it was in a different
+tone, some such tone as she had heard him use during her rescue.
+
+"All right," he said, with decision, "I'll show you whether I can try
+or not. I know you think I won't, but I will. I'm going up to my room
+to-night and I'm going to try to write something or other. It may be the
+rottenest poem that ever was ground out, but I'll grind it if it kills
+me."
+
+She was pleased, that was plain, but she shook her head.
+
+"Not to-night, Albert," she said. "To-night, after the picnic, is
+Father's reception at the church. Of course you'll come to that."
+
+"Of course I won't. Look here, you've called me lazy and indifferent and
+a hundred other pet names this afternoon. Well, this evening I'll make
+you take some of 'em back. Reception be hanged! I'm going to write
+to-night."
+
+That evening both Mrs. Snow and Rachel Ellis were much disturbed because
+Albert, pleading a headache, begged off from attendance at the reception
+to the Reverend Mr. Kendall. Either, or both ladies would have been only
+too willing to remain at home and nurse the sufferer through his attack,
+but he refused to permit the sacrifice on their part. After they had
+gone his headache disappeared and, supplied with an abundance of paper,
+pens and ink, he sat down at the table in his room to invoke the Muse.
+The invocation lasted until three A. M. At that hour, with a genuine
+headache, but a sense of triumph which conquered pain, Albert climbed
+into bed. Upon the table lay a poem, a six stanza poem, having these
+words at its head:
+
+
+        TO MY LADY'S SPRING HAT
+           By A. M. Speranza.
+
+
+The following forenoon he posted that poem to the editor of The Cape Cod
+Item. And three weeks later it appeared in the pages of that journal.
+Of course there was no pecuniary recompense for its author, and the fact
+was indisputable that the Item was generally only too glad to publish
+contributions which helped to fill its columns. But, nevertheless,
+Albert Speranza had written a poem and that poem had been published.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+
+It was Rachel who first discovered "To My Lady's Spring Hat" in the Item
+three weeks later. She came rushing into the sitting room brandishing
+the paper.
+
+"My soul! My soul! My soul!" she cried.
+
+Olive, sitting sewing by the window, was, naturally, somewhat startled.
+"Mercy on us, Rachel!" she exclaimed. "What IS it?"
+
+"Look!" cried the housekeeper, pointing to the contribution in the
+"Poets' Corner" as Queen Isabella may have pointed at the evidence of
+her proteges discovery of a new world. "LOOK!"
+
+Mrs. Snow looked, read the verses to herself, and then aloud.
+
+"Why, I declare, they're real sort of pretty, ain't they?" she
+exclaimed, in astonished admiration.
+
+"Pretty! They're perfectly elegant! And right here in the paper for all
+hands to see. Ain't you PROUD of him, Mrs. Snow?"
+
+Olive had been growing more and more proud of her handsome grandson ever
+since his arrival. She was prouder still now and said so. Rachel nodded,
+triumphantly.
+
+"He'll be a Robert Penfold afore he dies, or I miss MY guess!" she
+declared.
+
+She showed it to feminine acquaintances all over town, and Olive, when
+callers came, took pains to see that a copy of the Item, folded with the
+"Poets' Corner" uppermost, lay on the center table. Customers, dropping
+in at the office, occasionally mentioned the poem to its author.
+
+"See you had a piece in the Item, Al," was their usual way of referring
+to it. "Pretty cute piece 'twas, too, seemed to me. Say, that girl of
+yours must have SOME spring bunnit. Ho, ho!"
+
+Issachar deigned to express approval, approval qualified with discerning
+criticism of course, but approval nevertheless.
+
+"Pretty good piece, Al," he observed. "Pretty good. Glad to see you done
+so well. Course you made one little mistake, but 'twan't a very big one.
+That part where you said--What was it, now? Where'd I put that piece of
+poetry? Oh, yes, here 'tis! Where you said--er--er--
+
+
+     'It floats upon her golden curls
+      As froth upon the wave.'
+
+
+Now of course nothin'--a hat or nothin' else--is goin' to float on top
+of a person's head. Froth floatin', that's all right, you understand;
+but even if you took froth right out of the water and slapped it up onto
+anybody's hair 'twouldn't FLOAT up there. If you'd said,
+
+
+     'It SETS up onto her golden curls,
+      Same as froth sets on top of a wave.'
+
+
+that would have been all right and true. But there, don't feel bad about
+it. It's only a little mistake, same as anybody's liable to make. Nine
+persons out of ten wouldn't have noticed it. I'm extry partic'lar, I
+presume likely. I'm findin' mistakes like that all the time."
+
+Laban's comment was less critical, perhaps, but more reserved.
+
+"It's pretty good, Al," he said. "Yes--er--yes, sir, it's pretty good.
+It ain't all new, there's some of it that's been written before, but I
+rather guess that might have been said about Shakespeare's poetry when
+he fust commenced. It's pretty good, Al. Yes--yes, yes. It is so."
+
+Albert was inclined to resent the qualified strain in the bookkeeper's
+praise. He was tempted to be sarcastic.
+
+"Well," he observed, "of course you've read so much real poetry that you
+ought to know."
+
+Laban nodded, slowly. "I've read a good deal," he said quietly. "Readin'
+is one of the few things I ain't made a failure of in this life. Um-hm.
+One of the few. Yes yes--yes."
+
+He dipped his pen in the inkwell and carefully made an entry in the
+ledger. His assistant felt a sudden pang of compunction.
+
+"I beg your pardon, Mr. Keeler," he said. "That was pretty fresh of me.
+I'm sorry."
+
+Laban looked up in mild surprise. "Sorry?" he repeated. "What for? . . .
+Oh, that's all right, Al, that's all right. Lord knows I'm the last one
+on earth who'd ought to criticize anybody. All I had in mind in sayin'
+what I did was to--well, to kind of keep you from bein' too well
+satisfied and not try harder on the next one. It don't pay to be too
+well satisfied. . . . Years ago, I can remember, _I_ was pretty well
+satisfied--with myself and my work. Sounds like a joke, I know, but
+'twas so. . . . Well, I've had a nice long chance to get over it. Um-hm.
+Yes--yes. So I have, so I have."
+
+Only Captain Zelotes at first said nothing about the poem. He read it,
+his wife saw to that, but his comment even to her was a non-committal
+grunt.
+
+"But don't you think it's real sort of pretty, Zelotes?" she asked.
+
+The captain grunted again. "Why, I guess likely 'tis if you say so,
+Mother. I don't know much about such things."
+
+"But everybody says it is."
+
+"Want to know! Well, then 'twon't make much difference whether I say it
+or not."
+
+"But ain't you goin' to say a word to Albert about it, Zelotes?"
+
+"Humph! I don't know's I know what to say."
+
+"Why, say you like it."
+
+"Ye-es, and if I do he'll keep on writin' more. That's exactly what I
+don't want him to do. Come now, Mother, be sensible. This piece of his
+may be good or it may not, _I_ wouldn't undertake to say. But this I do
+know: I don't want the boy to spend his time writin' poetry slush for
+that 'Poets' Corner.' Letitia Makepeace did that--she had a piece in
+there about every week--and she died in the Taunton asylum."
+
+"But, Zelotes, it wasn't her poetry got her into the asylum."
+
+"Wan't it? Well, she was in the poorhouse afore that. I don't know
+whether 'twas her poetryin' that got her in there, but I know darned
+well it didn't get her out."
+
+"But ain't you goin' to say one word? 'Twould encourage him so."
+
+"Good Lord! We don't want to encourage him, do we? If he was takin' to
+thievin' you wouldn't encourage him in that, would you?"
+
+"Thievin'! Zelotes Snow, you don't mean to say you compare a poet to a
+THIEF!"
+
+The captain grinned. "No-o, Mother," he observed drily. "Sometimes a
+thief can manage to earn a livin' at his job. But there, there, don't
+feel bad. I'll say somethin' to Al, long's you think I ought to."
+
+The something was not much, and yet Captain Zelotes really meant it to
+be kindly and to sound like praise. But praising a thing of which you
+have precious little understanding and with which you have absolutely no
+sympathy is a hard job.
+
+"See you had a piece in the Item this week, Al," observed the captain.
+
+"Why--yes, sir," said Albert.
+
+"Um-hm. I read it. I don't know much about such things, but they tell me
+it is pretty good."
+
+"Thank you, sir."
+
+"Eh? Oh, you're welcome."
+
+That was all. Perhaps considering its source it was a good deal, but
+Albert was not of the age where such considerations are likely to be
+made.
+
+Helen's praise was warm and enthusiastic. "I knew you could do it if you
+only would," she declared. "And oh, I'm SO glad you did! Now you must
+keep on trying."
+
+That bit of advice was quite superfluous. Young Speranza having sampled
+the sublime intoxication of seeing himself in print, was not ready to
+sober off yet a while. He continued to bombard the Item with verses.
+They were invariably accepted, but when he sent to a New York magazine
+a poem which he considered a gem, the promptness with which it was
+returned staggered his conceit and was in that respect a good thing for
+him.
+
+However, he kept on trying. Helen would not have permitted him to
+give up even if he had wished. She was quite as much interested in his
+literary aspirations as he was himself and her encouragement was a great
+help to him. After months of repeated trial and repeated rejection he
+opened an envelope bearing the name of a fairly well-known periodical to
+find therein a kindly note stating that his poem, "Sea Spaces" had been
+accepted. And a week later came a check for ten dollars. That was a day
+of days. Incidentally it was the day of a trial balance in the office
+and the assistant bookkeeper's additions and multiplications contained
+no less than four ghastly errors.
+
+The next afternoon there was an interview in the back office. Captain
+Zelotes and his grandson were the participants. The subject discussed
+was "Business versus Poetry," and there was a marked difference of
+opinion. Albert had proclaimed his triumph at home, of course, had
+exhibited his check, had been the recipient of hugs and praises from his
+grandmother and had listened to paeans and hallelujahs from Mrs. Ellis.
+When he hurried around to the parsonage after supper, Helen had been
+excited and delighted at the good news. Albert had been patted on the
+back quite as much as was good for a young man whose bump of self-esteem
+was not inclined toward under-development. When he entered the private
+office of Z. Snow and Co. in answer to his grandfather's summons, he did
+so light-heartedly, triumphantly, with self-approval written large upon
+him.
+
+But though he came like a conquering hero, he was not received like one.
+Captain Zelotes sat at his desk, the copy of the Boston morning paper
+which he had been reading sticking out of the waste basket into which
+it had been savagely jammed a half hour before. The news had not been to
+the captain's liking. These were the September days of 1914; the German
+Kaiser was marching forward "mit Gott" through Belgium, and it began to
+look as if he could not be stopped short of Paris. Consequently, Captain
+Zelotes, his sympathies from the first with England and the Allies, was
+not happy in his newspaper reading.
+
+Albert entered, head erect and eyes shining. If Gertie Kendrick could
+have seen him then she would have fallen down and worshiped. His
+grandfather looked at him in silence for a moment, tapping his desk with
+the stump of a pencil. Albert, too, was silent; he was already thinking
+of another poem with which to dazzle the world, and his head was among
+the rosy clouds.
+
+"Sit down, Al," said Captain Zelotes shortly.
+
+Albert reluctantly descended to earth and took the battered armchair
+standing beside the desk. The captain tapped with his pencil upon the
+figure-covered sheet of paper before him. Then he said:
+
+"Al, you've been here three years come next December, ain't you?"
+
+"Why--yes, sir, I believe I have."
+
+"Um-hm, you have. And for the heft of that time you've been in this
+office."
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Yes. And Labe Keeler and I have been doin' our best to make a business
+man out of you. You understand we have, don't you?"
+
+Albert looked puzzled and a little uneasy. Into his roseate dreams was
+just beginning to filter the idea that his grandfather's tone and manner
+were peculiar.
+
+"Why, yes, sir, of course I understand it," he replied.
+
+"Well, I asked you because I wasn't quite sure whether you did or not.
+Can you guess what this is I've got on my desk here?"
+
+He tapped the figure-covered sheet of paper once more. Before Albert
+could speak the captain answered his own question.
+
+"I'll tell you what it is," he went on. "It's one of the latest samples
+of your smartness as a business man. I presume likely you know that
+Laban worked here in this office until three o'clock this mornin',
+didn't you?"
+
+Albert did not know it. Mr. Keeler had told him nothing of the sort.
+
+"Why, no," he replied. "Did he? What for?"
+
+"Ye-es, he did. And what for? Why, just to find out what was the matter
+with his trial balance, that's all. When one of Labe's trial balances
+starts out for snug harbor and ends up on a reef with six foot of water
+in her hold, naturally Labe wants to get her afloat and pumped dry as
+quick as possible. He ain't used to it, for one thing, and it makes him
+nervous."
+
+Albert's uneasiness grew. When his grandfather's speech became sarcastic
+and nautical, the young man had usually found that there was trouble
+coming for somebody.
+
+"I--I'm sorry Laban had to stay so late," he stammered. "I should have
+been glad to stay and help him, but he didn't ask me."
+
+"No-o. Well, it may possibly be that he cal'lated he was carryin' about
+all your help that the craft would stand, as 'twas. Any more might sink
+her. See here, young feller--" Captain Zelotes dropped his quiet sarcasm
+and spoke sharp and brisk: "See here," he said, "do you realize that
+this sheet of paper I've got here is what stands for a day's work done
+by you yesterday? And on this sheet there was no less than four silly
+mistakes that a child ten years old hadn't ought to make, that an
+able-bodied idiot hadn't ought to make. But YOU made 'em, and they kept
+Labe Keeler here till three o'clock this mornin'. Now what have you got
+to say for yourself?"
+
+As a matter of fact, Albert had very little to say, except that he was
+sorry, and that his grandfather evidently did not consider worth the
+saying. He waved the protestation aside.
+
+"Sorry!" he repeated impatiently. "Of course you're sorry, though even
+at that I ain't sure you're sorry enough. Labe was sorry, too, I don't
+doubt, when his bedtime went by and he kept runnin' afoul of one of your
+mistakes after another. I'm sorry, darned sorry, to find out that
+you can make such blunders after three years on board here under such
+teachin' as you've had. But bein' sorry don't help any to speak of. Any
+fool can be sorry for his foolishness, but if that's all, it don't help
+a whole lot. Is bein' sorry the best excuse you've got to offer? What
+made you make the mistakes in the first place?"
+
+Albert's face was darkly red under the lash of his grandfather's tongue.
+Captain Zelotes and he had had disagreements and verbal encounters
+before, but never since they had been together had the captain spoken
+like this. And the young fellow was no longer seventeen, he was twenty.
+The flush began to fade from his cheeks and the pallor which meant the
+rise of the Speranza temper took its place.
+
+"What made you make such fool blunders?" repeated the captain. "You knew
+better, didn't you?"
+
+"Yes," sullenly, "I suppose I did."
+
+"You know mighty well you did. And as nigh as I can larn from what I
+got out of Laban--which wasn't much; I had to pump it out of him word
+by word--this ain't the first set of mistakes you've made. You make 'em
+right along. If it wasn't for him helpin' you out and coverin' up your
+mistakes, this firm would be in hot water with its customers two-thirds
+of the time and the books would be fust-rate as a puzzle, somethin' to
+use for a guessin' match, but plaguey little good as straight accounts
+of a goin' concern. Now what makes you act this way? Eh? What makes
+you?"
+
+"Oh, I don't know. See here, Grandfather--"
+
+"Hold on a minute. You don't know, eh? Well, I know. It ain't because
+you ain't smart enough to keep a set of books and keep 'em well. I don't
+expect you to be a Labe Keeler; there ain't many bookkeepers like him on
+this earth. But I do know you're smart enough to keep my books and keep
+'em as they'd ought to be, if you want to keep 'em. The trouble with
+you is that you don't want to. You've got too much of your
+good-for-nothin--" Captain Lote pulled up short, cleared his throat,
+and went on: "You've got too much 'poet' in you," he declared, "that's
+what's the matter."
+
+Albert leaned forward. "That wasn't what you were going to say," he said
+quickly. "You were going to say that I had too much of my father in me."
+
+It was the captain's turn to redden. "Eh?" he stammered. "Why, I--I--How
+do you know what I was goin' to say?"
+
+"Because I do. You say it all the time. Or, if you don't say it, you
+look it. There is hardly a day that I don't catch you looking at me as
+if you were expecting me to commit murder or do some outrageous thing
+or other. And I know, too, that it is all because I'm my father's son.
+Well, that's all right; feel that way about me if you want to, I can't
+help it."
+
+"Here, here, Al! Hold on! Don't--"
+
+"I won't hold on. And I tell you this: I hate this work here. You say
+I don't want to keep books. Well, I don't. I'm sorry I made the errors
+yesterday and put Keeler to so much trouble, but I'll probably make
+more. No," with a sudden outburst of determination, "I won't make
+any more. I won't, because I'm not going to keep books any more. I'm
+through."
+
+Captain Zelotes leaned back in his chair.
+
+"You're what?" he asked slowly.
+
+"I'm through. I'll never work in this office another day. I'm through."
+
+The captain's brows drew together as he stared steadily at his grandson.
+He slowly tugged at his beard.
+
+"Humph!" he grunted, after a moment. "So you're through, eh? Goin' to
+quit and go somewheres else, you mean?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Um-hm. I see. Where are you goin' to go?"
+
+"I don't know. But I'm not going to make a fool of myself at this job
+any longer. I can't keep books, and I won't keep them. I hate business.
+I'm no good at it. And I won't stay here."
+
+"I see. I see. Well, if you won't keep on in business, what will you do
+for a livin'? Write poetry?"
+
+"Perhaps."
+
+"Um-m. Be kind of slim livin', won't it? You've been writin' poetry
+for about a year and a half, as I recollect, and so far you've made ten
+dollars."
+
+"That's all right. If I don't make it I may starve, as you are always
+saying that writers do. But, starve or not, I shan't ask YOU to take
+care of me."
+
+"I've taken care of you for three years or so."
+
+"Yes. But you did it because--because--Well, I don't know why you did,
+exactly, but you won't have to do it any longer. I'm through."
+
+The captain still stared steadily, and what he saw in the dark eyes
+which flashed defiance back at him seemed to trouble him a little. His
+tugs at his beard became more strenuous.
+
+"Humph!" he muttered. "Humph! . . . Well, Al, of course I can't make you
+stay by main force. Perhaps I could--you ain't of age yet--but I shan't.
+And you want to quit the ship altogether, do you?"
+
+"If you mean this office--yes, I do."
+
+"I see, I see. Want to quit South Harniss and your grandmother--and
+Rachel--and Labe--and Helen--and all the rest of 'em?"
+
+"Not particularly. But I shall have to, of course."
+
+"Yes. . . . Um-hm. . . . Yes. Have you thought how your grandmother's
+liable to feel when she hears you are goin' to clear out and leave her?"
+
+Albert had not thought in that way, but he did now. His tone was a
+trifle less combative as he answered.
+
+"She'll be sorry at first, I suppose," he said, "but she'll get over
+it."
+
+"Um-hm. Maybe she will. You can get over 'most anything in time--'MOST
+anything. Well, and how about me? How do you think I'll feel?"
+
+Albert's chin lifted. "You!" he exclaimed. "Why, you'll be mighty glad
+of it."
+
+Captain Zelotes picked up the pencil stump and twirled it in his
+fingers. "Shall I?" he asked. "You think I will, do you?"
+
+"Of course you will. You don't like me, and never did."
+
+"So I've heard you say. Well, boy, don't you cal'late I like you at
+least as much as you like me?"
+
+"No. What do you mean? I like you well enough. That is, I should if
+you gave me half a chance. But you don't do it. You hate me because my
+father--"
+
+The captain interrupted. His big palm struck the desk.
+
+"DON'T say that again!" he commanded. "Look here, if I hated you do you
+suppose I'd be talkin' to you like this? If I hated you do you cal'late
+I'd argue when you gave me notice? Not by a jugful! No man ever came to
+me and said he was goin' to quit and had me beg him to stay. If we was
+at sea he stayed until we made port; then he WENT, and he didn't hang
+around waitin' for a boat to take him ashore neither. I don't hate you,
+son. I'd ask nothin' better than a chance to like you, but you won't
+give it to me."
+
+Albert's eyes and mouth opened.
+
+"_I_ won't give YOU a chance?" he repeated.
+
+"Sartin. DO you give me one? I ask you to keep these books of mine.
+You could keep 'em A Number One. You're smart enough to do it. But you
+won't. You let 'em go to thunder and waste your time makin' up fool
+poetry and such stuff."
+
+"But I like writing, and I don't like keeping books."
+
+"Keepin' books is a part of l'arnin' the business, and business is the
+way you're goin' to get your livin' by and by."
+
+"No, it isn't. I am going to be a writer."
+
+"Now DON'T say that silly thing again! I don't want to hear it."
+
+"I shall say it because it is true."
+
+"Look here, boy: When I tell you or anybody else in this office to do
+or not to do a thing, I expect 'em to obey orders. And I tell you not
+to talk any more of that foolishness about bein' a writer. D'you
+understand?"
+
+"Yes, of course I understand."
+
+"All right, then, that much is settled. . . . Here! Where are you
+goin'?"
+
+Albert had turned and was on his way out of the office. He stopped and
+answered over his shoulder, "I'm going home," he said.
+
+"Goin' HOME? Why, you came from home not more than an hour and a half
+ago! What are you goin' there again now for?"
+
+"To pack up my things."
+
+"To pack up your things! To pack up--Humph! So you really mean it!
+You're really goin' to quit me like this? And your grandma, too!"
+
+The young man felt a sudden pang of compunction, a twinge of conscience.
+
+"Grandfather," he said, "I'm sorry. I--"
+
+But the change in his attitude and tone came too late. Captain Lote's
+temper was boiling now, contradiction was its worst provocative.
+
+"Goin' to quit!" he sneered. "Goin' to quit because you don't like to
+work. All right, quit then! Go ahead! I've done all I can to make a man
+of you. Go to the devil in your own way."
+
+"Grandfather, I--"
+
+"Go ahead! _I_ can't stop you. It's in your breed, I cal'late."
+
+That was sufficient. Albert strode out of the private office, head
+erect. Captain Zelotes rose and slammed the door after his departing
+grandson.
+
+At ten that evening Albert was in his room, sitting in a chair by the
+window, gloomily looking out. The packing, most of it, had been done. He
+had not, as he told his grandfather he intended doing, left the office
+immediately and come straight home to pack. As he emerged from the inner
+office after the stormy interview with the captain he found Laban Keeler
+hard at work upon the books. The sight of the little man, so patiently
+and cheerfully pegging away, brought another twinge of conscience to
+the assistant bookkeeper. Laban had been such a brick in all their
+relationships. It must have been a sore trial to his particular,
+business-like soul, those errors in the trial balance. Yet he had not
+found fault nor complained. Captain Zelotes himself had said that every
+item concerning his grandson's mistakes and blunders had been dragged
+from Mr. Keeler much against the latter's will. Somehow Albert could not
+bear to go off and leave him at once. He would stay and finish his day's
+work, for Labe Keeler's sake.
+
+So stay he did and when Captain Zelotes later came out of his private
+office and found him there neither of them spoke. At home, during
+supper, nothing was said concerning the quarrel of the afternoon. Yet
+Albert was as determined to leave as ever, and the Captain, judging by
+the expression of his face, was just as determined to do nothing more to
+prevent him. After supper the young man went to his room and began the
+packing. His grandfather went out, an unusual proceeding for him, saying
+that he guessed he would go down street for a spell.
+
+Now Albert, as he sat there by the window, was gloomy enough. The wind,
+howling and wailing about the gables of the old house, was not an aid
+to cheerfulness and he needed every aid. He had sworn to go away, he was
+going away--but where should he go? He had a little money put by, not
+much but a little, which he had been saving for quite another purpose.
+This would take him a little way, would pay his bills for a short time,
+but after that--Well, after that he could earn more. With the optimism
+of youth and the serene self-confidence which was natural to him he was
+sure of succeeding sooner or later. It was not the dread of failure and
+privation which troubled him. The weight which was pressing upon his
+spirit was not the fear of what might happen to him.
+
+There was a rap upon the door. Then a voice, the housekeeper's voice,
+whispered through the crack.
+
+"It's me, Al," whispered Mrs. Ellis. "You ain't in bed yet, are you? I'd
+like to talk with you a minute or two, if I might."
+
+He was not anxious to talk to her or anyone else just then, but he told
+her to come in. She entered on tiptoe, with the mysterious air of a
+conspirator, and shut the door carefully after her.
+
+"May I set down just a minute?" she asked. "I can generally talk better
+settin'."
+
+He pulled forward the ancient rocker with the rush seat. The
+cross-stitch "tidy" on the back was his mother's handiwork, she had made
+it when she was fifteen. Rachel sat down in the rocker.
+
+"Al" she began, still in the same mysterious whisper, "I know all about
+it."
+
+He looked at her. "All about what?" he asked.
+
+"About the trouble you and Cap'n Lote had this afternoon. I know you're
+plannin' to leave us all and go away somewheres and that he told you to
+go, and all that. I know what you've been doin' up here to-night. Fur's
+that goes," she added, with a little catch in her breath and a wave of
+her hand toward the open trunk and suitcase upon the floor, "I wouldn't
+need to know, I could SEE."
+
+Albert was surprised and confused. He had supposed the whole affair to
+be, so far, a secret between himself and his grandfather.
+
+"You know?" he stammered. "You--How did you know?"
+
+"Laban told me. Labe came hurryin' over here just after supper and
+told me the whole thing. He's awful upset about it, Laban is. He thinks
+almost as much of you as he does of Cap'n Lote or--or me," with an
+apologetic little smile.
+
+Albert was astonished and troubled. "How did Labe know about it?" he
+demanded.
+
+"He heard it all. He couldn't help hearin'."
+
+"But he couldn't have heard. The door to the private office was shut."
+
+"Yes, but the window at the top--the transom one, you know--was wide
+open. You and your grandpa never thought of that, I guess, and Laban
+couldn't hop up off his stool and shut it without givin' it away that
+he'd been hearin'. So he had to just set and listen and I know how he
+hated doin' that. Laban Keeler ain't the listenin' kind. One thing about
+it all is a mercy," she added, fervently. "It's the Lord's own mercy
+that that Issy Price wasn't where HE could hear it, too. If Issy heard
+it you might as well paint it up on the town-hall fence; all creation
+and his wife wouldn't larn it any sooner."
+
+Albert drew a long breath. "Well," he said, after a moment, "I'm sorry
+Labe heard, but I don't suppose it makes much difference. Everyone will
+know all about it in a day or two . . . I'm going."
+
+Rachel leaned forward.
+
+"No, you ain't, Al," she said.
+
+"I'm not? Indeed I am! Why, what do you mean?"
+
+"I mean just what I say. You ain't goin'. You're goin' to stay right
+here. At least I hope you are, and I THINK you are. . . . Oh, I know,"
+she added, quickly, "what you are goin' to say. You're goin' to tell me
+that your grandpa is down on you on account of your father, and that you
+don't like bookkeepin', and that you want to write poetry and--and such.
+You'll say all that, and maybe it's all true, but whether 'tis or not
+ain't the point at all just now. The real point is that you're Janie
+Snow's son and your grandpa's Cap'n Lote Snow and your grandma's Olive
+Snow and there ain't goin' to be another smash-up in this family if I
+can help it. I've been through one and one's enough. Albert, didn't you
+promise me that Sunday forenoon three years ago when I came into the
+settin'-room and we got talkin' about books and Robert Penfold and
+everything--didn't you promise me then that when things between you and
+your grandpa got kind of--of snarled up and full of knots you'd come
+to me with 'em and we'd see if we couldn't straighten 'em out together?
+Didn't you promise me that, Albert?"
+
+Albert remembered the conversation to which she referred. As he
+remembered it, however, he had not made any definite promise.
+
+"You asked me to talk them over with you, Rachel," he admitted. "I think
+that's about as far as it went."
+
+"Well, maybe so, but now I ask you again. Will you talk this over with
+me, Albert? Will you tell me every bit all about it, for my sake? And
+for your grandma's sake. . . . Yes, more'n that, for your mother's sake,
+Albert; she was pretty nigh like my own sister, Jane Snow was. Different
+as night from day of course, she was pretty and educated and all that
+and I was just the same then as I am now, but we did think a lot of each
+other, Albert. Tell me the whole story, won't you, please. Just what
+Cap'n Lote said and what you said and what you plan to do--and all?
+Please, Albert."
+
+There were tears in her eyes. He had always liked her, but it was
+a liking with a trace of condescension in it. She was peculiar, her
+"sympathetic attacks" were funny, and she and Laban together were an odd
+pair. Now he saw her in a new light and he felt a sudden rush of real
+affection for her. And with this feeling, and inspired also by his
+loneliness, came the impulse to comply with her request, to tell her all
+his troubles.
+
+He began slowly at first, but as he went on the words came quicker. She
+listened eagerly, nodding occasionally, but saying nothing. When he had
+finished she nodded again.
+
+"I see," she said. "'Twas almost what Laban said and about what he and
+I expected. Well, Albert, I ain't goin' to be the one to blame you, not
+very much anyhow. I don't see as you are to blame; you can't help the
+way you're made. But your grandfather can't help bein' made his way,
+either. He can't see with your spectacles and you can't see with his."
+
+He stirred rebelliously. "Then we had better go our own ways, I should
+say," he muttered.
+
+"No, you hadn't. That's just what you mustn't do, not now, anyhow. As
+I said before, there's been enough of all hands goin' their own ways in
+this family and look what came of it."
+
+"But what do you expect me to do? I will not give up every plan I've
+made and my chance in the world just because he is too stubborn and
+cranky to understand them. I will NOT do it."
+
+"I don't want you to. But I don't want you to upset the whole kettle
+just because the steam has scalded your fingers. I don't want you to
+go off and leave your grandma to break her heart a second time and your
+grandpa to give up all his plans and hopes that he's been makin' about
+you."
+
+"Plans about me? He making plans about me? What sort of plans?"
+
+"All sorts. Oh, he don't say much about 'em, of course; that ain't his
+way. But from things he's let drop I know he has hoped to take you in
+with him as a partner one of these days, and to leave you the business
+after he's gone."
+
+"Nonsense, Rachel!"
+
+"No, it ain't nonsense. It's the one big dream of Cap'n Lote's life.
+That Z. Snow and Co. business is his pet child, as you might say. He
+built it up, he and Labe together, and when he figgered to take you
+aboard with him 'twas SOME chance for you, 'cordin' to his lookout. Now
+you can't hardly blame him for bein' disappointed when you chuck that
+chance away and take to writin' poetry pieces, can you?"
+
+"But--but--why, confound it, Rachel, you don't understand!"
+
+"Yes, I do, but your grandpa don't. And you don't understand him. . . .
+Oh, Albert, DON'T be as stubborn as he is, as your mother was--the Lord
+and she forgive me for sayin' it. She was partly right about marryin'
+your pa and Cap'n Lote was partly right, too. If they had met half way
+and put the two 'partlys' together the whole thing might have been right
+in the end. As 'twas, 'twas all wrong. Don't, don't, DON'T, Albert, be
+as stubborn as that. For their sakes, Al,--yes, and for my sake, for I'm
+one of your family, too, or seems as if I was--don't."
+
+She hastily wiped her eyes with her apron. He, too was greatly moved.
+
+"Don't cry, Rachel," he muttered, hurriedly. "Please don't. . . . I
+didn't know you felt this way. I didn't know anybody did. I don't want
+to make trouble in the family--any more trouble. Grandmother has been
+awfully good to me; so, too, has Grandfather, I suppose, in his way.
+But--oh, what am I going to do? I can't stay in that office all my life.
+I'm not good at business. I don't like it. I can't give up--"
+
+"No, no, course you mustn't. I don't want you to give up."
+
+"Then what do you want me to do?"
+
+"I want you to go to your grandpa and talk to him once more. Not givin'
+up your plans altogether but not forcin' him to give up his either, not
+right away. Tell him you realize he wants you to go on with Z. Snow and
+Company and that you will--for a while--"
+
+"But--"
+
+"For a while, I said; three or four years, say. You won't be so dreadful
+old then, not exactly what you'd call a Methusalem. Tell him you'll
+do that and on his side he must let you write as much as you please,
+provided you don't let the writin' interfere with the Z. Snow and Co.
+work. Then, at the end of the three or four years, if you still feel
+the same as you do now, you can tackle your poetry for keeps and he and
+you'll still be friends. Tell him that, Albert, and see what he says.
+. . . Will you?"
+
+Albert took some moments to consider. At length he said: "If I did I
+doubt if he would listen."
+
+"Oh, yes he would. He'd more than listen, I'm pretty sartin. I think
+he'd agree."
+
+"You do?"
+
+"Yes, I do. You see," with a smile, "while I've been talkin' to you
+there's been somebody else talkin' to him. . . . There, there! don't you
+ask any questions. I promised not to tell anybody and if I ain't exactly
+broke that promise, I've sprained its ankle, I'm afraid. Good night,
+Albert, and thank you ever and ever so much for listenin' so long
+without once tellin' me to mind my own business."
+
+"Good night, Rachel. . . . And thank you for taking so much interest in
+my affairs. You're an awfully good friend, I can see that."
+
+"Don't--don't talk that way. And you WILL have that talk with your
+grandpa?"
+
+"Yes, I will."
+
+"Oh, I'm SO glad! There! Good night. I come pretty nigh kissin' you
+then and for a woman that's been engaged to be married for upwards of
+eighteen years that's a nice way to act, ain't it! Good night, good
+night."
+
+She hurried out of the room. Albert sat down again in his chair by the
+window. He had promised to go to his grandfather and talk to him. As he
+sat there, thinking of the coming interview, he realized more and more
+that the keeping of that promise was likely to be no easy matter. He
+must begin the talk, he must break the ice--and how should he break
+it? Timid and roundabout approaches would be of little use; unless his
+grandfather's state of mind had changed remarkably since their
+parting in the Z. Snow and Co. office they and their motive would be
+misunderstood. No, the only way to break the ice was to break it, to
+plunge immediately into the deepest part of the subject. It promised to
+be a chilly plunge. He shivered at the prospect.
+
+A half hour later he heard the door of the hall open and shut and knew
+that Captain Zelotes had returned. Rising, he descended the stairs.
+He descended slowly. Just as he reached the foot of the narrow flight
+Captain Zelotes entered the hall from the dining-room and turned toward
+him. Both were surprised at the meeting. Albert spoke first.
+
+"Good evening, Grandfather," he stammered. "I--I was just coming down to
+see you. Were you going to bed?"
+
+Captain Lote shook his head. "No-o," he said, slowly, "not exactly."
+
+"Do you mind waiting a minute? I have a few things--I have something to
+say to you and--and I guess I shall sleep better if I say it to-night.
+I--I won't keep you long."
+
+The captain regarded him intently for an instant, then he turned and led
+the way to the dining-room.
+
+"Go ahead," he ordered, laconically. Albert squared his shoulders,
+preparatory to the plunge.
+
+"Grandfather," he began, "first of all I want to tell you I am sorry
+for--for some of the things I said this afternoon."
+
+He had rehearsed this opening speech over and over again, but in spite
+of the rehearsals it was dreadfully hard to make. If his grandfather
+had helped him even a little it might have been easier, but the captain
+merely stood there, expressionless, saying nothing, waiting for him to
+continue.
+
+Albert swallowed, clenched his fists, and took a new start.
+
+"Of course," he began, "I am sorry for the mistakes I made in my
+bookkeeping, but that I have told you before. Now--now I want to say
+I am sorry for being so--well, so pig-headed about the rest of it. I
+realize that you have been mighty kind to me and that I owe you about
+everything that I've got in this world."
+
+He paused again. It had seemed to him that Captain Zelotes was about to
+speak. However, he did not, so the young man stumbled on.
+
+"And--and I realize, too," he said, "that you have, I guess, been trying
+to give me a real start in business, the start you think I ought to
+have."
+
+The captain nodded slowly. "That was my idea in startin' you," he said.
+
+"Yes--and fact that I haven't done more with the chance is because I'm
+made that way, I guess. But I do want to--yes, and I MEAN to try to
+succeed at writing poetry or stories or plays or something. I like
+that and I mean to give it a trial. And so--and so, you see, I've been
+thinking our talk over and I've concluded that perhaps you may be right,
+maybe I'm not old enough to know what I really am fitted for, and yet
+perhaps _I_ may be partly right, too. I--I've been thinking that perhaps
+some sort of--of--"
+
+"Of what?"
+
+"Well, of half-way arrangement--some sort of--of compromise, you know,
+might be arranged. I might agree to stay in the office and do my very
+best with bookkeeping and business for--well, say, three years or so.
+During that time I should be trying to write of course, but I would
+only do that sort of writing evenings or on Saturdays and holidays. It
+shouldn't interfere with your work nor be done in the time you pay me
+for. And at the end of the three or four years--"
+
+He paused again. This time the pause was longer than ever. Captain
+Lote broke the silence. His big right hand had wandered upward and was
+tugging at his beard.
+
+"Well? . . . And then?" he asked.
+
+"Why, then--if--if--Well, then we could see. If business seemed to be
+where I was most likely to succeed we'd call it settled and I would stay
+with Z. Snow and Co. If poetry-making or--or--literature seemed more
+likely to be the job I was fitted for, that would be the job I'd take.
+You--you see, don't you, Grandfather?"
+
+The captain's beard-pulling continued. He was no longer looking his
+grandson straight in the eye. His gaze was fixed upon the braided mat at
+his feet and he answered without looking up.
+
+"Ye-es," he drawled, "I cal'late I see. Well, was that all you had to
+say?"
+
+"No-o, not quite. I--I wanted to say that which ever way it turned
+out, I--I hoped we--you and I, you know--would agree to be--to be
+good-natured about it and--and friends just the same. I--I--Well, there!
+That's all, I guess. I haven't put it very well, I'm afraid, but--but
+what do you think about it, Grandfather?"
+
+And now Captain Zelotes did look up. The old twinkle was in his eye. His
+first remark was a question and that question was rather surprising.
+
+"Al," he asked, "Al, who's been talkin' to you?"
+
+The blood rushed to his grandson's face. "Talking to me?" he stammered.
+"Why--why, what do you mean?"
+
+"I mean just that. You didn't think out this scheme all by yourself.
+Somebody's been talkin' to you and puttin' you up to it. Haven't they?"
+
+"Why--why, Grandfather, I--"
+
+"Haven't they?"
+
+"Why--Well, yes, someone has been talking to me, but the whole idea
+isn't theirs. I WAS sorry for speaking to you as I did and sorry to
+think of leaving you and grandmother. I--I was sitting up there in my
+room and feeling blue and mean enough and--and--"
+
+"And then Rachel came aboard and gave you your sailin' orders; eh?"
+
+Albert gasped. "For heaven's sake how did you know that?" he demanded.
+"She--Why, she must have told you, after all! But she said--"
+
+"Hold on, boy, hold on!" Captain Lote chuckled quietly. "No," he said,
+"Rachel didn't tell me; I guessed she was the one. And it didn't take
+a Solomon in all his glory to guess it, neither. Labe Keeler's been
+talkin' to ME, and when you come down here and began proposin' the same
+scheme that I was just about headin' up to your room with to propose
+to you, then--well, then the average whole-witted person wouldn't need
+more'n one guess. It couldn't be Labe, 'cause he'd been whisperin' in MY
+ear, so it must have been the other partner in the firm. That's all the
+miracle there is to it."
+
+Albert's brain struggled with the situation. "I see," he said, after a
+moment. "She hinted that someone had been talking to you along the same
+line. Yes, and she was so sure you would agree. I might have known it
+was Laban."
+
+"Um-hm, so you might. . . . Well, there have been times when if a man
+had talked to me as Labe did to-night I'd have knocked him down, or told
+him to go to--um--well, the tropics--told him to mind his own business,
+at least. But Labe is Labe, and besides MY conscience was plaguin' me a
+little mite, maybe . . . maybe."
+
+The young man shook his head. "They must have talked it over, those two,
+and agreed that one should talk to you and the other to me. By George, I
+wonder they had the nerve. It wasn't their business, really."
+
+"Not a darn bit."
+
+"Yet--yet I--I'm awfully glad she said it to me. I--I needed it, I
+guess."
+
+"Maybe you did, son. . . . And--humph--well, maybe I needed it, too.
+. . . Yes, I know that's consider'ble for me to say," he added dryly.
+
+Albert was still thinking of Laban and Rachel.
+
+"They're queer people," he mused. "When I first met them I thought
+they were about the funniest pair I ever saw. But--but now I can't
+help liking them and--and--Say, Grandfather, they must think a lot of
+your--of our family."
+
+"Cal'late they do, son. . . . Well, boy, we've had our sermon, you and
+me, what shall we do? Willin' to sign for the five years trial cruise if
+I will, are you?"
+
+Albert couldn't help smiling. "It was three years Rachel proposed, not
+five," he said.
+
+"Was, eh? Suppose we split the difference and make it four? Willin' to
+try that?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Agreement bein' that you shall stick close to Z. Snow and Co. durin'
+work hours and write as much poetry as you darned please other times,
+neither side to interfere with those arrangements? That right?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Good! Shall we shake hands on it?"
+
+They shook, solemnly. Captain Lote was the first to speak after
+ratification of the contract.
+
+"There, now I cal'late I'll go aloft and turn in," he observed. Then he
+added, with a little hesitation, "Say, Al, maybe we'd better not trouble
+your grandma about all this fool business--the row this afternoon
+and all. 'Twould only worry her and--" he paused, looked embarrassed,
+cleared his throat, and said, "to tell you the truth, I'm kind of
+ashamed of my part---er--er--that is, some of it."
+
+His grandson was very much astonished. It was not often that Captain
+Zelotes Snow admitted having been in the wrong. He blurted out the
+question he had been dying to ask.
+
+"Grandfather," he queried, "had you--did you really mean what you
+said about starting to come to my room and--and propose this scheme of
+ours--I mean of Rachel's and Labe's--to me?"
+
+"Eh? . . . Ye-es--yes. I was on my way up there when I met you just
+now."
+
+"Well, Grandfather, I--I--"
+
+"That's all right, boy, that's all right. Don't let's talk any more
+about it."
+
+"We won't. And--and--But, Grandfather, I just want you to know that I
+guess I understand things a little better than I did, and--and when my
+father--"
+
+The captain's heavy hand descended upon his shoulder.
+
+"Heave short, Al!" he commanded. "I've been doin' consider'ble thinkin'
+since Labe finished his--er--discourse and pronounced the benediction,
+and I've come to a pretty definite conclusion on one matter. I've
+concluded that you and I had better cut out all the bygones from this
+new arrangement of ours. We won't have fathers or--or--elopements--or
+past-and-done-with disapp'intments in it. This new deal--this four year
+trial v'yage of ours--will be just for Albert Speranza and Zelotes Snow,
+and no others need apply. . . . Eh? . . . Well, good night, Al."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+
+So the game under the "new deal" began. At first it was much easier than
+the old. And, as a matter of fact, it was never as hard as before. The
+heart to heart talk between Captain Zelotes and his grandson had given
+each a glimpse of the other's inner self, a look from the other's
+point of view, and thereafter it was easier to make allowances. But the
+necessity for the making of those allowances was still there and would
+continue to be there. At first Albert made almost no mistakes in his
+bookkeeping, was almost painfully careful. Then the carefulness relaxed,
+as it was bound to do, and some mistakes occurred. Captain Lote
+found little fault, but at times he could not help showing some
+disappointment. Then his grandson would set his teeth and buckle down to
+painstaking effort again. He was resolved to live up to the very letter
+of the agreement.
+
+In his spare time he continued to write and occasionally he sold
+something. Whenever he did so there was great rejoicing among the
+feminine members of the Snow household; his grandmother and Rachel Ellis
+were enraptured. It was amusing to see Captain Zelotes attempt to join
+the chorus. He evidently felt that he ought to praise, or at least that
+praise was expected from him, but it was also evident that he did not
+approve of what he was praising.
+
+"Your grandma says you got rid of another one of your poetry pieces,
+Al," he would say. "Pay you for it, did they?"
+
+"Not yet, but they will, I suppose."
+
+"I see, I see. How much, think likely?"
+
+"Oh, I don't know. Ten dollars, perhaps."
+
+"Um-hm . . . I see. . . . Well, that's pretty good, considerin', I
+suppose. . . . We did first-rate on that Hyannis school-house contract,
+didn't we. Nigh's I can figger it we cleared over fourteen hundred and
+eighty dollars on that."
+
+He invariably followed any reference to the profit from the sale of
+verses by the casual mention of a much larger sum derived from the sale
+of lumber or hardware. This was so noticeable that Laban Keeler was
+impelled to speak of it.
+
+"The old man don't want you to forget that you can get more for hard
+pine than you can for soft sonnets, sellin' 'em both by the foot,"
+observed Labe, peering over his spectacles. "More money in shingles
+than there is in jingles, he cal'lates. . . . Um. . . . Yes, yes. . . .
+Consider'ble more, consider'ble."
+
+Albert smiled, but it astonished him to find that Mr. Keeler knew what a
+sonnet was. The little bookkeeper occasionally surprised him by breaking
+out unexpectedly in that way.
+
+From the indiscriminate praise at home, or the reluctant praise of his
+grandfather, he found relief when he discussed his verses with Helen
+Kendall. Her praise was not indiscriminate, in fact sometimes she
+did not praise at all, but expressed disapproval. They had some
+disagreements, marked disagreements, but it did not affect their
+friendship. Albert was a trifle surprised to find that it did not.
+
+So as the months passed he ground away at the books of Z. Snow and
+Company during office hours and at the poetry mill between times. The
+seeing of his name in print was no longer a novelty and he poetized not
+quite as steadily. Occasionally he attempted prose, but the two or three
+short stories of his composition failed to sell. Helen, however, urged
+him to try again and keep trying. "I know you can write a good story and
+some day you are going to," she said.
+
+His first real literary success, that which temporarily lifted him into
+the outer circle of the limelight of fame, was a poem written the day
+following that upon which came the news of the sinking of the Lusitania.
+Captain Zelotes came back from the post-office that morning, a crumpled
+newspaper in his hand, and upon his face the look which mutinous
+foremast hands had seen there just before the mutiny ended. Laban Keeler
+was the first to notice the look. "For the land sakes, Cap'n, what's
+gone wrong?" he asked. The captain flung the paper upon the desk. "Read
+that," he grunted. Labe slowly spread open the paper; the big black
+headlines shrieked the crime aloud.
+
+"Good God Almighty!" exclaimed the little bookkeeper. Captain Zelotes
+snorted. "He didn't have anything to do with it," he declared. "The
+bunch that pulled that off was handled from the other end of the line.
+And I wish to thunder I was young enough to help send 'em back there,"
+he added, savagely.
+
+That evening Albert wrote his poem. The next day he sent it to a Boston
+paper. It was published the following morning, spread across two columns
+on the front page, and before the month was over had been copied widely
+over the country. Within the fortnight its author received his first
+request, a bona fida request for verse from a magazine. Even Captain
+Lote's praise of the Lusitania poem was whole-hearted and ungrudging.
+
+That summer was a busy one in South Harniss. There was the usual amount
+of summer gaiety, but in addition there were the gatherings of the
+various committees for war relief work. Helen belonged to many of
+these committees. There were dances and theatrical performances for the
+financial benefit of the various causes and here Albert shone. But
+he did not shine alone. Helen Kendall was very popular at the social
+gatherings, popular not only with the permanent residents but with the
+summer youth as well. Albert noticed this, but he did not notice it so
+particularly until Issy Price called his attention to it.
+
+"Say, Al," observed Issy, one afternoon in late August of that year,
+"how do YOU like that Raymond young feller?"
+
+Albert looked up absently from the page of the daybook.
+
+"Eh? What?" he asked.
+
+"I say how do YOU like that Eddie Raymond, the Down-at-the-Neck one?"
+
+"Down at the neck? There's nothing the matter with his neck that I know
+of."
+
+"Who said there was? He LIVES down to the Neck, don't he? I mean that
+young Raymond, son of the New York bank man, the ones that's had the
+Cahoon house all summer. How do you like him?"
+
+Albert's attention was still divided between the day-book and Mr. Price.
+"Oh, I guess he's all right," he answered, carelessly. "I don't know him
+very well. Don't bother me, Issy, I'm busy."
+
+Issachar chuckled. "He's busy, too," he observed. "He, he, he! He's
+busy trottin' after Helen Kendall. Don't seem to have time for much else
+these days. Noticed that, ain't you, Al? He, he!"
+
+Albert had not noticed it. His attention left the day-book altogether.
+Issachar chuckled again.
+
+"Noticed it, ain't you, Al?" he repeated. "If you ain't you're the only
+one. Everybody's cal'latin' you'll be cut out if you ain't careful.
+Folks used to figger you was Helen's steady comp'ny, but it don't look
+as much so as it did. He, he! That's why I asked you how you liked the
+Raymond one. Eh? How do you, Al? Helen, SHE seems to like him fust-rate.
+He, he, he!"
+
+Albert was conscious of a peculiar feeling, partly of irritation at
+Issachar, partly something else. Mr. Price crowed delightedly.
+
+"Hi!" he chortled. "Why, Al, your face is gettin' all redded up. Haw,
+haw! Blushin', ain't you, Al? Haw, haw, haw! Blushin', by crimustee!"
+
+Albert laid down his pen. He had learned by experience that, in Issy's
+case, the maxim of the best defensive being a strong offensive was
+absolutely true. He looked with concern about the office.
+
+"There's a window open somewhere, isn't there, Is?" he inquired.
+"There's a dreadful draught anyhow."
+
+"Eh? Draught? I don't feel no draught. Course the window's open; it's
+generally open in summer time, ain't it. Haw, haw!"
+
+"There it is again! Where--Oh, _I_ see! It's your mouth that's open,
+Issy. That explains the draught, of course. Yes, yes, of course."
+
+"Eh? My mouth! Never you mind my mouth. What you've got to think about
+is that Eddie Raymond. Yes sir-ee! Haw, haw!"
+
+"Issy, what makes you make that noise?"
+
+"What noise?"
+
+"That awful cawing. If you're trying to make me believe you're a crow
+you're wasting your time."
+
+"Say, look here, Al Speranzy, be you crazy?"
+
+"No-o, I'M not. But in your case--well, I'll leave it to any fair-minded
+person--"
+
+And so on until Mr. Price stamped disgustedly out of the office. It was
+easy enough, and required nothing brilliant in the way of strategy or
+repartee, to turn Issachar's attack into retreat. But all the rest
+of that afternoon Albert was conscious of that peculiar feeling of
+uneasiness. After supper that night he did not go down town at once but
+sat in his room thinking deeply. The subjects of his thoughts were Edwin
+Raymond, the young chap from New York, Yale, and "The Neck"--and Helen
+Kendall. He succeeded only in thinking himself into an even more
+uneasy and unpleasant state of mind. Then he walked moodily down to
+the post-office. He was a little late for the mail and the laughing and
+chatting groups were already coming back after its distribution. One
+such group he met was made up of half a dozen young people on their way
+to the drug store for ices and sodas. Helen was among them and with her
+was young Raymond. They called to him to join them, but he pretended not
+to hear.
+
+Now, in all the years of their acquaintance it had not once occurred
+to Albert Speranza that his interest in Helen Kendall was anything
+more than that of a friend and comrade. He liked her, had enjoyed her
+society--when he happened to be in the mood to wish society--and it
+pleased him to feel that she was interested in his literary efforts
+and his career. She was the only girl in South Harniss who would have
+"talked turkey" to him as she had on the day of their adventure at High
+Point Light and he rather admired her for it. But in all his dreams of
+romantic attachments and sentimental adventure, and he had such dreams
+of course, she had never played a part. The heroines of these dreams
+were beautiful and mysterious strangers, not daughters of Cape Cod
+clergymen.
+
+But now, thanks to Issy's mischievous hints, his feelings were in a
+puzzled and uncomfortable state. He was astonished to find that he
+did not relish the idea of Helen's being particularly interested in Ed
+Raymond. He, himself, had not seen her as frequently of late, she having
+been busy with her war work and he with his own interests. But that,
+according to his view, was no reason why she should permit Raymond to
+become friendly to the point of causing people to talk. He was not ready
+to admit that he himself cared, in a sentimental way, for Helen, but
+he resented any other fellow's daring to do so. And she should not
+have permitted it, either. As a matter of fact, Alberto Miguel Carlos
+Speranza, hitherto reigning undisputed king of hearts in South Harniss,
+was for the first time in his imperial life feeling the pangs of
+jealousy.
+
+He stalked gloomily on to the post-office. Gertie Kendrick, on the
+arm of Sam Thatcher, passed him and he did not even notice her. Gertie
+whispered to Sam that he, Albert, was a big stuck-up nothing, but
+she looked back over Sam's shoulder, nevertheless. Albert climbed the
+post-office steps and walked over to the rack of letter boxes. The Snow
+box contained little of interest to him, and he was turning away when he
+heard his name spoken.
+
+"Good evening, Mr. Speranza," said a feminine voice.
+
+Albert turned again, to find Jane Kelsey and another young lady, a
+stranger, standing beside him. Miss Kelsey was one of South Harniss's
+summer residents. The Kelsey "cottage," which was larger by considerable
+than the Snow house, was situated on the Bay Road, the most exclusive
+section of the village. Once, and not so many years before, the Bay Road
+was contemptuously referred to as "Poverty Lane" and dwellers along its
+winding, weed-grown track vied with one another in shiftless shabbiness.
+But now all shabbiness had disappeared and many-gabled "cottages"
+proudly stood where the shanties of the Poverty Laners once humbly
+leaned.
+
+Albert had known Jane Kelsey for some time. They had met at one of the
+hotel tea-dances during his second summer in South Harniss. He and she
+were not intimate friends exactly, her mother saw to that, but they were
+well acquainted. She was short and piquant, had a nose which freckled in
+the Cape Cod sunshine, and she talked and laughed easily.
+
+"Good evening, Mr. Speranza," she said, again. "You looked so very
+forlorn I couldn't resist speaking. Do tell us why you are so sad; we're
+dying to know."
+
+Albert, taken by surprise, stammered that he didn't know that he was
+sad. Miss Kelsey laughed merrily and declared that everyone who saw him
+knew it at once. "Oh, excuse me, Madeline," she added. "I forgot that
+you and Mr. Speranza had not met. Of course as you're going to live
+in South Harniss you must know him without waiting another minute.
+Everybody knows everybody down here. He is Albert Speranza--and we
+sometimes call him Albert because here everybody calls everyone else
+by their first names. There, now you know each other and it's all very
+proper and formal."
+
+The young lady who was her companion smiled. The smile was distinctly
+worth looking at, as was the young lady herself, for that matter.
+
+"I doubt if Mr. Speranza knows me very well, Jane," she observed.
+
+"Doesn't know you! Why, you silly thing, haven't I just introduced you?"
+
+"Well, I don't know much about South Harniss introductions, but isn't it
+customary to mention names? You haven't told him mine."
+
+Miss Kelsey laughed in high delight. "Oh, how perfectly ridiculous!"
+she exclaimed. "Albert--Mr. Speranza, I mean--this is my friend Miss
+Madeline Fosdick. She is from New York and she has decided to spend her
+summers in South Harniss--which _I_ consider very good judgment. Her
+father is going to build a cottage for her to spend them in down on the
+Bay Road on the hill at the corner above the Inlet. But of course you've
+heard of THAT!"
+
+Of course he had. The purchase of the Inlet Hill land by Fletcher
+Fosdick, the New York banker, and the price paid Solomon Dadgett for
+that land, had been the principal topics of conversation around South
+Harniss supper tables for the past ten days. Captain Lote Snow had
+summed up local opinion of the transaction when he said: "We-ll, Sol
+Dadgett's been talkin' in prayer-meetin' ever since I can remember about
+the comin' of Paradise on earth. Judgin' by the price he got for the
+Inlet Hill sand heap he must have cal'lated Paradise had got here and he
+was sellin' the golden streets by the runnin' foot." Or, as Laban Keeler
+put it: "They say King Soloman was a wise man, but I guess likely 'twas
+a good thing for him that Sol Dadgett wasn't alive in his time. King Sol
+would have needed all his wisdom to keep Dadgett from talkin' him into
+buying the Jerusalem salt-ma'sh to build the temple on. . . . Um. . . .
+Yes--yes--yes."
+
+So Albert, as he shook hands with Miss Fosdick, regarded her with
+unusual interest. And, judging by the way in which she looked at him,
+she too was interested. After some minutes of the usual conventional
+summer-time chat the young gentleman suggested that they adjourn to the
+drug store for refreshments. The invitation was accepted, the vivacious
+Miss Kelsey acting as spokesman--or spokeswoman--in the matter.
+
+"I think you must be a mind-reader, Mr. Speranza," she declared. "I am
+dying for a sundae and I have just discovered that I haven't my purse
+or a penny with me. I should have been reduced to the humiliation of
+borrowing from Madeline here, or asking that deaf old Burgess man to
+trust me until to-morrow. And he is so frightfully deaf," she added in
+explanation, "that when I asked him the last time he made me repeat it
+until I thought I should die of shame, or exhaustion, one or the other.
+Every time I shouted he would say 'Hey?' and I was obliged to shout
+again. Of course, the place was crowded, and--Oh, well, I don't like
+to even think about it. Bless you, bless you, Albert Speranza! And do
+please let's hurry!"
+
+When they entered the drug store--it also sold, according to its sign,
+"Cigars, soda, ice-cream, patent medicines, candy, knick-knacks, chewing
+gum, souvenirs and notions"--the sextette of which Helen Kendall made
+one was just leaving. She nodded pleasantly to Albert and he nodded in
+return, but Ed Raymond's careless bow he did not choose to see. He had
+hitherto rather liked that young gentleman; now he felt a sudden but
+violent detestation for him.
+
+Sundaes pleasant to the palate and disastrous to all but youthful
+digestions were ordered. Albert's had a slight flavor of gall and
+wormwood, but he endeavored to counterbalance this by the sweetness
+derived from the society of Jane Kelsey and her friend. His conversation
+was particularly brilliant and sparkling that evening. Jane laughed much
+and chatted more. Miss Fosdick was quieter, but she, too, appeared to be
+enjoying herself. Jane demanded to know how the poems were developing.
+She begged him to have an inspiration now--"Do, PLEASE, so that Madeline
+and I can see you." It seemed to be her idea that having an inspiration
+was similar to having a fit. Miss Fosdick laughed at this, but she
+declared that she adored poetry and specified certain poems which were
+objects of her especial adoration. The conversation thereafter became
+what Miss Kelsey described as "high brow," and took the form of a
+dialogue between Miss Fosdick and Albert. It was interrupted by the
+arrival of the Kelsey limousine, which rolled majestically up to the
+drug store steps. Jane spied it first.
+
+"Oh, mercy me, here's mother!" she exclaimed. "And your mother, too,
+Madeline. We are tracked to our lair. . . . No, no, Mr. Speranza, you
+mustn't go out. No, really, we had rather you wouldn't. Thanks, ever so
+much, for the sundaes. Come, Madeline."
+
+Miss Fosdick held out her hand.
+
+"Thank you, Mr. Speranza," she said. "I have enjoyed our poetry talk SO
+much. It must be wonderful to write as you do. Good night."
+
+She looked admiringly into his eyes as she said it. In spite of the gall
+and wormwood Albert found it not at all unpleasant to be looked at in
+that way by a girl like Madeline Fosdick. His reflections on that point
+were interrupted by a voice from the car.
+
+"Come, Madeline, come," it said, fussily. "What ARE you waiting for?"
+
+Albert caught a glimpse of a majestic figure which, seated beside Mrs.
+Kelsey on the rear seat of the limousine, towered above that short,
+plump lady as a dreadnaught towers above a coal barge. He surmised this
+figure to be that of the maternal Fosdick. Madeline climbed in beside
+her parent and the limousine rolled away.
+
+Albert's going-to-bed reflections that evening were divided in flavor,
+like a fruit sundae, a combination of sweet and sour. The sour was
+furnished by thoughts of Edwin Raymond and Helen Kendall, the former's
+presumption in daring to seek her society as he did, and Helen's
+amazing silliness in permitting such a thing. The sweet, of course, was
+furnished by a voice which repeated to his memory the words, "It must be
+wonderful to write as you do." Also the tone of that voice and the look
+in the eyes.
+
+Could he have been privileged to hear the closing bits of a conversation
+which was taking place at that moment his reflections might have been
+still further saccharined. Miss Jane Kelsey was saying: "And NOW what
+do you think of our Cape Cod poet? Didn't I promise you to show you
+something you couldn't find on Fifth Avenue?" And to this Miss Madeline
+Fosdick made reply: "I think he is the handsomest creature I ever saw.
+And so clever! Why, he is wonderful, Jane! How in the world does he
+happen to be living here--all the time?"
+
+It is perhaps, on the whole, a good thing that Albert Speranza could not
+hear this. It is certainly a good thing that Captain Zelotes Snow did
+not hear it.
+
+And although the balance of sweet and sour in Albert's mind that
+night was almost even, the sour predominated next day and continued to
+predominate. Issachar Price had sowed the seed of jealousy in the mind
+of the assistant bookkeeper of Z. Snow and Company, and that seed took
+root and grew as it is only too likely to do under such circumstances.
+That evening Albert walked again to the post-office. Helen was not
+there, neither was Miss Kelsey or Miss Fosdick. He waited for a time and
+then determined to call at the Kendall home, something he had not done
+for some time. As he came up to the front walk, between the arbor-vitae
+hedges, he saw that the parlor windows were alight. The window shade was
+but partially drawn and beneath it he could see into the room. Helen was
+seated at the piano and Edwin Raymond was standing beside her, ready to
+turn the page of her music.
+
+Albert whirled on his heel and walked out of the yard and down the
+street toward his own home. His attitude of mind was a curious one.
+He had a mind to wait until Raymond left and then go into the Kendall
+parlor and demand of Helen to know what she meant by letting that fellow
+make such a fool of himself. What right had he--Raymond--to call upon
+her, and turn her music and--and set the whole town talking? Why--Oh,
+he could think of many things to ask and say. The trouble was that the
+saying of them would, he felt sure, be distinctly bad diplomacy on his
+part. No one--not even he--could talk to Helen Kendall in that fashion;
+not unless he wished it to be their final conversation.
+
+So he went home, to fret and toss angrily and miserably half the night.
+He had never before considered himself in the slightest degree in love
+with Helen, but he had taken for granted the thought that she liked him
+better than anyone else. Now he was beginning to fear that perhaps
+she did not, and, with his temperament, wounded vanity and poetic
+imagination supplied the rest. Within a fortnight he considered himself
+desperately in love with her.
+
+During this fortnight he called at the parsonage, the Kendall home,
+several times. On the first of these occasions the Reverend Mr. Kendall,
+having just completed a sermon dealing with the war and, being full of
+his subject, read the said sermon to his daughter and to Albert. The
+reading itself lasted for three-quarters of an hour and Mr. Kendall's
+post-argument and general dissertation on German perfidy another hour
+after that. By that time it was late and Albert went home. The second
+call was even worse, for Ed Raymond called also and the two young men
+glowered at each other until ten o'clock. They might have continued to
+glower indefinitely, for neither meant to leave before the other, but
+Helen announced that she had some home-study papers to look over and she
+knew they would excuse her under the circumstances. On that hint
+they departed simultaneously, separating at the gate and walking with
+deliberate dignity in opposite directions.
+
+At his third attempt, however, Albert was successful to the extent
+that Helen was alone when he called and there was no school work to
+interrupt. But in no other respect was the interview satisfactory.
+All that week he had been boiling with the indignation of the landed
+proprietor who discovers a trespasser on his estate, and before this
+call was fifteen minutes old his feelings had boiled over.
+
+"What IS the matter with you, Al?" asked Helen. "Do tell me and let's
+see if I can't help you out of your trouble."
+
+Her visitor flushed. "Trouble?" he repeated, stiffly. "I don't know what
+you mean."
+
+"Oh yes, do. You must. What IS the matter?"
+
+"There is nothing the matter with me."
+
+"Nonsense! Of course there is. You have scarcely spoken a word of
+your own accord since you came, and you have been scowling like a
+thundercloud all the time. Now what is it? Have I done something you
+don't like?"
+
+"There is nothing the matter, I tell you."
+
+"Please don't be so silly. Of course there is. I thought there must
+be something wrong the last time you were here, that evening, when Ed
+called, too. It seemed to me that you were rather queer then. Now you
+are queerer still. What is it?"
+
+This straightforward attack, although absolutely characteristic of
+Helen, was disconcerting. Albert met it by an attack of his own.
+
+"Helen," he demanded, "what does that Raymond fellow mean by coming to
+see you as he does?"
+
+Now whether or not Helen was entirely in the dark as to the cause of her
+visitor's "queerness" is a question not to be answered here. She was far
+from being a stupid young person and it is at least probable that she
+may have guessed a little of the truth. But, being feminine, she did not
+permit Albert to guess that she had guessed. If her astonishment at the
+question was not entirely sincere, it certainly appeared to be so.
+
+"What does he mean?" she repeated. "What does he mean by coming to see
+me? Why, what do YOU mean? I should think that was the question. Why
+shouldn't he come to see me, pray?"
+
+Now Albert has a dozen reasons in his mind, each of which was to him
+sufficiently convincing. But expressing those reasons to Helen Kendall
+he found singularly difficult. He grew confused and stammered.
+
+"Well--well, because he has no business to come here so much," was the
+best he could do. Helen, strange to say, was not satisfied.
+
+"Has no business to?" she repeated. "Why, of course he has. I asked him
+to come."
+
+"You did? Good heavens, you don't LIKE him, do you?"
+
+"Of course I like him. I think he is a very nice fellow. Don't you?"
+
+"No, I don't."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Well--well, because I don't, that's all. He has no business to
+monopolize you all the time. Why, he is here about every night in the
+week, or you're out with him, down town, or--or somewhere. Everybody is
+talking about it and--"
+
+"Wait a minute, please. You say everybody is talking about Ed Raymond
+and me. What do you mean by that? What are they saying?"
+
+"They're saying. . . . Oh, they're saying you and he are--are--"
+
+"Are what?"
+
+"Are--are--Oh, they're saying all sorts of things. Look here, Helen,
+I--"
+
+"Wait! I want to know more about this. What have you heard said about
+me?"
+
+"Oh, a lot of things. . . . That is--er--well, nothing in particular,
+perhaps, but--"
+
+"Wait! Who have you heard saying it?"
+
+"Oh, never mind! Helen--"
+
+"But I do mind. Who have you heard saying this 'lot of things' about
+me?"
+
+"Nobody, I tell you. . . . Oh, well, if you must know, Issy Price
+said--well, he said you and this Raymond fellow were what he called
+'keeping company' and--and that the whole town was talking about it."
+
+She slowly shook her head.
+
+"Issy Price!" she repeated. "And you listened to what Issy Price said.
+Issy Price, of all people!"
+
+"Well--well, he said everyone else said the same thing."
+
+"Did he say more than that?"
+
+"No, but that was enough, wasn't it. Besides, the rest was plain. I
+could see it myself. He is calling here about every night in the week,
+and--and being around everywhere with you and--and--Oh, anyone can see!"
+
+Helen's usually placid temper was beginning to ruffle.
+
+"Very well," she said, "then they may see. Why shouldn't he call here if
+he wishes--and I wish? Why shouldn't I be 'around with him,' as you say?
+Why not?"
+
+"Well, because I don't like it. It isn't the right thing for you to do.
+You ought to be more careful of--of what people say."
+
+He realized, almost as soon as this last sentence was blurted out, the
+absolute tactlessness of it. The quiet gleam of humor he had so often
+noticed in Helen's eyes was succeeded now by a look he had never before
+seen there.
+
+"Oh, I'm sorry," he added, hastily. "I beg your pardon, Helen. I didn't
+mean to say that. Forgive me, will you?"
+
+She did not answer immediately. Then she said, "I don't know whether I
+shall or not. I think I shall have to think it over. And perhaps you had
+better go now."
+
+"But I'M sorry, Helen. It was a fool thing to say. I don't know why I
+was such an idiot. Do forgive me; come!"
+
+She slowly shook her head. "I can't--yet," she said. "And this you must
+understand: If Ed Raymond, or anyone else, calls on me and I choose to
+permit it, or if I choose to go out with him anywhere at any time, that
+is my affair and not 'everyone else's'--which includes Issachar Price.
+And my FRIENDS--my real friends--will not listen to mean, ridiculous
+gossip. Good night."
+
+So that was the end of that attempt at asserting the Divine Right by
+the South Harniss king of hearts. Albert was more miserable than ever,
+angrier than ever--not only at Raymond and Helen, but at himself--and
+his newly-discovered jealousy burned with a brighter and greener flame.
+The idea of throwing everything overboard, going to Canada and enlisting
+in the Canadian Army--an idea which had had a strong and alluring appeal
+ever since the war broke out--came back with redoubled force. But there
+was the agreement with his grandfather. He had given his word; how could
+he break it? Besides, to go away and leave his rival with a clear field
+did not appeal to him, either.
+
+On a Wednesday evening in the middle of September the final social event
+of the South Harniss summer season was to take place. The Society for
+the Relief of the French Wounded was to give a dance in the ballroom of
+the hotel, the proceeds from the sale of tickets to be devoted to the
+purpose defined by the name of this organization. Every last member
+of the summer colony was to attend, of course, and all those of the
+permanent residents who aspired to social distinction and cared to pay
+the high price of admission.
+
+Albert was going, naturally. That is, he had at first planned to go,
+then--after the disastrous call at the parsonage--decided that he would
+go under no circumstances, and at the last changed his mind once more
+to the affirmative. Miss Madeline Fosdick, Jane Kelsey's friend, was
+responsible for the final change. She it was who had sold him his ticket
+and urged him to be present. He and she had met several times since
+the first meeting at the post-office. Usually when they met they talked
+concerning poetry and kindred lofty topics. Albert liked Miss Fosdick.
+It is hard not to like a pretty, attractive young lady who takes such a
+flattering interest in one's aspirations and literary efforts. The "high
+brow chit-chats"--quoting Miss Kelsey again--were pleasant in many
+ways; for instance, they were in the nature of a tonic for weakened
+self-esteem, and the Speranza self-esteem was suffering just at this
+time, from shock.
+
+Albert had, when he first heard that the dance was to take place,
+intended inviting Helen to accompany him. He had taken her acceptance
+for granted, he having acted as her escort to so many dances and
+social affairs. So he neglected inviting her and then came Issy's
+mischief-making remarks and the trouble which followed. So, as inviting
+her was out of the question, he resolved not to attend, himself. But
+Miss Fosdick urged so prettily that he bought his ticket and promised to
+be among those present.
+
+"Provided, of course," he ventured, being in a reckless mood, "that you
+save me at least four dances." She raised her brows in mock dismay.
+
+"Oh, my goodness!" she exclaimed. "I'm afraid I couldn't do that. Four
+is much too many. One I will promise, but no more."
+
+However, as he persisted, she yielded another. He was to have two dances
+and, possibly an "extra."
+
+"And you are a lucky young man," declared Jane Kelsey, who had also
+promised two. "If you knew how many fellows have begged for just one.
+But, of course," she added, "THEY were not poets, second editions of
+Tennyson and Keats and all that. It is Keats who was the poet, isn't it,
+Madeline?" she added, turning to her friend. "Oh, I'm so glad I got it
+right the first time. I'm always mixing him up with Watts, the man who
+invented the hymns and wrote the steam-engine--or something."
+
+The Wednesday evening in the middle of September was a beautiful one
+and the hotel was crowded. The Item, in its account the following week,
+enumerating those present, spoke of "Our new residents, Mrs. Fletcher
+Story Fosdick and Miss Madeline Fosdick, who are to occupy the
+magnificent residence now about being built on the Inlet Hill by their
+husband and father, respectively, Fletcher Story Fosdick, Esquire, the
+well-known New York banker." The phrasing of this news note caused
+much joy in South Harniss, and the Item gained several new and hopeful
+subscribers.
+
+But when the gushing reporter responsible for this added that "Miss
+Fosdick was a dream of loveliness on this occasion" he was stating only
+the truth. She was very beautiful indeed and a certain young man who
+stepped up to claim his first dance realized the fact. The said young
+man was outwardly cool, but red-hot within, the internal rise in
+temperature being caused by the sight of Helen Kendall crossing the
+floor arm in arm with Edwin Raymond. Albert's face was white with anger,
+except for two red spots on his cheeks, and his black eyes flashed.
+Consequently he, too, was considered quite worth the looking at and
+feminine glances followed him.
+
+"Who is that handsome, foreign-looking fellow your friend is dancing
+with?" whispered one young lady, a guest at the hotel, to Miss Kelsey.
+Jane told her.
+
+"But he isn't a foreigner," she added. "He lives here in South Harniss
+all the year. He is a poet, I believe, and Madeline, who knows about
+such things--inherits it from her mother, I suppose--says his poetry is
+beautiful."
+
+Her companion watched the subject of their conversation as, with Miss
+Fosdick, he moved lightly and surely through the crowd on the floor.
+
+"He LOOKS like a poet," she said, slowly. "He is wonderfully handsome,
+so distinguished, and SUCH a dancer! But why should a poet live
+here--all the year? Is that all he does for a living--write poetry?"
+
+Jane pretended not to hear her and, a masculine friend coming to claim
+his dance, seized the opportunity to escape. However, another "sitter
+out" supplied the information.
+
+"He is a sort of assistant bookkeeper at the lumber yard by the railroad
+station," said this person. "His grandfather owns the place, I believe.
+One would never guess it to look at him now. . . . Humph! I wonder if
+Mrs. Fosdick knows. They say she is--well, not democratically inclined,
+to say the least."
+
+Albert had his two promised dances with Madeline Fosdick, but the
+"extra" he did not obtain. Mrs. Fosdick, the ever watchful, had seen
+and made inquiries. Then she called her daughter to her and issued an
+ultimatum.
+
+"I am SO sorry," said the young lady, in refusing the plea for the
+"extra." "I should like to, but I--but Mother has asked me to dance with
+a friend of ours from home. I--I AM sorry, really."
+
+She looked as if she meant it. Albert was sorry, too. This had been
+a strange evening, another combination of sweet and sour. He glanced
+across the floor and saw Helen and the inevitable Raymond emerge
+together from the room where the refreshments were served. Raging
+jealousy seized him at the sight. Helen had not been near him, had
+scarcely spoken to him since his arrival. He forgot that he had not been
+near nor spoken to her.
+
+He danced twice or thrice more with acquaintances, "summer" or
+permanent, and then decided to go home. Madeline Fosdick he saw at the
+other end of the room surrounded by a group of young masculinity.
+Helen he could not see at the moment. He moved in the direction of the
+coatroom. Just as he reached the door he was surprised to see Ed Raymond
+stride by him, head down and looking anything but joyful. He watched and
+was still more astonished to see the young man get his coat and hat from
+the attendant and walk out of the hotel. He saw him stride away
+along the drive and down the moonlit road. He was, apparently, going
+home--going home alone.
+
+He got his own coat and hat and, before putting them on, stepped back
+for a final look at the ballroom. As he stood by the cloakroom door
+someone touched his arm. Turning he saw Helen.
+
+"Why--why, Helen!" he exclaimed, in surprise.
+
+"Are you going home?" she asked, in a low tone.
+
+"Yes, I--"
+
+"And you are going alone?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Would you mind--would it trouble you too much to walk with me as far as
+our house?"
+
+"Why--why of course not. I shall be delighted. But I thought you--I
+thought Ed Raymond--"
+
+"No, I'm alone. Wait here; I will be ready in just a minute."
+
+She hurried away. He gazed after her in bewilderment. She and he had
+scarcely exchanged a word during the evening, and now, when the evening
+was almost over, she came and asked him to be her escort. What in the
+wide world--?
+
+The minute she had specified had hardly elapsed when she reappeared,
+ready for out of doors. She took his arm and they walked down the steps
+of the hotel, past the group of lights at the head of the drive and
+along the road, with the moon shining down upon it and the damp, salt
+breeze from the ocean blowing across it. They walked for the first few
+minutes in silence. There were a dozen questions he would have liked to
+ask, but his jealous resentment had not entirely vanished and his pride
+forbade. It was she who spoke first.
+
+"Albert," she said, "you must think this very odd."
+
+He knew what she meant, but he did not choose to admit it.
+
+"What?" he asked.
+
+"Why, my asking you to walk home with me, after--after our trouble. It
+is strange, I suppose, particularly as you had not spoken before this
+whole evening."
+
+"_I_--spoken to YOU? Why, you bowed to me when I came into the room and
+that was the only sign of recognition you gave me until just now. Not a
+dance--not one."
+
+"Did you expect me to look you up and beg you to dance with me?"
+
+"Did you expect me to trot at that fellow's heels and wait my chance to
+get a word with you, to take what he left? I should say not! By George,
+Helen, I--"
+
+She interrupted him. "Hush, hush!" she pleaded. "This is all so silly,
+so childish. And we mustn't quarrel any more. I have made up my mind to
+that. We mustn't."
+
+"Humph! All right, _I_ had no thought of quarreling in the beginning.
+But there are some things a self-respecting chap can't stand. I have
+SOME pride, I hope."
+
+She caught her breath quickly. "Do you think," she asked, "that it was
+no sacrifice to my pride to beg you to walk home with me? After--after
+the things you said the other evening? Oh, Albert, how could you say
+them!"
+
+"Well--" he hesitated, and then added, "I told you I was sorry."
+
+"Yes, but you weren't really sorry. You must have believed the things
+that hateful Issachar Price said or you wouldn't have repeated them.
+. . . Oh, but never mind that now, I didn't mean to speak of it at all. I
+asked you to walk home with me because I wanted to make up our quarrel.
+Yes, that was it. I didn't want to go away and feel that you and I were
+not as good friends as ever. So, you see, I put all MY pride to one
+side--and asked."
+
+One phrase in one sentence of this speech caught and held the young
+man's attention. He forgot the others.
+
+"You are going away?" he repeated. "What do you mean? Where are you
+going?"
+
+"I am going to Cambridge to study. I am going to take some courses at
+Radcliffe. You know I told you I hoped to some day. Well, it has
+been arranged. I am to live with my cousin, father's half sister in
+Somerville. Father is well enough to leave now and I have engaged a
+capable woman, Mrs. Peters, to help Maria with the housework. I am going
+Friday morning, the day after to-morrow."
+
+He stopped short to stare at her.
+
+"You are going away?" he asked, again. "You are going to do that
+and--and--Why didn't you tell me before?"
+
+It was a characteristic return to his attitude of outraged royalty. She
+had made all these plans, had arranged to do this thing, and he had
+not been informed. At another time Helen might have laughed at him; she
+generally did when he became what she called the "Grand Bashaw." She did
+not laugh now, however, but answered quietly.
+
+"I didn't know I was going to do it until a little more than a week
+ago," she said. "And I have not seen you since then."
+
+"No, you've been too busy seeing someone else."
+
+She lost patience for the instant. "Oh, don't, don't, don't!" she cried.
+"I know who you mean, of course. You mean Ed Raymond. Don't you know why
+he has been at the house so much of late? Why he and I have been so much
+together? Don't you really know?"
+
+"What? . . . No, I don't--except that you and he wanted to be together."
+
+"And it didn't occur to you that there might be some other reason? You
+forgot, I suppose, that he and I were appointed on the Ticket Committee
+for this very dance?"
+
+He had forgotten it entirely. Now he remembered perfectly the meeting
+of the French Relief Society at which the appointment had been made. In
+fact Helen herself had told him of it at the time. For the moment he was
+staggered, but he rallied promptly.
+
+"Committee meetings may do as an excuse for some things," he said, "but
+they don't explain the rest--his calls here every other evening and--and
+so on. Honest now, Helen, you know he hasn't been running after you in
+this way just because he is on that committee with you; now don't you?"
+
+They were almost at the parsonage. The light from Mr. Kendall's study
+window shone through the leaves of the lilac bush behind the white
+fence. Helen started to speak, but hesitated. He repeated his question.
+
+"Now don't you?" he urged.
+
+"Why, why, yes, I suppose I do," she said, slowly. "I do know--now. But
+I didn't even think of such a thing until--until you came that evening
+and told me what Issy Price said."
+
+"You mean you didn't guess at all?"
+
+"Well--well, perhaps I--I thought he liked to come--liked to--Oh, what
+is the use of being silly! I did think he liked to call, but only as a
+friend. He was jolly and lots of fun and we were both fond of music. I
+enjoyed his company. I never dreamed that there was anything more than
+that until you came and were so--disagreeable. And even then I didn't
+believe--until to-night."
+
+Again she hesitated. "To-night?" he repeated. "What happened to-night?"
+
+"Oh nothing. I can't tell you. Oh, why can't friends be friends and not.
+. . . That is why I spoke to you, Albert, why I wanted to have this talk
+with you. I was going away so soon and I couldn't bear to go with any
+unfriendliness between us. There mustn't be. Don't you see?"
+
+He heard but a part of this. The memory of Raymond's face as he had seen
+it when the young man strode out of the cloakroom and out of the hotel
+came back to him and with it a great heart-throbbing sense of relief, of
+triumph. He seized her hand.
+
+"Helen," he cried, "did he--did you tell him--Oh, by George, Helen,
+you're the most wonderful girl in the world! I'm--I--Oh, Helen, you know
+I--I--"
+
+It was not his habit to be at a loss for words, but he was just then. He
+tried to retain her hand, to put his arm about her.
+
+"Oh, Helen!" he cried. "You're wonderful! You're splendid! I'm crazy
+about you! I really am! I--"
+
+She pushed him gently away. "Don't! Please don't!" she said. "Oh,
+don't!"
+
+"But I must. Don't you see I. . . . Why, you're crying!"
+
+Her face had, for a moment, been upturned. The moon at that moment had
+slipped behind a cloud, but the lamplight from the window had shown
+him the tears in her eyes. He was amazed. He could have shouted, have
+laughed aloud from joy or triumphant exultation just then, but to weep!
+What occasion was there for tears, except on Ed Raymond's part?
+
+"You're crying!" he repeated. "Why, Helen--!"
+
+"Don't!" she said, again. "Oh, don't! Please don't talk that way."
+
+"But don't you want me to, Helen? I--I want you to know how I feel. You
+don't understand. I--"
+
+"Hush! . . . Don't, Al, don't, please. Don't talk in that way. I don't
+want you to."
+
+"But why not?"
+
+"Oh, because I don't. It's--it is foolish. You're only a boy, you know."
+
+"A boy! I'm more than a year older than you are."
+
+"Are you? Why yes, I suppose you are, really. But that doesn't make any
+difference. I guess girls are older than boys when they are our age,
+lots older."
+
+"Oh, bother all that! We aren't kids, either of us. I want you to
+listen. You don't understand what I'm trying to say."
+
+"Yes, I do. But I'm sure you don't. You are glad because you have
+found you have no reason to be jealous of Ed Raymond and that makes you
+say--foolish things. But I'm not going to have our friendship spoiled
+in that way. I want us to be real friends, always. So you mustn't be
+silly."
+
+"I'm not silly. Helen, if you won't listen to anything else, will you
+listen to this? Will you promise me that while you are away you won't
+have other fellows calling on you or--or anything like that? And I'll
+promise you that I'll have nothing to say to another girl--in any way
+that counts, I mean. Shall we promise each other that, Helen? Come!"
+
+She paused for some moment before answering, but her reply, when it
+came, was firm.
+
+"No," she said, "I don't think we should promise anything, except to
+remain friends. You might promise and then be sorry, later."
+
+"_I_ might? How about you?"
+
+"Perhaps we both might. So we won't take the risk. You may come and see
+me to-morrow evening and say good-by, if you like. But you mustn't stay
+long. It is my last night with father for some time and I mustn't cheat
+him out of it. Good night, Albert. I'm so glad our misunderstanding is
+over, aren't you?"
+
+"Of course I am. But, Helen--"
+
+"I must go in now. Good night."
+
+The reflections of Alberto Speranza during his walk back to the Snow
+place were varied but wonderful. He thought of Raymond's humiliation
+and gloried in it. He thought of Helen and rhapsodized. And if,
+occasionally, he thought also of the dance and of Madeline Fosdick,
+forgive him. He was barely twenty-one and the moon was shining.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+
+The good-by call the following evening was, to him at least, not very
+satisfactory. Helen was tired, having been busy all day with the final
+preparations for leaving, and old Mr. Kendall insisted on being present
+during the entire visit and in telling long and involved stories of the
+trip abroad he had made when a young man and the unfavorable opinion
+which he had then formed of Prussians as traveling companions. Albert's
+opinion of Prussians was at least as unfavorable as his own, but his
+complete and even eager agreement with each of the old gentleman's
+statements did not have the effect of choking the latter off, but rather
+seemed to act as encouragement for more. When ten o'clock came and it
+was time to go Albert felt as if he had been listening to a lecture on
+the Hohenzollerns. "Great Scott, Helen," he whispered, as she came to
+the door with him, "I don't feel as if I had talked with you a minute.
+Why, I scarcely--"
+
+But just here Mr. Kendall came hurrying from the sitting-room to tell
+of one incident which he had hitherto forgotten, and so even this brief
+interval of privacy was denied. But Albert made one more attempt.
+
+"I'm going to run over to the station to-morrow morning to see you off,"
+he called from the gate. "Good night."
+
+The morning train left at nine o'clock, and at a quarter to nine Albert,
+who had kept his eye on the clock ever since eight, his hour of arriving
+at the office, called to Mr. Price.
+
+"I say," he said, in a low tone and one as casual as he could assume, "I
+am going to run out for a few minutes. I'll be right back."
+
+Issachar's response was as usual anything but low.
+
+"Eh?" he shouted. "Goin' out? Where you goin'?"
+
+"Oh, I'm just going out--er--on an errand."
+
+"What kind of an errand? I was cal'latin' to run out myself for a little
+spell. Can't I do your errand for you?"
+
+"No, no. . . There, there, don't bother me any more. I'm in a hurry."
+
+"Hurry! So'm I in a hurry. I was cal'latin' to run acrost to the deepo
+and see Helen Kendall start for Boston. She's goin' this morning; did
+you know it?"
+
+Before the somewhat flustered assistant bookkeeper could reply Captain
+Zelotes called from the inner office:
+
+"Wouldn't wonder if that was where Al was bound, too," he observed. "And
+I was thinkin' of the same thing. Suppose we all go together. Labe'll
+keep shop, won't you, Labe?"
+
+Mr. Keeler looked over his spectacles. "Eh?" he observed. "Oh, yes, yes
+. . . yes, yes, yes. And say good-by to Helen for me, some of you, if
+you happen to think of it. Not that 'twill make much difference to her,"
+he added, "whether she gets my good-bys or not, but it might make some
+to me. . . . Um, yes, yes."
+
+Mr. Price was eager to oblige.
+
+"I'll tell her you sent 'em, Labe," he said, patronizingly. "Set your
+mind to rest; I'll tell her."
+
+Laban's lip twitched. "Much obliged, Is," he chirruped. "That's a great
+relief! My mind's rested some already."
+
+So, instead of going alone to the railway station, Albert made one of a
+delegation of three. And at the station was Mr. Kendall, and two of the
+school committee, and one or two members of the church sewing circle,
+and the president and secretary of the Society for the Relief of the
+French Wounded. So far from being an intimate confidential farewell,
+Helen's departure was in the nature of a public ceremony with
+speech-making. Mr. Price made most of the speeches, in fact the lower
+portion of his countenance was in violent motion most of the ten
+minutes.
+
+"Take care of yourself, Helen," he urged loudly. "Don't you worry about
+your pa, we'll look out for him. And don't let none of them Boston
+fellers carry you off. We'll watch and see that Eddie Raymond and Al
+here don't get into mischief while you're gone. I . . . Crimustee! Jim
+Young, what in time's the matter with you? Can't ye see nothin'?"
+
+This last outburst was directed at the driver of the depot-wagon, who,
+wheeling a trunk on a baggage truck, had bumped violently into the rear
+of Mr. Price's legs, just at the knee joint, causing their owner to bend
+backward unexpectedly, and with enthusiasm.
+
+"Can't you see nothin' when it's right in front of ye?" demanded
+Issachar, righteously indignant.
+
+Jim Young winked over his shoulder at Albert. "Sorry, Is," he said, as
+he continued toward the baggage car. "I didn't notice you WAS in front
+of me."
+
+"Well, then, you'd better. . . . Eh? See here, what do you mean by
+that?"
+
+Even after Mr. Price had thus been pushed out of the foreground, so to
+speak, Albert was denied the opportunity of taking his place by Helen's
+side. Her father had a few last messages to deliver, then Captain
+Zelotes shook her hand and talked for a moment, and, after that, the
+ladies of the sewing circle and the war work society felt it their duty
+to, severally and jointly, kiss her good-by. This last was a trying
+operation to watch.
+
+Then the engine bell rang and the train began to move. Albert, running
+beside the platform of the last car, held up his hand for a farewell
+clasp.
+
+"Good-by," he said, and added in a whisper, "You'll write, won't you?"
+
+"Of course. And so must you. Good-by."
+
+The last car and the handkerchief waving figure on its platform
+disappeared around the curve. The little group by the station broke up.
+Albert and his grandfather walked over to the office together.
+
+"There goes a good girl, Al," was Captain Lote's only comment. "A mighty
+good capable girl."
+
+Albert nodded. A moment later he lifted his hat to a group in a passing
+automobile.
+
+"Who were those folks?" asked the Captain.
+
+"The Fosdicks," was the reply. "The people who are going to build down
+by the Inlet."
+
+It was Madeline and her mother. The latter had been serenely
+indifferent, but the young lady had smiled and bowed behind the maternal
+shoulders.
+
+"Oh; that so?" observed Captain Zelotes, looking after the flying car
+with interest. "That's who 'tis, eh? Nice lookin', the young one, ain't
+she?"
+
+Albert did not answer. With the noise of the train which was carrying
+Helen out of his life still ringing in his ears it seemed wicked even to
+mention another girl's name, to say nothing of commenting upon her good
+looks. For the rest of that day he was a gloomy spirit, a dark shadow in
+the office of Z. Snow and Co.
+
+Before the end of another fortnight the season at South Harniss was
+definitely over. The hotel closed on the Saturday following the dance,
+and by October first the last of the cottages was locked and shuttered.
+The Kelseys went on the twentieth and the Fosdicks went with them.
+Albert met Madeline and Jane at the post-office in the evening of the
+nineteenth and there more farewells were said.
+
+"Don't forget us down here in the sand, will you?" he suggested to Miss
+Fosdick. It was Jane Kelsey who answered.
+
+"Oh, she won't forget," returned that young lady. "Why she has your
+photograph to remember you by."
+
+Madeline colored becomingly and was, as Jane described it, "awfully
+fussed."
+
+"Nonsense!" she exclaimed, with much indignation, "I haven't any such
+thing. You know I haven't, Jane."
+
+"Yes, you have, my dear. You have a photograph of him standing in front
+of the drug store and looking dreamily in at--at the strawberry sundaes.
+It is a most romantic pose, really."
+
+Albert laughed. He remembered the photograph. It was one of a series of
+snapshots taken with Miss Kelsey's camera one Saturday afternoon when
+a party of young people had met in front of the sundae dispensary. Jane
+had insisted on "snapping" everyone.
+
+"That reminds me that I have never seen the rest of those photographs,"
+he said.
+
+"Haven't you?" exclaimed Jane. "Well, you ought to see them. I have
+Madeline's with me. It is a dream, if I do say it as I took it."
+
+She produced the snapshot, which showed her friend standing beside the
+silver-leaf tree before the druggist's window and smiling at the camera.
+It was a good likeness and, consequently, a very pretty picture.
+
+"Isn't it a dream, just as I said?" demanded the artist. "Honest now,
+isn't it?"
+
+Albert of course declared it to be beyond praise.
+
+"May I have this one?" he asked, on the impulse of the moment.
+
+"Don't ask me, stupid," commanded Jane, mischievously. "It isn't my
+funeral--or my portrait, either."
+
+"May I?" he repeated, turning to Madeline. She hesitated.
+
+"Why--why yes, you may, if you care for it," she said. "That particular
+one is Jane's, anyway, and if she chooses to give it away I don't see
+how I can prevent her. But why you should want the old thing I can't
+conceive. I look as stiff and wooden as a sign-post."
+
+Jane held up a protesting finger.
+
+"Fibs, fibs, fibs," she observed. "Can't conceive why he should want it!
+As if you weren't perfectly aware that he will wear it next his heart
+and--Oh, don't put it in THAT pocket! I said next your heart, and that
+isn't on your RIGHT side."
+
+Albert took the photograph home and stuck it between the frame and glass
+of his bureau. Then came a sudden remembrance of his parting with Helen
+and with it a twinge of conscience. He had begged her to have nothing
+to do with any other fellow. True she had refused to promise and
+consequently he also was unbound, but that made no difference--should
+not make any. So he put the photograph at the back of the drawer where
+he kept his collars and ties, with a resolve never to look at it. He did
+not look at it--very often.
+
+Then came another long winter. He ground away at the bookkeeping--he was
+more proficient at it, but he hated it as heartily as ever--and wrote
+a good deal of verse and some prose. For the first time he sold a prose
+article, a short story, to a minor magazine. He wrote long letters to
+Helen and she replied. She was studying hard, she liked her work, and
+she had been offered the opportunity to tutor in a girls' summer camp in
+Vermont during July and August and meant to accept provided her father's
+health continued good. Albert protested violently against her being
+absent from South Harniss for so long. "You will scarcely be home at
+all," he wrote. "I shall hardly see you. What am I going to do? As it
+is now I miss you--" and so on for four closely written pages. Having
+gotten into the spirit of composition he, so to speak, gloried in his
+loneliness, so much so that Helen was moved to remonstrate. "Your letter
+made me almost miserable," she wrote, "until I had read it over twice.
+Then I began to suspect that you were enjoying your wretchedness,
+or enjoying writing about it. I truly don't believe anyone--you
+especially--could be quite as lonesome as all that. Honestly now,
+Albert, weren't you exaggerating a little? I rather think you were?"
+
+He had been, of course, but it irritated him to think that she
+recognized the fact. She had an uncanny faculty of seeing through his
+every pretense. In his next letter he said nothing whatever about being
+lonesome.
+
+At home, and at the office, the war was what people talked about most
+of the time. Since the Lusitania's sinking Captain Zelotes had been a
+battle charger chafing at the bit. He wanted to fight and to fight at
+once.
+
+"We've got to do it, Mother," he declared, over and over again. "Sooner
+or later we've got to fight that Kaiser gang. What are we waitin' for;
+will somebody tell me that?"
+
+Olive, as usual, was mild and unruffled.
+
+"Probably the President knows as much about it as you and me, Zelotes,"
+she suggested. "I presume likely he has his own reasons."
+
+"Humph! When Seth Bassett got up in the night and took a drink out of
+the bottle of Paris Green by mistake 'Bial Cahoon asked him what in time
+he kept Paris Green in his bedroom for, anyhow. All that Seth would say
+was that he had his own reasons. The rest of the town was left to guess
+what those reasons was. That's what the President's doin'--keepin' us
+guessin'. By the everlastin', if I was younger I'd ship aboard a British
+lime-juicer and go and fight, myself!"
+
+It was Rachel Ellis who caused the Captain to be a bit more restrained
+in his remarks.
+
+"You hadn't ought to talk that way, Cap'n Lote," she said. "Not when
+Albert's around, you hadn't."
+
+"Eh? Why not?"
+
+"Because the first thing you know he'll be startin' for Canada to
+enlist. He's been crazy to do it for 'most a year."
+
+"He has? How do you know he has?"
+
+"Because he's told me so, more'n once."
+
+Her employer looked at her.
+
+"Humph!" he grunted. "He seems to tell you a good many things he doesn't
+tell the rest of us."
+
+The housekeeper nodded. "Yes," she said gravely, "I shouldn't wonder
+if he did." A moment later she added, "Cap'n Lote, you will be careful,
+won't you? You wouldn't want Al to go off and leave Z. Snow and Company
+when him and you are gettin' on so much better. You ARE gettin' on
+better, ain't you?"
+
+The captain pulled at his beard.
+
+"Yes," he admitted, "seems as if we was. He ain't any wonder at
+bookkeepin', but he's better'n he used to be; and he does seem to try
+hard, I'll say that for him."
+
+Rachael beamed gratification. "He'll be a Robert Penfold yet," she
+declared; "see if he isn't. So you musn't encourage him into enlistin'
+in the Canadian army. You wouldn't want him to do that any more'n the
+rest of us would."
+
+The captain gazed intently into the bowl of the pipe which he had been
+cleaning. He made no answer.
+
+"You wouldn't want him to do that, would you?" repeated the housekeeper.
+
+Captain Lote blew through the pipe stem. Then he said, "No, I wouldn't
+. . . but I'm darn glad he's got the spunk to WANT to do it. We may
+get that Portygee streak out of him, poetry and all, give us time; eh,
+Rachael?"
+
+It was the first time in months that he had used the word "Portygee" in
+connection with his grandson. Mrs. Ellis smiled to herself.
+
+In April the arbutus buds began to appear above the leaf mold between
+the scrub oaks in the woods, and the walls of Fletcher Fosdick's new
+summer home began to rise above the young pines on the hill by the
+Inlet in the Bay Road. The Item kept its readers informed, by weekly
+installments, of the progress made by the builders.
+
+
+The lumber for Mr. Fletcher Fosdick's new cottage is beginning to be
+hauled to his property on Inlet Hill in this town. Our enterprising firm
+of South Harniss dealers, Z. Snow & Co., are furnishing said lumber.
+Mr. Nehemiah Nickerson is to do the mason work. Mr. Fosdick shows good
+judgment as well as a commendable spirit in engaging local talent in
+this way. We venture to say he will never regret it.
+
+
+A week later:
+
+
+Mr. Fletcher Fosdick's new residence is beginning building, the
+foundation being pretty near laid.
+
+
+And the following week:
+
+
+The Fosdick mansion is growing fast. South Harniss may well be proud of
+its new ornament.
+
+
+The rise in three successive numbers from "cottage" to "mansion" is
+perhaps sufficient to indicate that the Fosdick summer home was to be,
+as Issachar Price described it, "Some considerable house! Yes sir, by
+crimus, some considerable!"
+
+In June, Helen came home for a week. At the end of the week she left to
+take up her new duties at the summer camp for girls in Vermont. Albert
+and she were together a good deal during that week. Anticipating her
+arrival, the young man's ardent imagination had again fanned what he
+delighted to think of as his love for her into flame. During the
+last months of the winter he had not played the languishing swain as
+conscientiously as during the autumn. Like the sailor in the song
+"is 'eart was true to Poll" always, but he had broken away from his
+self-imposed hermitage in his room at the Snow place several times
+to attend sociables, entertainments and, even, dances. Now, when
+she returned he was eagerly awaiting her and would have haunted the
+parsonage before and after working hours of every day as well as the
+evening, if she had permitted, and when with her assumed a proprietary
+air which was so obvious that even Mr. Price felt called upon to comment
+on it.
+
+"Say, Al," drawled Issachar, "cal'late you've cut out Eddie Raymond
+along with Helen, ain't ye? Don't see him hangin' around any since she
+got back, and the way you was actin' when I see you struttin' into the
+parsonage yard last night afore mail time made me think you must have a
+first mortgage on Helen and her pa and the house and the meetin'-house
+and two-thirds of the graveyard. I never see such an important-lookin'
+critter in MY life. Haw, haw! Eh? How 'bout it?"
+
+Albert did not mind the Price sarcasm; instead he felt rather grateful
+to have the proletariat recognize that he had triumphed again. The fly
+in his ointment, so to speak, was the fact that Helen herself did not in
+the least recognize that triumph. She laughed at him.
+
+"Don't look at me like that, please, please, don't," she begged.
+
+"Why not?" with a repetition of the look.
+
+"Because it is silly."
+
+"Silly! Well, I like that! Aren't you and I engaged? Or just the same as
+engaged?"
+
+"No, of course we are not."
+
+"But we promised each other--"
+
+"No, we did not. And you know we didn't."
+
+"Helen, why do you treat me that way? Don't you know that--that I just
+worship the ground you tread on? Don't you know you're the only girl in
+this world I could ever care for? Don't you know that?"
+
+They were walking home from church Sunday morning and had reached the
+corner below the parsonage. There, screened by the thicket of young
+silver-leafs, she stopped momentarily and looked into his face. Then she
+walked on.
+
+"Don't you know how much I care?" he repeated.
+
+She shook her head. "You think you do now, perhaps," she said, "but you
+will change your mind."
+
+"What do you mean by that? How do you know I will?"
+
+"Because I know you. There, there, Albert, we won't quarrel, will we?
+And we won't be silly. You're an awfully nice boy, but you are just a
+boy, you know."
+
+He was losing his temper.
+
+"This is ridiculous!" he declared. "I'm tired of being grandmothered
+by you. I'm older than you are, and I know what I'm doing. Come, Helen,
+listen to me."
+
+But she would not listen, and although she was always kind and frank and
+friendly, she invariably refused to permit him to become sentimental. It
+irritated him, and after she had gone the irritation still remained. He
+wrote her as before, although not quite so often, and the letters were
+possibly not quite so long. His pride was hurt and the Speranza pride
+was a tender and important part of the Speranza being. If Helen noted
+any change in his letters she did not refer to it nor permit it to
+influence her own, which were, as always, lengthy, cheerful, and full of
+interest in him and his work and thoughts.
+
+During the previous fall, while under the new influence aroused in him
+by his discovery that Helen Kendall was "the most wonderful girl in the
+world," said discovery of course having been previously made for him by
+the unfortunate Raymond, he had developed a habit of wandering off into
+the woods or by the seashore to be alone and to seek inspiration. When
+a young poet is in love, or fancies himself in love, inspiration is
+usually to be found wherever sought, but even at that age and to one in
+that condition solitude is a marked aid in the search. There were two
+or three spots which had become Albert Speranza's favorites. One was a
+high, wind-swept knoll, overlooking the bay, about a half mile from the
+hotel, another was a secluded nook in the pine grove beside Carver's
+Pond, a pretty little sheet of water on the Bayport boundary. On
+pleasant Saturday afternoons or Sundays, when the poetic fit was on
+him, Albert, with a half dozen pencils in his pocket, and a rhyming
+dictionary and a scribbling pad in another, was wont to stroll towards
+one or the other of these two retreats. There he would sprawl amid the
+beachgrass or upon the pine-needles and dream and think and, perhaps,
+ultimately write.
+
+One fair Saturday in late June he was at the first of these respective
+points. Lying prone on the beach grass at the top of the knoll and
+peering idly out between its stems at the water shimmering in the summer
+sun, he was endeavoring to find a subject for a poem which should deal
+with love and war as requested by the editor of the Columbian Magazine.
+"Give us something with a girl and a soldier in it," the editor had
+written. Albert's mind was lazily drifting in search of the pleasing
+combination.
+
+The sun was warm, the breeze was light, the horizon was veiled with a
+liquid haze. Albert's mind was veiled with a similar haze and the idea
+he wanted would not come. He was losing his desire to find it and was,
+in fact, dropping into a doze when aroused by a blood-curdling outburst
+of barks and yelps and growls behind him, at his very heels. He came
+out of his nap with a jump and, scrambling to a sitting position and
+turning, he saw a small Boston bull-terrier standing within a yard of
+his ankles and, apparently, trying to turn his brindled outside in, or
+his inside out, with spiteful ferocity. Plainly the dog had come upon
+him unexpectedly and was expressing alarm, suspicion and disapproval.
+
+Albert jerked his ankles out of the way and said "Hello, boy," in as
+cheerfully cordial a tone as he could muster at such short notice. The
+dog took a step forward, evidently with the idea of always keeping the
+ankles within jumping distance, showed a double row of healthy teeth and
+growled and barked with renewed violence.
+
+"Nice dog," observed Albert. The nice dog made a snap at the nearest
+ankle and, balked of his prey by a frenzied kick of the foot attached to
+the ankle, shrieked, snarled and gurgled like a canine lunatic.
+
+"Go home, you ugly brute," commanded the young man, losing patience, and
+looking about for a stone or stick. On the top of that knoll the largest
+stone was the size of a buckshot and the nearest stick was, to be Irish,
+a straw.
+
+"Nice doggie! Nice old boy! Come and be patted! . . . Clear out with
+you! Go home, you beast!"
+
+Flatteries and threats were alike in their result. The dog continued to
+snarl and growl, darting toward the ankles occasionally. Evidently he
+was mustering courage for the attack. Albert in desperation scooped up
+a handful of sand. If worst came to worst he might blind the creature
+temporarily. What would happen after that was not clear. Unless he might
+by a lucky cast fill the dog's interior so full of sand that--like the
+famous "Jumping Frog"--it would be too heavy to navigate, he saw no
+way of escape from a painful bite, probably more than one. What Captain
+Zelotes had formerly called his "Portygee temper" flared up.
+
+"Oh, damn you, clear out!" he shouted, springing to his feet.
+
+From a little way below him; in fact, from behind the next dune, between
+himself and the beach, a feminine voice called his name.
+
+"Oh, Mr. Speranza!" it said. "Is it you? I'm so glad!"
+
+Albert turned, but the moment he did so the dog made a dash at his legs,
+so he was obliged to turn back again and kick violently.
+
+"Oh, I am so glad it is you," said the voice again. "I was sure it was a
+dreadful tramp. Googoo loathes tramps."
+
+As an article of diet that meant, probably. Googoo--if that was the
+dog's name--was passionately fond of poets, that was self-evident, and
+intended to make a meal of this one, forthwith. He flew at the Speranza
+ankles. Albert performed a most undignified war dance, and dashed his
+handful of sand into Googoo's open countenance. For a minute or so there
+was a lively shindy on top of that knoll. At the end of the minute the
+dog, held tightly in a pair of feminine arms, was emitting growls
+and coughs and sand, while Madeline Fosdick and Albert Speranza were
+kneeling in more sand and looking at each other.
+
+"Oh, did he bite you?" begged Miss Fosdick.
+
+"No . . . no, I guess not," was the reply. "I--I scarcely know yet.
+. . . Why, when did you come? I didn't know you were in town."
+
+"We came yesterday. Motored from home, you know. I--be still, Goo, you
+bad thing! It was such a lovely day that I couldn't resist going for
+a walk along the beach. I took Googoo because he does love it so,
+and--Goo, be still, I tell you! I am sure he thinks you are a tramp, out
+here all alone in the--in the wilderness. And what were you doing here?"
+
+Albert drew a long breath. "I was half asleep, I guess," he said, "when
+he broke loose at my heels. I woke up quick enough then, as you may
+imagine. And so you are here for the summer? Your new house isn't
+finished, is it?"
+
+"No, not quite. Mother and Goo and I are at the hotel for a month.
+But you haven't answered my question. What were you doing off here all
+alone? Have you been for a walk, too?"
+
+"Not exactly. I--well, I come here pretty often. It is one of my
+favorite hiding places. You see, I . . . don't laugh if I tell you, will
+you?"
+
+"Of course not. Go on; this is very mysterious and interesting."
+
+"Well, I come here sometimes on pleasant days, to be alone--and write."
+
+"Write? Write poetry, do you mean?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Oh, how wonderful! Were you writing when I--when Goo interrupted you?"
+
+"No; I had made two or three attempts, but nothing that I did satisfied
+me. I had just about decided to tear them up and to give up trying for
+this afternoon."
+
+"Oh, I hope you won't tear them up. I'm sure they shouldn't be. Perhaps
+you were not in a proper mood to judge, yourself."
+
+"Perhaps not. Perhaps they might look a little less hopeless to some one
+else. But that person would have to be really interested, and there are
+few people in South Harniss who know or care anything about poetry."
+
+"I suppose that is true. I--I don't suppose you would care to show them
+to me, would you?"
+
+"Why," eagerly, "would you really care to see them?"
+
+"Indeed I should! Not that my judgment or advice is worth anything, of
+course. But I am very, very fond of poetry, and to see how a real poet
+wrote would be wonderful. And if I could help you, even the least little
+bit, it would be such an honor."
+
+This sort of thing was balm to the Speranza spirit. Albert's
+temperamental ego expanded under it like a rosebud under a summer sun.
+Yet there was a faint shadow of doubt--she might be making fun of him.
+He looked at her intently and she seemed to read his thoughts, for she
+said:
+
+"Oh, I mean it! Please believe I do. I haven't spoken that way when Jane
+was with me, for she wouldn't understand and would laugh, but I mean it,
+Mr. Speranza. It would be an honor--a great honor."
+
+So the still protesting and rebellious Googoo was compelled to go a few
+feet away and lie down, while his mistress and the young man whom he had
+attempted to devour bent their heads together over a scribbling-pad
+and talked and exclaimed during the whole of that hour and a full
+three-quarters of the next. Then the distant town clock in the steeple
+of the Congregational church boomed five times and Miss Fosdick rose to
+her feet.
+
+"Oh," she said, "it can't really be five o'clock, can it? But it is!
+What WILL mother fancy has become of me? I must go this minute. Thank
+you, Mr. Speranza. I have enjoyed this so much. It has been a wonderful
+experience."
+
+Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were shining. She had grown
+handsomer than ever during the winter months. Albert's eyes were shining
+also as he impulsively seized her hand.
+
+"Thank you, Miss Fosdick," he said. "You have helped me more than I
+can tell you. I was about to give up in despair before you came, and
+now--now I KNOW I shall write the best thing I have ever done. And you
+will be responsible for it."
+
+She caught her breath. "Oh, not really!" she exclaimed. "You don't mean
+it, really?"
+
+"Indeed I do! If I might have your help and sympathy once in awhile, I
+believe--I believe I could do almost anything. Will you help me again
+some day? I shall be here almost every pleasant Saturday and Sunday
+afternoon. Will you come again?"
+
+She hesitated. "I--I'll see; perhaps," she answered hurriedly. "But I
+must go now. Come, Goo."
+
+She hastened away, down the knoll and along the beach toward the hotel.
+Googoo followed her, turning occasionally to cast diabolical glances at
+the Speranza ankles. Albert gazed until the graceful figure in the trim
+sport costume disappeared behind the corner of the point of the beach.
+Just at the point she paused to wave to him. He waved in return. Then
+he tramped homeward. There was deep sand beneath his feet and, later,
+pine-needles and grass. They were all alike to him, for he was traveling
+on air.
+
+That evening at supper his radiant appearance caused comment.
+
+"What makes you look so happy, Albert?" asked his grandmother. "Seems to
+me I never saw you look so sort of--well, glorified, as you might say.
+What is the reason?"
+
+The glorified one reddened and was confused. He stammered that he did
+not know, he was not aware of any particular reason.
+
+Mrs. Ellis beamed upon him. "I presume likely his bookkeepin' at the
+office has been goin' pretty well lately," she suggested.
+
+Captain Zelote's gray eyes twinkled. "Cal'late he's been makin' up more
+poetry about girls," was his offering. "Another one of those pieces
+about teeth like pearls and hair all curls, or somethin' like that. Say,
+Al, why don't you poetry-makin' fellers try a new one once in a while?
+Say, 'Her hair's like rope and her face has lost hope.' Eh? Why not, for
+a change?"
+
+The protests on the part of Olive and the housekeeper against the
+captain's innovation in poetry-making had the effect of distracting
+attention from Albert's "glorified" appearance. The young man himself
+was thankful for the respite.
+
+That night before he retired he took Madeline Fosdick's photograph from
+the back of the drawer among the ties and collars and looked at it for
+five minutes at least. She was a handsome girl, certainly. Not that
+that made any difference to him. And she was an intelligent girl; she
+understood his poetry and appreciated it. Yes, and she understood him,
+too, almost as well as Helen. . . . Helen! He hastily returned the
+Fosdick photograph to the drawer; but this time he did not put it quite
+so near the back.
+
+On the following Saturday he was early at the knoll, a brand-new
+scribbling-pad in his pocket and in his mind divine gems which
+were later, and with Miss Fosdick's assistance, to be strung into
+a glittering necklace of lyric song and draped, with the stringer's
+compliments, about the throat of a grateful muse. But no gems were
+strung that day. Madeline did not put in an appearance, and by and by
+it began to rain, and Albert walked home, damp, dejected, and disgusted.
+When, a day or two later, he met Miss Fosdick at the post office and
+asked why she had not come he learned that her mother had insisted upon
+a motor trip to Wapatomac that afternoon.
+
+"Besides," she said, "you surely mustn't expect me EVERY Saturday."
+
+"No," he admitted grudgingly, "I suppose not. But you will come
+sometimes, won't you? I have a perfectly lovely idea for a ballad and I
+want to ask your advice about it."
+
+"Oh, do you really? You're not making fun? You mean that my advice is
+really worth something? I can't believe it."
+
+He convinced her that it was, and the next Saturday afternoon they spent
+together at the inspiration point among the dunes, at work upon the
+ballad. It was not finished on that occasion, nor on the next, for it
+was an unusually long ballad, but progress was made, glorious progress.
+
+And so, during that Summer, as the Fosdick residence upon the Bay Road
+grew and grew, so did the acquaintanceship, the friendship, the poetic
+partnership between the Fosdick daughter and the grandson of Captain
+Zelotes Snow grow and grow. They met almost every Saturday, they met at
+the post office on week evenings, occasionally they saw each other for a
+moment after church on Sunday mornings. Mrs. Fletcher Fosdick could not
+imagine why her only child cared to attend that stuffy little country
+church and hear that prosy Kendall minister drone on and on. "I hope,
+my dear, that I am as punctilious in my religious duties as the average
+woman, but one Kendall sermon was sufficient for me, thank you. What you
+see in THAT church to please you, _I_ can't guess."
+
+If she had attended as often as Madeline did she might have guessed and
+saved herself much. But she was busy organizing, in connection with
+Mrs. Seabury Calvin, a Literary Society among the summer people of South
+Harniss. The Society was to begin work with the discussion of the poetry
+of Rabindranath Tagore. Mrs. Fosdick said she doted on Tagore; Mrs.
+Calvin expressed herself as being positively insane about him. A
+warm friendship had sprung up between the two ladies, as each was
+particularly fond of shining as a literary light and neither under any
+circumstances permitted a new lion to roar unheard in her neighborhood,
+provided, of course, that the said roarings had been previously endorsed
+and well advertised by the critics and the press.
+
+So Mrs. Fosdick was too busy to accompany Madeline to church on Sunday
+or to walk on Saturday, and the young lady was left to wander pretty
+much at her own sweet will. That sweet will led her footsteps to trails
+frequented by Albert Speranza and they walked and talked and poetized
+together. As for Mr. Fletcher Fosdick, he was busy at his office in New
+York and came to South Harniss only for infrequent week-ends.
+
+The walks and talks and poetizings were innocent enough. Neither of the
+partners in poesy had the least idea of anything more than being just
+that. They liked each other, they had come to call each other by their
+Christian names, and on Albert's bureau Madeline's photograph now stood
+openly and without apology. Albert had convinced himself there was
+nothing to apologize for. She was his friend, that was all. He liked to
+write and she liked to help him--er--well, just as Helen used to when
+she was at home. He did not think of Helen quite as often as formerly,
+nor were his letters to her as frequent or as long.
+
+So the summer passed and late August came, the last Saturday afternoon
+of that month. Albert and Madeline were together, walking together along
+the beach from the knoll where they had met so often. It was six o'clock
+and the beach was deserted. There was little wind, the tiny waves were
+lapping and plashing along the shore, and the rosy light of the sinking
+sun lay warm upon the water and the sand. They were thinking and
+speaking of the summer which was so near its end.
+
+"It has been a wonderful summer, hasn't it?" said Albert.
+
+"Yes, wonderful," agreed Madeline.
+
+"Yes, I--I--by George, I never believed a summer could be so wonderful."
+
+"Nor I."
+
+Silence. Then Albert, looking at her, saw her eyes looking into his and
+saw in them--
+
+He kissed her.
+
+That morning Albert Speranza had arisen as usual, a casual, careless,
+perfectly human young fellow. He went to bed that night a superman, an
+archangel, a demi-god, with his head in the clouds and the earth a cloth
+of gold beneath his feet. Life was a pathway through Paradise arched
+with rainbows.
+
+He and Madeline Fosdick loved each other madly, devotedly. They were
+engaged to be married. They had plighted troth. They were to be each
+other's, and no one else's, for ever--and ever--and ever.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+
+The remainder of that summer was a paradisical meandering over the cloth
+of gold beneath the rainbows. Albert and his Madeline met often, very
+often. Few poems were written at these meetings. Why trouble to put
+penciled lines on paper when the entire universe was a poem especially
+composed for your benefit? The lovers sat upon the knoll amid the
+sand dunes and gazed at the bay and talked of themselves separately,
+individually, and, more especially, collectively. They strolled through
+the same woody lanes and discussed the same satisfactory subjects. They
+met at the post office or at the drug store and gazed into each other's
+eyes. And, what was the most astonishing thing about it all, their
+secret remained undiscovered. Undiscovered, that is to say, by those
+by whom discovery would have meant calamity. The gossips among the
+townspeople winked and chuckled and cal'lated Fletcher Fosdick had
+better look out or his girl would be took into the firm of Z. Snow and
+Co. Issachar Price uttered sarcastic and sly innuendoes. Jane Kelsey
+and her set ragged the pair occasionally. But even these never really
+suspected that the affair was serious. And neither Mrs. Fletcher Fosdick
+nor Captain and Mrs. Zelotes Snow gave it a minute's attention.
+
+It was serious enough with the principals, however. To them it was the
+only serious matter in the world. Not that they faced or discussed the
+future with earnest and complete attention. Some day or other--that was
+of course the mutually accepted idea--some day or other they were to
+marry. In the meantime here was the blissful present with its roses
+and rainbows and here, for each, was the other. What would be likely to
+happen when the Fosdick parents learned of the engagement of their
+only child to the assistant bookkeeper of the South Harniss lumber and
+hardware company was unpleasant to contemplate, so why contemplate it?
+Upon one point they were agreed--never, never, NEVER would they
+give each other up. No power on earth--which included parents and
+grandparents--should or could separate them.
+
+Albert's conscience troubled him slightly at first when he thought of
+Helen Kendall. It had been in reality such a short time--although of
+course it seemed ages and ages--since he had fancied himself in love
+with her. Only the previous fall--yes, even that very spring, he
+had asked her to pledge herself to him. Fortunately--oh, how very
+fortunately!--she had refused, and he had been left free. Now he knew
+that his fancied love for her had been merely a passing whim, a delusion
+of the moment. This--THIS which he was now experiencing was the grand
+passion of his life. He wrote a poem with the title, "The Greater
+Love"--and sold it, too, to a sensational periodical which circulated
+largely among sentimental shopgirls. It is but truthful to state that
+the editor of the magazine to which he first submitted it sent it back
+with the brief note--"This is a trifle too syrupy for our use. Fear the
+pages might stick. Why not send us another war verse?" Albert treated
+the note and the editor with the contempt they deserved. He pitied the
+latter; poor soul, doubtless HE had never known the greater love.
+
+He and Madeline had agreed that they would tell no one--no one at
+all--of their betrothal. It should be their own precious secret for the
+present. So, under the circumstances, he could not write Helen the
+news. But ought he to write her at all? That question bothered him not
+a little. He no longer loved her--in fact, he was now certain that he
+never had loved her--but he liked her, and he wanted her to keep on
+liking him. And she wrote to him with regularity. What ought he to do
+about writing her?
+
+He debated the question with himself and, at last, and with some
+trepidation, asked Madeline's opinion of his duty in the matter. Her
+opinion was decisive and promptly given. Of course he must not write
+Helen again. "How would you like it if I corresponded with another
+fellow?" she asked. Candor forced him to admit that he should not like
+it at all. "But I want to behave decently," he said. "She is merely a
+friend of mine"--oh, how short is memory!--"but we have been friends for
+a long time and I wouldn't want to hurt her feelings." "No, instead
+you prefer to hurt mine." "Now, dearest, be reasonable." It was their
+nearest approach to a quarrel and was a very, very sad affair.
+The making-up was sweet, of course, but the question of further
+correspondence with Helen Kendall remained just where it was at the
+beginning. And, meanwhile, the correspondence lapsed.
+
+September came far, far too soon--came and ended. And with it ended
+also the stay of the Fosdicks in South Harniss. Albert and Madeline said
+good-by at their rendezvous by the beach. It was a sad, a tearful, but
+a very precious farewell. They would write each other every day, they
+would think of each other every minute of every day, they would live
+through the winter somehow and look forward to the next spring and their
+next meeting.
+
+"You will write--oh, ever and ever so many poems, won't you, dear?"
+begged Madeline. "You know how I love them. And whenever I see one of
+your poems in print I shall be so proud of you--of MY poet."
+
+Albert promised to write ever and ever so many. He felt that there would
+be no difficulty in writing reams of poems--inspired, glorious poems.
+The difficulty would be in restraining himself from writing too many
+of them. With Madeline Fosdick as an inspiration, poetizing became as
+natural as breathing.
+
+Then, which was unusual for them, they spoke of the future, the dim,
+vague, but so happy future, when Albert was to be the nation's poet
+laureate and Madeline, as Mrs. Laureate, would share his glory and
+wear, so to speak, his second-best laurels. The disagreeable problems
+connected with the future they ignored, or casually dismissed with,
+"Never mind, dear, it will be all right by and by." Oh, it was a
+wonderful afternoon, a rosy, cloudy, happy, sorrowful, bitter-sweet
+afternoon.
+
+And the next morning Albert, peeping beneath Z. Snow and Co.'s office
+window shade, saw his heart's desire step aboard the train, saw that
+train puff out of the station, saw for just an instant a small hand
+waved behind the dingy glass of the car window. His own hand waved in
+reply. Then the raucous voice of Mr. Price broke the silence.
+
+"Who was you flappin' your flipper at?" inquired Issachar. "Girl, I'll
+bet you! Never saw such a critter as you be to chase after the girls.
+Which one is it this time?"
+
+Albert made no reply. Between embarrassment and sorrow he was incapable
+of speech. Issachar, however, was not in that condition; at all times
+when awake, and sometimes when asleep, Mr. Price could, and usually did,
+speak.
+
+"Which one is it this time, Al?" demanded Issy. "Eh? Crimus, see him get
+red! Haw, haw! Labe," to Mr. Keeler, who came into the office from the
+inner room, "which girl do you cal'late Al here is wavin' by-bye to this
+mornin'? Who's goin' away on the cars this mornin', Labe?"
+
+Laban, his hands full of the morning mail, absently replied that he
+didn't know.
+
+"Yes, you do, too," persisted Issy. "You ain't listenin', that's all.
+Who's leavin' town on the train just now?"
+
+"Eh? Oh, I don't know. The Small folks are goin' to Boston, I believe.
+And George Bartlett's goin' to Ostable on court business, he told me.
+Oh, yes, I believe Cap'n Lote said that Fosdick woman and her daughter
+were goin' back to New York. Back to New York--yes--yes--yes."
+
+Mr. Price crowed triumphantly. "Ah, ha!" he crowed. "Ah, ha! That's the
+answer. That's the one he's shakin' day-days to, that Fosdick girl. I've
+seen you 'round with her at the post office and the ice cream s'loon.
+I'm onto you, Al. Haw, haw! What's her name? Adeline? Dandelion?
+Madeline?--that's it! Say, how do you think Helen Kendall's goin' to
+like your throwin' kisses to the Madeline one, eh?"
+
+The assistant bookkeeper was still silent. The crimson, however, was
+leaving his face and the said face was paling rapidly. This was an
+ominous sign had Mr. Price but known it. He did not know it and cackled
+merrily on,
+
+"Guess I'll have to tell Helen when she comes back home," he announced.
+"Cal'late I'll put a flea in her ear. 'Helen,' I'll say, 'don't feel
+too bad now, don't cry and get your handkerchief all soakin', or nothin'
+like that. I just feel it's my duty to tell ye that your little Albert
+is sparkin' up to somebody else. He's waitin' on a party by the name of
+Padeline--no, Madeline--Woodtick--no, Fosdick--and . . .' Here! let go
+of me! What are you doin'?"
+
+That last question was in the nature of a gurgle. Albert, his face now
+very white indeed, had strode across the office, seized the speaker by
+the front of his flannel shirt and backed him against the wall.
+
+"Stop," commanded Albert, between his teeth. "That's enough of that.
+Don't you say any more!"
+
+"Eh? Ugh! Ur-gg! Leggo of my shirt."
+
+Albert let go, but he did not step back. He remained where he was,
+exactly in front of Mr. Price.
+
+"Don't you say any more about--about what you were saying," he repeated.
+
+"Eh? Not say any more? Why not? Who's goin' to stop me, I'd like to
+know?"
+
+"I am."
+
+"I want to know! What'll you do?"
+
+"I don't know. If you weren't so old, I would--but I'll stop you,
+anyhow."
+
+Albert felt a hand on his arm and heard Mr. Keeler's voice at his ear.
+
+"Careful, Al, careful," it said. "Don't hit him."
+
+"Of course I shan't hit him," indignantly. "What do you think I am? But
+he must promise not to mention--er--Miss Fosdick's name again."
+
+"Better promise, Is," suggested Laban. Issachar's mouth opened, but no
+promise came forth.
+
+"Promise be darned!" he yelled furiously. "Mention her name! I'll
+mention any name I set out to, and no Italyun Portygee is goin' to stop
+me, neither."
+
+Albert glanced about the office. By the wall stood two brimming pails of
+water, brought in by Mr. Price for floor-washing purposes. He lifted one
+of the pails.
+
+"If you don't promise I'll duck you," he declared. "Let go of me,
+Keeler, I mean it."
+
+"Careful, Al, careful," said Mr. Keeler. "Better promise, Is."
+
+"Promise nawthin'! Fosdick! What in time do I care for Fosdicks,
+Madelines or Padelines or Dandelions or--"
+
+His sentence stopped just there. The remainder of it was washed back
+and down his throat by the deluge from the bucket. Overcome by shock and
+surprise, Mr. Price leaned back against the wall and slid slowly down
+that wall until he reclined in a sitting posture, upon the floor.
+
+"Crimustee," he gasped, as soon as he could articulate, "I'm--awk--I'm
+drownded."
+
+Albert put down the empty bucket and picked up the full one.
+
+"Promise," he said again.
+
+Laban Keeler rubbed his chin.
+
+"I'd promise if I was you, Is," he said. "You're some subject to
+rheumatism, you know."
+
+Issachar, sitting in a spreading puddle, looked damply upward at the
+remaining bucket. "By crimustee--" he began. Albert drew the bucket
+backward; the water dripped from its lower brim.
+
+"I--I--darn ye, I promise!" shouted Issachar. Albert put down the bucket
+and walked back to his desk. Laban watched him curiously, smiling just a
+little. Then he turned to Mr. Price, who was scrambling to his feet.
+
+"Better get your mop and swab up here, Is," he said. "Cap'n Lote'll be
+in 'most any minute."
+
+When Captain Zelotes did return to the office, Issachar was
+industriously sweeping out, Albert was hard at work at the books, and
+Laban was still rubbing his chin and smiling at nothing in particular.
+
+The next day Albert and Issachar made it up. Albert apologized.
+
+"I'm sorry, Issy," he said. "I shouldn't have done it, but you made me
+mad. I have a--rather mean temper, I'm afraid. Forgive me, will you?"
+
+He held out his hand, and Issachar, after a momentary hesitation, took
+it.
+
+"I forgive you this time, Al," he said solemnly, "but don't never do
+nothin' like it again, will ye? When I went home for dinner yesterday
+noon I give you my word my clothes was kind of dampish even then. If
+it hadn't been nice warm sunshine and I was out doors and dried off
+considerable I'd a had to change everything, underclothes and all, and
+'tain't but the middle of the week yet."
+
+His ducking had an effect which Albert noticed with considerable
+satisfaction--he was never quite as flippantly personal in his comments
+concerning the assistant bookkeeper. He treated the latter, if not with
+respect, at least with something distantly akin to it.
+
+After Madeline's departure the world was very lonely indeed. Albert
+wrote long, long letters and received replies which varied in length
+but never in devotion. Miss Fosdick was obliged to be cautious in her
+correspondence with her lover. "You will forgive me if this is not much
+more than a note, won't you, dear?" she wrote. "Mother seems to be very
+curious of late about my letters and to whom I write and I had to just
+steal the opportunity this morning." An older and more apprehensive
+person might have found Mrs. Fosdick's sudden interest in her daughter's
+correspondence suspicious and a trifle alarming, but Albert never
+dreamed of being alarmed.
+
+He wrote many poems, all dealing with love and lovers, and sold some of
+them. He wrote no more letters to Helen. She, too, had ceased to write
+him, doubtless because of the lack of reply to her last two or three
+letters. His conscience still troubled him about Helen; he could not
+help feeling that his treatment of her had not been exactly honorable.
+Yet what else under the circumstances could he do? From Mr. Kendall he
+learned that she was coming home to spend Thanksgiving. He would see her
+then. She would ask him questions? What should his answer be? He faced
+the situation in anticipation many, many times, usually after he had
+gone to bed at night, and lay awake through long torturing hours in
+consequence.
+
+But when at last Helen and he did meet, the day before Thanksgiving,
+their meeting was not at all the dreadful ordeal he had feared. Her
+greeting was as frank and cordial as it had always been, and there was
+no reproach in her tone or manner. She did not even ask him why he had
+stopped writing. It was he, himself, who referred to that subject,
+and he did so as they walked together down the main road. Just why he
+referred to it he could not probably have told. He was aware only that
+he felt mean and contemptible and that he must offer some explanation.
+His not having any to offer made the task rather difficult.
+
+But she saved him the trouble. She interrupted one of his blundering,
+stumbling sentences in the middle.
+
+"Never mind, Albert," she said quietly. "You needn't explain. I think I
+understand."
+
+He stopped and stared at her. "You understand?" he repeated. "Why--why,
+no, you don't. You can't."
+
+"Yes, I can, or I think I can. You have changed your mind, that is all."
+
+"Changed my mind?"
+
+"Yes. Don't you remember I told you you would change your mind
+about--well, about me? You were so sure you cared so very, very much for
+me, you know. And I said you mustn't promise anything because I thought
+you would change your mind. And you have. That is it, isn't it? You have
+found some one else."
+
+He gazed at her as if she were a witch who had performed a miracle.
+
+"Why--why--well, by George!" he exclaimed. "Helen--how--how did you
+know? Who told you?"
+
+"No one told me. But I think I can even guess who it is you have found.
+It is Madeline Fosdick, isn't it?"
+
+His amazement now was so open-mouthed as well as open-eyed that she
+could not help smiling.
+
+"Don't! Don't stare at me like that," she whispered. "Every one is
+looking at you. There is old Captain Pease on the other side of the
+street; I'm sure he thinks you have had a stroke or something. Here!
+Walk down our road a little way toward home with me. We can talk as we
+walk. I'm sure," she added, with just the least bit of change in her
+tone, "that your Madeline won't object to our being together to that
+extent."
+
+She led the way down the side street toward the parsonage and he
+followed her. He was still speechless from surprise.
+
+"Well," she went on, after a moment, "aren't you going to say anything?"
+
+"But--but, Helen," he faltered, "how did you know?"
+
+She smiled again. "Then it IS Madeline," she said. "I thought it must
+be."
+
+"You--you thought--What made you think so?"
+
+For an instant she seemed on the point of losing her patience.
+
+Then she turned and laid her hand on his arm.
+
+"Oh, Al," she said, "please don't think I am altogether an idiot.
+I surmised when your letters began to grow shorter and--well,
+different--that there was something or some one who was changing them,
+and I suspected it was some one. When you stopped writing altogether, I
+KNEW there must be. Then father wrote in his letters about you and about
+meeting you, and so often Madeline Fosdick was wherever he met you. So I
+guessed--and, you see, I guessed right."
+
+He seized her hand.
+
+"Oh, Helen," he cried, "if you only knew how mean I have felt and how
+ashamed I am of the way I have treated you! But, you see, I--I COULDN'T
+write you and tell you because we had agreed to keep it a secret. I
+couldn't tell ANY ONE."
+
+"Oh, it is as serious as that! Are you two really and truly engaged?"
+
+"Yes. There! I've told it, and I swore I would never tell."
+
+"No, no, you didn't tell. I guessed. Now tell me all about her. She is
+very lovely. Is she as sweet as she looks?"
+
+He rhapsodized for five minutes. Then all at once he realized what he
+was saying and to whom he was saying it. He stopped, stammering, in the
+very middle of a glowing eulogium.
+
+"Go on," said Helen reassuringly. But he could not go on, under the
+circumstances. Instead he turned very red. As usual, she divined his
+thought, noticed his confusion, and took pity on it.
+
+"She must be awfully nice," she said. "I don't wonder you fell in love
+with her. I wish I might know her better."
+
+"I wish you might. By and by you must. And she must know you. Helen,
+I--I feel so ashamed of--of--"
+
+"Hush, or I shall begin to think you are ashamed because you liked
+me--or thought you did."
+
+"But I do like you. Next to Madeline there is no one I like so much.
+But, but, you see, it is different."
+
+"Of course it is. And it ought to be. Does her mother--do her people
+know of the engagement?"
+
+He hesitated momentarily. "No-o," he admitted, "they don't yet. She and
+I have decided to keep it a secret from any one for the present. I want
+to get on a little further with my writing, you know. She is like you in
+that, Helen--she's awfully fond of poetry and literature."
+
+"Especially yours, I'm sure. Tell me about your writing. How are you
+getting on?"
+
+So he told her and, until they stood together at the parsonage gate,
+Madeline's name was not again mentioned. Then Helen put out her hand.
+
+"Good morning, Albert," she said. "I'm glad we have had this talk, ever
+so glad."
+
+"By George, so am I! You're a corking friend, Helen. The chap who does
+marry you will be awfully lucky."
+
+She smiled slightly. "Perhaps there won't be any such chap," she said.
+"I shall always be a schoolmarm, I imagine."
+
+"Indeed you won't," indignantly. "I have too high an opinion of men for
+that."
+
+She smiled again, seemed about to speak, and then to change her mind. An
+instant later she said,
+
+"I must go in now. But I shall hope to see you again before I go back to
+the city. And, after your secret is out and the engagement is announced,
+I want to write Madeline, may I?"
+
+"Of course you may. And she'll like you as much as I do."
+
+"Will she? . . . Well, perhaps; we'll hope so."
+
+"Certainly she will. And you won't let my treating you as--as I have
+make any difference in our friendship?"
+
+"No. We shall always be friends, I hope. Good-by."
+
+She went into the house. He waited a moment, hoping she might turn again
+before entering, but she did not. He walked home, pondering deeply, his
+thoughts a curious jumble of relief and dissatisfaction. He was glad
+Helen had seen her duty and given him over to Madeline, but he felt a
+trifle piqued to think she had done it with such apparent willingness.
+If she had wept or scolded it would have been unpleasant but much more
+gratifying to his self-importance.
+
+He could not help realizing, however, that her attitude toward him was
+exceptionally fine. He knew well that he, if in her place, would not
+have behaved as she had done. No spite, no sarcasm, no taunts, no
+unpleasant reminders of things said only a few months before. And with
+all her forgiveness and forbearance and understanding there had been
+always that sense of greater age and wisdom; she had treated him as she
+might have treated a boy, younger brother, perhaps.
+
+"She IS older than I am," he thought, "even if she really isn't. It's
+funny, but it's a fact."
+
+December came and Christmas, and then January and the new year, the year
+1917. In January, Z. Snow and Co. took its yearly account of stock, and
+Captain Lote and Laban and Albert and Issachar were truly busy during
+the days of stock-taking week and tired when evening came. Laban worked
+the hardest of the quartette, but Issy made the most fuss about it.
+Labe, who had chosen the holiday season to go on one of his periodical
+vacations, as rather white and shaky and even more silent than usual.
+Mr. Price, however, talked with his customary fluency and continuity, so
+there was no lack of conversation. Captain Zelotes was moved to comment.
+
+"Issy," he suggested gravely, looking up from a long column of figures,
+"did you ever play 'Door'?"
+
+Issachar stared at him.
+
+"Play 'Door'?" he repeated. "What's that?"
+
+"It's a game. Didn't you ever play it?"
+
+"No, don't know's I ever did."
+
+"Then you'd better begin right this minute. The first thing to do is to
+shut up and the next is to stay that way. You play 'Door' until I tell
+you to do somethin' else; d'you hear?"
+
+At home the week between Christmas and the New Year was rather dismal.
+Mr. Keeler's holiday vacation had brought on one of his fiancee's
+"sympathetic attacks," and she tied up her head and hung crape upon
+her soul, as usual. During these attacks the Snow household walked on
+tiptoe, as if the housekeeper were an invalid in reality. Even consoling
+speeches from Albert, who with Laban when the latter was sober, enjoyed
+in her mind the distinction of being the reincarnation of "Robert
+Penfold," brought no relief to the suffering Rachel. Nothing but the
+news brought by the milkman, that "Labe was taperin' off," and would
+probably return to his desk in a few days, eased her pain.
+
+One forenoon about the middle of the month Captain Zelotes himself
+stopped in at the post office for the morning mail. When he returned to
+the lumber company's building he entered quietly and walked to his own
+desk with a preoccupied air. For the half hour before dinner time he sat
+there, smoking his pipe, and speaking to no one unless spoken to. The
+office force noticed his preoccupation and commented upon it.
+
+"What ails the old man, Al?" whispered Issachar, peering in around the
+corner of the door at the silent figure tilted back in the revolving
+chair, its feet upon the corner of the desk. "Ain't said so much as
+'Boo' for up'ards of twenty minutes, has he? I was in there just now
+fillin' up his ink-stand and, by crimus, I let a great big gob of ink
+come down ker-souse right in the middle of the nice, clean blottin'
+paper in front of him. I held my breath, cal'latin' to catch what
+Stephen Peter used to say he caught when he went fishin' Sundays. Stevey
+said he generally caught cold when he went and always caught the Old
+Harry when he got back. I cal'lated to catch the Old Harry part sure,
+'cause Captain Lote is always neat and fussy 'bout his desk. But no, the
+old man never said a word. I don't believe he knew the ink was spilled
+at all. What's on his mind, Al; do you know?"
+
+Albert did not know, so he asked Laban. Laban shook his head.
+
+"Give it up, Al," he whispered. "Somethin's happened to bother him,
+that's sartin'. When Cap'n Lote gets his feet propped up and his head
+tilted back that way I can 'most generally cal'late he's doin' some real
+thinkin'. Real thinkin'--yes, sir-ee--um-hm--yes--yes. When he h'ists
+his boots up to the masthead that way it's safe to figger his brains
+have got steam up. Um-hm--yes indeed."
+
+"But what is he thinking about? And why is he so quiet?"
+
+"I give up both riddles, Al. He's the only one's got the answers and
+when he gets ready enough maybe he'll tell 'em. Until then it'll pay us
+fo'mast hands to make believe we're busy, even if we ain't. Hear that,
+do you, Is?"
+
+"Hear what?" demanded Issachar, who was gazing out of the window, his
+hands in his pockets.
+
+"I say it will pay us--you and Al and me--to make believe we're workin'
+even if we ain't."
+
+"'Workin'!" indignantly. "By crimus, I AM workin'! I don't have to make
+believe."
+
+"That so? Well, then, I'd pick up that coal-hod and make believe
+play for a spell. The fire's 'most out. Almost--um-hm--pretty
+nigh--yes--yes."
+
+Albert and his grandfather walked home to dinner together, as was their
+custom, but still the captain remained silent. During dinner he spoke
+not more than a dozen words and Albert several times caught Mrs. Snow
+regarding her husband intently and with a rather anxious look. She did
+not question him, however, but Rachel was not so reticent.
+
+"Mercy on us, Cap'n Lote," she demanded, "what IS the matter? You're as
+dumb as a mouthful of mush. I don't believe you've said ay, yes or no
+since we sat down to table. Are you sick?"
+
+Her employer's calm was unruffled.
+
+"No-o," he answered, with deliberation.
+
+"That's a comfort. What's the matter, then; don't you WANT to talk?"
+
+"No-o."
+
+"Oh," with a toss of the head, "well, I'm glad I know. I was beginnin'
+to be afraid you'd forgotten how."
+
+The captain helped himself to another fried "tinker" mackerel.
+
+"No danger of that around here, Rachel," he said serenely. "So long as
+my hearin's good I couldn't forget--not in this house."
+
+Olive detained her grandson as he was following Captain Zelotes from the
+dining room.
+
+"What's wrong with him, Albert?" she whispered. "Do you know?"
+
+"No, I don't, Grandmother. Do you think there is anything wrong?"
+
+"I know there's somethin' troublin' him. I've lived with him too many
+years not to know the signs. Oh, Albert--you haven't done anything to
+displease him, have you?"
+
+"No, indeed, Grandmother. Whatever it is, it isn't that."
+
+When they reached the office, the captain spoke to Mr. Keeler.
+
+"Had your dinner, Labe?" he asked.
+
+"Yes--yes, indeed. Don't take me long to eat--not at my boardin' house.
+A feller'd have to have paralysis to make eatin' one of Lindy Dadgett's
+meals take more'n a half hour. Um-hm--yes."
+
+Despite his preoccupation, Captain Zelotes could not help smiling.
+
+"To make it take an hour he'd have to be ossified, wouldn't he, like the
+feller in the circus sideshow?" he observed.
+
+Laban nodded. "That--or dead," he replied. "Yes--just about--just so,
+Cap'n."
+
+"Where's Issachar?"
+
+"He's eatin' yet, I cal'late. He don't board at Lindy's."
+
+"When he gets back set him to pilin' that new carload of spruce under
+Number Three shed. Keep him at it."
+
+"Yes, sir. Um-hm. All right."
+
+Captain Zelotes turned to his grandson. "Come in here, Al," he said. "I
+want to see you for a few minutes."
+
+Albert followed him into the inner office. He wondered what in the world
+his grandfather wished to see him about, in this very private fashion.
+
+"Sit down, Al," said the captain, taking his own chair and pointing to
+another. "Oh, wait a minute, though! Maybe you'd better shut that hatch
+first."
+
+The "hatch" was the transom over the door between the offices. Albert,
+remembering how a previous interview between them had been overheard
+because of that open transom, glanced at his grandfather. The twinkle
+in the latter's eye showed that he too, remembered. Albert closed the
+"hatch." When he came back to his seat the twinkle had disappeared;
+Captain Zelotes looked serious enough.
+
+"Well, Grandfather?" queried the young man, after waiting a moment. The
+captain adjusted his spectacles, reached into the inside pocket of his
+coat and produced an envelope. It was a square envelope with either
+a trade-mark or a crest upon the back. Captain Lote did not open the
+envelope, but instead tapped his desk with it and regarded his grandson
+in a meditative way.
+
+"Al," he said slowly, "has it seemed to you that your cruise aboard this
+craft of ours here had been a little smoother the last year or two than
+it used to be afore that?"
+
+Albert, by this time well accustomed to his grandfather's nautical
+phraseology, understood that the "cruise" referred to was his voyage as
+assistant bookkeeper with Z. Snow and Co. He nodded.
+
+"I have tried to make it so," he answered. "I mean I have tried to make
+it smoother for you."
+
+"Um-hm, I think you have tried. I don't mind tellin' you that it has
+pleased me consid'ble to watch you try. I don't mean by that," he
+added, with a slight curve of the lip, "that you'd win first prize as
+a lightnin'-calculator even yet, but you're a whole lot better one than
+you used to be. I've been considerable encouraged about you; I don't
+mind tellin' you that either. . . . And," he added, after another
+interval during which he was, apparently, debating just how much of
+an admission it was safe to make, "so far as I can see, this poetry
+foolishness of yours hasn't interfered with your work any to speak of."
+
+Albert smiled. "Thanks, Grandfather," he said.
+
+"You're welcome. So much for that. But there's another side to our
+relations together, yours and mine, that I haven't spoken of to you
+afore. And I have kept still on purpose. I've figgered that so long as
+you kept straight and didn't go off the course, didn't drink or gamble,
+or go wild or the like of that, what you did was pretty much your own
+business. I've noticed you're considerable of a feller with the girls,
+but I kept an eye on the kind of girls and I will say that so far as I
+can see, you've picked the decent kind. I say so far as I can see. Of
+course I ain't fool enough to believe I see all you do, or know all you
+do. I've been young myself, and when I get to thinkin' how much I know
+about you I try to set down and remember how much my dad didn't know
+about me when I was your age. That--er--helps some toward givin' me my
+correct position on the chart."
+
+He paused. Albert's brain was vainly striving to guess what all
+this meant. What was he driving at? The captain crossed his legs and
+continued.
+
+"I did think for a spell," he said, "that you and Helen Kendall were
+gettin' to understand each other pretty well. Well, Helen's a good girl
+and your grandma and I like her. Course we didn't cal'late anything
+very serious was liable to come of the understandin', not for some time,
+anyhow, for with your salary and--well, sort of unsettled prospects, I
+gave you credit for not figgerin' on pickin' a wife right away. . . .
+Haven't got much laid by to support a wife on, have you, Al?"
+
+Albert's expression had changed during the latter portion of the speech.
+Now he was gazing intently at his grandfather and at the letter in the
+latter's hands. He was beginning to guess, to dread, to be fearful.
+
+"Haven't got much to support a wife on, Al, have you?" repeated Captain
+Zelotes.
+
+"No, sir, not now."
+
+"Um. . . . But you hope to have by and by, eh? Well, I hope you will.
+But UNTIL you have it would seem to older folks like me kind of risky
+navigatin' to--to . . . Oh, there was a letter in the mail for you this
+mornin, Al."
+
+He put down the envelope he had hitherto held in his hand and, reaching
+into his pocket, produced another. Even before he had taken it from
+his grandfather's hand Albert recognized the handwriting. It was from
+Madeline.
+
+Captain Zelotes, regarding him keenly, leaned back again in his chair.
+"Read it if you want to, Al," he said. "Maybe you'd better. I can wait."
+
+Albert hesitated a moment and then tore open the envelope. The note
+within was short, evidently written in great haste and agitation and
+was spotted with tear stains. He read it, his cheeks paling and his
+hand shaking as he did so. Something dreadful had happened. Mother--Mrs.
+Fosdick, of course--had discovered everything. She had found all
+his--Albert's--letters and read them. She was furious. There had been
+the most terrible scene. Madeline was in her own room and was smuggling
+him this letter by Mary, her maid, who will do anything for me, and
+has promised to mail it. Oh, dearest, they say I must give you up. They
+say--Oh, they say dreadful things about you! Mother declares she will
+take me to Japan or some frightful place and keep me there until I
+forget you. I don't care if they take me to the ends of the earth, I
+shall NEVER forget you. I will never--never--NEVER give you up. And you
+mustn't give me up, will you, darling? They say I must never write you
+again. But you see I have--and I shall. Oh, what SHALL we do? I was SO
+happy and now I am so miserable. Write me the minute you get this, but
+oh, I KNOW they won't let me see your letters and then I shall die. But
+write, write just the same, every day. Oh what SHALL we do?
+
+Yours, always and always, no matter what everyone does or says, lovingly
+and devotedly,
+
+MADELINE.
+
+
+When the reading was finished Albert sat silently staring at the floor,
+seeing it through a wet mist. Captain Zelotes watched him, his heavy
+brows drawn together and the smoke wreaths from his pipe curling slowly
+upward toward the office ceiling. At length he said:
+
+"Well, Al, I had a letter, too. I presume likely it came from the same
+port even if not from the same member of the family. It's about you,
+and I think you'd better read it, maybe. I'll read it to you, if you'd
+rather."
+
+Albert shook his head and held out his hand for the second letter. His
+grandfather gave it to him, saying as he did so: "I'd like to have you
+understand, Al, that I don't necessarily believe all that she says about
+you in this thing."
+
+"Thanks, Grandfather," mechanically.
+
+"All right, boy."
+
+The second letter was, as he had surmised, from Mrs. Fosdick. It had
+evidently been written at top speed and at a mental temperature well
+above the boiling point. Mrs. Fosdick addressed Captain Zelotes Snow
+because she had been given to understand that he was the nearest
+relative, or guardian, or whatever it was, of the person concerning whom
+the letter was written and therefore, it was presumed, might be expected
+to have some measure of control over that person's actions. The person
+was, of course, one Albert Speranza, and Mrs. Fosdick proceeded to set
+forth her version of his conduct in sentences which might almost have
+blistered the paper. Taking advantage of her trust in her daughter's
+good sense and ability to take care of herself--which trust it
+appeared had been in a measure misplaced--he, the Speranza person, had
+sneakingly, underhandedly and in a despicably clandestine fashion--the
+lady's temper had rather gotten away from her here--succeeded in meeting
+her daughter in various places and by various disgraceful means and had
+furthermore succeeded in ensnaring her youthful affections, et cetera,
+et cetera.
+
+
+"The poor child actually believes herself in love with him," wrote the
+poor child's mother. "She protests ridiculously that she is engaged to
+him and will marry him in spite of her father or myself or the protests
+of sensible people. I write to you, therefore, assuming you likewise to
+be a sensible person, and requesting that you use your influence with
+the--to put the most charitable interpretation of his conduct--misguided
+and foolish young man and show him the preposterous folly of his
+pretended engagement to my daughter. Of course the whole affair,
+CORRESPONDENCE INCLUDED, must cease and terminate AT ONCE."
+
+
+And so on for two more pages. The color had returned to Albert's cheeks
+long before he finished reading. When he had finished he rose to his
+feet and, throwing the letter upon his grandfather's desk, turned away.
+
+"Well, Al?" queried Captain Zelotes.
+
+Albert's face, when he turned back to answer, was whiter than ever, but
+his eyes flashed fire.
+
+"Do you believe that?" he demanded.
+
+"What?"
+
+"That--that stuff about my being a--a sneak and--and ensnaring her--and
+all the rest? Do you?"
+
+The captain took his pipe from his mouth.
+
+"Steady, son, steady," he said. "Didn't I tell you before you begun
+to read at all that I didn't necessarily believe it because that woman
+wrote it."
+
+"You--you or no one else had better believe it. It's a lie."
+
+"All right, I'm glad to hear you say so. But there's a little mite of
+truth here and there amongst the lies, I presume likely. For instance,
+you and this Fosdick girl have been--er--keepin' company?"
+
+"Her name is Madeline--and we are engaged to be married."
+
+"Oh! Hum--I see--I see. And, bein' as the old lady--her mother, Mrs.
+Fosdick, I mean--hasn't suspected anything, or, at any rate, hasn't
+found out anything until now, yesterday, or whenever it was, I judge you
+have been meetin'--er--Madeline at places where there wasn't--well, too
+large a crowd. Eh?"
+
+Albert hesitated and was, momentarily, a trifle embarrassed. But he
+recovered at once.
+
+"I met her first at the drug store last summer," he said defiantly.
+"Then I met her after that at the post office and at the hotel dance
+last fall, and so on. This year I met her--well, I met her first down by
+the beach, where I went to write. She liked poetry and--and she helped
+me with mine. After that she came--well, she came to help me again. And
+after that--after that--"
+
+"After that it just moved along kind of natural, eh? Um-hm, I see."
+
+"Look here, Grandfather, I want you to understand that she is--is--by
+George, she is the cleanest, finest, best girl in the world. Don't you
+get the idea that--that she isn't. She came to meet me just because she
+was interested in my verse and wanted to help. It wasn't until the very
+last that we--that we found out we cared for each other."
+
+"All right, boy, all right. Go on, tell me the whole yarn, if you feel
+like it. I don't want to pry too much into your affairs, but, after all,
+I AM interested in those affairs, Al. Tell me as much as you can."
+
+"I'll tell you the whole. There's nothing I can't tell, nothing I'm not
+proud to tell. By George, I ought to be proud! Why, Grandfather, she's
+wonderful!"
+
+"Sartin, son, sartin. They always are. I mean she is, of course. Heave
+ahead."
+
+So Albert told his love story. When he had finished Captain Zelote's
+pipe was empty, and he put it down.
+
+"Albert," he said slowly, "I judge you mean this thing seriously. You
+mean to marry her some day."
+
+"Yes, indeed I do. And I won't give her up, either. Her mother--why,
+what right has her mother got to say--to treat her in this way? Or to
+call me what she calls me in that letter? Why, by George--"
+
+"Easy, son. As I understand it, this Madeline of yours is the only child
+the Fosdicks have got and when our only child is in danger of bein'
+carried off by somebody else--why, well, their mothers and fathers are
+liable to be just a little upset, especially if it comes on 'em sudden.
+. . . Nobody knows that better than I do," he added slowly.
+
+Albert recognized the allusion, but he was not in the mood to be
+affected by it. He was not, just then, ready to make allowances for any
+one, particularly the parental Fosdicks.
+
+"They have no business to be upset--not like that, anyhow," he declared.
+"What does that woman know about me? What right has she to say that I
+ensnared Madeline's affection and all that rot? Madeline and I fell in
+love with each other, just as other people have, I suppose."
+
+"You suppose right," observed Captain Zelotes, dryly. "Other people
+have--a good many of 'em since Adam's time."
+
+"Well, then! And what right has she to give orders that I stop
+writing or seeing Madeline,--all that idiotic stuff about ceasing
+and terminating at once? She--she--" His agitation was making him
+incoherent--"She talks like Lord Somebody-or-other in an old-fashioned
+novel or play or something. Those old fools were always rejecting
+undesirable suitors and ordering their daughters to do this and that,
+breaking their hearts, and so on. But that sort of thing doesn't go
+nowadays. Young people have their own ideas."
+
+"Um-hm, Al; so I've noticed."
+
+"Yes, indeed they have. Now, if Madeline wants to marry me and I want to
+marry her, who will stop us?"
+
+The captain pulled at his beard.
+
+"Why, nobody, Al, as I know of," he said; "provided you both keep on
+wantin' to marry each other long enough."
+
+"Keep on wanting long enough? What do you mean by that?"
+
+"Why, nothin' much, perhaps; only gettin' married isn't all just goin'
+to the parson. After the ceremony the rent begins and the grocers' bills
+and the butchers' and the bakers' and a thousand or so more. Somebody's
+got to pay 'em, and the money's got to come from somewhere. Your wages
+here, Al, poetry counted in, ain't so very big yet. Better wait a spell
+before you settle down to married life, hadn't you?"
+
+"Well--well, I--I didn't say we were to be married right away,
+Grandfather. She and I aren't unreasonable. I'm doing better and better
+with my writings. Some day I'll make enough, and more. Why not?"
+
+There was enough of the Speranza egotism in this confident assurance to
+bring the twinkle to the captain's eye. He twisted his beard between his
+finger and thumb and regarded his grandson mildly.
+
+"Have you any idea how much 'enough' is liable to be, Al?" he inquired.
+"I don't know the facts about 'em, of course, but from what I have heard
+I judge the Fosdicks have got plenty of cash. I've heard it estimated
+around town from one million to fifty millions. Allowin' it's only one
+million, it seems likely that your--er--what's-her-name--Madeline has
+been used to havin' as much as fifty cents to spend whenever she wanted
+it. Do you cal'late to be able to earn enough makin' up poetry to keep
+her the way her folks have been doin'?"
+
+"No, of course not--not at first."
+
+"Oh, but later on--when the market price of poetry has gone up--you can,
+eh?"
+
+"Look here, Grandfather, if you're making fun of me I tell you I won't
+stand it. This is serious; I mean it. Madeline and I are going to be
+married some time and no one can stop us."
+
+"All right, son, all right. But it did seem to me that in the light of
+this letter from--er--your mother-in-law that's goin' to be, we ought
+to face the situation moderately square, anyhow. First comes marriage.
+Well, that's easy; any fool can get married, lots of 'em do. But then,
+as I said, comes supportin' yourself and wife--bills, bills, and more
+bills. You'll say that you and she will economize and fight it out
+together. Fine, first-rate, but later on there may be more of you, a
+child, children perhaps--"
+
+"Grandfather!"
+
+"It's possible, son. Such things do happen, and they cost money. More
+mouths to feed. Now I take it for granted that you aren't marryin' the
+Fosdick girl for her money--"
+
+The interruption was prompt and made with fiery indignation.
+
+"I never thought of her money," declared Albert. "I don't even know that
+she has any. If she has, I don't want it. I wouldn't take it. She is all
+I want."
+
+Captain Zelotes' lip twitched.
+
+"Judgin' from the tone of her ma's last letter to me," he observed, "she
+is all you would be liable to get. It don't read as if many--er--weddin'
+presents from the bride's folks would come along with her. But, there,
+there, Al don't get mad. I know this is a long ways from bein' a joke to
+you and, in a way, it's no joke for me. Course I had realized that some
+day you'd be figgerin', maybe, on gettin' married, but I did hope the
+figgerin' wouldn't begin for some years yet. And when you did, I rather
+hoped--well, I--I hoped. . . . However, we won't stop to bother with
+that now. Let's stick to this letter of Mrs. Fosdick's here. I must
+answer that, I suppose, whether I want to or not, to-day. Well, Al,
+you tell me, I understand that there has been nothin' underhand in your
+acquaintance with her daughter. Other than keepin' the engagement a
+secret, that is?"
+
+"Yes, I do."
+
+"And you mean to stick by your guns and. . . . Well, what is it? Come
+in!"
+
+There had been a knock upon the office door. In answer to his employer's
+summons, Mr. Keeler appeared. He held a card in his hand.
+
+"Sorry to disturb you, Cap'n Lote," he said. "Yes, I be, yes, sir. But
+I judged maybe 'twas somethin' important about the lumber for his
+house and he seemed anxious to see you, so I took the risk and knocked.
+Um-hm--yes, yes, yes."
+
+Captain Zelotes looked at the card. Then he adjusted his spectacles and
+looked again.
+
+"Humph!" he grunted. "Humph! . . . We-ell, Labe, I guess likely you
+might show him in here. Wait just a minute before you do it, though.
+I'll open the door when I want him to come."
+
+"All right, Cap'n Lote. Yes, yes," observed Mr. Keeler and departed. The
+captain looked thoughtfully at the card.
+
+"Al," he said, after a moment's reflection, "we'll have to cut this
+talk of ours short for a little spell. You go back to your desk and wait
+there until I call you. Hold on," as his grandson moved toward the door
+of the outer office. "Don't go that way. Go out through the side door
+into the yard and come in the front way. There's--er--there's a man
+waitin' to see me, and--er--perhaps he'd better not see you first."
+
+Albert stared at him uncomprehendingly.
+
+"Better not see ME?" he repeated. "Why shouldn't he see me?"
+
+Captain Zelotes handed the card to Albert.
+
+"Better let me talk with him first, Al," he said. "You can have your
+chance later on."
+
+The card bore the name of Mr. Fletcher Story Fosdick.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+
+Albert read the name on the card. He was too astonished to speak. Her
+father! He was here! He--
+
+His grandfather spoke again, and his tone was brisk and businesslike.
+
+"Go on, Al," he ordered. "Out through this side door and around to the
+front. Lively, son, lively!"
+
+But the young man's wits were returning. He scowled at the card.
+
+"No," he said stoutly, "I'm not going to run away. I'm not afraid of
+him. I haven't done anything to be ashamed of."
+
+The captain nodded. "If you had, I should ASK you to run away," he said.
+"As it is, I just ask you to step out and wait a little while, that's
+all."
+
+"But, Grandfather, I WANT to see him."
+
+"All right, I want you to--but not until he and I have talked first.
+Come, boy, come! I've lived a little longer than you have, and maybe I
+know about half as much about some things. This is one of 'em. You clear
+out and stand by. I'll call you when I want you."
+
+Albert went, but reluctantly. After he had gone his grandfather walked
+to the door of the outer office and opened it.
+
+"Step aboard, Mr. Fosdick," he said. "Come in, sir."
+
+Mr. Fletcher Fosdick was a large man, portly, and with a head which was
+rapidly losing its thatch. His smoot-shaven face was ruddy and his blue
+eye mild. He entered the private office of Z. Snow and Co. and shook the
+hand which Captain Zelotes proffered.
+
+"How do you do, Captain Snow?" he asked pleasantly. "You and I have had
+some business dealings, but we have never met before, I believe."
+
+The captain waved toward a chair. "That's a fact, Mr. Fosdick," he said.
+"I don't believe we ever have, but it's better late than by and by, as
+the feller said. Sit down, sit down, Mr. Fosdick. Throw off your coat,
+won't you? It's sort of warm in here compared to out door."
+
+The visitor admitted the difference in temperature between the interior
+and exterior of the building, and removed his overcoat. Also he sat
+down. Captain Zelotes opened a drawer of his desk and produced a box of
+cigars.
+
+"Have a smoke, won't you?" he inquired.
+
+Mr. Fosdick glanced at the label on the box.
+
+"Why--why, I was rather hoping you would smoke one of mine," he said. "I
+have a pocket full."
+
+"When I come callin' on you at your place in New York I will smoke
+yours. Now it kind of looks to me as if you'd ought to smoke mine. Seems
+reasonable when you think it over, don't it?"
+
+Fosdick smiled. "Perhaps you're right," he said. He took one of the
+gaudily banded perfectos from his host's box and accepted a light from
+the match the captain held. Both men blew a cloud of smoke and through
+those clouds each looked at the other. The preliminaries were over, but
+neither seemed particularly anxious to begin the real conversation. It
+was the visitor who, at last, began it.
+
+"Captain Snow," he said, "I presume your clerk told you I wished to see
+you on a matter of business."
+
+"Who? Oh, Labe, you mean? Yes, he told me."
+
+"I told him to tell you that. It may surprise you, however, to learn
+that the business I wished to see you about--that I came on from New
+York to see you about--has nothing whatever to do with the house I'm
+building down here."
+
+Captain Zelotes removed his cigar from his lips and looked meditatively
+at its burning end. "No-o," he said slowly, "that don't surprise me very
+much. I cal'lated 'twasn't about the house you wished to see me."
+
+"Oh, I see! . . . Humph!" The Fosdick mild blue eye lost, for the
+moment, just a trifle of its mildness and became almost keen, as its
+owner flashed a glance at the big figure seated at the desk. "I see,"
+said Mr. Fosdick. "And have you--er--guessed what I did come to see you
+about?"
+
+"No-o. I wouldn't call it guessin', exactly."
+
+"Wouldn't you? What would you call it?"
+
+"We-ll, I don't know but I'd risk callin' it knowin'. Yes, I think
+likely I would."
+
+"Oh, I see. . . . Humph! Have you had a letter--on the subject?"
+
+"Ye-es."
+
+"I see. From Mrs. Fosdick, of course. She said she was going to
+write--I'm not sure she didn't say she had written; but I had the
+impression it was to--well, to another member of your family, Captain
+Snow."
+
+"No, 'twas to me. Come this mornin's mail."
+
+"I see. My mistake. Well, I'm obliged to her in a way. If the news has
+been broken to you, I shan't have to break it and we can get down to
+brass tacks just so much sooner. The surprise being over--I take it, it
+WAS a surprise, Captain?"
+
+"You take it right. Just as much of a surprise to me as you."
+
+"Of course. Well, the surprise being over for both of us, we can talk of
+the affair--calmly and coolly. What do you think about it, Captain?"
+
+"Oh, I don't know as I know exactly what to think. What do YOU think
+about it, Mr. Fosdick?"
+
+"I think--I imagine I think very much as you do."
+
+"I shouldn't be surprised. And--er--what's your notion of what I think?"
+
+Captain Zelotes' gray eye twinkled as he asked the question, and the
+Fosdick blue eye twinkled in return. Both men laughed.
+
+"We aren't getting very far this way, Captain," observed the visitor.
+"There's no use dodging, I suppose. I, for one, am not very well
+pleased. Mrs. Fosdick, for another, isn't pleased at all; she is
+absolutely and entirely opposed to the whole affair. She won't hear of
+it, that's all, and she said so much that I thought perhaps I had better
+come down here at once, see you, and--and the young fellow with the
+queer name--"
+
+"My grandson."
+
+"Why yes. He is your grandson, isn't he? I beg your pardon."
+
+"That's all right. I shan't fight with you because you don't like his
+name. Go ahead. You decided to come and see him--and me--?"
+
+"Yes, I did. I decided to come because it has been my experience that
+a frank, straight talk is better, in cases like this, than a hundred
+letters. And that the time to talk was now, before matters between the
+young foo--the young people went any further. Don't you agree with me?"
+
+Captain Zelotes nodded.
+
+"That now is a good time to talk? Yes, I do," he said.
+
+"Good! Then suppose we talk."
+
+"All right."
+
+There was another interval of silence. Then Fosdick broke it with a
+chuckle. "And I'm the one to do the talking, eh?" he said.
+
+Captain Lote's eye twinkled. "We-ll, you came all the way from New
+York on purpose, you know," he observed. Then he added: "But there, Mr.
+Fosdick, I don't want you to think I ain't polite or won't talk, myself.
+I'll do my share when the time comes. But it does seem to me that you
+ought to do yours first as it's your family so far that's done the
+objectin'. . . . Your cigar's gone out. Have another light, won't you?"
+
+The visitor shook his head. "No, thank you, not now," he said hastily,
+placing the defunct cigar carefully on the captain's desk. "I won't
+smoke for the minute. So you want me to begin the talking, do you? It
+seems to me I have begun it. I told you that I do not like the idea
+of my daughter's being engaged to--to say nothing of marrying--your
+grandson. My wife likes it even less than I do. That is enough of a
+statement to begin with, isn't it?"
+
+"Why, no, not exactly, if you'll excuse my sayin' so. Your daughter
+herself--how does she feel about it?"
+
+"Oh, she is enthusiastic, naturally. She appears to be suffering from
+temporary insanity on the subject."
+
+"She don't seem to think it's quite as--er--preposterous, and ridiculous
+and outrageous--and Lord knows what all--as your wife does, eh?"
+
+"No. I say, Snow, I hope you're not too deeply offended by what my wife
+wrote you. I judge you are quoting from her letter and apparently she
+piled it on red-hot. You'll have to excuse her; she was almost wild all
+day yesterday. I'll ask your pardon on her behalf."
+
+"Sho, sho! No need, Mr. Fosdick, no need at all. I know what women
+are, even the easy-goin' kind, when they've got steam up. I've got a
+wife--and I had a daughter. But, gettin' back on the course again, you
+think your daughter's crazy because she wants to marry my grandson. Is
+that it?"
+
+"Why, no, I wouldn't say that, exactly. Of course, I wouldn't say that."
+
+"But, you see, you did say it. However, we'll leave that to one side
+for a spell. What objection--what real objection is there to those two
+marryin'--my grandson and your daughter--provided that they care for
+each other as they'd ought to?"
+
+Mr. Fosdick's expression changed slightly. His tone, as he replied to
+the question, was colder and his manner less cordial.
+
+"I don't know that it is worth while answering that in detail," he said,
+after an instant's pause. "Frankly, Captain Snow, I had rather hoped
+you would see, for yourself, the reasons why such a marriage wouldn't be
+desirable. If you don't see them, if you are backing up your grandson
+in his business, why--well, there is no use in our discussing the matter
+any further, is there? We should only lose our tempers and not gain
+much. So we had better end it now, I think."
+
+He rose to his feet. Captain Zelotes, leaning forward, held up a
+protesting hand.
+
+"Now--now, Mr. Fosdick," he said earnestly, "I don't want you to
+misunderstand me. And I'm sorry if what I said has made you mad."
+
+Fosdick smiled. "Oh, I'm not mad," he answered cheerfully. "I make it
+a rule in all my business dealings not to get mad, or, more especially,
+not to let the other fellow know that I'm getting that way. My temper
+hasn't a ruffle in it just now, and I am leaving merely because I want
+it to remain smooth. I judge that you and I aren't going to agree. All
+right, then we'll differ, but we'll differ without a fight, that's all.
+Good afternoon, Captain."
+
+But Captain Lote's hand still remained uplifted.
+
+"Mr. Fosdick," he said, "just a minute now--just a minute. You never
+have met Albert, my grandson, have you? Never even seen him, maybe?"
+
+"No, but I intend to meet him and talk with him before I leave South
+Harniss. He was one of the two people I came here to meet."
+
+"And I was the other, eh? Um-hm. . . . I see. You think you've found out
+where I stand and now you'll size him up. Honest, Mr. Fosdick, I . . .
+Humph! Mind if I tell you a little story? 'Twon't take long. When I was
+a little shaver, me and my granddad, the first Cap'n Lote Snow--there's
+been two since--were great chums. When he was home from sea he and I
+stuck together like hot pitch and oakum. One day we were sittin' out in
+the front yard of his house--it's mine, now--watchin' a hoptoad catch
+flies. You've seen a toad catch flies, haven't you, Mr. Fosdick? Mr.
+Toad sits there, lookin' half asleep and as pious and demure as a
+pickpocket at camp-meetin', until a fly comes along and gets too near.
+Then, Zip! out shoots about six inches of toad tongue and that fly's
+been asked in to dinner. Well, granddad and I sat lookin' at our
+particular toad when along came a bumble-bee and lighted on a
+honeysuckle blossom right in front of the critter. The toad didn't take
+time to think it over, all he saw was a square meal, and his tongue
+flashed out and nailed that bumble-bee and snapped it into the pantry.
+In about a half second, though, there was a change. The pantry had been
+emptied, the bumble-bee was on his way again, and Mr. Toad was on
+his, hoppin' lively and huntin' for--well, for ice water or somethin'
+coolin', I guess likely. Granddad tapped me on the shoulder. 'Sonny,'
+says he, 'there's a lesson for you. That hoptoad didn't wait to make
+sure that bumble-bee was good to eat; he took it for granted, and was
+sorry afterward. It don't pay to jump at conclusions, son,' he says.
+'Some conclusions are like that bumble-bee's, they have stings in 'em.'"
+
+Captain Lote, having finished his story, felt in his pocket for a match.
+Fosdick, for an instant, appeared puzzled. Then he laughed.
+
+"I see," he said. "You think I made too quick a jump when I concluded
+you were backing your grandson in this affair. All right, I'm glad to
+hear it. What do you want me to do, sit down again and listen?"
+
+He resumed his seat as he asked the question. Captain Zelotes nodded.
+
+"If you don't mind," he answered. "You see, you misunderstood me, Mr.
+Fosdick. I didn't mean any more than what I said when I asked you
+what real objection there was, in your opinion to Albert's marryin'
+your--er--Madeline, that's her name, I believe. Seems to me the way for
+us to get to an understandin'--you and I--is to find out just how the
+situation looks to each of us. When we've found out that, we'll know how
+nigh we come to agreein' or disagreein' and can act accordin'. Sounds
+reasonable, don't it?"
+
+Fosdick nodded in his turn. "Perfectly," he admitted. "Well, ask your
+questions, and I'll answer them. After that perhaps I'll ask some
+myself. Go ahead."
+
+"I have gone ahead. I've asked one already."
+
+"Yes, but it is such a general question. There may be so many
+objections."
+
+"I see. All right, then I'll ask some: What do the lawyers call
+'em?--Atlantic? Pacific? I've got it--I'll ask some specific questions.
+Here's one. Do you object to Al personally? To his character?"
+
+"Not at all. We know nothing about his character. Very likely he may be
+a young saint."
+
+"Well, he ain't, so we'll let that slide. He's a good boy, though, so
+far as I've ever been able to find out. Is it his looks? You've never
+seen him, but your wife has. Don't she like his looks?"
+
+"She hasn't mentioned his looks to me."
+
+"Is it his money? He hasn't got any of his own."
+
+"We-ell, of course that does count a little bit. Madeline is our only
+child, and naturally we should prefer to have her pick out a husband
+with a dollar or so in reserve."
+
+"Um-hm. Al's twenty-one, Mr. Fosdick. When I was twenty-one I had some
+put by, but not much. I presume likely 'twas different with you, maybe.
+Probably you were pretty well fixed."
+
+Fosdick laughed aloud. "You make a good cross-examiner, Snow," he
+observed. "As a matter of fact, when I was twenty-one I was assistant
+bookkeeper in a New Haven broker's office. I didn't have a cent except
+my salary, and I had that only for the first five days in the week."
+
+"However, you got married?"
+
+"Yes, I did. More fool I! If I had known anything, I should have waited
+five years at least. I didn't have any one to tell me so. My father and
+mother were both dead."
+
+"Think you'd have listened to 'em if they had been alive and had told
+you? However, however, that's all to one side. Well, Albert's havin' no
+money to speak of is an objection--and a good honest one from your point
+of view. His prospects here in this business of mine are fair, and he
+is doin' better at it than he was, so he may make a comf'table livin'--a
+comf'table South Harniss livin', that is--by and by."
+
+"Oh, he is with you, then? Oh, yes, I remember my wife said he worked in
+your office. But she said more about his being some sort of a--a poet,
+wasn't it?"
+
+For the first time since the interview began the captain looked ill at
+ease and embarrassed.
+
+"Thunderation!" he exclaimed testily, "you mustn't pay attention to
+that. He does make up poetry' pieces--er--on the side, as you might say,
+but I keep hopin' all the time he'll grow out of it, give him time. It
+'ain't his regular job, you mustn't think 'tis."
+
+The visitor laughed again. "I'm glad of that," he said, "both for your
+sake and mine. I judge that you and I, Snow, are in complete agreement
+as far as our opinion of poetry and that sort of stuff is concerned.
+Of course I'm not condemning all poetry, you understand. Longfellow and
+Tennyson and the regular poets are all right. You understand what I'm
+getting at?"
+
+"Sartin. I used to know 'Down went the R'yal George with all her crew
+complete,' and a lot more. Used to say 'em over to myself when I first
+went to sea and stood watch alone nights. But they were different, you
+know; they--they--"
+
+"Sure! My wife--why, I give you my word that my own wife and her set
+go perfectly daffy over chaps who write stuff that rhymes and that the
+papers are printing columns about. Snow, if this grandson of yours was
+a genuine press-touted, women's club poet instead of a would-be--well,
+I don't know what might happen. In that case she might be as strong FOR
+this engagement as she is now against it."
+
+He paused, seeming a bit ashamed of his own heat. Captain Zelotes,
+however, regarded him with more approval than he had yet shown.
+
+"It's been my observation that women are likely to get off the course
+chasin' false signals like that," he observed. "When a man begins
+lettin' his hair and his mouth run wild together seems as if the
+combination had an attraction for a good many women folks. Al keeps his
+hair cut, though, I'll say that for him," he added. "It curls some, but
+it ain't long. I wouldn't have him in the office if 'twas."
+
+"Well, Mr. Fosdick," he continued, "what other objections are they?
+Manners? Family and relations? Education? Any objections along that
+line?"
+
+"No-o, no; I--well, I don't know; you see, I don't know much about the
+young fellow."
+
+"Perhaps I can help you out. As to manners--well, you can judge them for
+yourself when you see him. He seems to be in about every kind of social
+doin's there is down here, and he's as much or more popular with the
+summer folks than with the year-'rounders. Education? Well, that's
+fair to middlin', as I see it. He spent nine or ten years in a mighty
+expensive boardin' school up in New York State."
+
+"Did he? What school?"
+
+The captain gave the name of the school. Fosdick looked surprised.
+
+"Humph! That IS a good school," he said.
+
+"Is it? Depends on what you call good, I cal'late. Al learned a good
+deal of this and that, a little bit of foreign language, some that they
+call dead and some that ought to be dead--and buried, 'cordin' to my
+notion. When he came to me he couldn't add up a column of ten figgers
+without makin' a mistake, and as for business--well, what he knew about
+business was about equal to what Noah knew about a gas engine."
+
+He paused to chuckle, and Fosdick chuckled with him.
+
+"As to family," went on Captain Lote, "he's a Snow on his mother's side,
+and there's been seven generations of Snow's in this part of the Cape
+since the first one landed here. So far as I know, they've all managed
+to keep out of jail, which may have been more good luck than deservin'
+in some cases."
+
+"His father?" queried Fosdick.
+
+The captain's heavy brows drew together. "His father was a Portygee--or
+Spaniard, I believe is right--and he was a play-actor, one of
+those--what do you call 'em?--opera singers."
+
+Fosdick seemed surprised and interested. "Oh, indeed," he exclaimed, "an
+opera singer? . . . Why, he wasn't Speranza, the baritone, was he?"
+
+"Maybe; I believe he was. He married my daughter and--well, we won't
+talk about him, if you don't mind."
+
+"But Speranza was a--"
+
+"IF you don't mind, Mr. Fosdick."
+
+Captain Lote lapsed into silence, drumming the desk with his big
+fingers. His visitor waited for a few moments. At length he said:
+
+"Well, Captain Snow, I have answered your questions and you have
+answered mine. Do you think we are any nearer an agreement now?"
+
+Captain Zelotes seemed to awake with a start. "Eh?" he queried.
+"Agreement? Oh, I don't know. Did you find any--er--what you might call
+vital objections in the boy's record?"
+
+"No-o. No, all that is all right. His family and his education and all
+the rest are good enough, I'm sure. But, nevertheless--"
+
+"You still object to the young folks gettin' married."
+
+"Yes, I do. Hang it all, Snow, this isn't a thing one can reason out,
+exactly. Madeline is our only child; she is our pet, our baby. Naturally
+her mother and I have planned for her, hoped for her, figured that some
+day, when we had to give her up, it would be to--to--"
+
+"To somebody that wasn't Albert Speranza of South Harniss, Mass. . . .
+Eh?"
+
+"Yes. Not that your grandson isn't all right. I have no doubt he is a
+tip-top young fellow. But, you see--"
+
+Captain Lote suddenly leaned forward. "Course I see, Mr. Fosdick," he
+interrupted. "Course I see. You object, and the objection ain't a mite
+weaker on account of your not bein' able to say exactly what 'tis."
+
+"That's the idea. Thank you, Captain."
+
+"You're welcome. I can understand. I know just how you feel, because
+I've been feelin' the same way myself."
+
+"Oh, you have? Good! Then you can sympathize with Mrs. Fosdick and with
+me. You see--you understand why we had rather our daughter did not marry
+your grandson."
+
+"Sartin. You see, I've had just the same sort of general kind of
+objection to Al's marryin' your daughter."
+
+Mr. Fletcher Fosdick leaned slowly backward in his chair. His appearance
+was suggestive of one who has received an unexpected thump between the
+eyes.
+
+"Oh, you have!" he said again, but not with the same expression.
+
+"Um-hm," said Captain Zelotes gravely. "I'm like you in one way; I've
+never met your Madeline any more than you have met Al. I've seen her
+once or twice, and she is real pretty and nice-lookin'. But I don't know
+her at all. Now I don't doubt for a minute but that she's a real nice
+girl and it might be that she'd make Al a fairly good wife."
+
+"Er--well,--thanks."
+
+"Oh, that's all right, I mean it. It might be she would. And I ain't got
+a thing against you or your folks."
+
+"Humph,--er--thanks again."
+
+"That's all right; you don't need to thank me. But it's this way with
+me--I live in South Harniss all the year round. I want to live here till
+I die, and--after I die I'd like first-rate to have Al take up the Z.
+Snow and Co. business and the Snow house and land and keep them goin'
+till HE dies. Mind, I ain't at all sure that he'll do it, or be capable
+of doin' it, but that's what I'd like. Now you're in New York most of
+the year, and so's your wife and daughter. New York is all right--I
+ain't sayin' a word against it--but New York and South Harniss are
+different."
+
+The Fosdick lip twitched. "Somewhat different," he admitted.
+
+"Um-hm. That sounds like a joke, I know; but I don't mean it so, not
+now. What I mean is that I know South Harniss and South Harniss folks. I
+don't know New York--not so very well, though I've been there plenty of
+times--and I don't know New York ways. But I do know South Harniss ways,
+and they suit me. Would they suit your daughter--not just for summer,
+but as a reg'lar thing right straight along year in and out? I doubt
+it, Mr. Fosdick, I doubt it consid'able. Course I don't know your
+daughter--"
+
+"I do--and I share your doubts."
+
+"Um-hm. But whether she liked it or not she'd have to come here if she
+married my grandson. Either that or he'd have to go to New York. And if
+he went to New York, how would he earn his livin'? Get a new bookkeepin'
+job and start all over again, or live on poetry?"
+
+Mr. Fosdick opened his mouth as if to speak, seemed to change his mind
+and closed it again, without speaking. Captain Zelotes, looking keenly
+at him, seemed to guess his thoughts.
+
+"Of course," he said deliberately, but with a firmness which permitted
+no misunderstanding of his meaning, "of course you mustn't get it into
+your head for one minute that the boy is figgerin' on your daughter's
+bein' a rich girl. He hasn't given that a thought. You take my word for
+that, Mr. Fosdick. He doesn't know how much money she or you have got
+and he doesn't care. He doesn't care a continental darn."
+
+His visitor smiled slightly. "Nevertheless," he began. The captain
+interrupted him.
+
+"No, there ain't any nevertheless," he said. "Albert has been with me
+enough years now so that I know a little about him. And I know that all
+he wants is your daughter. As to how much she's worth in money or how
+they're goin' to live after he's got her--I know that he hasn't given it
+one thought. I don't imagine she has, either. For one reason," he added,
+with a smile, "he is too poor a business man to think of marriage as a
+business, bill-payin' contract, and for another,--for another--why, good
+Lord, Fosdick!" he exclaimed, leaning forward, "don't you know what this
+thing means to those two young folks? It means just moonshine and mush
+and lookin' into each other's eyes, that's about all. THEY haven't
+thought any practical thoughts about it. Why, think what their ages are!
+Think of yourself at that age! Can't you remember. . . . Humph! Well,
+I'm talkin' fifty revolutions to the second. I beg your pardon."
+
+"That's all right, Snow. And I believe you have the situation sized up
+as it is. Still--"
+
+"Excuse me, Mr. Fosdick, but don't you think it's about time you had a
+look at the boy himself? I'm goin' to ask him to come in here and meet
+you."
+
+Fosdick looked troubled. "Think it is good policy?" he asked doubtfully.
+"I want to see him and speak with him, but I do hate a scene."
+
+"There won't be any scene. You just meet him face to face and talk
+enough with him to get a little idea of what your first impression is.
+Don't contradict or commit yourself or anything. And I'll send him out
+at the end of two or three minutes."
+
+Without waiting for a reply, he rose, opened the door to the outer
+office and called, "Al, come in here!" When Albert had obeyed the
+order he closed the door behind him and turning to the gentleman in
+the visitor's chair, said: "Mr. Fosdick, this is my grandson, Albert
+Speranza. Al, shake hands with Mr. Fosdick from New York."
+
+While awaiting the summons to meet the father of his adored, Albert had
+been rehearsing and re-rehearsing the speeches he intended making when
+that meeting took place. Sitting at his desk, pen in hand and pretending
+to be busy with the bookkeeping of Z. Snow and Company, he had seen,
+not the ruled page of the day book, but the parental countenance of the
+Honorable Fletcher Fosdick. And, to his mind's eye, that countenance
+was as rugged and stern as the rock-bound coast upon which the Pilgrims
+landed, and about as unyielding and impregnable as the door of the
+office safe. So, when his grandfather called him, he descended from the
+tall desk stool and crossed the threshold of the inner room, a trifle
+pale, a little shaky at the knees, but with the set chin and erect head
+of one who, facing almost hopeless odds, intends fighting to the last
+gasp.
+
+To his astonishment the Fosdick countenance was not as his imagination
+had pictured it. The blue eyes met his, not with a glare or a glower,
+but with a look of interest and inquiry. The Fosdick hand shook his with
+politeness, and the Fosdick manner was, if not genial, at least quiet
+and matter of fact. He was taken aback. What did it mean? Was it
+possible that Madeline's father was inclined to regard her engagement
+to him with favor? A great throb of joy accompanied the thought. Then
+he remembered the letter he had just read, the letter from Madeline's
+mother, and the hope subsided.
+
+"Albert," said Captain Zelotes, "Mr. Fosdick has come on here to talk
+with us; that is, with me and you, about your affairs. He and I have
+talked up to the point where it seemed to me you ought to come in for
+a spell. I've told him that the news that you and his daughter
+were--er--favorably disposed toward each other was as sudden and as big
+a surprise to me as 'twas to him. Even your grandma don't know it yet.
+Now I presume likely he'd like to ask you a few questions. Heave ahead,
+Mr. Fosdick."
+
+He relit his cigar stump and leaned back in his chair. Mr. Fosdick
+leaned forward in his. Albert stood very straight, his shoulders braced
+for the encounter. The quizzical twinkle shone in Captain Lote's eye as
+he regarded his grandson. Fosdick also smiled momentarily as he caught
+the expression of the youth's face.
+
+"Well, Speranza," he began, in so cheerful a tone that Albert's
+astonishment grew even greater, "your grandfather has been kind enough
+to get us through the preliminaries, so we'll come at once to the
+essentials. You and my daughter consider yourselves engaged to marry?"
+
+"Yes, sir. We ARE engaged."
+
+"I see. How long have you--um--been that way, so to speak?"
+
+"Since last August."
+
+"Why haven't you said anything about it to us--to Mrs. Fosdick or me or
+your people here? You must excuse these personal questions. As I have
+just said to Captain Snow, Madeline is our only child, and her happiness
+and welfare mean about all there is in life to her mother and me. So,
+naturally, the man she is going to marry is an important consideration.
+You and I have never met before, so the quickest way of reaching an
+understanding between us is by the question route. You get my meaning?"
+
+"Yes, sir, I guess I do."
+
+"Good! Then we'll go ahead. Why have you two kept it a secret so long?"
+
+"Because--well, because we knew we couldn't marry yet a while, so we
+thought we had better not announce it for the present."
+
+"Oh! . . . And the idea that perhaps Mrs. Fosdick and I might be
+slightly interested didn't occur to you?"
+
+"Why, yes, sir, it did. But,--but we thought it best not to tell you
+until later."
+
+"Perhaps the suspicion that we might not be overjoyed by the news had
+a little weight with you, eh? Possibly that helped to delay
+the--er--announcement?"
+
+"No, sir, I--I don't think it did."
+
+"Oh, don't you! Perhaps you thought we WOULD be overjoyed?"
+
+"No, sir. We didn't think so very much about it. Well, that's not quite
+true. Madeline felt that her mother--and you, too, sir, I suppose,
+although she didn't speak as often of you in that way--she felt that her
+mother would disapprove at first, and so we had better wait."
+
+"Until when?"
+
+"Until--until by and by. Until I had gone ahead further, you know."
+
+"I'm not sure that I do know. Gone ahead how? Until you had a better
+position, more salary?"
+
+"No, not exactly. Until my writings were better known. Until I was a
+little more successful."
+
+"Successful? Until you wrote more poetry, do you mean?"
+
+"Yes, sir. Poetry and other things, stories and plays, perhaps."
+
+"Do you mean--Did you figure that you and Madeline were to live on what
+you made by writing poetry and the other stuff?"
+
+"Yes, sir, of course."
+
+Fosdick looked across at Captain Zelotes. The Captain's face was worth
+looking at.
+
+"Here, here, hold on!" he exclaimed, jumping into the conversation. "Al,
+what are you talkin' about? You're bookkeeper for me, ain't you; for
+this concern right here where you are? What do you mean by talkin' as
+if your job was makin' up poetry pieces? That's only what you do on the
+side, and you know it. Eh, ain't that so?"
+
+Albert hesitated. He had, momentarily, forgotten his grandfather and
+the latter's prejudices. After all, what was the use of stirring up
+additional trouble.
+
+"Yes, Grandfather," he said.
+
+"Course it's so. It's in this office that you draw your wages."
+
+"Yes, Grandfather."
+
+"All right. Excuse me for nosin' in, Mr. Fosdick, but I knew the boy
+wasn't puttin' the thing as plain as it ought to be, and I didn't want
+you to get the wrong notion. Heave ahead."
+
+Fosdick smiled slightly. "All right, Captain," he said. "I get it, I
+think. Well, then," turning again to Albert, "your plan for supporting
+my daughter was to wait until your position here, plus the poetry,
+should bring in sufficient revenue. It didn't occur to you that--well,
+that there might be a possibility of getting money--elsewhere?"
+
+Albert plainly did not understand, but it was just as plain that his
+grandfather did. Captain Zelotes spoke sharply.
+
+"Mr. Fosdick," he said, "I just answered that question for you."
+
+"Yes, I know. But if you were in my place you might like to have him
+answer it. I don't mean to be offensive, but business is business, and,
+after all, this is a business talk. So--"
+
+The Captain interrupted. "So we'll talk it in a business way, eh?" he
+snapped. "All right. Al, what Mr. Fosdick means is had you cal'lated
+that, if you married his daughter, maybe her dad's money might help you
+and her to keep goin'? To put it even plainer: had you planned some on
+her bein' a rich girl?"
+
+Fosdick looked annoyed. "Oh, I say, Snow!" he cried. "That's too strong,
+altogether."
+
+"Not a mite. It's what you've had in the back of your head all along.
+I'm just helpin' it to come out of the front. Well, Al?"
+
+The red spots were burning in the Speranza cheeks. He choked as he
+answered.
+
+"No," he cried fiercely. "Of course I haven't planned on any such thing.
+I don't know how rich she is. I don't care. I wish she was as poor
+as--as I am. I want HER, that's all. And she wants me. We don't either
+of us care about money. I wouldn't take a cent of your money, Mr.
+Fosdick. But I--I want Madeline and--and--I shall have her."
+
+"In spite of her parents, eh?"
+
+"Yes. . . . I'm sorry to speak so, Mr. Fosdick, but it is true. We--we
+love each other. We--we've agreed to wait for each other, no matter--no
+matter if it is years and years. And as for the money and all that, if
+you disinherit her, or--or whatever it is they do--we don't care. I--I
+hope you will. I--she--"
+
+Captain Zelotes' voice broke in upon the impassioned outburst.
+
+"Steady, Al; steady, son," he cautioned quietly. "I cal'late you've said
+enough. I don't think any more's necessary. You'd better go back to your
+desk now."
+
+"But, Grandfather, I want him to understand--"
+
+"I guess likely he does. I should say you'd made it real plain. Go now,
+Al."
+
+Albert turned, but, with a shaking hand upon the doorknob, turned back
+again.
+
+"I'm--I--I'm sorry, Mr. Fosdick," he faltered. "I--I didn't mean to say
+anything to hurt your feelings. But--but, you see, Madeline--she and
+I--we--"
+
+He could not go on. Fosdick's nod and answer were not unkindly. "All
+right, Speranza," he said, "I'm not offended. Hope I wasn't too blunt,
+myself. Good-day."
+
+When the door had closed behind the young man he turned to Captain Lote.
+
+"Sorry if I offended you, Snow," he observed. "I threw in that hint
+about marrying just to see what effect it would have, that's all."
+
+"Um-hm. So I judged. Well, you saw, didn't you?"
+
+"I did. Say, Captain, except as a prospective son-in-law, and then only
+because I don't see him in that light--I rather like that grandson of
+yours. He's a fine, upstanding young chap."
+
+The captain made no reply. He merely pulled at his beard. However, he
+did not look displeased.
+
+"He's a handsome specimen, isn't he?" went on Fosdick. "No wonder
+Madeline fell for his looks. Those and the poetry together are a
+combination hard to resist--at her age. And he's a gentleman. He handled
+himself mighty well while I was stringing him just now."
+
+The beard tugging continued. "Um-hm," observed Captain Zelotes dryly;
+"he does pretty well for a--South Harniss gentleman. But we're kind
+of wastin' time, ain't we, Mr. Fosdick? In spite of his looks and his
+manners and all the rest, now that you've seen him you still object to
+that engagement, I take it."
+
+"Why, yes, I do. The boy is all right, I'm sure, but--"
+
+"Sartin, I understand. I feel the same way about your girl. She's all
+right, I'm sure, but--"
+
+"We're agreed on everything, includin' the 'but.' And the 'but' is that
+New York is one place and South Harniss is another."
+
+"Exactly."
+
+"So we don't want 'em to marry. Fine. First rate! Only now we come
+to the most important 'but' of all. What are we going to do about it?
+Suppose we say no and they say yes and keep on sayin' it? Suppose they
+decide to get married no matter what we say. How are we goin' to stop
+it?"
+
+His visitor regarded him for a moment and then broke into a hearty
+laugh.
+
+"Snow," he declared, "you're all right. You surely have the faculty of
+putting your finger on the weak spots. Of course we can't stop it. If
+these two young idiots have a mind to marry and keep that mind, they
+WILL marry and we can't prevent it any more than we could prevent the
+tide coming in to-morrow morning. _I_ realized that this was a sort of
+fool's errand, my coming down here. I know that this isn't the age when
+parents can forbid marriages and get away with it, as they used to on
+the stage in the old plays. Boys and girls nowadays have a way of going
+their own gait in such matters. But my wife doesn't see it in exactly
+that way, and she was so insistent on my coming down here to stop the
+thing if I could that--well, I came."
+
+"I'm glad you did, Mr. Fosdick, real glad. And, although I agree with
+you that the very worst thing to do, if we want to stop this team from
+pullin' together, is to haul back on the bits and holler 'Whoa,' still
+I'm kind of hopeful that, maybe . . . humph! I declare, it looks as if
+I'd have to tell you another story. I'm gettin' as bad as Cap'n Hannibal
+Doane used to be, and they used to call him 'The Rope Walk' 'cause he
+spun so many yarns."
+
+Fosdick laughed again. "You may go as far as you like with your stories,
+Captain," he said. "I can grow fat on them."
+
+"Thanks. Well, this ain't a story exactly; it just kind of makes the
+point I'm tryin' to get at. Calvin Bangs had a white mare one time and
+the critter had a habit of runnin' away. Once his wife, Hannah J., was
+in the buggy all by herself, over to the Ostable Fair, Calvin havin' got
+out to buy some peanuts or somethin'. The mare got scared of the noise
+and crowd and bolted. As luck would have it, she went right through the
+fence and out onto the trottin' track. And around that track she went,
+hell bent for election. All hands was runnin' alongside hollerin' 'Stop
+her! Stop her! 'but not Calvin--no SIR! He waited till the mare was
+abreast of him, the mare on two legs and the buggy on two wheels and
+Hannah 'most anywheres between the dasher and the next world, and then
+he sung out: 'Give her her head, Hannah! Give her her head. She'll stop
+when she runs down.'"
+
+He laughed and his visitor laughed with him.
+
+"I gather," observed the New Yorker, "that you believe it the better
+policy to give our young people their heads."
+
+"In reason--yes, I do. It's my judgment that an affair like this will
+hurry more and more if you try too hard to stop it. If you don't try at
+all so any one would notice it, it may run down and stop of itself, the
+way Calvin's mare did."
+
+Fosdick nodded reflectively. "I'm inclined to agree with you," he said.
+"But does that mean that they're to correspond, write love letters, and
+all that?"
+
+"Why, in reason, maybe. If we say no to that, they'll write anyhow,
+won't they?"
+
+"Of course. . . . How would it do to get them to promise to write
+nothing that their parents might not see? Of course I don't mean for
+your grandson to show you his letters before he sends them to Madeline.
+He's too old for that, and he would refuse. But suppose you asked him
+to agree to write nothing that Madeline would not be willing to show her
+mother--or me. Do you think he would?"
+
+"Maybe. I'll ask him. . . . Yes, I guess likely he'd do that."
+
+"My reason for suggesting it is, frankly, not so much on account of the
+young people as to pacify my wife. I am not afraid--not very much afraid
+of this love affair. They are young, both of them. Give them time,
+and--as you say, Snow, the thing may run down, peter out."
+
+"I'm in hopes 'twill. It's calf love, as I see it, and I believe 'twill
+pay to give the calves rope enough."
+
+"So do I. No, I'm not much troubled about the young people. But Mrs.
+Fosdick--well, my trouble will be with her. She'll want to have your boy
+shot or jailed or hanged or something."
+
+"I presume likely. I guess you'll have to handle her the way another
+feller who used to live here in South Harniss said he handled his wife.
+'We don't never have any trouble at all,' says he. 'Whenever she says
+yes or no, I say the same thing. Later on, when it comes to doin', I do
+what I feel like.' . . . Eh? You're not goin', are you, Mr. Fosdick?"
+
+His visitor had risen and was reaching for his coat. Captain Zelotes
+also rose.
+
+"Don't hurry, don't hurry," he begged.
+
+"Sorry, but I must. I want to be back in New York tomorrow morning."
+
+"But you can't, can you? To do that you'll have to get up to Boston or
+Fall River, and the afternoon train's gone. You'd better stay and have
+supper along with my wife and me, stay at our house over night, and take
+the early train after breakfast to-morrow."
+
+"I wish I could; I'd like nothing better. But I can't."
+
+"Sure?" Then, with a smile, he added: "Al needn't eat with us, you know,
+if his bein' there makes either of you feel nervous."
+
+Fosdick laughed again. "I think I should be willing to risk the
+nervousness," he replied. "But I must go, really. I've hired a chap
+at the garage here to drive me to Boston in his car and I'll take the
+midnight train over."
+
+"Humph! Well, if you must, you must. Hope you have a comf'table trip,
+Mr. Fosdick. Better wrap up warm; it's pretty nigh a five-hour run to
+Boston and there's some cool wind over the Ostable marshes this time of
+year. Good-by, sir. Glad to have had this talk with you."
+
+His visitor held out his hand. "So am I, Snow," he said heartily.
+"Mighty glad."
+
+"I hope I wasn't too short and brisk at the beginnin'. You see, I'd
+just read your wife's letter, and--er--well, of course, I didn't
+know--just--you see, you and I had never met, and so--"
+
+"Certainly, certainly. I quite understand. And, fool's errand or not,
+I'm very glad I came here. If you'll pardon my saying so, it was worth
+the trip to get acquainted with you. I hope, whatever comes of the other
+thing, that our acquaintanceship will continue."
+
+"Same here, same here. Go right out the side door, Mr. Fosdick, saves
+goin' through the office. Good day, sir."
+
+He watched the bulky figure of the New York banker tramping across the
+yard between the piles of lumber. A moment later he entered the
+outer office. Albert and Keeler were at their desks. Captain Zelotes
+approached the little bookkeeper.
+
+"Labe," he queried, "there isn't anything particular you want me to talk
+about just now, is there?"
+
+Lahan looked up in surprise from his figuring.
+
+"Why--why, no, Cap'n Lote, don't know's there is," he said. "Don't
+know's there is, not now, no, no, no."
+
+His employer nodded. "Good!" he exclaimed. "Then I'm goin' back inside
+there and sit down and rest my chin for an hour, anyhow. I've talked so
+much to-day that my jaws squeak. Don't disturb me for anything short of
+a fire or a mutiny."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+
+He was not disturbed and that evening, after supper was over, he
+was ready to talk again. He and Albert sat together in the sitting
+room--Mrs. Snow and Rachel were in the kitchen washing dishes--and
+Captain Zelotes told his grandson as much as he thought advisable to
+tell of his conversation with the Honorable Fletcher Fosdick. At first
+Albert was inclined to rebel at the idea of permitting his letters to
+Madeline to be read by the latter's parents, but at length he agreed.
+
+"I'll do it because it may make it easier for her," he said. "She'll
+have a dreadful time, I suppose, with that unreasonable mother of
+hers. But, by George, Grandfather," he exclaimed, "isn't she splendid,
+though!"
+
+"Who? Mrs. Fosdick?"
+
+"No, of course not," indignantly. "Madeline. Isn't she splendid and fine
+and loyal! I want you to know her, Grandfather, you and Grandmother."
+
+"Um-hm. Well, we'll hope to, some day. Now, son, I'm goin' to ask for
+another promise. It may seem a hard one to make, but I'm askin' you to
+make it. I want you to give me your word that, no matter what happens
+or how long you have to wait, you and Madeline won't get married without
+tellin' her folks and yours beforehand. You won't run away and marry.
+Will you promise me that?"
+
+Albert looked at him. This WAS a hard promise to make. In their talks
+beneath the rainbows, whenever he and Madeline had referred to the
+future and its doubts, they had always pushed those doubts aside with
+vague hints of an elopement. If the unreasonableness of parents and
+grandparents should crowd them too far, they had always as a last
+resort, the solution of their problem by way of a runaway marriage. And
+now Captain Zelotes was asking him to give up this last resort.
+
+The captain, watching him keenly, divined what was in his grandson's
+mind.
+
+"Think it over, Al," he said kindly. "Don't answer me now, but think it
+over, and to-morrow mornin' tell me how you feel about it." He hesitated
+a moment and then added: "You know your grandmother and I, we--well,
+we have maybe cause to be a little mite prejudiced against this elopin'
+business."
+
+So Albert thought, and the next morning, as the pair were walking
+together to the office, he spoke his thought. Captain Zelotes had not
+mentioned the subject.
+
+"Grandfather," said Albert, with some embarrassment, "I'm going to give
+you that promise."
+
+His grandfather, who had been striding along, his heavy brows drawn
+together and his glance fixed upon the frozen ground beneath his feet,
+looked up.
+
+"Eh?" he queried, uncomprehendingly.
+
+"You asked me last night to promise you something, you know. . . .
+You asked me to think it over. I have, and I'm going to promise you
+that--Madeline and I won't marry without first telling you."
+
+Captain Zelotes stopped in his stride; then he walked on again.
+
+"Thank you, Al," he said quietly. "I hoped you'd see it that way."
+
+"Yes--yes, I--I do. I don't want to bring any more--trouble of that kind
+to you and Grandmother. . . . It seems to me that you--that you have had
+too much already."
+
+"Thank you, son. . . . Much obliged."
+
+The captain's tone was almost gruff and that was his only reference to
+the subject of the promise; but somehow Albert felt that at that moment
+he and his grandfather were closer together, were nearer to a mutual
+understanding and mutual appreciation than they had ever been before.
+
+To promise, however, is one thing, to fulfill the obligation another. As
+the days passed Albert found his promise concerning letter-writing very,
+very hard to keep. When, each evening he sat down at the table in
+his room to pour out his soul upon paper it was a most unsatisfactory
+outpouring. The constantly enforced recollection that whatever he wrote
+would be subject to the chilling glance of the eye of Fosdick mater was
+of itself a check upon the flow. To write a love letter to Madeline had
+hitherto been a joy, a rapture, to fill pages and pages a delight. Now,
+somehow, these pages were hard to fill. Omitting the very things you
+were dying to say, the precious, the intimate things--what was
+there left? He and she had, at their meetings and in their former
+correspondence, invented many delightful little pet names for each
+other. Now those names were taboo; or, at any rate, they might as well
+be. The thought of Mrs. Fosdick's sniff of indignant disgust at finding
+her daughter referred to as some one's ownest little rosebud withered
+that bud before it reached the paper.
+
+And Madeline's letters to him were quite as unsatisfactory. They were
+lengthy, but oh, so matter of fact! Saharas of fact without one oasis of
+sentiment. She was well and she had done this and that and had been
+to see such and such plays and operas. Father was well and very busy.
+Mother, too, was well, so was Googoo--but these last two bits of news
+failed to comfort him as they perhaps should. He could only try to glean
+between the lines, and as Mrs. Fosdick had raked between those lines
+before him, the gleaning was scant picking indeed.
+
+He found himself growing disconsolate and despondent. Summer seemed ages
+away. And when at last it should come--what would happen then? He could
+see her only when properly chaperoned, only when Mother, and probably
+Googoo, were present. He flew for consolation to the Muse and the
+Muse refused to console. The poems he wrote were "blue" and despairing
+likewise. Consequently they did not sell. He was growing desperate,
+ready for anything. And something came. Germany delivered to our
+Government its arrogant mandate concerning unlimited submarine warfare.
+A long-suffering President threw patience overboard and answered that
+mandate in unmistakable terms. Congress stood at his back and behind
+them a united and indignant people. The United States declared war upon
+the Hun.
+
+South Harniss, like every other community, became wildly excited.
+Captain Zelotes Snow's gray eyes flashed fiery satisfaction. The flags
+at the Snow place and at the lumber yard flew high night and day. He
+bought newspapers galore and read from them aloud at meals, in the
+evenings, and before breakfast. Issachar, as usual, talked much and said
+little. Laban Keeler's comments were pithy and dryly pointed. Albert was
+very quiet.
+
+But one forenoon he spoke. Captain Lote was in the inner office, the
+morning newspaper in his hand, when his grandson entered and closed the
+door behind him. The captain looked up.
+
+"Well, Al, what is it?" he asked.
+
+Albert came over and stood beside the desk. The captain, after a
+moment's scrutiny of the young man's face, put down his newspaper.
+
+"Well, Al?" he said, again.
+
+Albert seemed to find it hard to speak.
+
+"Grandfather," he began, "I--I--Grandfather, I have come to ask a favor
+of you."
+
+The captain nodded, slowly, his gaze fixed upon his grandson's face.
+
+"All right; heave ahead," he said quietly.
+
+"Grandfather, you and I have had a four years' agreement to work
+together in this office. It isn't up yet, but--but I want to break it. I
+want you to let me off."
+
+"Humph! . . . Let you off, eh? . . . What for?"
+
+"That's what I came here to tell you. Grandfather, I can't stay
+here--now. I want to enlist."
+
+Captain Zelotes did not answer. His hand moved upward and pulled at his
+beard.
+
+"I want to enlist," repeated Albert. "I can't stand it another minute.
+I must. If it hadn't been for you and our promise and--and Madeline, I
+think I should have joined the Canadian Army a year or more ago. But now
+that we have gone into the war, I CAN'T stay out. Grandfather, you don't
+want me to, do you? Of course you don't."
+
+His grandfather appeared to ponder.
+
+"If you can wait a spell," he said slowly, "I might be able to fix it
+so's you can get a chance for an officer's commission. I'd ought to have
+some pull somewheres, seems so."
+
+Albert sniffed impatient disgust. "I don't want to get a commission--in
+that way," he declared.
+
+"Humph! You'll find there's plenty that do, I shouldn't wonder."
+
+"Perhaps, but I'm not one of them. And I don't care so much for a
+commission, unless I can earn it. And I don't want to stay here and
+study for it. I want to go now. I want to get into the thing. I don't
+want to wait."
+
+Captain Lote leaned forward. His gray eyes snapped.
+
+"Want to fight, do you?" he queried.
+
+"You bet I do!"
+
+"All right, my boy, then go--and fight. I'd be ashamed of myself if I
+held you back a minute. Go and fight--and fight hard. I only wish to God
+I was young enough to go with you."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+
+And so, in this unexpected fashion, came prematurely the end of the
+four year trial agreement between Albert Speranza and Z. Snow and Co.
+Of course neither Captain Zelotes nor Albert admitted that it had ended.
+Each professed to regard the break as merely temporary.
+
+"You'll be back at that desk in a little while, Al," said the captain,
+"addin' up figgers and tormentin' Issy." And Albert's reply was
+invariably, "Why, of course, Grandfather."
+
+He had dreaded his grandmother's reception of the news of his intended
+enlistment. Olive worshiped her daughter's boy and, although an ardent
+patriot, was by no means as fiercely belligerent as her husband. She
+prayed each night for the defeat of the Hun, whereas Captain Lote was
+for licking him first and praying afterwards. Albert feared a scene; he
+feared that she might be prostrated when she learned that he was to
+go to war. But she bore it wonderfully well, and as for the dreaded
+"scene," there was none.
+
+"Zelotes says he thinks it's the right thing for you to do, Albert," she
+said, "so I suppose I ought to think so, too. But, oh, my dear, DO you
+really feel that you must? I--it don't seem as I could bear to . . . but
+there, I mustn't talk so. It ain't a mite harder for me than it is for
+thousands of women all over this world. . . . And perhaps the government
+folks won't take you, anyway. Rachel said she read in the Item about
+some young man over in Bayport who was rejected because he had fat feet.
+She meant flat feet, I suppose, poor thing. Oh, dear me, I'm laughin',
+and it seems wicked to laugh a time like this. And when I think of you
+goin', Albert, I--I . . . but there, I promised Zelotes I wouldn't.
+. . . And they MAY not take you. . . . But oh, of course they will, of
+course they will! . . . I'm goin' to make you a chicken pie for dinner
+to-day; I know how you like it. . . . If only they MIGHT reject you!
+. . . But there, I said I wouldn't and I won't."
+
+Rachel Ellis's opinion on the subject and her way of expressing that
+opinion were distinctly her own. Albert arose early in the morning
+following the announcement of his decision to enter the service. He had
+not slept well; his mind was too busy with problems and speculations
+to resign itself to sleep. He had tossed about until dawn and had then
+risen and sat down at the table in his bedroom to write Madeline of
+the step he had determined to take. He had not written her while he was
+considering that step. He felt, somehow, that he alone with no pressure
+from without should make the decision. Now that it was made, and
+irrevocably made, she must of course be told. Telling her, however, was
+not an easy task. He was sure she would agree that he had done the right
+thing, the only thing, but--
+
+"It is going to be very hard for you, dear," he wrote, heedless of
+the fact that Mrs. Fosdick's censorious eye would see and condemn the
+"dear." "It is going to be hard for both of us. But I am sure you will
+feel as I do that I COULDN'T do anything else. I am young and strong and
+fit and I am an American. I MUST go. You see it, don't you, Madeline. I
+can hardly wait until your letter comes telling me that you feel I did
+just the thing you would wish me to do."
+
+He hesitated and then, even more regardless of the censor, added the
+quotation which countless young lovers were finding so apt just then:
+
+
+     "I could not love thee, dear, so much,
+        Loved I not honor more."
+
+
+So when, fresh from the intimacy of this communication with his adored
+and with the letter in his hand, he entered the sitting-room at that
+early hour he was not overjoyed to find the housekeeper there ahead
+of him. And her first sentence showed that she had been awaiting his
+coming.
+
+"Good mornin', Albert," she said. "I heard you stirrin' 'round up in
+your room and I came down here so's you and I could talk together for a
+minute without anybody's disturbin' us. . . . Humph! I guess likely you
+didn't sleep any too well last night, did you?"
+
+Albert shook his head. "Not too well, Rachel," he replied.
+
+"I shouldn't wonder. Well, I doubt if there was too much sleep anywheres
+in this house last night. So you're really goin' to war, are you,
+Albert?"
+
+"Yes. If the war will let me I certainly am."
+
+"Dear, dear! . . . Well, I--I think it's what Robert Penfold would have
+done if he was in your place. I've been goin' over it and goin' over it
+half the night, myself, and I've come to that conclusion. It's goin' to
+be awful hard on your grandma and grandfather and me and Labe, all us
+folks here at home, but I guess it's the thing you'd ought to do, the
+Penfold kind of thing."
+
+Albert smiled. "I'm glad you think so, Rachel," he said.
+
+"Well, I do, and if I'm goin' to tell the truth I might as well say I
+tried terrible hard to find some good reasons for thinkin' 'twan't. I
+did SO! But the only good reasons I could scare up for makin' you stay
+to home was because home was safe and comf'table and where you was goin'
+wan't. And that kind of reasonin' might do fust-rate for a passel
+of clams out on the flats, but it wouldn't be much credit to decent,
+self-respectin' humans. When General Rolleson came to that island and
+found his daughter and Robert Penfold livin' there in that house made
+out of pearls he'd built for her--Wan't that him all over! Another man,
+the common run of man, would have been satisfied to build her a house
+out of wood and lucky to get that, but no, nothin' would do him
+but pearls, and if they'd have been di'monds he'd have been better
+satisfied. Well. . . . Where was I? . . . Oh yes! When General Rolleson
+came there and says to his daughter, 'Helen, you come home along of
+me,' and she says, 'No, I shan't leave him,' meanin' Robert Penfold, you
+understand--When she says that did Robert Penfold say, 'That's the talk!
+Put that in your pipe, old man, and smoke it?' No, SIR, he didn't! He
+says, 'Helen, you go straight home along with your pa and work like fury
+till you find out who forged that note and laid it onto me. You find
+that out,' he says, 'and then you can come fetch me and not afore.'
+That's the kind of man HE was! And they sailed off and left him behind."
+
+Albert shook his head. He had heard only about half of the housekeeper's
+story. "Pretty rough on him, I should say," he commented, absently.
+
+"I GUESS 'twas rough on him, poor thing! But 'twas his duty and so he
+done it. It was rough on Helen, havin' to go and leave him, but 'twas
+rougher still on him. It's always roughest, seems to me," she added,
+"on the ones that's left behind. Those that go have somethin' to take up
+their minds and keep 'em from thinkin' too much. The ones that stay to
+home don't have much to do EXCEPT think. I hope you don't get the notion
+that I feel your part of it is easy, Al. Only a poor, crazy idiot could
+read the papers these days and feel that any part of this war was EASY!
+It's awful, but--but it WILL keep you too busy to think, maybe."
+
+"I shouldn't wonder, Rachel. I understand what you mean."
+
+"We're all goin' to miss you, Albert. This house is goin' to be a pretty
+lonesome place, I cal'late. Your grandma'll miss you dreadful and so
+will I, but--but I have a notion that your grandpa's goin' to miss you
+more'n anybody else."
+
+He shook his head. "Oh, not as much as all that, Rachel," he said. "He
+and I have been getting on much better than we used to and we have come
+to understand each other better, but he is still disappointed in me. I'm
+afraid I don't count for much as a business man, you see; and, besides,
+Grandfather can never quite forget that I am the son of what he calls a
+Portygee play actor."
+
+Mrs. Ellis looked at him earnestly. "He's forgettin' it better every
+day, Albert," she said. "I do declare I never believed Capt'n Lote Snow
+could forget it the way he's doin'. And you--well, you've forgot a whole
+lot, too. Memory's a good thing, the land knows," she added, sagely,
+"but a nice healthy forgetery is worth consider'ble--some times and in
+some cases."
+
+Issachar Price's comments on his fellow employee's decision to become a
+soldier were pointed. Issy was disgusted.
+
+"For thunder sakes, Al," he demanded, "'tain't true that you've enlisted
+to go to war and fight them Germans, is it?"
+
+Albert smiled. "I guess it is, Issy," he replied.
+
+"Well, by crimus!"
+
+"Somebody had to go, you see, Is."
+
+"Well, by crimustee!"
+
+"What's the matter, Issy? Don't you approve?"
+
+"Approve! No, by crimus, I don't approve! I think it's a divil of a
+note, that's what I think."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"WHY? Who's goin' to do the work in this office while you're gone? Labe
+and me, that's who; and I'll do the heft of it. Slavin' myself half to
+death as 'tis and now--Oh, by crimustee! This war is a darned nuisance.
+It hadn't ought to be allowed. There'd ought to be a law against it."
+
+But of all the interviews which followed Albert's decision the most
+surprising and that which he was the least likely to forget was his
+interview with Laban Keeler. It took place on the evening of the third
+day following the announcement of his intention to enlist. All that day,
+and indeed for several days, Albert had noted in the little bookkeeper
+certain symptoms, familiar symptoms they were and from experience the
+young man knew what they portended. Laban was very nervous, his fingers
+twitched as he wrote, occasionally he rose from his chair and walked
+up and down the room, he ran his hand through his scanty hair, he was
+inclined to be irritable--that is, irritable for him. Albert had noted
+the symptoms and was sorry. Captain Zelotes noted them and frowned and
+pulled his beard.
+
+"Al," he said to his grandson, "if you can put off goin' up to enlist
+for a little spell, a few days, I wish you would. Labe's gettin' ready
+to go on one of his vacations."
+
+Albert nodded. "I'm afraid he is," he said.
+
+"Oh, it's as sartin as two and two makes four. I've lived with him
+too many years not to know the signs. And I did hope," he added,
+regretfully, "that maybe he was tryin' to break off. It's been a good
+long spell, an extry long spell, since he had his last spree. Ah hum!
+it's a pity a good man should have that weak spot in him, ain't it? But
+if you could hang around a few more days, while the vacation's goin' on,
+I'd appreciate it, Al. I kind of hate to be left here alone with nobody
+but Issachar to lean on. Issy's a good deal like a post in some ways,
+especially in the makeup of his head, but he's too ricketty to lean on
+for any length of time."
+
+That evening Albert went to the post-office for the mail. On his way
+back as he passed the dark corner by the now closed and shuttered
+moving-picture theater he was hailed in a whisper.
+
+"Al," said a voice, "Al."
+
+Albert turned and peered into the deep shadow of the theater doorway. In
+the summer this doorway was a blaze of light and gaiety; now it was cold
+and bleak and black enough. From the shadow a small figure emerged on
+tiptoe.
+
+"Al," whispered Mr. Keeler. "That's you, ain't it? Yes, yes--yes, yes,
+yes--I thought 'twas, I thought so."
+
+Albert was surprised. For one thing it was most unusual to see the
+little bookkeeper abroad after nine-thirty. His usual evening procedure,
+when not on a vacation, was to call upon Rachel Ellis at the Snow place
+for an hour or so and then to return to his room over Simond's shoe
+store, which room he had occupied ever since the building was erected.
+
+There he read, so people said, until eleven sharp, when his lamp was
+extinguished. During or at the beginning of the vacation periods he
+usually departed for some unknown destination, destinations which,
+apparently, varied. He had been seen, hopelessly intoxicated, in
+Bayport, in Ostable, in Boston, once in Providence. When he returned he
+never seemed to remember exactly where he had been. And, as most people
+were fond of and pitied him, few questions were asked.
+
+"Why, Labe!" exclaimed Albert. "Is that you? What's the matter?"
+
+"Busy, are you, Al?" queried Laban. "In a hurry, eh? Are you? In a
+hurry, Al, eh?"
+
+"Why no, not especially."
+
+"Could you--could you spare me two or three minutes? Two or three
+minutes--yes, yes? Come up to my room, could you--could you, Al?"
+
+"Yes indeed. But what is it, Labe?"
+
+"I want to talk. Want to talk, I do. Yes, yes, yes. Saw you go by and
+I've been waitin' for you. Waitin'--yes, I have--yes."
+
+He seized his assistant by the arm and led him across the road toward
+the shoe store. Albert felt the hand on his arm tremble violently.
+
+"Are you cold, Labe?" he asked. "What makes you shiver so?"
+
+"Eh? Cold? No, I ain't cold--no, no, no. Come, Al, come."
+
+Albert sniffed suspiciously, but no odor of alcohol rewarded the sniff.
+Neither was there any perfume of peppermint, Mr. Keeler's transparent
+camouflage at a vacation's beginning. And Laban was not humming the
+refrain glorifying his "darling hanky-panky." Apparently he had not yet
+embarked upon the spree which Captain Lote had pronounced imminent. But
+why did he behave so queerly?
+
+"I ain't the way you think, Al," declared the little man, divining his
+thought. "I'm just kind of shaky and nervous, that's all. That's all,
+that's all, that's all. Yes, yes. Come, come! COME!"
+
+The last "come" burst from him in an agony of impatience. Albert
+hastened up the narrow stairs, Laban leading the way. The latter fumbled
+with a key, his companion heard it rattling against the keyhole plate.
+Then the door opened. There was a lamp, its wick turned low, burning
+upon the table in the room. Mr. Keeler turned it up, making a trembly
+job of the turning. Albert looked about him; he had never been in that
+room before.
+
+It was a small room and there was not much furniture in it. And it was a
+neat room, for the room of an old bachelor who was his own chambermaid.
+Most things seemed to have places where they belonged and most of them
+appeared to be in those places. What impressed Albert even more was the
+number of books. There were books everywhere, in the cheap bookcase, on
+the pine shelf between the windows, piled in the corners, heaped on the
+table beside the lamp. They were worn and shabby volumes for the most
+part, some with but half a cover remaining, some with none. He picked up
+one of the latter. It was Locke on The Human Understanding; and next it,
+to his astonishment, was Alice's Adventures in Wonderland.
+
+Mr. Keeler looked over his shoulder and, for an instant, the whimsical
+smile which was characteristic of him curved his lip.
+
+"Philosophy, Al," he observed. "If Locke don't suit you try the 'mad
+hatter' feller. I get consider'ble comfort out of the hatter, myself.
+Do you remember when the mouse was tellin' the story about the three
+sisters that lived in the well? He said they lived on everything that
+began with M. Alice says 'Why with an M?' And the hatter, or the March
+hare, I forget which 'twas, says prompt, 'Why not?' . . . Yes, yes, why
+not? that's what he said. . . . There's some philosophy in that, Al. Why
+does a hen go across the road? Why not? Why is Labe Keeler a disgrace to
+all his friends and the town he lives in? Why not? . . . Eh? . . . Yes,
+yes. That's it--why not?"
+
+He smiled again, but there was bitterness and not humor in the smile.
+Albert put a hand on his shoulder.
+
+"Why, Labe," he asked, in concern, "what is it?"
+
+Laban turned away.
+
+"Don't mind, me, Al," he said, hurriedly. "I mean don't mind if I act
+funny. I'm--I'm kind of--of--Oh, good Lord A'mighty, DON'T look at me
+like that! . . . I beg your pardon, Al. I didn't mean to bark like a dog
+at you. No, I didn't--no, no. Forgive me, will you? Will you, Al, eh?"
+
+"Of course I will. But what is the matter, Labe? Sit down and tell me
+about it."
+
+Instead of sitting the little bookkeeper began to walk up and down.
+
+"Don't mind me, Al," he said, hurriedly. "Don't mind me. Let me go my
+own gait. My own gait--yes, yes. You see, Al, I--I'm tryin' to enlist,
+same as you're goin' to do, and--and MY fight's begun already. Yes
+indeed--yes, yes--it has so."
+
+Albert was more astonished than ever. There was no smell of alcohol, and
+Keeler had declared that he had not been drinking; but--
+
+"You're going to ENLIST?" repeated Albert. "YOU? Why, Labe, what--"
+
+Laban laughed nervously. "Not to kill the Kaiser," he replied. "No, no,
+not that--not exactly. I'd like to, only I wouldn't be much help that
+way. But--but Al, I--I want to do somethin'. I--I'd like to try to
+show--I'd like to be an American, a decent American, and the best way
+to begin, seems to me, is to try and be a man, a decent man. Eh? You
+understand, I--I--Oh, Lord, what a mess I am makin' of this! I--I--Al,"
+turning and desperately waving his hands, "I'm goin' to try to swear
+off. Will you help me?"
+
+Albert's answer was enthusiastic. "You bet I will!" he exclaimed. Keeler
+smiled pathetically.
+
+"It's goin' to be some job, I cal'late," he said. "Some job, yes, yes.
+But I'm goin' to try it, Al. I read in the papers 'tother day that
+America needed every man. Then you enlisted, Al,--or you're goin' to
+enlist. It set me to thinkin' I'd try to enlist, too. For the duration
+of the war, eh? Yes, yes."
+
+"Good for you, Labe! Bully!"
+
+Laban held up a protesting hand. "Don't hurrah yet, Al," he said. "This
+ain't the first time I've tried it. I've swore off a dozen times in the
+last fifteen years. I've promised Rachel and broke the promise over and
+over again. Broke my promise to her, the best woman in the world. Shows
+what I am, what sort I am, don't it, Al? Yes, it does,--yes, yes. And
+she's stuck by me, too, Lord knows why. Last time I broke it I said I'd
+never promise her again. Bad enough to be a common drunk without bein' a
+liar--yes, yes. But this is a little different. Seems to me--seems so."
+
+He began his pacing up and down again.
+
+"Seems different, somehow," he went on. "Seems like a new chance. I want
+to do somethin' for Uncle Sam. I--I'd like to try and enlist for the
+duration of the war--swear off for that long, anyhow. Then, maybe, I'd
+be able to keep on for life, you know--duration of Labe Keeler, eh? Yes,
+yes, yes. But I could begin for just the war, couldn't I? Maybe, 'twould
+fool me into thinkin' that was easier."
+
+"Of course, Labe. It's a good idea."
+
+"Maybe; and maybe it's a fool one. But I'm goin' to try it. I AM tryin'
+it, have been all day."
+
+He paused, drew a shaking hand across his forehead and then asked, "Al,
+will you help me? I asked you up here hopin' you would. Will you, Al,
+eh? Will you?"
+
+Albert could not understand how he could possibly help another man keep
+the pledge, but his promise was eagerly given.
+
+"Certainly, Labe," he said.
+
+"Thanks . . . thank you, Al. . . . And now will you do something for
+me--a favor?"
+
+"Gladly. What is it?"
+
+Laban did not answer at once. He appeared to be on the point of
+doing so, but to be struggling either to find words or to overcome a
+tremendous reluctance. When he did speak the words came in a burst.
+
+"Go down stairs," he cried. "Down those stairs you came up. At the foot
+of 'em, in a kind of cupboard place, under 'em, there's--there probably
+is a jug, a full jug. It was due to come by express to-day and I
+cal'late it did, cal'late Jim Young fetched it down this afternoon. I--I
+could have looked for myself and seen if 'twas there," he added, after
+a momentary hesitation, "but--but I didn't dare to. I was afraid
+I'd--I'd--"
+
+"All right, Labe. I understand. What do you want me to do with it if it
+is there?"
+
+"I want you--I want you to--to--" The little bookkeeper seemed to be
+fighting another internal battle between inclination and resolution. The
+latter won, for he finished with, "I want you to take it out back of the
+buildin' and--and empty it. That's what I want you to do, empty it, Al,
+every drop. . . . And, for the Almighty's sake, go quick," he ordered,
+desperately, "or I'll tell you not to before you start. Go!"
+
+Albert went. He fumbled in the cupboard under the stairs, found the
+jug--a large one and heavy--and hastened out into the night with it in
+his hands. Behind the shoe store, amid a heap of old packing boxes
+and other rubbish, he emptied it. The process was rather lengthy and
+decidedly fragrant. As a finish he smashed the jug with a stone. Then he
+climbed the stairs again.
+
+Laban was waiting for him, drops of perspiration upon his forehead.
+
+"Was--was it there?" he demanded.
+
+Albert nodded.
+
+"Yes, yes. 'Twas there, eh? And did you--did you--?"
+
+"Yes, I did, jug and all."
+
+"Thank you, Al . . . thank you . . . I--I've been trying to muster up
+spunk enough to do it myself, but--but I swan I couldn't. I didn't dast
+to go nigh it . . . I'm a fine specimen, ain't I, now?" he added, with a
+twisted smile. "Some coward, eh? Yes, yes. Some coward."
+
+Albert, realizing a little of the fight the man was making, was affected
+by it. "You're a brick, Labe," he declared, heartily. "And as for being
+a coward--Well, if I am half as brave when my turn comes I shall be
+satisfied."
+
+Laban shook his head. "I don't know how scared I'd be of a German
+bombshell," he said, "but I'm everlastin' sure I wouldn't run from it
+for fear of runnin' towards it, and that's how I felt about that jug.
+. . . Yes, yes, yes. I did so . . . I'm much obliged to you, Al. I shan't
+forget it--no, no. I cal'late you can trot along home now, if you want
+to. I'm pretty safe--for to-night, anyhow. Guess likely the new recruit
+won't desert afore morning."
+
+But Albert, watching him intently, refused to go.
+
+"I'm going to stay for a while, Labe," he said. "I'm not a bit sleepy,
+really. Let's have a smoke and talk together. That is, of course, unless
+you want to go to bed."
+
+Mr. Keeler smiled his twisted smile. "I ain't crazy to," he said. "The
+way I feel now I'd get to sleep about week after next. But I hadn't
+ought to keep you up, Al."
+
+"Rubbish! I'm not sleepy, I tell you. Sit down. Have a cigar. Now what
+shall we talk about? How would books do? What have you been reading
+lately, Labe?"
+
+They smoked and talked books until nearly two. Then Laban insisted upon
+his guest departing. "I'm all right, Al" he declared, earnestly. "I am
+honest--yes, yes, I am. I'll go to sleep like a lamb, yes indeed."
+
+"You'll be at the office in the morning, won't you, Labe?"
+
+The little bookkeeper nodded. "I'll be there," he said. "Got to answer
+roll call the first mornin' after enlistment. Yes, yes. I'll be there,
+Al."
+
+He was there, but he did not look as if his indulgence in the lamb-like
+sleep had been excessive. He was so pale and haggard that his assistant
+was alarmed.
+
+"You're not sick, are you, Labe?" he asked, anxiously. Laban shook his
+head.
+
+"No," he said. "No, I ain't sick. Been doin' picket duty up and down the
+room since half past three, that's all. Um-hm, that's all. Say, Al, if
+General what's-his-name--er--von Hindenburg--is any harder scrapper
+than old Field Marshal Barleycorn he's a pretty tough one. Say, Al, you
+didn't say anything about--about my--er--enlistin' to Cap'n Lote, did
+you? I meant to ask you not to."
+
+"I didn't, Labe. I thought you might want it kept a secret."
+
+"Um-hm. Better keep it in the ranks until we know how this
+first--er--skirmish is comin' out. Yes, yes. Better keep it that way.
+Um-hm."
+
+All day he stuck manfully at his task and that evening, immediately
+after supper, Albert went to the room over the shoe store, found him
+there and insisted upon his coming over to call upon Rachel. He had not
+intended doing so.
+
+"You see, Al," he explained, "I'm--I'm kind of--er--shaky and Rachel
+will be worried, I'm afraid. She knows me pretty well and she'll
+cal'late I'm just gettin' ready to--to bust loose again."
+
+Albert interrupted. "No, she won't, Laban," he said. "We'll show her
+that you're not."
+
+"You won't say anything to her about my--er--enlistin', Al? Don't.
+No, no. I've promised her too many times--and broke the promises. If
+anything should come of this fight of mine I'd rather she'd find it out
+for herself. Better to surprise her than to disapp'int her. Yes, yes,
+lots better."
+
+Albert promised not to tell Rachel and so Laban made his call. When it
+was over the young man walked home with him and the pair sat and talked
+until after midnight, just as on the previous night. The following
+evening it was much the same, except that, as Mr. Keeler pronounced
+himself more than usually "shaky" and expressed a desire to "keep
+movin'," they walked half way to Orham and back before parting. By the
+end of the week Laban declared the fight won--for the time.
+
+"You've pulled me through the fust tussle, Al," he said. "I shan't
+desert now, not till the next break-out, anyhow. I cal'late it'll get me
+harder than ever then. Harder than ever--yes, yes. And you won't be here
+to help me, neither."
+
+"Never mind; I shall be thinking of you, Labe. And I know you're going
+to win. I feel it in my bones."
+
+"Um-hm. . . . Yes, yes, yes. . . In your bones, eh? Well, MY bones don't
+seem to feel much, except rheumatics once in a while. I hope yours
+are better prophets, but I wouldn't want to bet too high on it. No, I
+wouldn't--no, no. However, we'll do our best, and they say angels can't
+do any more--though they'd probably do it in a different way . . . some
+different. . . . Um-hm. . . . Yes, indeed."
+
+Two letters came to Albert before that week ended. The first was from
+Madeline. He had written her of his intention to enlist and this was her
+reply. The letter had evidently been smuggled past the censor, for it
+contained much which Mrs. Fosdick would have blue-penciled. Its contents
+were a blend of praise and blame, of exaltation and depression. He was
+a hero, and so brave, and she was so proud of him. It was wonderful his
+daring to go, and just what she would have expected of her hero. If only
+she might see him in his uniform. So many of the fellows she knew had
+enlisted. They were wonderfully brave, too, although of course nothing
+like as wonderful as her own etcetera, etcetera. She had seen some of
+THEM in their uniforms and they were PERFECTLY SPLENDID. But they
+were officers, or they were going to be. Why wasn't he going to be an
+officer? It was so much nicer to be an officer. And if he were one he
+might not have to go away to fight nearly so soon. Officers stayed here
+longer and studied, you know. Mother had said something about "a common
+private," and she did not like it. But never mind, she would be just as
+proud no matter what he was. And she should dream of him and think of
+him always and always. And perhaps he might be so brave and wonderful
+that he would be given one of those war crosses, the Croix de Guerre or
+something. She was sure he would. But oh, no matter what happened, he
+must not go where it was TOO dangerous. Suppose he should be wounded.
+Oh, suppose, SUPPOSE he should be killed. What would she do then? What
+would become of her? MUST he go, after all? Couldn't he stay at home and
+study or something, for a while, you know? She should be so lonely after
+he was gone. And so frightened and so anxious. And he wouldn't forget
+her, would he, no matter where he went? Because she never, never, never
+would forget him for a moment. And he must write every day. And--
+
+The letter was fourteen pages long.
+
+The other letter was a surprise. It was from Helen. The Reverend Mr.
+Kendall had been told of Albert's intended enlistment and had written
+his daughter.
+
+
+So you are going into the war, Albert (she wrote). I am not surprised
+because I expected you would do just that. It is what all of us would
+like to do, I'm sure, and you were always anxious to go, even before the
+United States came in. So I am writing this merely to congratulate you
+and to wish you the very best of good luck. Father says you are not
+going to try for a commission but intend enlisting as a private. I
+suppose that is because you think you may get to the actual fighting
+sooner. I think I understand and appreciate that feeling too, but are
+you sure it is the best plan? You want to be of the greatest service
+to the country and with your education and brains--This ISN'T flattery,
+because it is true--don't you think you might help more if you were in
+command of men? Of course I don't know, being only a girl, but I have
+been wondering. No doubt you know best and probably it is settled before
+this; at any rate, please don't think that I intend butting in. "Butting
+in" is not at all a proper expression for a schoolmarm to use but it is
+a relief to be human occasionally. Whatever you do I am sure will be the
+right thing and I know all your friends are going to be very, very proud
+of you. I shall hear of you through the people at home, I know, and
+I shall be anxious to hear. I don't know what I shall do to help the
+cause, but I hope to do something. A musket is prohibitive to females
+but the knitting needle is ours and I CAN handle that, if I do say it.
+And I MAY go in for Red Cross work altogether. But I don't count much,
+and you men do, and this is your day. Please, for the sake of your
+grandparents and all your friends, don't take unnecessary chances. I can
+see your face as you read that and think that I am a silly idiot. I'm
+not and I mean what I say. You see I know YOU and I know you will not be
+content to do the ordinary thing. We want you to distinguish yourself,
+but also we want you to come back whole and sound, if it is possible.
+We shall think of you a great deal. And please, in the midst of the
+excitement of the BIG work you are doing, don't forget us home folk,
+including your friend,
+
+HELEN KENDALL.
+
+
+Albert's feelings when he read this letter were divided. He enjoyed
+hearing from Helen. The letter was just like herself, sensible and
+good-humored and friendly. There were no hysterics in it and no
+heroics but he knew that no one except his grandparents and Rachel and
+Laban--and, of course, his own Madeline--would think of him oftener or
+be more anxious for his safety and welfare than Helen. He was glad she
+was his friend, very glad. But he almost wished she had not written. He
+felt a bit guilty at having received the letter. He was pretty sure
+that Madeline would not like the idea. He was tempted to say nothing
+concerning it in his next letter to his affianced, but that seemed
+underhanded and cowardly, so he told her. And in her next letter to him
+Madeline made no reference at all to Helen or her epistle, so he knew
+she was displeased. And he was miserable in consequence.
+
+But his misery did not last long. The happenings which followed crowded
+it from his mind, and from Madeline's also, for that matter. One
+morning, having told no one except his grandfather of his intention, he
+took the morning train to Boston. When he returned the next day he
+was Uncle Sam's man, sworn in and accepted. He had passed the physical
+examination with flying colors and the recruiting officers expressed
+themselves as being glad to get him. He was home for but one day leave,
+then he must go to stay. He had debated the question of going in for a
+commission, but those were the early days of our participation in
+the war and a Plattsburg training or at least some sort of military
+education was almost an essential. He did not want to wait; as he had
+told his grandfather, he wanted to fight. So he enlisted as a private.
+
+And when the brief leave was over he took the train for Boston, no
+longer Alberto Miguel Carlos Speranza, South Harniss's Beau Brummel,
+poet and Portygee, but Private Speranza, U.S.A. The farewells were brief
+and no one cried--much. His grandmother hugged and kissed him, Rachel
+looked very much as if she wanted to. Laban and Issachar shook hands
+with him.
+
+"Good luck to you, boy," said Mr. Keeler. "All the luck there is."
+
+"Same to you, old man," replied Albert. Then, in a lower tone, he added,
+"We'll fight it out together, eh?"
+
+"We'll try. Yes, yes. We'll try. So long, Al."
+
+Issachar struck the reassuring note. "Don't fret about things in the
+office," he said. "I'll look out for 'em long's I keep my health."
+
+"Be sure and keep that, Issy."
+
+"You bet you! Only thing that's liable to break it down is over-work."
+
+Captain Zelotes said very little. "Write us when you can, Al," he said.
+"And come home whenever you get leave."
+
+"You may be sure of that, Grandfather. And after I get to camp perhaps
+you can come and see me."
+
+"Maybe so. Will if I can. . . . Well, Al, I . . . I. . . . Good luck to
+you, son."
+
+"Thank you, Grandfather."
+
+They shook hands. Each looked as if there was more he would have liked
+to say but found the saying hard. Then the engine bell rang and the
+hands fell apart. The little group on the station platform watched
+the train disappear. Mrs. Snow and Rachel wiped their eyes with their
+handkerchiefs. Captain Zelotes gently patted his wife's shoulder.
+
+"The team's waitin', Mother," he said. "Labe'll drive you and Rachel
+home."
+
+"But--but ain't you comin', too, Zelotes?" faltered Olive. Her husband
+shook his head.
+
+"Not now, Mother," he answered. "Got to go back to the office."
+
+He stood for an instant looking at the faint smear of smoke above the
+curve in the track. Then, without another word, he strode off in the
+direction of Z. Snow and Co.'s buildings. Issachar Price sniffed.
+
+"Crimus," he whispered to Laban, as the latter passed him on the way to
+where Jessamine, the Snow horse, was tied, "the old man takes it cool,
+don't he! I kind of imagined he'd be sort of shook up by Al's goin' off
+to war, but he don't seem to feel it a mite."
+
+Keeler looked at him in wonder. Then he drew a long breath.
+
+"Is," he said, slowly, "it is a mighty good thing for the Seven Wise Men
+of Greece that they ain't alive now."
+
+It was Issachar's turn to stare. "Eh?" he queried. "The Seven Wise Men
+of Which? Good thing for 'em they ain't alive? What kind of talk's that?
+Why is it a good thing?"
+
+Laban spoke over his shoulder. "Because," he drawled, "if they was alive
+now they'd be so jealous of you they'd commit suicide. Yes, they would.
+. . . Yes, yes."
+
+With which enigmatical remark he left Mr. Price and turned his attention
+to the tethered Jessamine.
+
+And then began a new period, a new life at the Snow place and in the
+office of Z. Snow and Co. Or, rather, life in the old house and at the
+lumber and hardware office slumped back into the groove in which it had
+run before the opera singer's son was summoned from the New York school
+to the home and into the lives of his grandparents. Three people instead
+of four sat down at the breakfast table and at dinner and at supper.
+Captain Zelotes walked alone to and from the office. Olive Snow no
+longer baked and iced large chocolate layer cakes because a certain
+inmate of her household was so fond of them. Rachel Ellis discussed
+Foul Play and Robert Penfold with no one. The house was emptier, more
+old-fashioned and behind the times, more lonely--surprisingly empty and
+behind the times and lonely.
+
+The daily mails became matters of intense interest and expectation.
+Albert wrote regularly and of course well and entertainingly. He
+described the life at the camp where he and the other recruits were
+training, a camp vastly different from the enormous military towns built
+later on for housing and training the drafted men. He liked the life
+pretty well, he wrote, although it was hard and a fellow had precious
+little opportunity to be lazy. Mistakes, too, were unprofitable for the
+maker. Captain Lote's eye twinkled when he read that.
+
+Later on he wrote that he had been made a corporal and his grandmother,
+to whom a major general and a corporal were of equal rank, rejoiced much
+both at home and in church after meeting was over and friends came to
+hear the news. Mrs. Ellis declared herself not surprised. It was the
+Robert Penfold in him coming out, so she said.
+
+A month or two later one of Albert's letters contained an interesting
+item of news. In the little spare time which military life afforded him
+he continued to write verse and stories. Now a New York publisher, not
+one of the most prominent but a reputable and enterprising one, had
+written him suggesting the collecting of his poems and their publication
+in book form. The poet himself was, naturally, elated.
+
+"Isn't it splendid!" he wrote. "The best part of it, of course, is that
+he asked to publish, I did not ask him. Please send me my scrapbook and
+all loose manuscript. When the book will come out I'm sure I don't know.
+In fact it may never come out, we have not gotten as far as terms and
+contracts yet, but I feel we shall. Send the scrapbook and manuscript
+right away, PLEASE."
+
+They were sent. In his next letter Albert was still enthusiastic.
+
+"I have been looking over my stuff," he wrote, "and some of it is pretty
+good, if you don't mind my saying so. Tell Grandfather that when this
+book of mine is out and selling I may be able to show him that poetry
+making isn't a pauper's job, after all. Of course I don't know how much
+it will sell--perhaps not more than five or ten thousand at first--but
+even at ten thousand at, say, twenty-five cents royalty each, would be
+twenty-five hundred dollars, and that's something. Why, Ben Hur, the
+novel, you know, has sold a million, I believe."
+
+Mrs. Snow and Rachel were duly impressed by this prophecy of affluence,
+but Captain Zelotes still played the skeptic.
+
+"A million at twenty-five cents a piece!" exclaimed Olive. "Why,
+Zelotes, that's--that's an awful sight of money."
+
+Mental arithmetic failing her, she set to work with a pencil and paper
+and after a strenuous struggle triumphantly announced that it came to
+two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.
+
+"My soul and body!" she cried. "Two hundred and fifty thousand DOLLARS!
+My SOUL, Zelotes! Suppose--only suppose Albert's book brought him in as
+much as that!"
+
+Her husband shook his head. "I can't, Olive," he said, without looking
+up from his newspaper. "My supposer wouldn't stand the strain."
+
+"But it might, Zelotes, it MIGHT. Suppose it did, what would you say
+then?"
+
+The captain regarded her over the top of the Transcript. "I shouldn't
+say a word, Olive," he answered, solemnly. "I should be down sick by the
+time it got up as far as a thousand, and anything past two thousand
+you could use to buy my tombstone with. . . . There, there, Mother,"
+he added, noticing the hurt look on her face, "don't feel bad. I'm only
+jokin'. One of these days Al's goin' to make a nice, comf'table livin'
+sellin' lumber and hardware right here in South Harniss. I can SEE that
+money in the offin'. All this million or two that's comin' from poetry
+and such is out of sight in the fog. It may be there but--humph! well, I
+KNOW where Z. Snow and Co. is located."
+
+Olive was not entirely placated. "I must say I think you're awful
+discouragin' to the poor boy, Zelotes," she said. Her husband put down
+his paper.
+
+"No, no, I ain't, Mother," he replied, earnestly. "At least I don't mean
+to be. Way I look at it, this poetry-makin' and writin' yarns and that
+sort of stuff is just part of the youngster's--er--growin' up, as you
+might say. Give him time he'll grow out of it, same as I cal'late he
+will out of this girl business, this--er--Madel--humph--er--ahem. . . .
+Looks like a good day to-morrow, don't it."
+
+He pulled up suddenly, and with considerable confusion. He had kept the
+news of his grandson's infatuation and engagement even from his wife.
+No one in South Harniss knew of it, no one except the captain. Helen
+Kendall knew, but she was in Boston.
+
+Rachel Ellis picked up the half knitted Red Cross mitten in her lap.
+"Well, I don't know whether he's right or you are, Cap'n Lote," she
+said, with a sigh, "but this I do know--I wish this awful war was over
+and he was back home again."
+
+That remark ended the conversation. Olive resumed her own knitting,
+seeing it but indistinctly. Her husband did not continue his newspaper
+reading. Instead he rose and, saying something about cal'latin' he would
+go for a little walk before turning in, went out into the yard.
+
+But the war did not end, it went on; so too did the enlisting and
+training. In the early summer Albert came home for a two days' leave. He
+was broader and straighter and browner. His uniform became him and, more
+than ever, the eyes of South Harniss's youthful femininity, native or
+imported, followed him as he walked the village streets. But the glances
+were not returned, not in kind, that is. The new Fosdick home, although
+completed, was not occupied. Mrs. Fosdick had, that summer, decided
+that her duties as mover in goodness knows how many war work activities
+prevented her taking her "usual summer rest." Instead she and Madeline
+occupied a rented villa at Greenwich, Connecticut, coming into town
+for meetings of all sorts. Captain Zelotes had his own suspicions as to
+whether war work alone was the cause of the Fosdicks' shunning of what
+was to have been their summer home, but he kept those suspicions to
+himself. Albert may have suspected also, but he, too, said nothing. The
+censored correspondence between Greenwich and the training camp traveled
+regularly, and South Harniss damsels looked and longed in vain. He
+saw them, he bowed to them, he even addressed them pleasantly and
+charmingly, but to him they were merely incidents in his walks to and
+from the post-office. In his mind's eye he saw but one, and she, alas,
+was not present in the flesh.
+
+Then he returned to the camp where, later on, Captain Zelotes and Olive
+visited him. As they came away the captain and his grandson exchanged a
+few significant words.
+
+"It is likely to be almost any time, Grandfather," said Albert, quietly.
+"They are beginning to send them now, as you know by the papers, and we
+have had the tip that our turn will be soon. So--"
+
+Captain Lote grasped the significance of the uncompleted sentence.
+
+"I see, Al," he answered, "I see. Well, boy, I--I--Good luck."
+
+"Good luck, Grandfather."
+
+That was all, that and one more handclasp. Our Anglo-Saxon inheritance
+descends upon us in times like these. The captain was silent for most of
+the ride to the railroad station.
+
+Then followed a long, significant interval during which there were no
+letters from the young soldier. After this a short reassuring cablegram
+from "Somewhere in France." "Safe. Well," it read and Olive Snow carried
+it about with her, in the bosom of her gown, all that afternoon and put
+it upon retiring on her bureau top so that she might see it the first
+thing in the morning.
+
+Another long interval, then letters, the reassuring but so tantalizingly
+unsatisfactory letters we American families were, just at that time,
+beginning to receive. Reading the newspapers now had a personal
+interest, a terrifying, dreadful interest. Then the packing and sending
+of holiday boxes, over the contents of which Olive and Rachel spent much
+careful planning and anxious preparation. Then another interval of more
+letters, letters which hinted vaguely at big things just ahead.
+
+Then no letter for more than a month.
+
+And then, one noon, as Captain Zelotes returned to his desk after the
+walk from home and dinner, Laban Keeler came in and stood beside that
+desk.
+
+The captain, looking up, saw the little bookkeeper's face. "What is it,
+Labe?" he asked, sharply.
+
+Laban held a yellow envelope in his hand.
+
+"It came while you were gone to dinner, Cap'n," he said. "Ben Kelley
+fetched it from the telegraph office himself. He--he said he didn't
+hardly want to take it to the house. He cal'lated you'd better have it
+here, to read to yourself, fust. That's what he said--yes, yes--that's
+what 'twas, Cap'n."
+
+Slowly Captain Zelotes extended his hand for the envelope. He did not
+take his eyes from the bookkeeper's face.
+
+"Ben--Ben, he told me what was in it, Cap'n Lote," faltered Laban. "I--I
+don't know what to say to you, I don't--no, no."
+
+Without a word the captain took the envelope from Keeler's fingers, and
+tore it open. He read the words upon the form within.
+
+Laban leaned forward.
+
+"For the Lord sakes, Lote Snow," he cried, in a burst of agony,
+"why couldn't it have been some darn good-for-nothin' like me
+instead--instead of him? Oh, my God A'mighty, what a world this is! WHAT
+a world!"
+
+Still Captain Zelotes said nothing. His eyes were fixed upon the yellow
+sheet of paper on the desk before him. After a long minute he spoke.
+
+"Well," he said, very slowly, "well, Labe, there goes--there goes Z.
+Snow and Company."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+
+The telegram from the War Department was brief, as all such telegrams
+were perforce obliged to be. The Secretary of War, through his
+representative, regretted to inform Captain Zelotes Snow that Sergeant
+Albert Speranza had been killed in action upon a certain day. It was
+enough, however--for the time quite enough. It was not until later
+that the little group of South Harniss recovered sufficiently from the
+stunning effect of those few words to think of seeking particulars.
+Albert was dead; what did it matter, then, to know how he died?
+
+Olive bore the shock surprisingly well. Her husband's fears for her
+seemed quite unnecessary. The Captain, knowing how she had idolized her
+daughter's boy, had dreaded the effect which the news might have upon
+her. She was broken down by it, it is true, but she was quiet and
+brave--astonishingly, wonderfully quiet and brave. And it was she,
+rather than her husband, who played the part of the comforter in those
+black hours.
+
+"He's gone, Zelotes," she said. "It don't seem possible, I know, but
+he's gone. And he died doin' his duty, same as he would have wanted
+to die if he'd known 'twas comin', poor boy. So--so we must do ours,
+I suppose, and bear up under it the very best we can. It won't be very
+long, Zelotes," she added. "We're both gettin' old."
+
+Captain Lote made no reply. He was standing by the window of the
+sitting-room looking out into the wet backyard across which the
+wind-driven rain was beating in stormy gusts.
+
+"We must be brave, Zelotes," whispered Olive, tremulously. "He'd want us
+to be and we MUST be."
+
+He put his arm about her in a sudden heat of admiration. "I'd be ashamed
+not to be after seein' you, Mother," he exclaimed.
+
+He went out to the barn a few moments later and Rachel, entering the
+sitting-room, found Olive crumpled down in the big rocker in an agony of
+grief.
+
+"Oh, don't, Mrs. Snow, don't," she begged, the tears streaming down her
+own cheeks. "You mustn't give way to it like this; you mustn't."
+
+Olive nodded.
+
+"I know it, I know it," she admitted, chokingly, wiping her eyes with a
+soaked handkerchief. "I shan't, Rachel, only this once, I promise you.
+You see I can't. I just can't on Zelotes's account. I've got to bear up
+for his sake."
+
+The housekeeper was surprised and a little indignant.
+
+"For his sake!" she repeated. "For mercy sakes why for his sake? Is it
+any worse for him than 'tis for you."
+
+"Oh, yes, yes, lots worse. He won't say much, of course, bein' Zelotes
+Snow, but you and I know how he's planned, especially these last years,
+and how he's begun to count on--on Albert. . . . No, no, I ain't goin'
+to cry, Rachel, I ain't--I WON'T--but sayin' his name, you know, kind
+of--"
+
+"I know, I know. Land sakes, DON'T I know! Ain't I doin' it myself?"
+
+"Course you are, Rachel. But we mustn't when Zelotes is around. We
+women, we--well, times like these women HAVE to keep up. What would
+become of the men if we didn't?"
+
+So she and Rachel "kept up" in public and when the captain was present,
+and he for his part made no show of grief nor asked for pity. He was
+silent, talked little and to the callers who came either at the house or
+office was uncomplaining.
+
+"He died like a man," he told the Reverend Mr. Kendall when the latter
+called. "He took his chance, knowin' what that meant--"
+
+"He was glad to take it," interrupted the minister. "Proud and glad to
+take it."
+
+"Sartin. Why not? Wouldn't you or I have been glad to take ours, if we
+could?"
+
+"Well, Captain Snow, I am glad to find you so resigned."
+
+Captain Zelotes looked at him. "Resigned?" he repeated. "What do you
+mean by resigned? Not to sit around and whimper is one thing--any decent
+man or woman ought to be able to do that in these days; but if by bein'
+resigned you mean I'm contented to have it so--well, you're mistaken,
+that's all."
+
+Only on one occasion, and then to Laban Keeler, did he open his shell
+sufficiently to give a glimpse of what was inside. Laban entered the
+inner office that morning to find his employer sitting in the desk
+chair, both hands jammed in his trousers' pockets and his gaze fixed,
+apparently, upon the row of pigeon-holes. When the bookkeeper spoke to
+him he seemed to wake from a dream, for he started and looked up.
+
+"Cap'n Lote," began Keeler, "I'm sorry to bother you, but that last
+carload of pine was--"
+
+Captain Zelotes waved his hand, brushing the carload of pine out of the
+conversation.
+
+"Labe," he said, slowly, "did it seem to you that I was too hard on
+him?"
+
+Laban did not understand. "Hard on him?" he repeated. "I don't know's I
+just get--"
+
+"Hard on Al. Did it seem to you as if I was a little too much of the
+bucko mate to the boy? Did I drive him too hard? Was I unreasonable?"
+
+The answer was prompt. "No, Cap'n Lote," replied Keeler.
+
+"You mean that? . . . Um-hm. . . . Well, sometimes seems as if I might
+have been. You see, Labe, when he first come I--Well, I cal'late I
+was consider'ble prejudiced against him. Account of his father, you
+understand."
+
+"Sartin. Sure. I understand."
+
+"It took me a good while to get reconciled to the Portygee streak in
+him. It chafed me consider'ble to think there was a foreign streak in
+our family. The Snows have been straight Yankee for a good long while.
+. . . Fact is, I--I never got really reconciled to it. I kept bein'
+fearful all the time that that streak, his father's streak, would break
+out in him. It never did, except of course in his poetry and that sort
+of foolishness, but I was always scared 'twould, you see. And now--now
+that this has happened I--I kind of fret for fear that I may have let my
+notions get ahead of my fair play. You think I did give the boy a square
+deal, Labe?"
+
+"Sure thing, Cap'n."
+
+"I'm glad of that. . . . And--and you cal'late he wasn't--wasn't too
+prejudiced against me? I don't mean along at first, I mean this last
+year or two."
+
+Laban hesitated. He wished his answer to be not an overstatement, but
+the exact truth.
+
+"I think," he said, with emphasis, "that Al was comin' to understand
+you better every day he lived, Cap'n. Yes, and to think more and more
+of you, too. He was gettin' older, for one thing--older, more of a
+man--yes, yes."
+
+Captain Zelotes smiled sadly. "He was more boy than man by a good deal
+yet," he observed. "Well, Labe, he's gone and I'm just beginnin' to
+realize how much of life for me has gone along with him. He'd been doin'
+better here in the office for the last two or three years, seemed to be
+catchin' on to business better. Didn't you think so, Labe?"
+
+"Sartin. Yes indeed. Fust-rate, fust-rate."
+
+"No, not first-rate. He was a long ways from a business man yet, but I
+did think he was doin' a lot better. I could begin to see him pilotin'
+this craft after I was called ashore. Now he's gone and . . . well, I
+don't see much use in my fightin' to keep it afloat. I'm gettin' along
+in years--and what's the use?"
+
+It was the first time Laban had ever heard Captain Zelotes refer to
+himself as an old man. It shocked him into sharp expostulation.
+
+"Nonsense!" he exclaimed. "You ain't old enough for the scrap heap by a
+big stretch. And besides, he made his fight, didn't he? He didn't quit,
+Al didn't, and he wouldn't want us to. No sir-ee, he wouldn't! No, sir,
+no! . . . I--I hope you'll excuse me, Cap'n Lote. I--declare it must
+seem to you as if I was talkin' pretty fresh. I swan I'm sorry. I am so
+. . . sorry; yes, yes, I be."
+
+The captain was not offended. He waved the apologies aside.
+
+"So you think it's worth while my fightin' it out, do you, Labe?" he
+asked, reflectively.
+
+"I--I think it's what you ought to do anyhow, whether it's worth
+while or not. The whole world's fightin'. Uncle Sam's fightin'. Al was
+fightin'. You're fightin'. I'm fightin'. It's a darn sight easier to
+quit, a darn sight, but--but Al didn't quit. And--and we mustn't--not if
+we can help it," he added, drawing a hand across his forehead.
+
+His agitation seemed to surprise Captain Zelotes. "So all hands are
+fightin', are they, Labe," he observed. "Well, I presume likely there's
+some truth in that. What's your particular fight, for instance?"
+
+The little bookkeeper looked at him for an instant before replying.
+The captain's question was kindly asked, but there was, or so Laban
+imagined, the faintest trace of sarcasm in its tone. That trace decided
+him. He leaned across the desk.
+
+"My particular fight?" he repeated. "You--you want to know what 'tis,
+Cap'n Lote? All right, all right, I'll tell you."
+
+And without waiting for further questioning and with, for him,
+surprisingly few repetitions, he told of his "enlistment" to fight John
+Barleycorn for the duration of the war. Captain Zelotes listened to the
+very end in silence. Laban mopped his forehead with a hand which shook
+much as it had done during the interview with Albert in the room above
+the shoe store.
+
+"There--there," he declared, in conclusion, "that's my fight, Cap'n
+Lote. Al and I, we--we kind of went into it together, as you might say,
+though his enlistin' was consider'ble more heroic than mine--yes indeed,
+I should say so . . . yes, yes, yes. But I'm fightin' too . . . er . . .
+I'm fightin' too."
+
+Captain Zelotes pulled his beard.
+
+"How's the fight goin', Labe?" he asked, quietly.
+
+"Well--well, it's kind of--kind of spotty, as you might say. There's
+spots when I get along fairly smooth and others when--well, when it's
+pretty rough goin'. I've had four hard spots since Al went away, but
+there's two that was the hardest. One was along Christmas and New Year
+time; you know I 'most generally had one of my--er--spells along about
+then. And t'other is just now; I mean since we got word about--about
+Al. I don't suppose likely you surmised it, Cap'n, but--but I'd come to
+think a lot of that boy--yes, I had. Seems funny to you, I don't doubt,
+but it's so. And since the word come, you know--I--I--well, I've had
+some fight, some fight. I--I don't cal'late I've slept more'n four hours
+in the last four nights--not more'n that, no. Walkin' helps me most,
+seems so. Last night I walked to West Orham."
+
+"To West Orham! You WALKED there? Last NIGHT?"
+
+"Um-hm. Long's I can keep walkin' I--I seem to part way forget--to
+forget the stuff, you know. When I'm alone in my room I go 'most
+crazy--pretty nigh loony. . . . But there! I don't know why I got to
+talkin' like this to you, Cap'n Lote. You've got your troubles and--"
+
+"Hold on, Labe. Does Rachel know about your fight?"
+
+"No. No, no. Course she must notice how long I've been--been straight,
+but I haven't told her. I want to be sure I'm goin' to win before I
+tell her. She's been disappointed times enough before, poor woman. . . .
+There, Cap'n Lote, don't let's talk about it any more. Please don't get
+the notion that I'm askin' for pity or anything like that. And don't
+think I'm comparin' what I call my fight to the real one like Al's.
+There's nothin' much heroic about me, eh? No, no, I guess not. Tell that
+to look at me, eh?"
+
+Captain Zelotes rose and laid his big hand on his bookkeeper's shoulder.
+
+"Don't you believe it, Labe," he said. "I'm proud of you. . . . And, I
+declare, I'm ashamed of myself. . . . Humph! . . . Well, to-night you
+come home with me and have supper at the house."
+
+"Now, now, Cap'n Lote--"
+
+"You do as I tell you. After supper, if there's any walkin' to be
+done--if you take a notion to frog it to Orham or San Francisco or
+somewheres--maybe I'll go with you. Walkin' may be good for my fight,
+too; you can't tell till you try. . . . There, don't argue, Labe. I'm
+skipper of this craft yet and you'll obey my orders; d'you hear?"
+
+The day following the receipt of the fateful telegram the captain wrote
+a brief note to Fletcher Fosdick. A day or two later he received a
+reply. Fosdick's letter was kindly and deeply sympathetic. He had been
+greatly shocked and grieved by the news.
+
+
+Young Speranza seemed to me, (he wrote) in my one short interview with
+him, to be a fine young fellow. Madeline, poor girl, is almost frantic.
+She will recover by and by, recovery is easier at her age, but it will
+be very, very hard for you and Mrs. Snow. You and I little thought when
+we discussed the problem of our young people that it would be solved
+in this way. To you and your wife my sincerest sympathy. When you hear
+particulars concerning your grandson's death, please write me. Madeline
+is anxious to know and keeps asking for them. Mrs. Fosdick is too much
+concerned with her daughter's health to write just now, but she joins me
+in sympathetic regards.
+
+
+Captain Zelotes took Mrs. Fosdick's sympathy with a grain of salt. When
+he showed this letter to his wife he, for the first time, told her of
+the engagement, explaining that his previous silence had been due to
+Albert's request that the affair be kept a secret for the present.
+Olive, even in the depth of her sorrow, was greatly impressed by the
+grandeur of the alliance.
+
+"Just think, Zelotes," she exclaimed, "the Fosdick girl--and our Albert
+engaged to marry her! Why, the Fosdicks are awful rich, everybody says
+so. Mrs. Fosdick is head of I don't know how many societies and clubs
+and things in New York; her name is in the paper almost every day, so
+another New York woman told me at Red Cross meetin' last summer. And Mr.
+Fosdick has been in politics, way up in politics."
+
+"Um-hm. Well, he's reformed lately, I understand, so we mustn't hold
+that against him."
+
+"Why, Zelotes, what DO you mean? How can you talk so? Just think what it
+would have meant to have our Albert marry a girl like Madeline Fosdick."
+
+The captain put his arm about her and gently patted her shoulder.
+
+"There, there, Mother," he said, gently, "don't let that part of it fret
+you."
+
+"But, Zelotes," tearfully, "I don't understand. It would have been such
+a great thing for Albert."
+
+"Would it? Well, maybe. Anyhow, there's no use worryin' about it now.
+It's done with--ended and done with . . . same as a good many other
+plans that's been made in the world."
+
+"Zelotes, don't speak like that, dear, so discouraged. It makes me
+feel worse than ever to hear you. And--and he wouldn't want you to, I'm
+sure."
+
+"Wouldn't he? No, I cal'late you're right, Mother. We'll try not to."
+
+Other letters came, including one from Helen. It was not long. Mrs. Snow
+was a little inclined to feel hurt at its brevity. Her husband, however,
+did not share this feeling.
+
+"Have you read it carefully, Mother?" he asked.
+
+"Of course I have, Zelotes. What do you mean?"
+
+"I mean--well, I tell you, Mother, I've read it three time. The first
+time I was like you; seemed to me as good a friend of Al and of us as
+Helen Kendall ought to have written more than that. The second time I
+read it I begun to wonder if--if--"
+
+"If what, Zelotes?"
+
+"Oh, nothin', Mother, nothin'. She says she's comin' to see us just as
+soon as she can get away for a day or two. She'll come, and when she
+does I cal'late both you and I are goin' to be satisfied."
+
+"But why didn't she WRITE more, Zelotes? That's what I can't
+understand."
+
+Captain Zelotes tugged at his beard reflectively. "When I wrote Fosdick
+the other day," he said, "I couldn't write more than a couple of pages.
+I was too upset to do it. I couldn't, that's all."
+
+"Yes, but you are Albert's grandfather."
+
+"I know. And Helen's always . . . But there, Mother, don't you worry
+about Helen Kendall. I've known her since she was born, pretty nigh, and
+_I_ tell you she's all RIGHT."
+
+Fosdick, in his letter, had asked for particulars concerning Albert's
+death. Those particulars were slow in coming. Captain Zelotes wrote
+at once to the War Department, but received little satisfaction. The
+Department would inform him as soon as it obtained the information. The
+name of Sergeant Albert Speranza had been cabled as one of a list of
+fatalities, that was all.
+
+"And to think," as Rachel Ellis put it, "that we never knew that he'd
+been made a sergeant until after he was gone. He never had time to write
+it, I expect likely, poor boy."
+
+The first bit of additional information was furnished by the press. A
+correspondent of one of the Boston dailies sent a brief dispatch to his
+paper describing the fighting at a certain point on the Allied front. A
+small detachment of American troops had taken part, with the French,
+in an attack on a village held by the enemy. The enthusiastic reporter
+declared it to be one of the smartest little actions in which our
+soldiers had so far taken part and was eloquent concerning the bravery
+and dash of his fellow countrymen. "They proved themselves," he went
+on, "and French officers with whom I have talked are enthusiastic. Our
+losses, considering the number engaged, are said to be heavy. Among
+those reported as killed is Sergeant Albert Speranza, a Massachusetts
+boy whom American readers will remember as a writer of poetry and
+magazine fiction. Sergeant Speranza is said to have led his company
+in the capture of the village and to have acted with distinguished
+bravery." The editor of the Boston paper who first read this dispatch
+turned to his associate at the next desk.
+
+"Speranza? . . . Speranza?" he said aloud. "Say, Jim, wasn't it Albert
+Speranza who wrote that corking poem we published after the Lusitania
+was sunk?"
+
+Jim looked up. "Yes," he said. "He has written a lot of pretty good
+stuff since, too. Why?"
+
+"He's just been killed in action over there, so Conway says in this
+dispatch."
+
+"So? . . . Humph! . . . Any particulars?"
+
+"Not yet. 'Distinguished bravery,' according to Conway. Couldn't we have
+something done in the way of a Sunday special? He was a Massachusetts
+fellow."
+
+"We might. We haven't a photograph, have we? If we haven't, perhaps we
+can get one."
+
+The photograph was obtained--bribery and corruption of the Orham
+photographer--and, accompanied by a reprint of the Lusitania poem,
+appeared in the "Magazine Section" of the Sunday newspaper. With these
+also appeared a short notice of the young poet's death in the service of
+his country.
+
+That was the beginning. At the middle of that week Conway sent another
+dispatch. The editor who received it took it into the office of the
+Sunday editor.
+
+"Say," he said, "here are more particulars about that young chap
+Speranza, the one we printed the special about last Sunday. He must have
+been a corker. When his lieutenant was put out of business by a shrapnel
+this Speranza chap rallied the men and jammed 'em through the Huns like
+a hot knife through butter. Killed the German officer and took three
+prisoners all by himself. Carried his wounded lieutenant to the rear
+on his shoulders, too. Then he went back into the ruins to get another
+wounded man and was blown to slivers by a hand grenade. He's been cited
+in orders and will probably be decorated by the French--that is,
+his memory will be. Pretty good for a poet, I'd say. No 'lilies and
+languors' about that, eh?"
+
+The Sunday editor nodded approval.
+
+"Great stuff!" he exclaimed. "Let me have that dispatch, will you, when
+you've finished. I've just discovered that this young Speranza's father
+was Speranza, the opera baritone. You remember him? And his mother was
+the daughter of a Cape Cod sea captain. How's that? Spain, Cape Cod,
+opera, poetry and the Croix de Guerre. And have you looked at the young
+fellow's photograph? Combination of Adonis and 'Romeo, where art thou.'
+I've had no less than twenty letters about him and his poetry already.
+Next Sunday we'll have a special 'as is.' Where can I get hold of a lot
+of his poems?"
+
+The "special as was" occupied an entire page. A reporter had visited
+South Harniss and had taken photographs of the Snow place and some of
+its occupants. Captain Zelotes had refused to pose, but there was a
+view of the building and yards of "Z. Snow and Co." with the picturesque
+figure of Mr. Issachar Price tastefully draped against a pile of boards
+in the right foreground. Issy had been a find for the reporter; he
+supplied the latter with every fact concerning Albert which he could
+remember and some that he invented on the spur of the moment. According
+to Issy, Albert was "a fine, fust-class young feller. Him and me was
+like brothers, as you might say. When he got into trouble, or was
+undecided or anything, he'd come to me for advice and I always gave it
+to him. Land, yes! I always give to Albert. No matter how busy I was I
+always stopped work to help HIM out." The reporter added that Mr. Price
+stopped work even while speaking of it.
+
+The special attracted the notice of other newspaper editors. This
+skirmish in which Albert had taken so gallant part was among the first
+in which our soldiers had participated. So the story was copied and
+recopied. The tale of the death of the young poet, the "happy warrior,"
+as some writer called him, was spread from the Atlantic to the Pacific
+and from Canada to the Gulf. And just at this psychological moment the
+New York publisher brought out the long deferred volume. The Lances of
+Dawn, Being the Collected Poems of Albert M. C. Speranza, such was its
+title.
+
+Meanwhile, or, rather, within the week when the Lances of Dawn flashed
+upon the public, Captain Zelotes received a letter from the captain of
+Albert's regiment in France. It was not a long letter, for the captain
+was a busy man, but it was the kindly, sympathetic letter of one who
+was, literally, that well-advertised combination, an officer and a
+gentleman. It told of Albert's promotion to the rank of sergeant, "a
+promotion which, had the boy been spared, would, I am sure, have been
+the forerunner of others." It told of that last fight, the struggle for
+the village, of Sergeant Speranza's coolness and daring and of his rush
+back into the throat of death to save a wounded comrade.
+
+
+The men tell me they tried to stop him (wrote the captain). He was
+himself slightly wounded, he had just brought Lieutenant Stacey back
+to safety and the enemy at that moment was again advancing through the
+village. But he insisted upon going. The man he was trying to rescue was
+a private in his company and the pair were great friends. So he started
+back alone, although several followed him a moment later. They saw him
+enter the ruined cottage where his friend lay. Then a party of the
+enemy appeared at the corner and flung grenades. The entire side of the
+cottage which he had just entered was blown in and the Germans passed on
+over it, causing our men to fall back temporarily. We retook the place
+within half an hour. Private Kelly's body--it was Private Kelly whom
+Sergeant Speranza was attempting to rescue--was found and another, badly
+disfigured, which was at first supposed to be that of your grandson. But
+this body was subsequently identified as that of a private named Hamlin
+who was killed when the enemy first charged. Sergeant Speranza's body
+is still missing, but is thought to be buried beneath the ruins of the
+cottage. These ruins were subsequently blown into further chaos by a
+high explosive shell.
+
+
+Then followed more expressions of regret and sympathy and confirmation
+of the report concerning citation and the war cross. Captain Lote read
+the letter at first alone in his private office. Then he brought it
+home and gave it to his wife to read. Afterward he read it aloud to Mrs.
+Ellis and to Laban, who was making his usual call in the Snow kitchen.
+
+When the reading was ended Labe was the first to speak. His eyes were
+shining.
+
+"Godfreys!" he exclaimed. "Godfreys, Cap'n Lote!"
+
+The captain seemed to understand.
+
+"You're right, Labe," he said. "The boy's made us proud of him. . . .
+Prouder than some of us are of ourselves, I cal'late," he added, rising
+and moving toward the door.
+
+"Sho, sho, Cap'n, you mustn't feel that way. No, no."
+
+"Humph! . . . Labe, I presume likely if I was a pious man, one of the
+old-fashioned kind of pious, and believed the Almighty went out of his
+way to get square with any human bein' that made a mistake or didn't do
+the right thing--if I believed that I might figger all this was a sort
+of special judgment on me for my prejudices, eh?"
+
+Mr. Keeler was much disturbed.
+
+"Nonsense, nonsense, Cap'n Lote!" he protested. "You ain't fair to
+yourself. You never treated Al anyhow but just honest and fair and
+square. If he was here now instead of layin' dead over there in France,
+poor feller, he'd say so, too. Yes, he would. Course he would."
+
+The captain made no reply, but walked from the room. Laban turned to
+Mrs. Ellis.
+
+"The old man broods over that," he said. "I wish. . . . Eh? What's the
+matter, Rachel? What are you lookin' at me like that for?"
+
+The housekeeper was leaning forward in her chair, her cheeks flushed and
+her hands clenched.
+
+"How do you know he's dead?" she asked, in a mysterious whisper.
+
+"Eh? How do I know who's dead?"
+
+"Albert. How do you know he's dead?"
+
+Laban stared at her.
+
+"How do I know he's DEAD!" he repeated. "How do I know--"
+
+"Yes, yes, yes," impatiently; "that's what I said. Don't run it over
+three or four times more. How do you know Albert's dead?"
+
+"Why, Rachel, what kind of talk's that? I know he's dead because the
+newspapers say so, and the War Department folks say so, and this cap'n
+man in France that was right there at the time, HE says so. All hands
+say so--yes, yes. So don't--"
+
+"Sh! I don't care if they all say so ten times over. How do they KNOW?
+They ain't found him dead, have they? The report from the War Department
+folks was sent when they thought that other body was Albert's. Now they
+know that wasn't him. Where is he?"
+
+"Why, under the ruins of that cottage. 'Twas all blown to pieces and
+most likely--"
+
+"Um-hm. There you are! 'Most likely!' Well, I ain't satisfied with most
+likelys. I want to KNOW."
+
+"But--but--"
+
+"Laban Keeler, until they find his body I shan't believe Albert's dead."
+
+"But, Rachel, you mustn't try to deceive yourself that way. Don't you
+see--"
+
+"No, I don't see. Labe, when Robert Penfold was lost and gone for all
+them months all hands thought he was dead, didn't they? But he wasn't;
+he was on that island lost in the middle of all creation. What's to
+hinder Albert bein' took prisoner by those Germans? They came back to
+that cottage place after Albert was left there, the cap'n says so in
+that letter Cap'n Lote just read. What's to hinder their carryin' Al off
+with 'em? Eh? What's to hinder?"
+
+"Why--why, nothin', I suppose, in one way. But nine chances out of
+ten--"
+
+"That leaves one chance, don't it. I ain't goin' to give up that chance
+for--for my boy. I--I--Oh, Labe, I did think SO much of him."
+
+"I know, Rachel, I know. Don't cry any more than you can help. And if
+it helps you any to make believe--I mean to keep on hopin' he's alive
+somewheres--why, do it. It won't do any harm, I suppose. Only I wouldn't
+hint such a thing to Cap'n Lote or Olive."
+
+"Of course not," indignantly. "I ain't quite a fool, I hope. . . . And I
+presume likely you're right, Laban. The poor boy is dead, probably. But
+I--I'm goin' to hope he isn't, anyhow, just to get what comfort I can
+from it. And Robert Penfold did come back, you know."
+
+For some time Laban found himself, against all reason, asking the very
+question Rachel had asked: Did they actually KNOW that Albert was dead?
+But as the months passed and no news came he ceased to ask it. Whenever
+he mentioned the subject to the housekeeper her invariable reply was:
+"But they haven't found his body, have they?" She would not give up
+that tenth chance. As she seemed to find some comfort in it he did not
+attempt to convince her of its futility.
+
+And, meanwhile The Lances of Dawn, Being the Collected Poems of
+Albert M. C. Speranza was making a mild sensation. The critics were
+surprisingly kind to it. The story of the young author's recent and
+romantic death, of his gallantry, his handsome features displayed in
+newspapers everywhere, all these helped toward the generous welcome
+accorded the little volume. If the verses were not inspired--why, they
+were at least entertaining and pleasant. And youth, high-hearted youth
+sang on every page. So the reviewers were kind and forbearing to the
+poems themselves, and, for the sake of the dead soldier-poet, were often
+enthusiastic. The book sold, for a volume of poems it sold very well
+indeed.
+
+At the Snow place in South Harniss pride and tears mingled. Olive read
+the verses over and over again, and wept as she read. Rachel Ellis
+learned many of them by heart, but she, too, wept as she recited them to
+herself or to Laban. In the little bookkeeper's room above Simond's shoe
+store The Lances of Dawn lay under the lamp upon the center table as
+before a shrine. Captain Zelotes read the verses. Also he read all
+the newspaper notices which, sent to the family by Helen Kendall,
+were promptly held before his eyes by Olive and Rachel. He read the
+publisher's advertisements, he read the reviews. And the more he read
+the more puzzled and bewildered he became.
+
+"I can't understand it, Laban," he confided in deep distress to Mr.
+Keeler. "I give in I don't know anything at all about this. I'm clean
+off soundin's. If all this newspaper stuff is so Albert was right
+all the time and I was plumb wrong. Here's this feller," picking up a
+clipping from the desk, "callin' him a genius and 'a gifted youth' and
+the land knows what. And every day or so I get a letter from somebody I
+never heard of tellin' me what a comfort to 'em those poetry pieces of
+his are. I don't understand it, Labe. It worries me. If all this is true
+then--then I was all wrong. I tried to keep him from makin' up poetry,
+Labe--TRIED to, I did. If what these folks say is so somethin' ought
+to be done to me. I--I--by thunder, I don't know's I hadn't ought to be
+hung! . . . And yet--and yet, I did what I thought was right and did
+it for the boy's sake . . . And--and even now I--I ain't sartin I was
+wrong. But if I wasn't wrong then this is . . . Oh, I don't know, I
+don't know!"
+
+And not only in South Harniss were there changes of heart. In New York
+City and at Greenwich where Mrs. Fosdick was more than ever busy with
+war work, there were changes. When the newspaper accounts of young
+Speranza's heroic death were first published the lady paid little
+attention to them. Her daughter needed all her care just then--all the
+care, that is, which she could spare from her duties as president of
+this society and corresponding secretary of that. If her feelings upon
+hearing the news could have been analyzed it is probable that their
+larger proportion would have been a huge sense of relief. THAT problem
+was solved, at all events. She was sorry for poor Madeline, of course,
+but the dear child was but a child and would recover.
+
+But as with more and more intensity the limelight of publicity was
+turned upon Albert Speranza's life and death and writing, the wife of
+the Honorable Fletcher Fosdick could not but be impressed. As head of
+several so-called literary societies, societies rather neglected since
+the outbreak of hostilities, she had made it her business to hunt
+literary lions. Recently it was true that military lions--Major
+Vermicelli of the Roumanian light cavalry, or Private Drinkwater of the
+Tank Corps--were more in demand than Tagores, but, as Mrs. Fosdick read
+of Sergeant Speranza's perils and poems, it could not help occurring to
+her that here was a lion both literary and martial. Decidedly she had
+not approved of her daughter's engagement to that lion, but now the said
+lion was dead, which rendered him a perfectly harmless yet not the
+less fascinating animal. And then appeared The Lances of Dawn and Mrs.
+Fosdick's friends among the elect began to read and talk about it.
+
+It was then that the change came. Those friends, one by one, individuals
+judiciously chosen, were told in strict confidence of poor Madeline's
+romantic love affair and its tragic ending. These individuals, chosen
+judiciously as has been stated, whispered, also in strict confidence,
+the tale to other friends and acquaintances. Mrs. Fosdick began to
+receive condolences on her daughter's account and on her own. Soon she
+began to speak publicly of "My poor, dear daughter's dead fiance. Such a
+loss to American literature. Sheer genius. Have you read the article in
+the Timepiece? Madeline, poor girl, is heartbroken, naturally, but very
+proud, even in the midst of her grief. So are we all, I assure you."
+
+She quoted liberally from The Lances of Dawn. A copy specially bound,
+lay upon her library table. Albert's photograph in uniform, obtained
+from the Snows by Mr. Fosdick, who wrote for it at his wife's request,
+stood beside it. To callers and sister war workers Mrs. Fosdick gave
+details of the hero's genius, his bravery, his devotion to her daughter.
+It was all so romantic and pleasantly self-advertising--and perfectly
+safe.
+
+Summer came again, the summer of 1918. The newspapers now were gravely
+personal reading to millions of Americans. Our new army was trying
+its metal on the French front and with the British against the vaunted
+Hindenburg Line. The transports were carrying thousands on every trip to
+join those already "over there." In South Harniss and in Greenwich and
+New York, as in every town and city, the ordinary summer vacations and
+playtime occupations were forgotten or neglected and war charities and
+war labors took their place. Other soldiers than Sergeant Speranza were
+the newspaper heroes now, other books than The Lances of Dawn talked
+about.
+
+As on the previous summer the new Fosdick cottage was not occupied by
+its owners. Mrs. Fosdick was absorbed by her multitudinous war duties
+and her husband was at Washington giving his counsel and labor to
+the cause. Captain Zelotes bought to his last spare dollar of each
+successive issue of Liberty Bonds, and gave that dollar to the Red Cross
+or the Y. M. C. A.; Laban and Rachel did likewise. Even Issachar Price
+bought Thrift Stamps and exhibited them to anyone who would stop long
+enough to look.
+
+"By crimus," declared Issy, "I'm makin' myself poor helpin' out the
+gov'ment, but let 'er go and darn the Kaiser, that's my motto. But they
+ain't all like me. I was down to the drug store yesterday and old
+man Burgess had the cheek to tell me I owed him for some cigars I
+bought--er--last fall, seems to me 'twas. I turned right around and
+looked at him--'I've got my opinion,' says I, 'of a man that thinks of
+cigars and such luxuries when the country needs every cent. What have
+you got that gov'ment poster stuck up on your wall for?' says I. 'Read
+it,' I says. 'It says' '"Save! Save! Save!"' don't it? All right. That's
+what I'M doin'. I AM savin'.' Then when he was thinkin' of somethin' to
+answer back I walked right out and left him. Yes sir, by crimustee, I
+left him right where he stood!"
+
+August came; September--the Hindenburg Line was broken. Each day the
+triumphant headlines in the papers were big and black and also, alas,
+the casualty lists on the inside pages long and longer. Then October.
+The armistice was signed. It was the end. The Allied world went wild,
+cheered, danced, celebrated. Then it sat back, thinking, thanking God,
+solemnly trying to realize that the killing days, the frightful days of
+waiting and awful anxiety, were over.
+
+And early in November another telegram came to the office of Z. Snow and
+Co. This time it came, not from the War Department direct, but from the
+Boston headquarters of the American Red Cross.
+
+And this time, just as on the day when the other fateful telegram came,
+Laban Keeler was the first of the office regulars to learn its contents.
+Ben Kelley himself brought this message, just as he had brought that
+telling of Albert Speranza's death. And the usually stolid Ben was
+greatly excited. He strode straight from the door to the bookkeeper's
+desk.
+
+"Is the old man in, Labe?" he whispered, jerking his head toward the
+private office, the door of which happened to be shut.
+
+Laban looked at him over his spectacles. "Cap'n Lote, you mean?" he
+asked. "Yes, he's in. But he don't want to be disturbed--no, no. Goin'
+to write a couple of important letters, he said. Important ones. . . .
+Um-hm. What is it, Ben? Anything I can do for you?"
+
+Kelley did not answer that question. Instead he took a telegram from his
+pocket.
+
+"Read it, Labe," he whispered. "Read it. It's the darndest
+news--the--the darnedest good news ever you heard in your life. It don't
+seem as if it could he, but, by time, I guess 'tis. Anyhow, it's from
+the Red Cross folks and they'd ought to know."
+
+Laban stared at the telegram. It was not in the usual envelope; Kelley
+had been too anxious to bring it to its destination to bother with an
+envelope.
+
+"Read it," commanded the operator again. "See if you think Cap'n Lote
+ought to have it broke easy to him or--or what? Read it, I tell you.
+Lord sakes, it's no secret! I hollered it right out loud when it come in
+over the wire and the gang at the depot heard it. They know it and it'll
+be all over town in ten minutes. READ IT."
+
+Keeler read the telegram. His florid cheeks turned pale.
+
+"Good Lord above!" he exclaimed, under his breath.
+
+"Eh? I bet you! Shall I take it to the cap'n? Eh? What do you think?"
+
+"Wait. . . . Wait . . . I--I--My soul! My soul! Why . . . It's--it's
+true. . . . And Rachel always said . . . Why, she was right . . .
+I . . ."
+
+From without came the sound of running feet and a series of yells.
+
+"Labe! Labe!" shrieked Issy. "Oh, my crimus! . . . Labe!"
+
+He burst into the office, his eyes and mouth wide open and his hands
+waving wildly.
+
+"Labe! Labe!" he shouted again. "Have you heard it? Have you? It's true,
+too. He's alive! He's alive! He's alive!"
+
+Laban sprang from his stool. "Shut up, Is!" he commanded. "Shut up! Hold
+on! Don't--"
+
+"But he's alive, I tell you! He ain't dead! He ain't never been dead!
+Oh, my crimus! . . . Hey, Cap'n Lote! HE'S ALIVE!"
+
+Captain Zelotes was standing in the doorway of the private office. The
+noise had aroused him from his letter writing.
+
+"Who's alive? What's the matter with you this time, Is?" he demanded.
+
+"Shut up, Issy," ordered Laban, seizing the frantic Mr. Price by the
+collar. "Be still! Wait a minute."
+
+"Be still? What do I want to be still for? I cal'late Cap'n Lote'll
+holler some, too, when he hears. He's alive, Cap'n Lote, I tell ye. Let
+go of me, Labe Keeler! He's alive!"
+
+"Who's alive? What is it? Labe, YOU answer me. Who's alive?"
+
+Laban's thoughts were still in a whirl. He was still shaking from the
+news the telegraph operator had brought. Rachel Ellis was at that moment
+in his mind and he answered as she might have done.
+
+"Er--er--Robert Penfold," he said.
+
+"Robert PENFOLD! What--"
+
+Issachar could hold in no longer.
+
+"Robert Penfold nawthin'!" he shouted. "Who in thunder's he? 'Tain't
+Robert Penfold nor Robert Penholder neither. It's Al Speranza, that's
+who 'tis. He ain't killed, Cap'n Lote. He's alive and he's been alive
+all the time."
+
+Kelley stepped forward.
+
+"Looks as if 'twas so, Cap'n Snow," he said. "Here's the telegram from
+the Red Cross."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+
+There was nothing miraculous about it. That is to say, it was no more of
+a miracle than hundreds of similar cases in the World War. The papers of
+those years were constantly printing stories of men over whose supposed
+graves funeral sermons had been preached, to whose heirs insurance
+payments had been made, in whose memory grateful communities had made
+speeches and delivered eulogiums--the papers were telling of instance
+after instance of those men being discovered alive and in the flesh, as
+casuals in some French hospital or as inmates of German prison camps.
+
+Rachel Ellis had asked what was to hinder Albert's having been taken
+prisoner by the Germans and carried off by them. As a matter of fact
+nothing had hindered and that was exactly what had happened. Sergeant
+Speranza, wounded by machine gun fire and again by the explosion of the
+grenade, was found in the ruins of the cottage when the detachment of
+the enemy captured it. He was conscious and able to speak, so instead
+of being bayonetted was carried to the rear where he might be questioned
+concerning the American forces. The questioning was most unsatisfactory
+to the Prussian officers who conducted it. Albert fainted, recovered
+consciousness and fainted again. So at last the Yankee swine was left
+to die or get well and his Prussian interrogators went about other
+business, the business of escaping capture themselves. But when they
+retreated the few prisoners, mostly wounded men, were taken with them.
+
+Albert's recollections of the next few days were hazy and very doubtful.
+Pain, pain and more pain. Hours and hours--they seemed like years--of
+jolting over rough roads. Pawing-over by a fat, bearded surgeon, who
+may not have been intentionally brutal, but quite as likely may. A great
+desire to die, punctuated by occasional feeble spurts of wishing to
+live. Then more surgical man-handling, more jolting--in freight cars
+this time--a slow, miserable recovery, nurses who hated their patients
+and treated them as if they did, then, a prison camp, a German prison
+camp. Then horrors and starvation and brutality lasting many months.
+Then fever.
+
+He was wandering in that misty land between this world and the
+next when, the armistice having been signed, an American Red Cross
+representative found him. In the interval between fits of delirium
+he told this man his name and regiment and, later, the name of his
+grandparents. When it seemed sure that he was to recover the Red Cross
+representative cabled the facts to this country. And, still later, those
+facts, or the all-important fact that Sergeant Albert M. C. Speranza was
+not dead but alive, came by telegraph to Captain Zelotes Snow of South
+Harniss. And, two months after that, Captain Zelotes himself, standing
+on the wharf in Boston and peering up at a crowded deck above him, saw
+the face of his grandson, that face which he had never expected to see
+again, looking eagerly down upon him.
+
+A few more weeks and it was over. The brief interval of camp life and
+the mustering out were things of the past. Captain Lote and Albert,
+seated in the train, were on their way down the Cape, bound home. Home!
+The word had a significance now which it never had before. Home!
+
+Albert drew a long breath. "By George!" he exclaimed. "By George,
+Grandfather, this looks good to me!"
+
+It might not have looked as good to another person. It was raining, the
+long stretches of salt marsh were windswept and brown and bleak. In the
+distance Cape Cod Bay showed gray and white against a leaden sky. The
+drops ran down the dingy car windows.
+
+Captain Zelotes understood, however. He nodded.
+
+"It used to look good to me when I was bound home after a v'yage," he
+observed. "Well, son, I cal'late your grandma and Rachel are up to the
+depot by this time waitin' for you. We ain't due for pretty nigh an hour
+yet, but I'd be willin' to bet they're there."
+
+Albert smiled. "My, I do want to see them!" he said.
+
+"Shouldn't wonder a mite if they wanted to see you, boy. Well, I'm kind
+of glad I shooed that reception committee out of the way. I presumed
+likely you'd rather have your first day home to yourself--and us."
+
+"I should say so! Newspaper reporters are a lot of mighty good fellows,
+but I hope I never see another one. . . . That's rather ungrateful, I
+know," he added, with a smile, "but I mean it--just now."
+
+He had some excuse for meaning it. The death of Albert Speranza, poet
+and warrior, had made a newspaper sensation. His resurrection and return
+furnished material for another. Captain Zelotes was not the only person
+to meet the transport at the pier; a delegation of reporters was there
+also. Photographs of Sergeant Speranza appeared once more in print. This
+time, however, they were snapshots showing him in uniform, likenesses
+of a still handsome, but less boyish young man, thinner, a scar upon
+his right cheek, and the look in his eyes more serious, and infinitely
+older, the look of one who had borne much and seen more. The reporters
+found it difficult to get a story from the returned hero. He seemed to
+shun the limelight and to be almost unduly modest and retiring, which
+was of itself, had they but known it, a transformation sufficiently
+marvelous to have warranted a special "Sunday special."
+
+"Will not talk about himself," so one writer headed his article. Gertie
+Kendrick, with a brand-new ring upon her engagement finger, sniffed as
+she read that headline to Sam Thatcher, who had purchased the ring. "Al
+Speranza won't talk about himself!" exclaimed Gertie. "Well, it's the
+FIRST time, then. No wonder they put it in the paper."
+
+But Albert would not talk, claiming that he had done nothing worth
+talking about, except to get himself taken prisoner in almost his first
+engagement. "Go and ask some of the other fellows aboard here," he
+urged. "They have been all through it." As he would not talk the
+newspaper men were obliged to talk for him, which they did by describing
+his appearance and his manner, and by rehashing the story of the fight
+in the French village. Also, of course, they republished some of his
+verses. The Lances of Dawn appeared in a special edition in honor of its
+author's reappearance on this earth.
+
+"Yes sir," continued Captain Zelotes, "the reception committee was
+consider'ble disappointed. They'd have met you with the Orham band if
+they'd had their way. I told 'em you'd heard all the band music you
+wanted in camp, I guessed likely, and you'd rather come home quiet.
+There was goin' to be some speeches, too, but I had them put off."
+
+"Thanks, Grandfather."
+
+"Um-hm. I had a notion you wouldn't hanker for speeches. If you do
+Issy'll make one for you 'most any time. Ever since you got into the
+papers Issy's been swellin' up like a hot pop-over with pride because
+you and he was what he calls chummies. All last summer Issachar spent
+his evenin's hangin' around the hotel waitin' for the next boarder to
+mention your name. Sure as one did Is was ready for him. 'Know him?'
+he'd sing out. 'Did I know Al Speranza? ME? Well, now say!--' And so on,
+long as the feller would listen. I asked him once if he ever told any of
+'em how you ducked him with the bucket of water. He didn't think I knew
+about that and it kind of surprised him, I judged."
+
+Albert smiled. "Laban told you about it, I suppose," he said. "What a
+kid trick that was, wasn't it?"
+
+The captain turned his head and regarded him for an instant. The old
+twinkle was in his eye when he spoke.
+
+"Wouldn't do a thing like that now, Al, I presume likely?" he said.
+"Feel a good deal older now, eh?"
+
+Albert's answer was seriously given.
+
+"Sometimes I feel at least a hundred and fifty," he replied.
+
+"Humph! . . . Well, I wouldn't feel like that. If you're a hundred and
+fifty I must be a little older than Methuselah was in his last years.
+I'm feelin' younger to-day, younger than I have for quite a spell. Yes,
+for quite a spell."
+
+His grandson put a hand on his knee. "Good for you, Grandfather," he
+said. "Now tell me more about Labe. Do you know I think the old chap's
+sticking by his pledge is the bulliest thing I've heard since I've been
+home."
+
+So they talked of Laban and of Rachel and of South Harniss happenings
+until the train drew up at the platform of that station. And upon that
+platform stepped Albert to feel his grandmother's arms about him and her
+voice, tremulous with happiness, at his ear. And behind her loomed Mrs.
+Ellis, her ample face a combination of smiles and tears, "all sunshine
+and fair weather down below but rainin' steady up aloft," as Captain
+Lote described it afterwards. And behind her, like a foothill in
+the shadow of a mountain, was Laban. And behind Laban--No, that is a
+mistake--in front of Laban and beside Laban and in front of and beside
+everyone else when opportunity presented was Issachar. And Issachar's
+expression and bearings were wonderful to see. A stranger, and there
+were several strangers amid the group at the station, might have gained
+the impression that Mr. Price, with of course a very little help from
+the Almighty, was responsible for everything.
+
+"Why, Issy!" exclaimed Albert, when they shook hands. "You're here, too,
+eh?"
+
+Mr. Price's already protuberant chest swelled still further. His reply
+had the calmness of finality.
+
+"Yes, sir," said Issy, "I'm here. 'Who's goin' to look out for Z. Snow
+and Co. if all hands walks out and leaves 'em?' Labe says. 'I don't
+know,' says I, 'and I don't care. I'm goin' to that depot to meet Al
+Speranzy and if Z. Snow and Co. goes to pot while I'm gone I can't help
+it. I have sacrificed,' I says, 'and I stand ready to sacrifice pretty
+nigh everything for my business, but there's limits and this is one of
+'em. I'm goin' acrost to that depot to meet him,' says I, 'and don't you
+try to stop me, Labe Keeler.'"
+
+"Great stuff, Is!" said Albert, with a laugh. "What did Labe say to
+that?"
+
+"What was there for him to say? He could see I meant it. Course he hove
+out some of his cheap talk, but it didn't amount to nothin'. Asked if I
+wan't goin' to put up a sign sayin' when I'd be back, so's to ease the
+customers' minds. 'I don't know when I'll be back,' I says. 'All right,'
+says he, 'put that on the sign. That'll ease 'em still more.' Just cheap
+talk 'twas. He thinks he's funny, but I don't pay no attention to him."
+
+Others came to shake hands and voice a welcome. The formal reception,
+that with the band, had been called off at Captain Zelotes's request,
+but the informal one was, in spite of the rain, which was now much less
+heavy, quite a sizable gathering.
+
+The Reverend Mr. Kendall held his hand for a long time and talked much,
+it seemed to Albert that he had aged greatly since they last met. He
+wandered a bit in his remarks and repeated himself several times.
+
+"The poor old gentleman's failin' a good deal, Albert," said Mrs. Snow,
+as they drove home together, he and his grandparents, three on the
+seat of the buggy behind Jessamine. "His sermons are pretty tiresome
+nowadays, but we put up with 'em because he's been with us so long. . . .
+Ain't you squeezed 'most to death, Albert? You two big men and me all
+mashed together on this narrow seat. It's lucky I'm small. Zelotes ought
+to get a two-seated carriage, but he won't."
+
+"Next thing I get, Mother," observed the captain, "will be an
+automobile. I'll stick to the old mare here as long as she's able to
+navigate, but when she has to be hauled out of commission I'm goin'
+to buy a car. I believe I'm pretty nigh the last man in this county
+to drive a horse, as 'tis. Makes me feel like what Sol Dadgett calls
+a cracked teapot--a 'genuine antique.' One of these city women will be
+collectin' me some of these days. Better look out, mother."
+
+Olive sighed happily. "It does me good to hear you joke again,
+Zelotes," she said. "He didn't joke much, Albert, while--when we thought
+you--you--"
+
+Albert interrupted in time to prevent the threatened shower.
+
+"So Mr. Kendall is not well," he said. "I'm very sorry to hear it."
+
+"Of course you would be. You and he used to be so friendly when Helen
+was home. Oh, speakin' of Helen, she IS comin' home in a fortni't or
+three weeks, so I hear. She's goin' to give up her teachin' and come
+back to be company for her father. I suppose she realizes he needs her,
+but it must be a big sacrifice for her, givin' up the good position
+she's got now. She's such a smart girl and such a nice one. Why, she
+came to see us after the news came--the bad news--and she was so kind
+and so good. I don't know what we should have done without her. Zelotes
+says so too, don't you, Zelotes?"
+
+Her husband did not answer. Instead he said: "Well, there's home, Al.
+Rachel's there ahead of us and dinner's on the way, judgin' by the smoke
+from the kitchen chimney. How does the old place look to you, boy?"
+
+Albert merely shook his head and drew a long breath, but his
+grandparents seemed to be quite satisfied.
+
+There were letters and telegrams awaiting him on the table in the
+sitting-room. Two of the letters were postmarked from a town on the
+Florida coast. The telegram also was from that same town.
+
+"_I_ had one of those things," observed Captain Zelotes, alluding to
+the telegram. "Fosdick sent me one of those long ones, night-letters
+I believe they call 'em. He wants me to tell you that Mrs. Fosdick is
+better and that they cal'late to be in New York before very long and
+shall expect you there. Of course you knew that, Al, but I presume
+likely the main idea of the telegram was to help say, 'Welcome home' to
+you, that's all."
+
+Albert nodded. Madeline and her mother had been in Florida all winter.
+Mrs. Fosdick's health was not good. She declared that her nerves had
+given way under her frightful responsibilities during the war. There
+was, although it seems almost sacrilege to make such a statement, a
+certain similarity between Mrs. Fletcher Fosdick and Issachar Price. The
+telegram was, as his grandfather surmised, an expression of welcome and
+of regret that the senders could not be there to share in the reception.
+The two letters which accompanied it he put in his pocket to read later
+on, when alone. Somehow he felt that the first hours in the old
+house belonged exclusively to his grandparents. Everything else, even
+Madeline's letters, must take second place for that period.
+
+Dinner was, to say the least, an ample meal. Rachel and Olive had, as
+Captain Lote said, "laid themselves out" on that dinner. It began well
+and continued well and ended best of all, for the dessert was one of
+which Albert was especially fond. They kept pressing him to eat until
+Laban, who was an invited guest, was moved to comment.
+
+"Humph!" observed Mr. Keeler. "I knew 'twas the reg'lar program to
+kill the fatted calf when the prodigal got home, but I see now it's the
+proper caper to fat up the prodigal to take the critter's place. No, no,
+Rachel, I'd like fust-rate to eat another bushel or so to please you,
+but somethin'--that still, small voice we're always readin' about, or
+somethin'--seems to tell me 'twouldn't be good jedgment. . . . Um-hm.
+. . . 'Twouldn't be good jedgment. . . . Cal'late it's right, too. . . .
+Yes, yes, yes."
+
+"Now, Cap'n Lote," he added, as they rose from the table, "you stay
+right to home here for the rest of the day. I'll hustle back to the
+office and see if Issy's importance has bust his b'iler for him.
+So-long, Al. See you pretty soon. Got some things to talk about, you and
+I have. . . . Yes, yes."
+
+Later, when Rachel was in the kitchen with the dishes, Olive left the
+sitting room and reappeared with triumph written large upon her face. In
+one hand she held a mysterious envelope and in the other a book. Albert
+recognized that book. It was his own, The Lances of Dawn. It was
+no novelty to him. When first the outside world and he had reopened
+communication, copies of that book had been sent him. His publisher
+had sent them, Madeline had sent them, his grandparents had sent them,
+comrades had sent them, nurses and doctors and newspaper men had brought
+them. No, The Lances of Dawn was not a novelty to its author. But he
+wondered what was in the envelope.
+
+Mrs. Snow enlightened him. "You sit right down now, Albert," she said.
+"Sit right down and listen because I've got somethin' to tell you. Yes,
+and somethin' to show you, too. Here! Stop now, Zelotes! You can't run
+away. You've got to sit down and look on and listen, too."
+
+Captain Zelotes smiled resignedly. There was, or so it seemed to his
+grandson, an odd expression on his face. He looked pleased, but not
+altogether pleased. However, he obeyed his wife's orders and sat.
+
+"Stop, look and listen," he observed. "Mother, you sound like a railroad
+crossin'. All right, here I am. Al, the society of 'What did I tell you'
+is goin' to have a meetin'."
+
+His wife nodded. "Well," she said, triumphantly, "what DID I tell you?
+Wasn't I right?"
+
+The captain pulled his beard and nodded.
+
+"Right as right could be, Mother," he admitted. "Your figgers was a
+few hundred thousand out of the way, maybe, but barrin' that you was
+perfectly right."
+
+"Well, I'm glad to hear you say so for once in your life. Albert,"
+holding up the envelope, "do you know what this is?"
+
+Albert, much puzzled, admitted that he did not. His grandmother put down
+the book, opened the envelope and took from it a slip of paper.
+
+"And can you guess what THIS is?" she asked. Albert could not guess.
+
+"It's a check, that's what it is. It's the first six months' royalties,
+that's what they call 'em, on that beautiful book of yours. And how much
+do you suppose 'tis?"
+
+Albert shook his head. "Twenty-five dollars?" he suggested jokingly.
+
+"Twenty-five dollars! It's over twenty-five HUNDRED dollars. It's
+twenty-eight hundred and forty-three dollars and sixty-five cents,
+that's what it is. Think of it! Almost three thousand dollars! And
+Zelotes prophesied that 'twouldn't be more than--"
+
+Her husband held up his hand. "Sh-sh! Sh-sh, Mother," he said. "Don't
+get started on what I prophesied or we won't be through till doomsday.
+I'll give in right off that I'm the worst prophet since the feller that
+h'isted the 'Fair and Dry' signal the day afore Noah's flood begun. You
+see," he explained, turning to Albert, "your grandma figgered out that
+you'd probably clear about half a million on that book of poetry, Al. I
+cal'lated 'twan't likely to be much more'n a couple of hundred thousand,
+so--"
+
+"Why, Zelotes Snow! You said--"
+
+"Yes, yes. So I did, Mother, so I did. You was right and I was wrong.
+Twenty-eight hundred ain't exactly a million, Al, but it's a darn sight
+more than I ever cal'lated you'd make from that book. Or 'most anybody
+else ever made from any book, fur's that goes," he added, with a shake
+of the head. "I declare, I--I don't understand it yet. And a poetry
+book, too! Who in time BUYS 'em all? Eh?"
+
+Albert was looking at the check and the royalty statement.
+
+"So this is why I couldn't get any satisfaction from the publisher," he
+observed. "I wrote him two or three times about my royalties, and he put
+me off each time. I began to think there weren't any."
+
+Captain Zelotes smiled. "That's your grandma's doin's," he observed.
+"The check came to us a good while ago, when we thought you
+was--was--well, when we thought--"
+
+"Yes. Surely, I understand," put in Albert, to help him out.
+
+"Yes. That's when 'twas. And Mother, she was so proud of it, because
+you'd earned it, Al, that she kept it and kept it, showin' it to all
+hands and--and so on. And then when we found out you wasn't--that you'd
+be home some time or other--why, then she wouldn't let me put it in the
+bank for you because she wanted to give it to you herself. That's what
+she said was the reason. I presume likely the real one was that
+she wanted to flap it in my face every time she crowed over my bad
+prophesyin', which was about three times a day and four on Sundays."
+
+"Zelotes Snow, the idea!"
+
+"All right, Mother, all right. Anyhow, she got me to write your
+publisher man and ask him not to give you any satisfaction about those
+royalties, so's she could be the fust one to paralyze you with 'em.
+And," with a frank outburst, "if you ain't paralyzed, Al, I own up that
+_I_ am. Three thousand poetry profits beats me. _I_ don't understand
+it."
+
+His wife sniffed. "Of course you don't," she declared. "But Albert does.
+And so do I, only I think it ought to have been ever and ever so much
+more. Don't you, yourself, Albert?"
+
+The author of The Lances of Dawn was still looking at the statement of
+its earnings.
+
+"Approximately eighteen thousand sold at fifteen cents royalty," he
+observed. "Humph! Well, I'll be hanged!"
+
+"But you said it would be twenty-five cents, not fifteen," protested
+Olive. "In your letter when the book was first talked about you said
+so."
+
+Albert smiled. "Did I?" he observed. "Well, I said a good many things
+in those days, I'm afraid. Fifteen cents for a first book, especially a
+book of verse, is fair enough, I guess. But eighteen thousand SOLD! That
+is what gets me."
+
+"You mean you think it ought to be a lot more. So do I, Albert, and so
+does Rachel. Why, we like it a lot better than we do David Harum. That
+was a nice book, but it wasn't lovely poetry like yours. And David
+Harum sold a million. Why shouldn't yours sell as many? Only eighteen
+thousand--why are you lookin' at me so funny?"
+
+Her grandson rose to his feet. "Let's let well enough alone,
+Grandmother," he said. "Eighteen thousand will do, thank you. I'm like
+Grandfather, I'm wondering who on earth bought them."
+
+Mrs. Snow was surprised and a little troubled.
+
+"Why, Albert," she said, "you act kind of--kind of queer, seems to me.
+You talk as if your poetry wasn't beautiful. You know it is. You used to
+say it was, yourself."
+
+He interrupted her. "Did I, Grandmother?" he said. "All right, then,
+probably I did. Let's walk about the old place a little. I want to see
+it all. By George, I've been dreaming about it long enough!"
+
+There were callers that afternoon, friends among the townsfolk, and more
+still after supper. It was late--late for South Harniss, that is--when
+Albert, standing in the doorway of the bedroom he nor they had ever
+expected he would occupy again, bade his grandparents good night. Olive
+kissed him again and again and, speech failing her, hastened away down
+the hall. Captain Zelotes shook his hand, opened his mouth to speak,
+shut it again, repeated both operations, and at last with a brief,
+"Well, good night, Al," hurried after his wife. Albert closed the door,
+put his lamp upon the bureau, and sat down in the big rocker.
+
+In a way the night was similar to that upon which he had first entered
+that room. It had ceased raining, but the wind, as on that first night,
+was howling and whining about the eaves, the shutters rattled and the
+old house creaked and groaned rheumatically. It was not as cold as
+on that occasion, though by no means warm. He remembered how bare and
+comfortless he had thought the room. Now it looked almost luxurious. And
+he had been homesick, or fancied himself in that condition. Compared
+to the homesickness he had known during the past eighteen months that
+youthful seizure seemed contemptible and quite without excuse. He looked
+about the room again, looked long and lovingly. Then, with a sigh of
+content, drew from his pocket the two letters which had lain upon the
+sitting-room table when he arrived, opened them and began to read.
+
+Madeline wrote, as always, vivaciously and at length. The maternal
+censorship having been removed, she wrote exactly as she felt. She could
+scarcely believe he was really going to be at home when he received
+this, at home in dear, quaint, queer old South Harniss. Just think,
+she had not seen the place for ever and ever so long, not for over two
+years. How were all the funny, odd people who lived there all the time?
+Did he remember how he and she used to go to church every Sunday and sit
+through those dreadful, DREADFUL sermons by that prosy old minister
+just as an excuse for meeting each other afterward? She was SO sorry she
+could not have been there to welcome her hero when he stepped from the
+train. If it hadn't been for Mother's poor nerves she surely would have
+been. He knew it, didn't he? Of course he did. But she should see him
+soon "because Mother is planning already to come back to New York in a
+few weeks and then you are to run over immediately and make us a LONG
+visit. And I shall be so PROUD of you. There are lots of Army fellows
+down here now, officers for the most part. So we dance and are very
+gay--that is, the other girls are; I, being an engaged young lady, am
+very circumspect and demure, of course. Mother carries The Lances about
+with her wherever she goes, to teas and such things, and reads aloud
+from it often. Captain Blanchard, he is one of the family's officer
+friends, is crazy about your poetry, dear. He thinks it WONDERFUL. You
+know what _I_ think of it, don't you, and when I think that _I_ actually
+helped you, or played at helping you write some of it!
+
+"And I am WILD to see your war cross. Some of the officers here have
+them--the crosses, I mean--but not many. Captain Blanchard has the
+military medal, and he is almost as modest about it as you are about
+your decoration. I don't see how you CAN be so modest. If _I_ had a
+Croix de Guerre I should want EVERY ONE to know about it. At the tea
+dance the other afternoon there was a British major who--"
+
+And so on. The second letter was really a continuation of the first.
+Albert read them both and, after the reading was finished, sat for some
+time in the rocking chair, quite regardless of the time and the cold,
+thinking. He took from his pocketbook a photograph, one which Madeline
+had sent him months before, which had reached him while he lay in the
+French hospital after his removal from the German camp. He looked at
+the pretty face in the photograph. She looked just as he remembered her,
+almost exactly as she had looked more than two years before, smiling,
+charming, carefree. She had not, apparently, grown older, those age-long
+months had not changed her. He rose and regarded his own reflection in
+the mirror of the bureau. He was surprised, as he was constantly being
+surprised, to see that he, too, had not changed greatly in personal
+appearance.
+
+He walked about the room. His grandmother had told him that his room was
+just as he had left it. "I wouldn't change it, Albert," she said,
+"even when we thought you--you wasn't comin' back. I couldn't touch it,
+somehow. I kept thinkin', 'Some day I will. Pretty soon I MUST.' But I
+never did, and now I'm so glad."
+
+He wandered back to the bureau and pulled open the upper drawers. In
+those drawers were so many things, things which he had kept there,
+either deliberately or because he was too indolent to destroy them. Old
+dance cards, invitations, and a bundle of photographs, snapshots. He
+removed the rubber band from the bundle and stood looking them over.
+Photographs of school fellows, of picnic groups, of girls. Sam Thatcher,
+Gertie Kendrick--and Helen Kendall. There were at least a dozen of
+Helen.
+
+One in particular was very good. From that photograph the face of
+Helen as he had known it four years before looked straight up into
+his--clear-eyed, honest, a hint of humor and understanding and
+common-sense in the gaze and at the corners of the lips. He looked at
+the photograph, and the photograph looked up at him. He had not seen
+her for so long a time. He wondered if the war had changed her as it had
+changed him. Somehow he hoped it had not. Change did not seem necessary
+in her case.
+
+There had been no correspondence between them since her letter written
+when she heard of his enlistment. He had not replied to that because
+he knew Madeline would not wish him to do so. He wondered if she ever
+thought of him now, if she remembered their adventure at High Point
+light. He had thought of her often enough. In those days and nights of
+horror in the prison camp and hospital he had found a little relief, a
+little solace in lying with closed eyes and summoning back from memory
+the things of home and the faces of home. And her face had been one of
+these. Her face and those of his grandparents and Rachel and Laban, and
+visions of the old house and the rooms--they were the substantial things
+to cling to and he had clung to them. They WERE home. Madeline--ah! yes,
+he had longed for her and dreamed of her, God knew, but Madeline, of
+course, was different.
+
+He snapped the rubber band once more about the bundle of photographs,
+closed the drawer and prepared for bed.
+
+For the two weeks following his return home he had a thoroughly good
+time. It was a tremendous comfort to get up when he pleased, to eat the
+things he liked, to do much or little or nothing at his own sweet will.
+He walked a good deal, tramping along the beach in the blustering wind
+and chilly sunshine and enjoying every breath of the clean salt air. He
+thought much during those solitary walks, and at times, at home in the
+evenings, he would fall to musing and sit silent for long periods. His
+grandmother was troubled.
+
+"Don't it seem to you, Zelotes," she asked her husband, "as if Albert
+was kind of discontented or unsatisfied these days? He's so--so sort
+of fidgety. Talks like the very mischief for ten minutes and then don't
+speak for half an hour. Sits still for a long stretch and then jumps up
+and starts off walkin' as if he was crazy. What makes him act so? He's
+kind of changed from what he used to be. Don't you think so?"
+
+The captain patted her shoulder. "Don't worry, Mother," he said. "Al's
+older than he was and what he's been through has made him older still.
+As for the fidgety part of it, the settin' down and jumpin' up and all
+that, that's the way they all act, so far as I can learn. Elisha Warren,
+over to South Denboro, tells me his nephew has been that way ever since
+he got back. Don't fret, Mother, Al will come round all right."
+
+"I didn't know but he might be anxious to see--to see her, you know."
+
+"Her? Oh, you mean the Fosdick girl. Well, he'll be goin' to see her
+pretty soon, I presume likely. They're due back in New York 'most any
+time now, I believe. . . . Oh, hum! Why in time couldn't he--"
+
+"Couldn't he what, Zelotes?"
+
+"Oh, nothin', nothin'."
+
+The summons came only a day after this conversation. It came in the form
+of another letter from Madeline and one from Mrs. Fosdick. They were, so
+the latter wrote, back once more in their city home, her nerves, thank
+Heaven, were quite strong again, and they were expecting him, Albert, to
+come on at once. "We are all dying to see you," wrote Mrs. Fosdick. "And
+poor, dear Madeline, of course, is counting the moments."
+
+"Stay as long as you feel like, Al," said the captain, when told of the
+proposed visit. "It's the dull season at the office, anyhow, and Labe
+and I can get along first-rate, with Issy to superintend. Stay as long
+as you want to, only--"
+
+"Only what, Grandfather?"
+
+"Only don't want to stay too long. That is, don't fall in love with New
+York so hard that you forget there is such a place as South Harniss."
+
+Albert smiled. "I've been in places farther away than New York," he
+said, "and I never forgot South Harniss."
+
+"Um-hm. . . . Well, I shouldn't be surprised if that was so. But you'll
+have better company in New York than you did in some of those places.
+Give my regards to Fosdick. So-long, Al."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+
+The Fosdick car was at the Grand Central Station when the Knickerbocker
+Limited pulled in. And Madeline, a wonderfully furred and veiled and
+hatted Madeline, was waiting there behind the rail as he came up the
+runway from the train. It was amazing the fact that it was really she.
+It was more amazing still to kiss her there in public, to hold her hand
+without fear that some one might see. To--
+
+"Shall I take your bags, sir?"
+
+It was the Fosdick footman who asked it. Albert started guiltily. Then
+he laughed, realizing that the hand-holding and the rest were no longer
+criminal offenses. He surrendered his luggage to the man. A few minutes
+later he and Madeline were in the limousine, which was moving rapidly
+up the Avenue. And Madeline was asking questions and he was answering
+and--and still it was all a dream. It COULDN'T be real.
+
+It was even more like a dream when the limousine drew up before the door
+of the Fosdick home and they entered that home together. For there was
+Mrs. Fosdick, as ever majestic, commanding, awe-inspiring, the same Mrs.
+Fosdick who had, in her letter to his grandfather, written him down a
+despicable, underhanded sneak, here was that same Mrs. Fosdick--but not
+at all the same. For this lady was smiling and gracious, welcoming him
+to her home, addressing him by his Christian name, treating him kindly,
+with almost motherly tenderness. Madeline's letters and Mrs. Fosdick's
+own letters received during his convalescence abroad had prepared him,
+or so he had thought, for some such change. Now he realized that he had
+not been prepared at all. The reality was so much more revolutionary
+than the anticipation that he simply could not believe it.
+
+But it was not so very wonderful if he had known all the facts and had
+been in a frame of mind to calmly analyze them. Mrs. Fletcher Fosdick
+was a seasoned veteran, a general who had planned and fought many
+hard campaigns upon the political battlegrounds of women's clubs and
+societies of various sorts. From the majority of those campaigns she had
+emerged victorious, but her experiences in defeat had taught her that
+the next best thing to winning is to lose gracefully, because by
+so doing much which appears to be lost may be regained. For Albert
+Speranza, bookkeeper and would-be poet of South Harniss, Cape Cod,
+she had had no use whatever as a prospective son-in-law. Even toward a
+living Albert Speranza, hero and newspaper-made genius, she might have
+been cold. But when that hero and genius was, as she and every one else
+supposed, safely and satisfactorily dead and out of the way, she had
+seized the opportunity to bask in the radiance of his memory. She had
+talked Albert Speranza and read Albert Speranza and boasted of Albert
+Speranza's engagement to her daughter before the world. Now that the
+said Albert Speranza had been inconsiderate enough to "come alive
+again," there was but one thing for her to do--that is, to make the best
+of it. And when Mrs. Fletcher Fosdick made the best of anything she made
+the very best.
+
+"It doesn't make any difference," she told her husband, "whether he
+really is a genius or whether he isn't. We have said he is and now
+we must keep on saying it. And if he can't earn his salt by his
+writings--which he probably can't--then you must fix it in some way so
+that he can make-believe earn it by something else. He is engaged to
+Madeline, and we have told every one that he is, so he will have to
+marry her; at least, I see no way to prevent it."
+
+"Humph!" grunted Fosdick. "And after that I'll have to support them, I
+suppose."
+
+"Probably--unless you want your only child to starve."
+
+"Well, I must say, Henrietta--"
+
+"You needn't, for there is nothing more TO say. We're in it and, whether
+we like it or not, we must make the best of it. To do anything now
+except appear joyful about it would be to make ourselves perfectly
+ridiculous. We can't do that, and you know it."
+
+Her husband still looked everything but contented.
+
+"So far as the young fellow himself goes," he said, "I like him, rather.
+I've talked with him only once, of course, and then he and I weren't
+agreeing exactly. But I liked him, nevertheless. If he were anything but
+a fool poet I should be more reconciled."
+
+He was snubbed immediately. "THAT," declared Mrs. Fosdick, with
+decision, "is the only thing that makes him possible."
+
+So Mrs. Fosdick's welcome was whole-handed if not whole-hearted. And her
+husband's also was cordial and intimate. The only member of the Fosdick
+household who did not regard the guest with favor was Googoo. That
+aristocratic bull-pup was still irreconcilably hostile. When Albert
+attempted to pet him he appeared to be planning to devour the caressing
+hand, and when rebuked by his mistress retired beneath a davenport,
+growling ominously. Even when ignominiously expelled from the room he
+growled and cast longing backward glances at the Speranza ankles. No,
+Googoo did not dissemble; Albert was perfectly sure of his standing in
+Googoo's estimation.
+
+Dinner that evening was a trifle more formal than he had expected, and
+he was obliged to apologize for the limitations of his wardrobe. His
+dress suit of former days he had found much too dilapidated for use.
+Besides, he had outgrown it.
+
+"I thought I was thinner," he said, "and I think I am. But I must have
+broadened a bit. At any rate, all the coats I left behind won't do at
+all. I shall have to do what Captain Snow, my grandfather, calls 'refit'
+here in New York. In a day or two I hope to be more presentable."
+
+Mrs. Fosdick assured him that it was quite all right, really. Madeline
+asked why he didn't wear his uniform. "I was dying to see you in it,"
+she said. "Just think, I never have."
+
+Albert laughed. "You have been spared," he told her. "Mine was not a
+triumph, so far as fit was concerned. Of course, I had a complete new
+rig when I came out of the hospital, but even that was not beautiful.
+It puckered where it should have bulged and bulged where it should have
+been smooth."
+
+Madeline professed not to believe him.
+
+"Nonsense!" she declared. "I don't believe it. Why, almost all the
+fellows I know have been in uniform for the past two years and theirs
+fitted beautifully."
+
+"But they were officers, weren't they, and their uniforms were custom
+made."
+
+"Why, I suppose so. Aren't all uniforms custom made?"
+
+Her father laughed. "Scarcely, Maddie," he said. "The privates have
+their custom-made by the mile and cut off in chunks for the individual.
+That was about it, wasn't it, Speranza?"
+
+"Just about, sir."
+
+Mrs. Fosdick evidently thought that the conversation was taking a rather
+low tone. She elevated it by asking what his thoughts were when taken
+prisoner by the Germans. He looked puzzled.
+
+"Thoughts, Mrs. Fosdick?" he repeated. "I don't know that I understand,
+exactly. I was only partly conscious and in a good deal of pain and my
+thoughts were rather incoherent, I'm afraid."
+
+"But when you regained consciousness, you know. What were your thoughts
+then? Did you realize that you had made the great sacrifice for your
+country? Risked your life and forfeited your liberty and all that for
+the cause? Wasn't it a great satisfaction to feel that you had done
+that?"
+
+Albert's laugh was hearty and unaffected. "Why, no," he said. "I think
+what I was realizing most just then was that I had made a miserable mess
+of the whole business. Failed in doing what I set out to do and been
+taken prisoner besides. I remember thinking, when I was clear-headed
+enough to think anything, 'You fool, you spent months getting into this
+war, and then got yourself out of it in fifteen minutes.' And it WAS a
+silly trick, too."
+
+Madeline was horrified.
+
+"What DO you mean?" she cried. "Your going back there to rescue your
+comrade a silly trick! The very thing that won you your Croix de
+Guerre?"
+
+"Why, yes, in a way. I didn't save Mike, poor fellow--"
+
+"Mike! Was his name Mike?"
+
+"Yes; Michael Francis Xavier Kelly. A South Boston Mick he was, and one
+of the finest, squarest boys that ever drew breath. Well, poor Mike was
+dead when I got to him, so my trip had been for nothing, and if he had
+been alive I could not have prevented his being taken. As it was, he
+was dead and I was a prisoner. So nothing was gained and, for me,
+personally, a good deal was lost. It wasn't a brilliant thing to do.
+But," he added apologetically, "a chap doesn't have time to think
+collectively in such a scrape. And it was my first real scrap and I was
+frightened half to death, besides."
+
+"Frightened! Why, I never heard anything so ridiculous! What--"
+
+"One moment, Madeline." It was Mrs. Fosdick who interrupted. "I want
+to ask--er--Albert a question. I want to ask him if during his long
+imprisonment he composed--wrote, you know. I should have thought the
+sights and experiences would have forced one to express one's self--that
+is, one to whom the gift of expression was so generously granted," she
+added, with a gracious nod.
+
+Albert hesitated.
+
+"Why, at first I did," he said. "When I first was well enough to think,
+I used to try to write--verses. I wrote a good many. Afterwards I tore
+them up."
+
+"Tore them up!" Both Mrs. and Miss Fosdick uttered this exclamation.
+
+"Why, yes. You see, they were such rot. The things I wanted to write
+about, the things _I_ had seen and was seeing, the--the fellows like
+Mike and their pluck and all that--well, it was all too big for me
+to tackle. My jingles sounded, when I read them over, like tunes on a
+street piano. _I_ couldn't do it. A genius might have been equal to the
+job, but I wasn't."
+
+Mrs. Fosdick glanced at her husband. There was something of alarmed
+apprehension in the glance. Madeline's next remark covered the
+situation. It expressed the absolute truth, so much more of the truth
+than even the young lady herself realized at the time.
+
+"Why, Albert Speranza," she exclaimed, "I never heard you speak of
+yourself and your work in that way before. Always--ALWAYS you have had
+such complete, such splendid confidence in yourself. You were never
+afraid to attempt ANYTHING. You MUST not talk so. Don't you intend to
+write any more?"
+
+Albert looked at her. "Oh, yes, indeed," he said simply. "That is just
+what I do intend to do--or try to do."
+
+That evening, alone in the library, he and Madeline had their first
+long, intimate talk, the first since those days--to him they seemed as
+far away as the last century--when they walked the South Harniss beach
+together, walked beneath the rainbows and dreamed. And now here was
+their dream coming true.
+
+Madeline, he was realizing it as he looked at her, was prettier than
+ever. She had grown a little older, of course, a little more mature, but
+surprisingly little. She was still a girl, a very, very pretty girl and
+a charming girl. And he--
+
+"What are you thinking about?" she demanded suddenly.
+
+He came to himself. "I was thinking about you," he said. "You are just
+as you used to be, just as charming and just as sweet. You haven't
+changed."
+
+She smiled and then pouted.
+
+"I don't know whether to like that or not," she said. "Did you expect to
+find me less--charming and the rest?"
+
+"Why, no, of course not. That was clumsy on my part. What I meant was
+that--well, it seems ages, centuries, since we were together there on
+the Cape--and yet you have not changed."
+
+She regarded him reflectively.
+
+"You have," she said.
+
+"Have what?"
+
+"Changed. You have changed a good deal. I don't know whether I like it
+or not. Perhaps I shall be more certain by and by. Now show me your war
+cross. At least you have brought that, even if you haven't brought your
+uniform."
+
+He had the cross in his pocket-book and he showed it to her. She
+enthused over it, of course, and wished he might wear it even when in
+citizen's clothes. She didn't see why he couldn't. And it was SUCH
+a pity he could not be in uniform. Captain Blanchard had called
+the evening before, to see Mother about some war charities she was
+interested in, and he was still in uniform and wearing his decorations,
+too. Albert suggested that probably Blanchard was still in service.
+Yes, she believed he was, but she could not see why that should make the
+difference. Albert had BEEN in service.
+
+He laughed at this and attempted to explain. She seemed to resent the
+attempt or the tone.
+
+"I do wish," she said almost pettishly, "that you wouldn't be so
+superior."
+
+He was surprised. "Superior!" he repeated. "Superior! I? Superiority is
+the very least of my feelings. I--superior! That's a joke."
+
+And, oddly enough, she resented that even more. "Why is it a joke?" she
+demanded. "I should think you had the right to feel superior to almost
+any one. A hero--and a genius! You ARE superior."
+
+However, the little flurry was but momentary, and she was all sweetness
+and smiles when she kissed him good night. He was shown to his room by
+a servant and amid its array of comforts--to him, fresh from France
+and the camp and his old room at South Harniss, it was luxuriously
+magnificent--he sat for some time thinking. His thoughts should have
+been happy ones, yet they were not entirely so. This is a curiously
+unsatisfactory world, sometimes.
+
+The next day he went shopping. Fosdick had given him a card to his own
+tailor and Madeline had given him the names of several shops where, so
+she declared, he could buy the right sort of ties and things. From the
+tailor's Albert emerged looking a trifle dazed; after a visit to two of
+the shops the dazed expression was even more pronounced. His next
+visits were at establishments farther downtown and not as exclusive.
+He returned to the Fosdick home feeling fairly well satisfied with the
+results achieved. Madeline, however, did not share his satisfaction.
+
+"But Dad sent you to his tailor," she said. "Why in the world didn't you
+order your evening clothes there? And Brett has the most stunning ties.
+Every one says so. Instead you buy yours at a department store. Now
+why?"
+
+He smiled. "My dear girl," he said, "your father's tailor estimated
+that he might make me a very passable dress suit for one hundred and
+seventy-five dollars. Brett's ties were stunning, just as you say, but
+the prices ranged from five to eight dollars, which was more stunning
+still. For a young person from the country out of a job, which is my
+condition at present, such things may be looked at but not handled. I
+can't afford them."
+
+She tossed her head. "What nonsense!" she exclaimed. "You're not out of
+a job, as you call it. You are a writer and a famous writer. You have
+written one book and you are going to write more. Besides, you must have
+made heaps of money from The Lances. Every one has been reading it."
+
+When he told her the amount of his royalty check she expressed the
+opinion that the publisher must have cheated. It ought to have been ever
+and ever so much more than that. Such wonderful poems!
+
+The next day she went to Brett's and purchased a half dozen of the most
+expensive ties, which she presented to him forthwith.
+
+"There!" she demanded. "Aren't those nicer than the ones you bought at
+that old department store? Well, then!"
+
+"But, Madeline, I must not let you buy my ties."
+
+"Why not? It isn't such an unheard-of thing for an engaged girl to give
+her fiance a necktie."
+
+"That isn't the idea. I should have bought ties like those myself, but I
+couldn't afford them. Now for you to--"
+
+"Nonsense! You talk as if you were a beggar. Don't be so silly."
+
+"But, Madeline--"
+
+"Stop! I don't want to hear it."
+
+She rose and went out of the room. She looked as if she were on the
+verge of tears. He felt obliged to accept the gift, but he disliked the
+principle of the things as much as ever. When she returned she was very
+talkative and gay and chatted all through luncheon. The subject of the
+ties was not mentioned again by either of them. He was glad he had not
+told her that his new dress suit was ready-made.
+
+While in France, awaiting his return home, he had purchased a ring
+and sent it to her. She was wearing it, of course. Compared with other
+articles of jewelry which she wore from time to time, his ring made an
+extremely modest showing. She seemed quite unaware of the discrepancy,
+but he was aware of it.
+
+On an evening later in the week Mrs. Fosdick gave a reception. "Quite
+an informal affair," she said, in announcing her intention. "Just a few
+intimate friends to meet Mr. Speranza, that is all. Mostly lovers of
+literature--discerning people, if I may say so."
+
+The quite informal affair looked quite formidably formal to Albert. The
+few intimate friends were many, so it seemed to him. There was still
+enough of the former Albert Speranza left in his make-up to prevent
+his appearing in the least distressed or ill at ease. He was, as he
+had always been when in the public eye, even as far back as the school
+dancing-classes with the Misses Bradshaw's young ladies, perfectly
+self-possessed, charmingly polite, absolutely self-assured. And his good
+looks had not suffered during his years of imprisonment and suffering.
+He was no longer a handsome boy, but he was an extraordinarily
+attractive and distinguished man.
+
+Mrs. Fosdick marked his manner and appearance and breathed a sigh of
+satisfaction. Madeline noted them. Her young friends of the sex noted
+them and whispered and looked approval. What the young men thought does
+not matter so much, perhaps. One of these was the Captain Blanchard, of
+whom Madeline had written and spoken. He was a tall, athletic chap,
+who looked well in his uniform, and whose face was that of a healthy,
+clean-living and clean-thinking young American. He and Albert shook
+hands and looked each other over. Albert decided he should like
+Blanchard if he knew him better. The captain was not talkative; in fact,
+he seemed rather taciturn. Maids and matrons gushed when presented to
+the lion of the evening. It scarcely seemed possible that they were
+actually meeting the author of The Lances of Dawn. That wonderful book!
+Those wonderful poems! "How CAN you write them, Mr. Speranza?" "When do
+your best inspirations come, Mr. Speranza?" "Oh, if I could write as
+you do I should walk on air." The matron who breathed the last-quoted
+ecstasy was distinctly weighty; the mental picture of her pedestrian
+trip through the atmosphere was interesting. Albert's hand was patted by
+the elderly spinsters, young women's eyes lifted soulful glances to his.
+
+It was the sort of thing he would have revelled in three or four years
+earlier. Exactly the sort of thing he had dreamed of when the majority
+of the poems they gushed over were written. It was much the same thing
+he remembered having seen his father undergo in the days when he and
+the opera singer were together. And his father had, apparently, rather
+enjoyed it. He realized all this--and he realized, too, with a queer
+feeling that it should be so, that he did not like it at all. It was
+silly. Nothing he had written warranted such extravagances. Hadn't these
+people any sense of proportion? They bored him to desperation. The sole
+relief was the behavior of the men, particularly the middle-aged or
+elderly men, obviously present through feminine compulsion. They seized
+his hand, moved it up and down with a pumping motion, uttered some
+stereotyped prevarications about their pleasure at meeting him and their
+having enjoyed his poems very much, and then slid on in the direction of
+the refreshment room.
+
+And Albert, as he shook hands, bowed and smiled and was charmingly
+affable, found his thoughts wandering until they settled upon Private
+Mike Kelly and the picturesque language of the latter when he, as
+sergeant, routed him out for guard duty. Mike had not gushed over him
+nor called him a genius. He had called him many things, but not that.
+
+He was glad indeed when he could slip away for a dance with Madeline. He
+found her chatting gaily with Captain Blanchard, who had been her most
+recent partner. He claimed her from the captain and as he led her out to
+the dance floor she whispered that she was very proud of him. "But I DO
+wish YOU could wear your war cross," she added.
+
+The quite informal affair was the first of many quite as informally
+formal. Also Mrs. Fosdick's satellites and friends of the literary clubs
+and the war work societies seized the opportunity to make much of the
+heroic author of The Lances of Dawn. His society was requested at teas,
+at afternoon as well as evening gatherings. He would have refused most
+of these invitations, but Madeline and her mother seemed to take his
+acceptance for granted; in fact, they accepted for him. A ghastly
+habit developed of asking him to read a few of his own poems on these
+occasions. "PLEASE, Mr. Speranza. It will be such a treat, and such an
+HONOR." Usually a particular request was made that he read "The Greater
+Love." Now "The Greater Love" was the poem which, written in those
+rapturous days when he and Madeline first became aware of their mutual
+adoration, was refused by one editor as a "trifle too syrupy." To read
+that sticky effusion over and over again became a torment. There were
+occasions when if a man had referred to "The Greater Love," its author
+might have howled profanely and offered bodily violence. But no men ever
+did refer to "The Greater Love."
+
+On one occasion when a sentimental matron and her gushing daughter had
+begged to know if he did not himself adore that poem, if he did not
+consider it the best he had ever written, he had answered frankly.
+He was satiated with cake and tea and compliments that evening and
+recklessly truthful. "You really wish to know my opinion of that poem?"
+he asked. Indeed and indeed they really wished to knew just that thing.
+"Well, then, I think it's rot," he declared. "I loathe it."
+
+Of course mother and daughter were indignant. Their comments reached
+Madeline's ear. She took him to task.
+
+"But why did you say it?" she demanded. "You know you don't mean it."
+
+"Yes, I do mean it. It IS rot. Lots of the stuff in that book of mine
+is rot. I did not think so once, but I do now. If I had the book to make
+over again, that sort wouldn't be included."
+
+She looked at him for a moment as if studying a problem.
+
+"I don't understand you sometimes," she said slowly. "You are different.
+And I think what you said to Mrs. Bacon and Marian was very rude."
+
+Later when he went to look for her he found her seated with Captain
+Blanchard in a corner. They were eating ices and, apparently, enjoying
+themselves. He did not disturb them. Instead he hunted up the offended
+Bacons and apologized for his outbreak. The apology, although graciously
+accepted, had rather wearisome consequences. Mrs. Bacon declared she
+knew that he had not really meant what he said.
+
+"I realize how it must be," she declared. "You people of temperament,
+of genius, of aspirations, are never quite satisfied, you cannot be. You
+are always trying, always seeking the higher attainment. Achievements of
+the past, though to the rest of us wonderful and sublime, are to you--as
+you say, 'rot.' That is it, is it not?" Albert said he guessed it was,
+and wandered away, seeking seclusion and solitude. When the affair broke
+up he found Madeline and Blanchard still enjoying each other's society.
+Both were surprised when told the hour.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+
+So the first three weeks of his proposed month's visit passed and the
+fourth began. And more and more his feelings of dissatisfaction and
+uneasiness increased. The reasons for those feelings he found hard to
+define. The Fosdicks were most certainly doing their best to make him
+comfortable and happy. They were kind--yes, more than kind. Mr.
+Fosdick he really began to like. Mrs. Fosdick's manner had a trace of
+condescension in it, but as the lady treated all creation with much the
+same measure of condescension, he was more amused than resentful. And
+Madeline--Madeline was sweet and charming and beautiful. There was in
+her manner toward him, or so he fancied, a slight change, perhaps a
+change a trifle more marked since the evening when his expressed opinion
+of "The Greater Love" had offended her and the Bacons. It seemed to
+him that she was more impatient, more capricious, sometimes almost
+overwhelming him with attention and tenderness and then appearing to
+forget him entirely and to be quite indifferent to his thoughts and
+opinions. Her moods varied greatly and there were occasions when he
+found it almost impossible to please her. At these times she took
+offense when no offense was intended and he found himself apologizing
+when, to say the least, the fault, if there was any, was not more than
+half his. But she always followed those moods with others of contrition
+and penitence and then he was petted and fondled and his forgiveness
+implored.
+
+These slight changes in her he noticed, but they troubled him little,
+principally because he was coming to realize the great change in
+himself. More and more that change was forcing itself upon him. The
+stories and novels he had read during the first years of the war,
+the stories by English writers in which young men, frivolous and
+inconsequential, had enlisted and fought and emerged from the ordeal
+strong, purposeful and "made-over"--those stories recurred to him now.
+He had paid little attention to the "making-over" idea when he read
+those tales, but now he was forced to believe there might be something
+in it. Certainly something, the three years or the discipline and
+training and suffering, or all combined, had changed him. He was not as
+he used to be. Things he liked very much he no longer liked at all. And
+where, oh where, was the serene self-satisfaction which once was his?
+
+The change must be quite individual, he decided. All soldiers were not
+so affected. Take Blanchard, for instance. Blanchard had seen service,
+more and quite as hard fighting as he had seen, but Blanchard was, to
+all appearances, as light-hearted and serene and confident as ever.
+Blanchard was like Madeline; he was much the same now as he had been
+before the war. Blanchard could dance and talk small talk and laugh and
+enjoy himself. Well, so could he, on occasions, for that matter, if that
+had been all. But it was not all, or if it was why was he at other times
+so discontented and uncomfortable? What was the matter with him, anyway?
+
+He drew more and more into his shell and became more quiet and less
+talkative. Madeline, in one of her moods, reproached him for it.
+
+"I do wish you wouldn't be grumpy," she said.
+
+They had been sitting in the library and he had lapsed into a fit of
+musing, answering her questions with absentminded monosyllables. Now he
+looked up.
+
+"Grumpy?" he repeated. "Was I grumpy? I beg your pardon."
+
+"You should. You answered every word I spoke to you with a grunt or a
+growl. I might as well have been talking to a bear."
+
+"I'm awfully sorry, dear. I didn't feel grumpy. I was thinking, I
+suppose."
+
+"Thinking! You are always thinking. Why think, pray? . . . If I
+permitted myself to think, I should go insane."
+
+"Madeline, what do you mean?"
+
+"Oh, nothing. I'm partially insane now, perhaps. Come, let's go to the
+piano. I feel like playing. You don't mind, do you?"
+
+That evening Mrs. Fosdick made a suggestion to her husband.
+
+"Fletcher," she said, "I am inclined to think it is time you and Albert
+had a talk concerning the future. A business talk, I mean. I am a little
+uneasy about him. From some things he has said to me recently I gather
+that he is planning to earn his living with his pen."
+
+"Well, how else did you expect him to earn it; as bookkeeper for the
+South Harniss lumber concern?"
+
+"Don't be absurd. What I mean is that he is thinking of devoting himself
+to literature exclusively. Don't interrupt me, please. That is very
+beautiful and very idealistic, and I honor him for it, but I cannot see
+Madeline as an attic poet's wife, can you?"
+
+"I can't, and I told you so in the beginning."
+
+"No. Therefore I should take him to one side and tell him of the opening
+in your firm. With that as a means of keeping his feet on the ground his
+brain may soar as it likes, the higher the better."
+
+Mr. Fosdick, as usual, obeyed orders and that afternoon Albert and he
+had the "business talk." Conversation at dinner was somewhat strained.
+Mr. Fosdick was quietly observant and seemed rather amused about
+something. His wife was dignified and her manner toward her guest was
+inclined to be abrupt. Albert's appetite was poor. As for Madeline, she
+did not come down to dinner, having a headache.
+
+She came down later, however. Albert, alone in the library, was sitting,
+a book upon his knees and his eyes fixed upon nothing in particular,
+when she came in.
+
+"You are thinking again, I see," she said.
+
+He had not heard her enter. Now he rose, the book falling to the floor.
+
+"Why--why, yes," he stammered. "How are you feeling? How is your head?"
+
+"It is no worse. And no better. I have been thinking, too, which perhaps
+explains it. Sit down, Albert, please. I want to talk with you. That is
+what I have been thinking about, that you and I must talk."
+
+She seated herself upon the davenport and he pulled forward a chair
+and sat facing her. For a moment she was silent. When she did speak,
+however, her question was very much to the point.
+
+"Why did you say 'No' to Father's offer?" she asked. He had been
+expecting this very question, or one leading up to it. Nevertheless,
+he found answering difficult. He hesitated, and she watched him, her
+impatience growing.
+
+"Well?" she asked.
+
+He sighed. "Madeline," he said, "I am afraid you think me very
+unreasonable, certainly very ungrateful."
+
+"I don't know what to think about you. That is why I feel we must
+have this talk. Tell me, please, just what Father said to you this
+afternoon."
+
+"He said--well, the substance of what he said was to offer me a position
+in his office, in his firm."
+
+"What sort of a position?"
+
+"Well, I--I scarcely know. I was to have a desk there and--and be
+generally--ornamental, I suppose. It was not very definite, the details
+of the position, but--"
+
+"The salary was good, wasn't it?"
+
+"Yes; more than good. Much too good for the return I could make for it,
+so it seemed to me."
+
+"And your prospects for the future? Wasn't the offer what people call a
+good opportunity?"
+
+"Why, yes, I suppose it was. For the right sort of man it would have
+been a wonderful opportunity. Your father was most kind, most generous,
+Madeline. Please don't think I am not appreciative. I am, but--"
+
+"Don't. I want to understand it all. He offered you this opportunity,
+this partnership in his firm, and you would not accept it? Why? Don't
+you like my father?"
+
+"Yes, I like him very much."
+
+"Didn't you," with the slightest possible curl of the lip, "think the
+offer worthy of you? . . . Oh, I don't mean that! Please forgive me. I
+am trying not to be disagreeable. I--I just want to understand, Albert,
+that's all."
+
+He nodded. "I know, Madeline," he said. "You have the right to ask. It
+wasn't so much a question of the offer being worthy of me as of my being
+worthy the offer. Oh, Madeline, why should you and I pretend? You know
+why Mr. Fosdick made me that offer. It wasn't because I was likely to be
+worth ten dollars a year to his firm. In Heaven's name, what use would I
+be in a stockbroker's office, with my make-up, with my lack of business
+ability? He would be making a place for me there and paying me a high
+salary for one reason only, and you know what that is. Now don't you?"
+
+She hesitated now, but only for an instant. She colored a little, but
+she answered bravely.
+
+"I suppose I do," she said, "but what of it? It is not unheard of, is
+it, the taking one's prospective son-in-law into partnership?"
+
+"No, but--We're dodging the issue again, Madeline. If I were likely
+to be of any help to your father's business, instead of a hindrance, I
+might perhaps see it differently. As it is, I couldn't accept unless I
+were willing to be an object of charity."
+
+"Did you tell Father that?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"What did he say?"
+
+"He said a good deal. He was frank enough to say that he did not expect
+me to be of great assistance to the firm. But I might be of SOME use--he
+didn't put it as baldly as that, of course--and at all times I could
+keep on with my writing, with my poetry, you know. The brokerage
+business should not interfere with my poetry, he said; your mother would
+scalp him if it did that."
+
+She smiled faintly. "That sounds like dad," she commented.
+
+"Yes. Well, we talked and argued for some time on the subject. He asked
+me what, supposing I did not accept this offer of his, my plans for the
+future might be. I told him they were pretty unsettled as yet. I meant
+to write, of course. Not poetry altogether. I realized, I told him, that
+I was not a great poet, a poet of genius."
+
+Madeline interrupted. Her eyes flashed.
+
+"Why do you say that?" she demanded. "I have heard you say it before.
+That is, recently. In the old days you were as sure as I that you were a
+real poet, or should be some day. You never doubted it. You used to tell
+me so and I loved to hear you."
+
+Albert shook his head. "I was sure of so many things then," he said. "I
+must have been an insufferable kid."
+
+She stamped her foot. "It was less than three years ago that you said
+it," she declared. "You are not so frightfully ancient now. . . . Well,
+go on, go on. How did it end, the talk with Father, I mean?"
+
+"I told him," he continued, "that I meant to write and to earn my living
+by writing. I meant to try magazine work--stories, you know--and, soon,
+a novel. He asked if earning enough to support a wife on would not be
+a long job at that time. I said I was afraid it might, but that that
+seemed to me my particular game, nevertheless."
+
+She interrupted again. "Did it occur to you to question whether or not
+that determination of yours was quite fair to me?" she asked.
+
+"Why--why, yes, it did. And I don't know that it IS exactly fair to you.
+I--"
+
+"Never mind. Go on. Tell me the rest. How did it end?"
+
+"Well, it ended in a sort of flare-up. Mr. Fosdick was just a little bit
+sarcastic, and I expressed my feelings rather freely--too freely, I'm
+afraid."
+
+"Never mind. I want to know what you said."
+
+"To be absolutely truthful, then, this is what I said: I said that I
+appreciated his kindness and was grateful for the offer. But my mind was
+made up. I would not live upon his charity and draw a large salary for
+doing nothing except be a little, damned tame house-poet led around in
+leash and exhibited at his wife's club meetings. . . . That was about
+all, I think. We shook hands at the end. He didn't seem to like me any
+the less for . . . Why, Madeline, have I offended you? My language was
+pretty strong, I know, but--"
+
+She had bowed her head upon her arms amid the sofa cushions and was
+crying. He sprang to his feet and bent over her.
+
+"Why, Madeline," he said again, "I beg your pardon. I'm sorry--"
+
+"Oh, it isn't that," she sobbed. "It isn't that. I don't care what you
+said."
+
+"What is it, then?"
+
+She raised her head and looked at him.
+
+"It is you," she cried. "It is myself. It is everything. It is all
+wrong. I--I was so happy and--and now I am miserable. Oh--oh, I wish I
+were dead!"
+
+She threw herself upon the cushions again and wept hysterically. He
+stood above her, stroking her hair, trying to soothe her, to comfort
+her, and all the time he felt like a brute, a heartless beast. At last
+she ceased crying, sat up and wiped her eyes with her handkerchief.
+
+"There!" she exclaimed. "I will not be silly any longer. I won't be! I
+WON'T! . . . Now tell me: Why have you changed so?"
+
+He looked down at her and shook his head. He was conscience-stricken and
+fully as miserable as she professed to be.
+
+"I don't know," he said. "I am older and--and--and I DON'T see things as
+I used to. If that book of mine had appeared three years ago I have no
+doubt I should have believed it to be the greatest thing ever printed.
+Now, when people tell me it is and I read what the reviewers said and
+all that, I--I DON'T believe, I KNOW it isn't great--that is, the most
+of it isn't. There is some pretty good stuff, of course, but--You see,
+I think it wasn't the poems themselves that made it sell; I think it was
+all the fool tommyrot the papers printed about me, about my being a hero
+and all that rubbish, when they thought I was dead, you know. That--"
+
+She interrupted. "Oh, don't!" she cried. "Don't! I don't care about
+the old book. I'm not thinking about that. I'm thinking about you. YOU
+aren't the same--the same toward me."
+
+"Toward you, Madeline? I don't understand what you mean."
+
+"Yes, you do. Of course you do. If you were the same as you used to be,
+you would let Father help you. We used to talk about that very thing
+and--and you didn't resent it then."
+
+"Didn't I? Well, perhaps I didn't. But I think I remember our speaking
+sometimes of sacrificing everything for each other. We were to live in
+poverty, if necessary, and I was to write, you know, and--"
+
+"Stop! All that was nonsense, nonsense! you know it."
+
+"Yes, I'm afraid it was."
+
+"You know it was. And if you were as you used to be, if you--"
+
+"Madeline!"
+
+"What? Why did you interrupt me?"
+
+"Because I wanted to ask you a question. Do you think YOU are exactly
+the same--as you used to be?"
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Haven't YOU changed a little? Are you as sure as you were then--as sure
+of your feeling toward me?"
+
+She gazed at him, wide-eyed. "WHAT do you mean?"
+
+"I mean ARE you sure? It has seemed to me that perhaps--I was out of
+your life for a long time, you know, and during a good deal of that
+time it seemed certain that I had gone forever. I am not blaming you,
+goodness knows, but--Madeline, isn't there--Well, if I hadn't come back,
+mightn't there have been some one--else?"
+
+She turned pale.
+
+"What do--" she stammered, inarticulate. "Why, why--"
+
+"It was Captain Blanchard, wasn't it?"
+
+The color came back to her cheeks with a rush. She blushed furiously and
+sprang to her feet.
+
+"How--how can you say such things!" she cried. "What do you mean? How
+DARE you say Captain Blanchard took advantage of--How--how DARE you say
+I was not loyal to you? It is not true. It is not true. I was. I am.
+There hasn't been a word--a word between us since--since the news came
+that you were--I told him--I said--And he has been splendid! Splendid!
+And now you say--Oh, what AM I saying? What SHALL I do?"
+
+She collapsed once more among the cushions. He leaned forward.
+
+"My dear girl--" he began, but she broke in.
+
+"I HAVEN'T been disloyal," she cried. "I have tried--Oh, I have tried so
+hard--"
+
+"Hush, Madeline, hush. I understand. I understand perfectly. It is all
+right, really it is."
+
+"And I should have kept on trying always--always."
+
+"Yes, dear, yes. But do you think a married life with so much trying in
+it likely to be a happy one? It is better to know it now, isn't it, a
+great deal better for both of us? Madeline, I am going to my room. I
+want you to think, to think over all this, and then we will talk
+again. I don't blame you. I don't, dear, really. I think I realize
+everything--all of it. Good night, dear."
+
+He stooped and kissed her. She sobbed, but that was all. The next
+morning a servant came to his room with a parcel and a letter. The
+parcel was a tiny one. It was the ring he had given her, in its case.
+The letter was short and much blotted. It read:
+
+
+Dear Albert:
+
+I have thought and thought, as you told me to, and I have concluded that
+you were right. It IS best to know it now. Forgive me, please, PLEASE. I
+feel wicked and horrid and I HATE myself, but I think this is best. Oh,
+do forgive me. Good-by.
+
+MADELINE.
+
+
+His reply was longer. At its end he wrote:
+
+
+Of course I forgive you. In the first place there is nothing to forgive.
+The unforgivable thing would have been the sacrifice of your happiness
+and your future to a dream and a memory. I hope you will be very happy.
+I am sure you will be, for Blanchard is, I know, a fine fellow. The best
+of fortune to you both.
+
+
+The next forenoon he sat once more in the car of the morning train for
+Cape Cod, looking out of the window. He had made the journey from New
+York by the night boat and had boarded the Cape train at Middleboro. All
+the previous day, and in the evening as he tramped the cold wind-swept
+deck of the steamer, he had been trying to collect his thoughts, to
+readjust them to the new situation, to comprehend in its entirety the
+great change that had come in his life. The vague plans, the happy
+indefinite dreams, all the rainbows and roses had gone, shivered to bits
+like the reflection in a broken mirror. Madeline, his Madeline, was his
+no longer. Nor was he hers. In a way it seemed impossible.
+
+He tried to analyze his feelings. It seemed as if he should have been
+crushed, grief-stricken, broken. He was inclined to reproach himself
+because he was not. Of course there was a sadness about it, a regret
+that the wonder of those days of love and youth had passed. But the
+sorrow was not bitter, the regret was but a wistful longing, the sweet,
+lingering fragrance of a memory, that was all. Toward her, Madeline, he
+felt--and it surprised him, too, to find that he felt--not the slightest
+trace of resentment. And more surprising still he felt none toward
+Blanchard. He had meant what he said in his letter, he wished for them
+both the greatest happiness.
+
+And--there was no use attempting to shun the fact--his chief feeling,
+as he sat there by the car window looking out at the familiar landscape,
+was a great relief, a consciousness of escape from what might have
+been a miserable, crushing mistake for him and for her. And with this
+a growing sense of freedom, of buoyancy. It seemed wicked to feel like
+that. Then it came to him, the thought that Madeline, doubtless, was
+experiencing the same feeling. And he did not mind a bit; he hoped she
+was, bless her!
+
+A youthful cigar "drummer," on his first Down-East trip, sat down beside
+him.
+
+"Kind of a flat, bare country, ain't it?" observed the drummer, with
+a jerk of his head toward the window. "Looks bleak enough to me. Know
+anything about this neck of the woods, do you?"
+
+Albert turned to look at him.
+
+"Meaning the Cape?" he asked.
+
+"Sure."
+
+"Indeed I do. I know all about it."
+
+"That so! Say, you sound as if you liked it."
+
+Albert turned back to the window again.
+
+"Like it!" he repeated. "I love it." Then he sighed, a sigh of
+satisfaction, and added: "You see, I BELONG here."
+
+His grandparents and Rachel were surprised when he walked into the house
+that noon and announced that he hoped dinner was ready, because he was
+hungry. But their surprise was more than balanced by their joy. Captain
+Zelotes demanded to know how long he was going to stay.
+
+"As long as you'll have me, Grandfather," was the answer.
+
+"Eh? Well, that would be a consider'ble spell, if you left it to us, but
+I cal'late that girl in New York will have somethin' to say as to time
+limit, won't she?"
+
+Albert smiled. "I'll tell you about that by and by," he said.
+
+He did not tell them until that evening after supper. It was Friday
+evening and Olive was going to prayer-meeting, but she delayed "putting
+on her things" to hear the tale. The news that the engagement was off
+and that her grandson was not, after all, to wed the daughter of the
+Honorable Fletcher Fosdick, shocked and grieved her not a little.
+
+"Oh, dear!" she sighed. "I suppose you know what's best, Albert, and
+maybe, as you say, you wouldn't have been happy, but I DID feel sort of
+proud to think my boy was goin' to marry a millionaire's daughter."
+
+Captain Zelotes made no comment--then. He asked to be told more
+particulars. Albert described the life at the Fosdick home, the
+receptions, his enforced exhibitions and readings. At length the recital
+reached the point of the interview in Fosdick's office.
+
+"So he offered you to take you into the firm--eh, son?" he observed.
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Humph! Fosdick, Williamson and Hendricks are one of the biggest
+brokerage houses goin', so a good many New Yorkers have told me."
+
+"No doubt. But, Grandfather, you've had some experience with me as a
+business man; how do you think I would fit into a firm of stockbrokers?"
+
+Captain Lote's eye twinkled, but he did not answer the question. Instead
+he asked:
+
+"Just what did you give Fosdick as your reason for not sayin' yes?"
+
+Albert laughed. "Well, Grandfather," he said, "I'll tell you. I said
+that I appreciated his kindness and all that, but that I would not
+draw a big salary for doing nothing except to be a little, damned
+tame house-poet led around in leash and shown off at his wife's club
+meetings."
+
+Mrs. Snow uttered a faint scream. "Oh, Albert!" she exclaimed. She might
+have said more, but a shout from her husband prevented her doing so.
+
+Captain Zelotes had risen and his mighty hand descended with a stinging
+slap upon his grandson's shoulder.
+
+"Bully for you, boy!" he cried. Then, turning to Olive, he added,
+"Mother, I've always kind of cal'lated that you had one man around this
+house. Now, by the Lord A'Mighty, I know you've got TWO!"
+
+Olive rose. "Well," she declared emphatically, "that may be; but if both
+those men are goin' to start in swearin' right here in the sittin' room,
+I think it's high time SOMEBODY in that family went to church."
+
+So to prayer meeting she went, with Mrs. Ellis as escort, and her
+husband and grandson, seated in armchairs before the sitting room stove,
+both smoking, talked and talked, of the past and of the future--not as
+man to boy, nor as grandparent to grandson, but for the first time as
+equals, without reservations, as man to man.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+
+The next morning Albert met old Mr. Kendall. After breakfast Captain
+Zelotes had gone, as usual, directly to the office. His grandson,
+however, had not accompanied him.
+
+"What are you cal'latin' to do this mornin', Al?" inquired the captain.
+
+"Oh, I don't know exactly, Grandfather. I'm going to look about the
+place a bit, write a letter to my publishers, and take a walk, I think.
+You will probably see me at the office pretty soon. I'll look in there
+by and by."
+
+"Ain't goin' to write one or two of those five hundred dollar stories
+before dinner time, are you?"
+
+"I guess not, sir. I'm afraid they won't be written as quickly as all
+that."
+
+Captain Lote shook his head. "Godfreys!" he exclaimed; "it ain't the
+writin' of 'em I'd worry about so much as the gettin' paid for 'em.
+You're sure that editor man ain't crazy, you say?"
+
+"I hope he isn't. He seemed sane enough when I saw him."
+
+"Well, I don't know. It's live and learn, I suppose, but if anybody but
+you had told me that magazine folks paid as much as five hundred dollars
+a piece for yarns made up out of a feller's head without a word of truth
+in 'em, I'd--well, I should have told the feller that told me to go to
+a doctor right off and have HIS head examined. But--well, as 'tis I
+cal'late I'd better have my own looked at. So long, Al. Come in to the
+office if you get a chance."
+
+He hurried out. Albert walked to the window and watched the sturdy
+figure swinging out of the yard. He wondered if, should he live to
+his grandfather's age, his step would be as firm and his shoulders as
+square.
+
+Olive laid a hand on his arm.
+
+"You don't mind his talkin' that way about your writin' those stories,
+do you, Albert?" she asked, a trace of anxiety in her tone. "He don't
+mean it, you know. He don't understand it--says he don't himself--but
+he's awful proud of you, just the same. Why, last night, after you and
+he had finished talkin' and he came up to bed--and the land knows what
+time of night or mornin' THAT was--he woke me out of a sound sleep to
+tell me about that New York magazine man givin' you a written order
+to write six stories for his magazine at five hundred dollars a piece.
+Zelotes couldn't seem to get over it. 'Think of it, Mother,' he kept
+sayin'. 'Think of it! Pretty nigh twice what I pay as good a man as
+Labe Keeler for keepin' books a whole year. And Al says he ought to do
+a story every forni't. I used to jaw his head off, tellin' him he was on
+the road to starvation and all that. Tut, tut, tut! Mother, I've waited
+a long time to say it, but it looks as if you married a fool.' . . .
+That's the way he talked, but he's a long ways from bein' a fool, your
+grandfather is, Albert."
+
+Albert nodded. "No one knows that better than I," he said, with
+emphasis.
+
+"There's one thing," she went on, "that kind of troubled me. He said
+you was goin' to insist on payin' board here at home. Now you know this
+house is yours. And we love to--"
+
+He put his arm about her. "I know it, Grandmother," he broke in,
+quickly. "But that is all settled. I am going to try to make my own
+living in my own way. I am going to write and see what I am really
+worth. I have my royalty money, you know, most of it, and I have this
+order for the series of stories. I can afford to pay for my keep and
+I shall. You see, as I told Grandfather last night, I don't propose to
+live on his charity any more than on Mr. Fosdick's."
+
+She sighed.
+
+"So Zelotes said," she admitted. "He told me no less than three times
+that you said it. It seemed to tickle him most to death, for some
+reason, and that's queer, too, for he's anything but stingy. But there,
+I suppose you can pay board if you want to, though who you'll pay it to
+is another thing. _I_ shan't take a cent from the only grandson I've got
+in the world."
+
+It was while on his stroll down to the village that Albert met Mr.
+Kendall. The reverend gentleman was plodding along carrying a market
+basket from the end of which, beneath a fragment of newspaper, the tail
+and rear third of a huge codfish drooped. The basket and its contents
+must have weighed at least twelve pounds and the old minister was, as
+Captain Zelotes would have said, making heavy weather of it. Albert went
+to his assistance.
+
+"How do you do, Mr. Kendall," he said; "I'm afraid that basket is rather
+heavy, isn't it. Mayn't I help you with it?" Then, seeing that the old
+gentleman did not recognize him, he added, "I am Albert Speranza."
+
+Down went the basket and the codfish and Mr. Kendall seized him by both
+hands.
+
+"Why, of course, of course," he cried. "Of course, of course. It's our
+young hero, isn't it. Our poet, our happy warrior. Yes,--yes, of course.
+So glad to see you, Albert. . . . Er . . . er . . . How is your mother?"
+
+"You mean my grandmother? She is very well, thank you."
+
+"Yes--er--yes, your grandmother, of course. . . . Er . . . er. . . .
+Did you see my codfish? Isn't it a magnificent one. I am very fond of
+codfish and we almost never have it at home. So just now, I happened to
+be passing Jonathan Howes'--he is the--er--fishdealer, you know, and
+. . . Jonathan is a very regular attendant at my Sunday morning services.
+He is--is. . . . Dear me. . . . What was I about to say?"
+
+Being switched back to the main track by Albert he explained that he
+had seen a number of cod in Mr. Howes' possession and had bought this
+specimen. Howes had lent him the basket.
+
+"And the newspaper," he explained; adding, with triumph, "I shall dine
+on codfish to-day, I am happy to say." Judging by appearances he might
+dine and sup and breakfast on codfish and still have a supply remaining.
+Albert insisted on carrying the spoil to the parsonage. He was doing
+nothing in particular and it would be a pleasure, he said. Mr. Kendall
+protested for the first minute or so but then forgot just what the
+protest was all about and rambled garrulously on about affairs in the
+parish. He had failed in other faculties, but his flow of language was
+still unimpeded. They entered the gate of the parsonage. Albert put the
+basket on the upper step.
+
+"There," he said; "now I must go. Good morning, Mr. Kendall."
+
+"Oh, but you aren't going? You must come in a moment. I want to give you
+the manuscript of that sermon of mine on the casting down of Baal, that
+is the one in which I liken the military power of Germany to the brazen
+idol which. . . . Just a moment, Albert. The manuscript is in my desk
+and. . . . Oh, dear me, the door is locked. . . . Helen, Helen!"
+
+He was shaking the door and shouting his daughter's name. Albert was
+surprised and not a little disturbed. It had not occurred to him that
+Helen could be at home. It is true that before he left for New York his
+grandmother had said that she was planning to return home to be with her
+father, but since then he had heard nothing more concerning her. Neither
+of his grandparents had mentioned her name in their letters, nor since
+his arrival the day before had they mentioned it. And Mr. Kendall had
+not spoken of her during their walk together. Albert was troubled and
+taken aback. In one way he would have liked to meet Helen very much
+indeed. They had not met since before the war. But he did not, somehow,
+wish to meet her just then. He did not wish to meet anyone who would
+speak of Madeline, or ask embarrassing questions. He turned to go.
+
+"Another time, Mr. Kendall," he said. "Good morning."
+
+But he had gone only a few yards when the reverend gentleman was calling
+to him to return.
+
+"Albert! Albert!" called Mr. Kendall.
+
+He was obliged to turn back, he could do nothing else, and as he did so
+the door opened. It was Helen who opened it and she stood there upon
+the threshold and looked down at him. For a moment, a barely perceptible
+interval, she looked, then he heard her catch her breath quickly and saw
+her put one hand upon the door jamb as if for support. The next, and
+she was running down the steps, her hands outstretched and the light of
+welcome in her eyes.
+
+"Why, Albert Speranza!" she cried. "Why, ALBERT!"
+
+He seized her hands. "Helen!" he cried, and added involuntarily, "My,
+but it's good to see you again!"
+
+She laughed and so did he. All his embarrassment was gone. They were
+like two children, like the boy and girl who had known each other in the
+old days.
+
+"And when did you get here?" she asked. "And what do you mean by
+surprising us like this? I saw your grandfather yesterday morning and he
+didn't say a word about your coming."
+
+"He didn't know I was coming. I didn't know it myself until the day
+before. And when did you come? Your father didn't tell me you were here.
+I didn't know until I heard him call your name."
+
+He was calling it again. Calling it and demanding attention for his
+precious codfish.
+
+"Yes, Father, yes, in a minute," she said. Then to Albert, "Come in.
+Oh, of course you'll come in."
+
+"Why, yes, if I won't be interfering with the housekeeping."
+
+"You won't. Yes, Father, yes, I'm coming. Mercy, where did you get such
+a wonderful fish? Come in, Albert. As soon as I get Father's treasure
+safe in the hands of Maria I'll be back. Father will keep you company.
+No, pardon me, I am afraid he won't, he's gone to the kitchen already.
+And I shall have to go, too, for just a minute. I'll hurry."
+
+She hastened to the kitchen, whither Mr. Kendall, tugging the fish
+basket, had preceded her. Albert entered the little sitting-room and sat
+down in a chair by the window. The room looked just as it used to look,
+just as neat, just as homelike, just as well kept. And when she came
+back and they began to talk, it seemed to him that she, too, was just as
+she used to be. She was a trifle less girlish, more womanly perhaps, but
+she was just as good to look at, just as bright and cheerful and in her
+conversation she had the same quietly certain way of dealing directly
+with the common-sense realities and not the fuss and feathers. It seemed
+to him that she had not changed at all, that she herself was one of the
+realities, the wholesome home realities, like Captain Zelotes and Olive
+and the old house they lived in. He told her so. She laughed.
+
+"You make me feel as ancient as the pyramids," she said.
+
+He shook his head. "I am the ancient," he declared. "This war hasn't
+changed you a particle, Helen, but it has handed me an awful jolt. At
+times I feel as if I must have sailed with Noah. And as if I had wasted
+most of the time since."
+
+She smiled. "Just what do you mean by that?" she asked.
+
+"I mean--well, I don't know exactly what I do mean, I guess. I seem
+to have an unsettled feeling. I'm not satisfied with myself. And as I
+remember myself," he added, with a shrug, "that condition of mind was
+not usual with me."
+
+She regarded him for a moment without speaking, with the appraising look
+in her eyes which he remembered so well, which had always reminded him
+of the look in his grandfather's eyes, and which when a boy he resented
+so strongly.
+
+"Yes," she said slowly, "I think you have changed. Not because you say
+you feel so much older or because you are uneasy and dissatisfied. So
+many of the men I talked with at the camp hospital, the men who had been
+over there and had been wounded, as you were, said they felt the same
+way. That doesn't mean anything, I think, except that it is dreadfully
+hard to get readjusted again and settle down to everyday things. But
+it seems to me that you have changed in other ways. You are a little
+thinner, but broader, too, aren't you? And you do look older, especially
+about the eyes. And, of course--well, of course I think I do miss a
+little of the Albert Speranza I used to know, the young chap with the
+chip on his shoulder for all creation to knock off."
+
+"Young jackass!"
+
+"Oh, no indeed. He had his good points. But there! we're wasting time
+and we have so much to talk about. You--why, what am I thinking of! I
+have neglected the most important thing in the world. And you have just
+returned from New York, too. Tell me, how is Madeline Fosdick?"
+
+"She is well. But tell me about yourself. You have been in all sorts of
+war work, haven't you. Tell me about it."
+
+"Oh, my work didn't amount to much. At first I 'Red Crossed' in Boston,
+then I went to Devens and spent a long time in the camp hospital there."
+
+"Pretty trying, wasn't it?"
+
+"Why--yes, some of it was. When the 'flu' epidemic was raging and the
+poor fellows were having such a dreadful time it was bad enough. After
+that I was sent to Eastview. In the hospital there I met the boys who
+had been wounded on the other side and who talked about old age and
+dissatisfaction and uneasiness, just as you do. But MY work doesn't
+count. You are the person to be talked about. Since I have seen you you
+have become a famous poet and a hero and--"
+
+"Don't!"
+
+She had been smiling; now she was very serious.
+
+"Forgive me, Albert," she said. "We have been joking, you and I, but
+there was a time when we--when your friends did not joke. Oh, Albert,
+if you could have seen the Snow place as I saw it then. It was as if all
+the hope and joy and everything worth while had been crushed out of it.
+Your grandmother, poor little woman, was brave and quiet, but we
+all knew she was trying to keep up for Captain Zelotes' sake. And
+he--Albert, you can scarcely imagine how the news of your death changed
+him. . . . Ah! well, it was a hard time, a dreadful time for--for every
+one."
+
+She paused and he, turning to look at her, saw that there were tears in
+her eyes. He knew of her affection for his grandparents and theirs for
+her. Before he could speak she was smiling again.
+
+"But now that is all over, isn't it?" she said. "And the Snows are
+the happiest people in the country, I do believe. AND the proudest, of
+course. So now you must tell me all about it, about your experiences,
+and about your war cross, and about your literary work--oh, about
+everything."
+
+The all-inclusive narrative was not destined to get very far. Old Mr.
+Kendall came hurrying in, the sermon on the casting down of Baal in his
+hand. Thereafter he led, guided, and to a large extent monopolized the
+conversation. His discourse had proceeded perhaps as far as "Thirdly"
+when Albert, looking at his watch, was surprised to find it almost
+dinner time. Mr. Kendall, still talking, departed to his study to hunt
+for another sermon. The young people said good-by in his absence.
+
+"It has been awfully good to see you again, Helen," declared Albert.
+"But I told you that in the beginning, didn't I? You seem like--well,
+like a part of home, you know. And home means something to me nowadays."
+
+"I'm glad to hear you speak of South Harniss as home. Of course I know
+you don't mean to make it a permanent home--I imagine Madeline would
+have something to say about that--but it is nice to have you speak as if
+the old town meant something to you."
+
+He looked about him.
+
+"I love the place," he said simply.
+
+"I am glad. So do I; but then I have lived here all my life. The next
+time we talk I want to know more about your plans for the future--yours
+and Madeline's, I mean. How proud she must be of you."
+
+He looked up at her; she was standing upon the upper step and he on the
+walk below.
+
+"Madeline and I--" he began. Then he stopped. What was the use? He did
+not want to talk about it. He waved his hand and turned away.
+
+After dinner he went out into the kitchen to talk to Mrs. Ellis, who
+was washing dishes. She was doing it as she did all her share of the
+housework, with an energy and capability which would have delighted the
+soul of a "scientific management" expert. Except when under the spell of
+a sympathetic attack Rachel was ever distinctly on the job.
+
+And of course she was, as always, glad to see her protege, her Robert
+Penfold. The proprietary interest which she had always felt in him was
+more than ever hers now. Had not she been the sole person to hint at the
+possibility of his being alive, when every one else had given him up for
+dead? Had not she been the only one to suggest that he might have been
+taken prisoner? Had SHE ever despaired of seeing him again--on this
+earth and in the flesh? Indeed, she had not; at least, she had never
+admitted it, if she had. So then, hadn't she a RIGHT to feel that she
+owned a share in him? No one ventured to dispute that right.
+
+She turned and smiled over one ample shoulder when he entered the
+kitchen.
+
+"Hello," she hailed cheerfully. "Come callin', have you, Robert--Albert,
+I mean? It would have been a great help to me if you'd been christened
+Robert. I call you that so much to myself it comes almost more natural
+than the other. On account of you bein' so just like Robert Penfold in
+the book, you know," she added.
+
+"Yes, yes, of course, Rachel, I understand," put in Albert hastily. He
+was not in the mood to listen to a dissertation on a text taken from
+Foul Play. He looked about the room and sighed happily.
+
+"There isn't a speck anywhere, is there?" he observed. "It is just as it
+used to be, just as I used to think of it when I was laid up over there.
+When I wanted to try and eat a bit, so as to keep what strength I had,
+I would think about this kitchen of yours, Rachel. It didn't do to
+think of the places where the prison stuff was cooked. They were
+not--appetizing."
+
+Mrs. Ellis nodded. "I presume likely not," she observed. "Well, don't
+tell me about 'em. I've just scrubbed this kitchen from stem to stern.
+If I heard about those prison places, I'd feel like startin' right in
+and scrubbin' it all over again, I know I should. . . . Dirty pigs! I
+wish I had the scourin' of some of those Germans! I'd--I don't know as I
+wouldn't skin 'em alive."
+
+Albert laughed. "Some of them pretty nearly deserved it," he said.
+
+Rachel smiled grimly. "Well, let's talk about nice things," she said.
+"Oh, Issy Price was here this forenoon; Cap'n Lote sent him over from
+the office on an errand, and he said he saw you and Mr. Kendall goin'
+down street together just as he was comin' along. He hollered at you,
+but you didn't hear him. 'Cordin' to Issachar's tell, you was luggin' a
+basket with Jonah's whale in it, or somethin' like that."
+
+Albert described his encounter with the minister. Rachel was much
+interested.
+
+"Oh, so you saw Helen," she said. "Well, I guess she was surprised to
+see you."
+
+"Not more than I was to see her. I didn't know she was in town. Not a
+soul had mentioned it--you nor Grandfather nor Grandmother."
+
+The housekeeper answered without turning her head. "Guess we had so many
+things to talk about we forgot it," she said. "Yes, she's been here over
+a week now. High time, from what I hear. The poor old parson has failed
+consider'ble and Maria Price's housekeepin' and cookin' is enough to
+make a well man sick--or wish he was. But he'll be looked after now.
+Helen will look after him. She's the most capable girl there is in
+Ostable County. Did she tell you about what she done in the Red Cross
+and the hospitals?"
+
+"She said something about it, not very much."
+
+"Um-hm. She wouldn't, bein' Helen Kendall. But the Red Cross folks said
+enough, and they're sayin' it yet. Why--"
+
+She went on to tell of Helen's work in the Red Cross depots and in the
+camp, and hospitals. It was an inspiring story.
+
+"There they was," said Rachel, "the poor things, just boys most of 'em,
+dyin' of that dreadful influenza like rats, as you might say. And, of
+course it's dreadful catchin', and a good many was more afraid of it
+than they would have been of bullets, enough sight. But Helen Kendall
+wa'n't afraid--no, siree! Why--"
+
+And so on. Albert listened, hearing most of it, but losing some as his
+thoughts wandered back to the Helen he had known as a boy and the Helen
+he had met that forenoon. Her face, as she had welcomed him at the
+parsonage door--it was surprising how clearly it showed before his
+mind's eye. He had thought at first that she had not changed in
+appearance. That was not quite true--she had changed a little, but it
+was merely the fulfillment of a promise, that was all. Her eyes, her
+smile above a hospital bed--he could imagine what they must have seemed
+like to a lonely, homesick boy wrestling with the "flu."
+
+"And, don't talk!" he heard the housekeeper say, as he drifted out of
+his reverie, "if she wa'n't popular around that hospital, around both
+hospitals, fur's that goes! The patients idolized her, and the other
+nurses they loved her, and the doctors--"
+
+"Did they love her, too?" Albert asked, with a smile, as she hesitated.
+
+She laughed. "Some of 'em did, I cal'late," she answered. "You see, I
+got most of my news about it all from Bessie Ryder, Cornelius Ryder's
+niece, lives up on the road to the Center; you used to know her, Albert.
+Bessie was nursin' in that same hospital, the one Helen was at first.
+'Cordin' to her, there was some doctor or officer tryin' to shine up to
+Helen most of the time. When she was at Eastview, so Bessie heard, there
+was a real big-bug in the Army, a sort of Admiral or Commodore amongst
+the doctors he was, and HE was trottin' after her, or would have been if
+she'd let him. 'Course you have to make some allowances for Bessie--she
+wouldn't be a Ryder if she didn't take so many words to say so little
+that the truth gets stretched pretty thin afore she finished--but there
+must have been SOMETHIN' in it. And all about her bein' such a wonderful
+nurse and doin' so much for the Red Cross I KNOW is true. . . . Eh? Did
+you say anything, Albert?"
+
+Albert shook his head. "No, Rachel," he replied. "I didn't speak."
+
+"I thought I heard you or somebody say somethin'. I--Why, Laban Keeler,
+what are you doin' away from your desk this time in the afternoon?"
+
+Laban grinned as he entered the kitchen.
+
+"Did I hear you say you thought you heard somebody sayin' somethin',
+Rachel?" he inquired. "That's queer, ain't it? Seemed to me _I_ heard
+somebody sayin' somethin' as I come up the path just now. Seemed as if
+they was sayin' it right here in the kitchen, too. 'Twasn't your
+voice, Albert, and it couldn't have been Rachel's, 'cause she NEVER
+talks--'specially to you. It's too bad, the prejudice she's got against
+you, Albert," he added, with a wink. "Um-hm, too bad--yes, 'tis--yes,
+yes."
+
+Mrs. Ellis sniffed.
+
+"And that's what the newspapers in war time used to call--er--er--oh,
+dear, what was it?--camel--seems's if 'twas somethin' about a camel--"
+
+"Camouflage?" suggested Albert.
+
+"That's it. All that talk about me is just camouflage to save him
+answerin' my question. But he's goin' to answer it. What are you doin'
+away from the office this time in the afternoon, I want to know?"
+
+Mr. Keeler perched his small figure on the corner of the kitchen table.
+
+"Well, to tell you the truth, Rachel," he said solemnly. "I'm here to do
+what the folks in books call demand an explanation. You and I, Rachel,
+are just as good as engaged to be married, ain't we? I've been keepin'
+company with you for the last twenty, forty or sixty years, some such
+spell as that. Now, just as I'm gettin' used to it and beginnin' to
+consider it a settled arrangement, as you may say, I come into this
+house and find you shut up in the kitchen with another man. Now, what--"
+
+The housekeeper advanced toward him with the dripping dishcloth.
+
+"Laban Keeler," she threatened, "if you don't stop your foolishness and
+answer my question, I declare I'll--"
+
+Laban slid from his perch and retired behind the table.
+
+"Another man," he repeated. "And SOME folks--not many, of course, but
+some--might be crazy enough to say he was a better-lookin' man than
+I am. Now, bein' ragin' jealous,--All right, Rachel, all right, I
+surrender. Don't hit me with all those soapsuds. I don't want to go back
+to the office foamin' at the mouth. The reason I'm here is that I had to
+go down street to see about the sheathin' for the Red Men's lodge room.
+Issy took the order, but he wasn't real sure whether 'twas sheathin'
+or scantlin' they wanted, so I told Cap'n Lote I'd run down myself and
+straighten it out. On the way back I saw you two through the window and
+I thought I'd drop in and worry you. So here I am."
+
+Mrs. Ellis nodded. "Yes," she sniffed. "And all that camel--camel--Oh,
+DEAR, what DOES ail me? All that camel--No use, I've forgot it again."
+
+"Never mind, Rachel," said Mr. Keeler consolingly. "All
+the--er--menagerie was just that and nothin' more. Oh, by the way, Al,"
+he added, "speakin' of camels--don't you think I've done pretty well to
+go so long without any--er--liquid nourishment? Not a drop since you and
+I enlisted together. . . . Oh, she knows about it now," he added, with
+a jerk of his head in the housekeeper's direction. "I felt 'twas fairly
+safe and settled, so I told her. I told her. Yes, yes, yes. Um-hm, so I
+did."
+
+Albert turned to the lady.
+
+"You should be very proud of him, Rachel," he said seriously. "I think
+I realize a little something of the fight he has made, and it is bully.
+You should be proud of him."
+
+Rachel looked down at the little man.
+
+"I am," she said quietly. "I guess likely he knows it."
+
+Laban smiled. "The folks in Washington are doin' their best to help me
+out," he said. "They're goin' to take the stuff away from everybody so's
+to make sure _I_ don't get any more. They'll probably put up a monument
+to me for startin' the thing; don't you think they will, Al? Eh? Don't
+you, now?"
+
+Albert and he walked up the road together. Laban told a little more of
+his battle with John Barleycorn.
+
+"I had half a dozen spells when I had to set my teeth, those I've got
+left, and hang on," he said. "And the hangin'-on wa'n't as easy as
+stickin' to fly-paper, neither. Honest, though, I think the hardest was
+when the news came that you was alive, Al. I--I just wanted to start in
+and celebrate. Wanted to whoop her up, I did." He paused a moment and
+then added, "I tried whoopin' on sass'parilla and vanilla sody, but
+'twa'n't satisfactory. Couldn't seem to raise a real loud whisper, let
+alone a whoop. No, I couldn't--no, no."
+
+Albert laughed and laid a hand on his shoulder. "You're all right,
+Labe," he declared. "I know you, and I say so."
+
+Laban slowly shook his head. His smile, as he answered, was rather
+pathetic.
+
+"I'm a long, long ways from bein' all right, Al," he said. "A long ways
+from that, I am. If I'd made my fight thirty year ago, I might have been
+nigher to amountin' to somethin'. . . . Oh, well, for Rachel's sake
+I'm glad I've made it now. She's stuck to me when everybody would have
+praised her for chuckin' me to Tophet. I was readin' one of Thackeray's
+books t'other night--Henry Esmond, 'twas; you've read it, Al, of course;
+I was readin' it t'other night for the ninety-ninth time or thereabouts,
+and I run across the place where it says it's strange what a man can
+do and a woman still keep thinkin' he's an angel. That's true, too, Al.
+Not," with the return of the slight smile, "that Rachel ever went so far
+as to call me an angel. No, no. There's limits where you can't stretch
+her common-sense any farther. Callin' me an angel would be just past the
+limit. Yes, yes, yes. I guess SO."
+
+They spoke of Captain Zelotes and Olive and of their grief and
+discouragement when the news of Albert's supposed death reached them.
+
+"Do you know," said Labe, "I believe Helen Kendall's comin' there for a
+week did 'em more good than anything else. She got away from her soldier
+nursin' somehow--must have been able to pull the strings consider'ble
+harder'n the average to do it--and just came down to the Snow place and
+sort of took charge along with Rachel. Course she didn't live there, her
+father thought she was visitin' him, I guess likely, but she was with
+Cap'n Lote and Olive most of the time. Rachel says she never made
+a fuss, you understand, just was there and helped and was quiet and
+soft-spoken and capable and--and comfortin', that's about the word, I
+guess. Rachel always thought a sight of Helen afore that, but since then
+she swears by her."
+
+That evening--or, rather, that night, for they did not leave the sitting
+room until after twelve--Mrs. Snow heard her grandson walking the floor
+of his room, and called to ask if he was sick.
+
+"I'm all right, Grandmother," he called in reply. "Just taking a little
+exercise before turning in, that's all. Sorry if I disturbed you."
+
+The exercise was, as a matter of fact, almost entirely mental, the
+pacing up and down merely an unconscious physical accompaniment. Albert
+Speranza was indulging in introspection. He was reviewing and assorting
+his thoughts and his impulses and trying to determine just what they
+were and why they were and whither they were tending. It was a mental
+and spiritual picking to pieces and the result was humiliating and in
+its turn resulted in a brand-new determination.
+
+Ever since his meeting with Helen, a meeting which had been quite
+unpremeditated, he had thought of but little except her. During his talk
+with her in the parsonage sitting room he had been--there was no use
+pretending to himself that it was otherwise--more contented with the
+world, more optimistic, happier, than he had been for months, it seemed
+to him for years. Even while he was speaking to her of his uneasiness
+and dissatisfaction he was dimly conscious that at that moment he was
+less uneasy and less dissatisfied, conscious that the solid ground was
+beneath his feet at last, that here was the haven after the storm, here
+was--
+
+He pulled up sharply. This line of thought was silly, dangerous, wicked.
+What did it mean? Three days before, only three days, he had left
+Madeline Fosdick, the girl whom he had worshiped, adored, and who
+had loved him. Yes, there was no use pretending there, either; he and
+Madeline HAD loved each other. Of course he realized now that their
+love had nothing permanently substantial about it. It was the romance
+of youth, a dream which they had shared together and from which,
+fortunately for both, they had awakened in time. And of course he
+realized, too, that the awakening had begun long, long before the actual
+parting took place. But nevertheless only three days had elapsed since
+that parting, and now--What sort of a man was he?
+
+Was he like his father? Was it what Captain Zelotes used to call the
+"Portygee streak" which was now cropping out? The opera singer had been
+of the butterfly type--in his later years a middle-aged butterfly whose
+wings creaked somewhat--but decidedly a flitter from flower to flower.
+As a boy, Albert had been aware, in an uncertain fashion, of his
+father's fondness for the sex. Now, older, his judgment of his parent
+was not as lenient, was clearer, more discerning. He understood now. Was
+his own "Portygee streak," his inherited temperament, responsible for
+his leaving one girl on a Tuesday and on Friday finding his thoughts
+concerned so deeply with another?
+
+Well, no matter, no matter. One thing was certain--Helen should
+never know of that feeling. He would crush it down, he would use his
+common-sense. He would be a decent man and not a blackguard. For he had
+had his chance and had tossed it away. What would she think of him now
+if he came to her after Madeline had thrown him over--that is what Mrs.
+Fosdick would say, would take pains that every one else should say, that
+Madeline had thrown him over--what would Helen think of him if he came
+to her with a second-hand love like that?
+
+And of course she would not think of him as a lover at all. Why should
+she? In the boy and girl days she had refused to let him speak of such a
+thing. She was his friend, a glorious, a wonderful friend, but that was
+all, all she ever dreamed of being.
+
+Well, that was right; that was as it should be. He should be thankful
+for such a friend. He was, of course. And he would concentrate all his
+energies upon his work, upon his writing. That was it, that was it.
+Good, it was settled!
+
+So he went to bed and, eventually, to sleep.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+
+While dressing in the cold light of dawn his perturbations of the
+previous night appeared in retrospect as rather boyish and unnecessary.
+His sudden and unexpected meeting with Helen and their talk together had
+tended to make him over-sentimental, that was all. He and she were to be
+friends, of course, but there was no real danger of his allowing himself
+to think of her except as a friend. No, indeed. He opened the bureau
+drawer in search of a tie, and there was the package of "snapshots" just
+where he had tossed them that night when he first returned home
+after muster-out. Helen's photograph was the uppermost. He looked at
+it--looked at it for several minutes. Then he closed the drawer again
+and hurriedly finished his dressing. A part, at least, of his resolve
+of the night before had been sound common-sense. His brain was suffering
+from lack of exercise. Work was what he needed, hard work.
+
+So to work he went without delay. A place to work in was the first
+consideration. He suggested the garret, but his grandmother and Rachel
+held up their hands and lifted their voices in protest.
+
+"No, INDEED," declared Olive. "Zelotes has always talked about writin'
+folks and poets starvin' in garrets. If you went up attic to work he'd
+be teasin' me from mornin' to night. Besides, you'd freeze up there, if
+the smell of moth-balls didn't choke you first. No, you wait; I've got a
+notion. There's that old table desk of Zelotes' in the settin' room. He
+don't hardly ever use it nowadays. You take it upstairs to your own room
+and work in there. You can have the oil-heater to keep you warm."
+
+So that was the arrangement made, and in his own room Albert sat down at
+the battered old desk, which had been not only his grandfather's but
+his great-grandfather's property, to concentrate upon the first of
+the series of stories ordered by the New York magazine. He had already
+decided upon the general scheme for the series. A boy, ragamuffin son
+of immigrant parents, rising, after a wrong start, by sheer grit and
+natural shrewdness and ability, step by step to competence and success,
+winning a place in and the respect of a community. There was nothing new
+in the idea itself. Some things his soldier chum Mike Kelley had told
+him concerning an uncle of his--Mike's--suggested it. The novelty he
+hoped might come from the incidents, the various problems faced by his
+hero, the solution of each being a step upward in the latter's career
+and in the formation of his character. He wanted to write, if he could,
+the story of the building of one more worth-while American, for Albert
+Speranza, like so many others set to thinking by the war and the war
+experiences, was realizing strongly that the gabbling of a formula and
+the swearing of an oath of naturalization did not necessarily make an
+American. There were too many eager to take that oath with tongue in
+cheek and knife in sleeve. Too many, for the first time in their
+lives breathing and speaking as free men, thanks to the protection of
+Columbia's arm, yet planning to stab their protectress in the back.
+
+So Albert's hero was to be an American, an American to whom the
+term meant the highest and the best. If he had hunted a lifetime for
+something to please and interest his grandfather he could not have hit
+the mark nearer the center. Cap'n Lote, of course, pretended a certain
+measure of indifference, but that was for Olive and Rachel's benefit. It
+would never do for the scoffer to become a convert openly and at once.
+The feminine members of the household clamored each evening to have the
+author read aloud his day's installment. The captain sniffed.
+
+"Oh, dear, dear," with a groan, "now I've got to hear all that made-up
+stuff that happened to a parcel of made-up folks that never lived and
+never will. Waste of time, waste of time. Where's my Transcript?"
+
+But it was noticed--and commented upon, you may be sure--by his wife and
+housekeeper that the Transcript was likely to be, before the reading had
+progressed far, either in the captain's lap or on the floor. And when
+the discussion following the reading was under way Captain Zelotes'
+opinions were expressed quite as freely as any one's else. Laban Keeler
+got into the habit of dropping in to listen.
+
+One fateful evening the reading was interrupted by the arrival of
+Mr. Kendall. The reverend gentleman had come to make a pastoral call.
+Albert's hero was in the middle of a situation. The old clergyman
+insisted upon the continuation of the reading. It was continued and so
+was the discussion following it; in fact, the discussion seemed likely
+to go on indefinitely, for the visitor showed no inclination of leaving.
+At ten-thirty his daughter appeared to inquire about him and to
+escort him home. Then he went, but under protest. Albert walked to the
+parsonage with them.
+
+"Now we've started somethin'," groaned the captain, as the door closed.
+"That old critter'll be cruisin' over here six nights out of five
+from now on to tell Al just how to spin those yarns of his. And he'll
+talk--and talk--and talk. Ain't it astonishin' how such a feeble-lookin'
+craft as he is can keep blowin' off steam that way and still be able to
+navigate."
+
+His wife took him to task. "The idea," she protested, "of your callin'
+your own minister a 'critter'! I should think you'd be ashamed. . . .
+But, oh, dear, I'm afraid he WILL be over here an awful lot."
+
+Her fears were realized. Mr. Kendall, although not on hand "six nights
+out of five," as the captain prophesied, was a frequent visitor at
+the Snow place. As Albert's story-writing progressed the discussions
+concerning the growth and development of the hero's character became
+more and more involved and spirited. They were for the most part
+confined, when the minister was present, to him and Mrs. Snow and
+Rachel. Laban, if he happened to be there, sat well back in the corner,
+saying little except when appealed to, and then answering with one of
+his dry, characteristic observations. Captain Lote, in the rocker, his
+legs crossed, his hand stroking his beard, and with the twinkle in his
+eyes, listened, and spoke but seldom. Occasionally, when he and his
+grandson exchanged glances, the captain winked, indicating appreciation
+of the situation.
+
+"Say, Al," he said, one evening, after the old clergyman had departed,
+"it must be kind of restful to have your work all laid out for you this
+way. Take it to-night, for instance; I don't see but what everything's
+planned for this young feller you're writin' about so you nor he won't
+have to think for yourselves for a hundred year or such matter. Course
+there's some little difference in the plans. Rachel wants him to get
+wrecked on an island or be put in jail, and Mother, she wants him to be
+a soldier and a poet, and Mr. Kendall thinks it's high time he joined
+the church or signed the pledge or stopped swearin' or chewin' gum."
+
+"Zelotes, how ridiculous you do talk!"
+
+"All right, Mother, all right. What strikes me, Al, is they don't any of
+'em stop to ask you what YOU mean to have him do. Course I know 'tain't
+any of your business, but still--seems 's if you might be a little mite
+interested in the boy yourself."
+
+Albert laughed. "Don't worry, Grandfather," he said. "I'm enjoying it
+all very much. And some of the suggestions may be just what I'm looking
+for."
+
+"Well, son, we'll hope so. Say, Labe, I've got a notion for keepin' the
+minister from doin' all the talkin.' We'll ask Issy Price to drop in;
+eh?"
+
+Laban shook his head. "I don't know, Cap'n Lote," he observed. "Sounds
+to me a good deal like lettin' in a hurricane to blow out a match with.
+. . . Um-hm. Seems so to me. Yes, yes."
+
+Mr. Kendall's calls would have been more frequent still had Helen not
+interfered. Very often, when he came she herself dropped in a little
+later and insisted upon his making an early start for home. Occasionally
+she came with him. She, too, seemed much interested in the progress of
+the stories, but she offered few suggestions. When directly appealed to,
+she expressed her views, and they were worth while.
+
+Albert was resolutely adhering to his determination not to permit
+himself to think of her except as a friend. That is, he hoped he was;
+thoughts are hard to control at times. He saw her often. They met on the
+street, at church on Sunday--his grandmother was so delighted when he
+accompanied her to "meeting" that he did so rather more frequently,
+perhaps, than he otherwise would--at the homes of acquaintances, and, of
+course, at the Snow place. When she walked home with her father after a
+"story evening" he usually went with them as additional escort.
+
+She had not questioned him concerning Madeline since their first meeting
+that morning at the parsonage. He knew, therefore, that some one--his
+grandmother, probably--had told her of the broken engagement. When
+they were alone together they talked of many things, casual things, the
+generalities of which, so he told himself, a conversation between mere
+friends was composed. But occasionally, after doing escort duty, after
+Mr. Kendall had gone into the house to take his "throat medicine"--a
+medicine which Captain Zelotes declared would have to be double-strength
+pretty soon to offset the wear and tear of the story evenings--they
+talked of matters more specific and which more directly concerned
+themselves. She spoke of her hospital work, of her teaching before the
+war, and of her plans for the future. The latter, of course, were very
+indefinite now.
+
+"Father needs me," she said, "and I shall not leave him while he lives."
+
+They spoke of Albert's work and plans most of all. He began to ask for
+advice concerning the former. When those stories were written, what
+then? She hoped he would try the novel he had hinted at.
+
+"I'm sure you can do it," she said. "And you mustn't give up the poems
+altogether. It was the poetry, you know, which was the beginning."
+
+"YOU were the beginning," he said impulsively. "Perhaps I should
+never have written at all if you hadn't urged me, shamed me out of my
+laziness."
+
+"I was a presuming young person, I'm afraid," she said. "I wonder
+you didn't tell me to mind my own business. I believe you did, but I
+wouldn't mind."
+
+June brought the summer weather and the summer boarders to South
+Harniss. One of the news sensations which came at the same time was that
+the new Fosdick cottage had been sold. The people who had occupied it
+the previous season had bought it. Mrs. Fosdick, so rumor said, was not
+strong and her doctors had decided that the sea air did not agree with
+her.
+
+"Crimustee!" exclaimed Issachar, as he imparted the news to Mr. Keeler,
+"if that ain't the worst. Spend your money, and a pile of money, too,
+buyin' ground, layin' of it out to build a house on to live in, then
+buildin' that house and then, by crimus, sellin' it to somebody else for
+THEM to live in. That beats any foolishness ever come MY way."
+
+"And there's some consider'ble come your way at that, ain't they, Is?"
+observed Laban, busy with his bookkeeping.
+
+Issachar nodded. "You're right there has," he said complacently.
+"I . . . What do you mean by that? Tryin' to be funny again, ain't you?"
+
+Albert heard the news with a distinct feeling of relief. While the
+feeling on his part toward Madeline was of the kindliest, and Madeline's
+was, he felt sure, the same toward him, nevertheless to meet her
+day after day, as people must meet in a village no bigger than South
+Harniss, would be awkward for both. And to meet Mrs. Fosdick might be
+more awkward still. He smiled as he surmised that the realization by the
+lady of that very awkwardness was probably responsible for the discovery
+that sea air was not beneficial.
+
+The story-writing and the story evenings continued. Over the fourth
+story in the series discussion was warm, for there were marked
+differences of opinion among the listeners. One of the experiences
+through which Albert had brought his hero was that of working as general
+assistant to a sharp, unscrupulous and smooth-tongued rascal who was
+proprietor of a circus sideshow and fake museum. He was a kind-hearted
+swindler, but one who never let a question of honesty interfere with the
+getting of a dollar. In this fourth story, to the town where the hero,
+now a man of twenty-five, had established himself in business, came this
+cheat of other days, but now he came as a duly ordained clergyman in
+answer to the call of the local church. The hero learned that he had not
+told the governing body of that church of his former career. Had he done
+so, they most certainly would not have called him. The leading man in
+that church body was the hero's patron and kindest friend. The question:
+What was the hero's duty in the matter?
+
+Of course the first question asked was whether or not the ex-sideshow
+proprietor was sincerely repentant and honestly trying to walk the
+straight path and lead others along it. Albert replied that his hero had
+interviewed him and was satisfied that he was; he had been "converted"
+at a revival and was now a religious enthusiast whose one idea was to
+save sinners.
+
+That was enough for Captain Zelotes.
+
+"Let him alone, then," said the captain. "He's tryin' to be a decent
+man. What do you want to do? Tell on him and have him chucked overboard
+from one church after another until he gets discouraged and takes to
+swindlin' again?"
+
+Rachel Ellis could not see it that way.
+
+"If he was a saved sinner," she declared, "and repentant of his sins,
+then he'd ought to repent 'em out loud. Hidin' 'em ain't repentin'. And,
+besides, there's Donald's (Donald was the hero's name) there's Donald's
+duty to the man that's been so good to him. Is it fair to that man to
+keep still and let him hire a minister that, like as not, will steal the
+collection, box and all, afore he gets through? No, sir, Donald ought to
+tell THAT man, anyhow."
+
+Olive was pretty dubious about the whole scheme. She doubted if anybody
+connected with a circus COULD ever become a minister.
+
+"The whole--er--er--trade is so different," she said.
+
+Mr. Kendall was not there that evening, his attendance being required at
+a meeting of the Sunday School teachers. Helen, however, was not at that
+meeting and Captain Zelotes declared his intention of asking her opinion
+by telephone.
+
+"She'll say same as I do--you see if she don't," he declared. When
+he called the parsonage, however, Maria Price answered the phone and
+informed him that Helen was spending the evening with old Mrs. Crowell,
+who lived but a little way from the Snow place. The captain promptly
+called up the Crowell house.
+
+"She's there and she'll stop in here on her way along," he said
+triumphantly. "And she'll back me up--you see."
+
+But she did not. She did not "back up" any one. She merely smiled and
+declared the problem too complicated to answer offhand.
+
+"Why don't you ask Albert?" she inquired. "After all, he is the one who
+must settle it eventually."
+
+"He won't tell," said Olive. "He's real provokin', isn't he? And now you
+won't tell, either, Helen."
+
+"Oh, I don't know--yet. But I think he does."
+
+Albert, as usual, walked home with her.
+
+"How are you going to answer your hero's riddle?" she asked.
+
+"Before I tell you, suppose you tell me what your answer would be."
+
+She reflected. "Well," she said, "it seems to me that, all things being
+as they are, he should do this: He should go to the sideshow man--the
+minister now--and have a very frank talk with him. He should tell him
+that he had decided to say nothing about the old life and to help him
+in every way, to be his friend--provided that he keep straight, that is
+all. Of course more than that would be meant, the alternative would be
+there and understood, but he need not say it. I think that course of
+action would be fair to himself and to everybody. That is my answer.
+What is yours?"
+
+He laughed quietly. "Just that, of course," he said. "You would see it,
+I knew. You always see down to the heart of things, Helen. You have the
+gift."
+
+She shook her head. "It didn't really need a gift, this particular
+problem, did it?" she said. "It is not--excuse me--it isn't exactly a
+new one."
+
+"No, it isn't. It is as old as the hills, but there are always new
+twists to it."
+
+"As there are to all our old problems."
+
+"Yes. By the way, your advice about the ending of my third story was
+exactly what I needed. The editor wrote me he should never have forgiven
+me if it had ended in any other way. It probably WOULD have ended in
+another way if it hadn't been for you. Thank you, Helen."
+
+"Oh, you know there was really nothing to thank me for. It was all you,
+as usual. Have you planned the next story, the fifth, yet?"
+
+"Not entirely. I have some vague ideas. Do you want to hear them?"
+
+"Of course."
+
+So they discussed those ideas as they walked along the sidewalk of the
+street leading down to the parsonage. It was a warm evening, a light
+mist, which was not substantial enough to be a fog, hanging low over
+everything, wrapping them and the trees and the little front yards and
+low houses of the old village in a sort of cozy, velvety, confidential
+quiet. The scent of lilacs was heavy in the air.
+
+They both were silent. Just when they had ceased speaking neither could
+have told. They walked on arm in arm and suddenly Albert became aware
+that this silence was dangerous for him; that in it all his resolves and
+brave determinations were melting into mist like that about him; that
+he must talk and talk at once and upon a subject which was not personal,
+which--
+
+And then Helen spoke.
+
+"Do you know what this reminds me of?" she said. "All this talk of ours?
+It reminds me of how we used to talk over those first poems of yours.
+You have gone a long way since then."
+
+"I have gone to Kaiserville and back."
+
+"You know what I mean. I mean your work has improved wonderfully. You
+write with a sure hand now, it seems to me. And your view is so much
+broader."
+
+"I hope I'm not the narrow, conceited little rooster I used to be. I
+told you, Helen, that the war handed me an awful jolt. Well, it did. I
+think it, or my sickness or the whole business together, knocked most of
+that self-confidence of mine galley-west. For so much I'm thankful."
+
+"I don't know that I am, altogether. I don't want you to lose confidence
+in yourself. You should be confident now because you deserve to be. And
+you write with confidence, or it reads as if you did. Don't you feel
+that you do, yourself? Truly, don't you?"
+
+"Well, perhaps, a little. I have been at it for some time now. I ought
+to show some progress. Perhaps I don't make as many mistakes."
+
+"I can't see that you have made any."
+
+"I have made one . . . a damnable one."
+
+"Why, what do you mean?"
+
+"Oh, nothing. I didn't mean to say that. . . . Helen, do you know it is
+awfully good of you to take all this interest in me--in my work, I mean.
+Why do you do it?"
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Yes, why?"
+
+"Why, because--Why shouldn't I? Haven't we always talked about your
+writings together, almost since we first knew each other? Aren't we old
+friends?"
+
+There it was again--friends. It was like a splash of cold water in the
+face, at once awakening and chilling. Albert walked on in silence for
+a few moments and then began speaking of some trivial subject entirely
+disconnected with himself or his work or her. When they reached the
+parsonage door he said good night at once and strode off toward home.
+
+Back in his room, however, he gave himself another mental picking to
+pieces. He was realizing most distinctly that this sort of thing would
+not do. It was easy to say that his attitude toward Helen Kendall was
+to be that of a friend and nothing more, but it was growing harder and
+harder to maintain that attitude. He had come within a breath that very
+night of saying what was in his heart.
+
+Well, if he had said it, if he did say it--what then? After all, was
+there any real reason why he should not say it? It was true that he had
+loved, or fancied that he loved, Madeline, that he had been betrothed to
+her--but again, what of it? Broken engagements were common enough, and
+there was nothing disgraceful in this one. Why not go to Helen and tell
+her that his fancied love for Madeline had been the damnable mistake he
+had confessed making. Why not tell her that since the moment when he saw
+her standing in the doorway of the parsonage on the morning following
+his return from New York he had known that she was the only woman in the
+world for him, that it was her image he had seen in his dreams, in the
+delirium of fever, that it was she, and not that other, who--
+
+But there, all this was foolishness, and he knew it. He did not dare say
+it. Not for one instant had she, by speech or look or action, given him
+the slightest encouragement to think her feeling for him was anything
+but friendship. And that friendship was far too precious to risk. He
+must not risk it. He must keep still, he must hide his thoughts, she
+must never guess. Some day, perhaps, after a year or two, after his
+position in his profession was more assured, then he might speak. But
+even then there would be that risk. And the idea of waiting was not
+pleasant. What had Rachel told him concerning the hosts of doctors and
+officers and generals who had been "shining up" to her. Some risk there,
+also.
+
+Well, never mind. He would try to keep on as he had been going for the
+present. He would try not to see her as frequently. If the strain became
+unbearable he might go away somewhere--for a time.
+
+He did not go away, but he made it a point not to see her as frequently.
+However, they met often even as it was. And he was conscious always that
+the ice beneath his feet was very, very thin.
+
+One wonderful August evening he was in his room upstairs. He was not
+writing. He had come up there early because he wished to think,
+to consider. A proposition had been made to him that afternoon, a
+surprising proposition--to him it had come as a complete surprise--and
+before mentioning it even to his grandparents he wished to think it over
+very carefully.
+
+About ten o'clock his grandfather called to him from the foot of the
+stairs and asked him to come down.
+
+"Mr. Kendall's on the phone," said Captain Zelotes. "He's worried about
+Helen. She's up to West Harniss sittin' up along of Lurany Howes, who's
+been sick so long. She ain't come home, and the old gentleman's frettin'
+about her walkin' down from there alone so late. I told him I cal'lated
+you'd just as soon harness Jess and drive up and get her. You talk with
+him yourself, Al."
+
+Albert did and, after assuring the nervous clergyman that he would see
+that his daughter reached home safely, put on his hat and went out to
+the barn. Jessamine was asleep in her stall. As he was about to lead
+her out he suddenly remembered that one of the traces had broken that
+morning and Captain Zelotes had left it at the harness-maker's to be
+mended. It was there yet. The captain had forgotten the fact, and so had
+he. That settled the idea of using Jessamine and the buggy. Never mind,
+it was a beautiful night and the walk was but little over a mile.
+
+When he reached the tiny story-and-a-half Howes cottage, sitting back
+from the road upon the knoll amid the tangle of silverleaf sprouts, it
+was Helen herself who opened the door. She was surprised to see him, and
+when he explained his errand she was a little vexed.
+
+"The idea of Father's worrying," she said. "Such a wonderful night as
+this, bright moonlight, and in South Harniss, too. Nothing ever happens
+to people in South Harniss. I will be ready in a minute or two. Mrs.
+Howes' niece is here now and will stay with her until to-morrow. Then
+her sister is coming to stay a month. As soon as I get her medicine
+ready we can go."
+
+The door of the tiny bedroom adjoining the sitting room was open, and
+Albert, sitting upon the lounge with the faded likeness of a pink
+dog printed on the plush cover, could hear the querulous voice of the
+invalid within. The widow Howes was deaf and, as Laban Keeler described
+it, "always hollered loud enough to make herself hear" when she spoke.
+Helen was moving quietly about the sick room and speaking in a low tone.
+Albert could not hear what she said, but he could hear Lurania.
+
+"You're a wonder, that's what you be," declared the latter, "and I told
+your pa so last time he was here. 'She's a saint,' says I, 'if ever
+there was one on this earth. She's the nicest, smartest, best-lookin'
+girl in THIS town and . . .' eh?"
+
+There had been a murmur, presumably of remonstrance, from Helen.
+
+"Eh?"
+
+Another murmur.
+
+"EH? WHO'D you say was there?"
+
+A third murmur.
+
+"WHO? . . . Oh, that Speranzy one? Lote Snow's grandson? The one they
+used to call the Portygee? . . . Eh? Well, all right, I don't care if
+he did hear me. If he don't know you're nice and smart and good-lookin',
+it's high time he did."
+
+Helen, a trifle embarrassed but laughing, emerged a moment later, and
+when she had put on her hat she and Albert left the Howes cottage and
+began their walk home. It was one of those nights such as Cape Codders,
+year-rounders or visitors, experience three or four times during a
+summer and boast of the remainder of the year. A sky clear, deep,
+stretched cloudless from horizon to horizon. Every light at sea or on
+shore, in cottage window or at masthead or in lighthouse or on lightship
+a twinkling diamond point. A moon, apparently as big as a barrel-head,
+hung up in the east and below it a carpet of cold fire, of dancing,
+spangled silver spread upon the ocean. The sound of the surf, distant,
+soothing; and for the rest quiet and the fragrance of the summer woods
+and fields.
+
+They walked rather fast at first and the conversation was brisk, but as
+the night began to work its spell upon them their progress was slower
+and there were intervals of silence of which neither was aware. They
+came to the little hill where the narrow road from West Harniss comes to
+join the broader highway leading to the Center. There were trees here,
+a pine grove, on the landward side, and toward the sea nothing to break
+the glorious view.
+
+Helen caught her breath. "Oh, it is beautiful, beautiful!" she said.
+
+Albert did not answer. "Why don't you talk?" she asked. "What are you
+thinking about?"
+
+He did not tell her what he was thinking about. Instead, having caught
+himself just in time, he began telling her of what he had been thinking
+when his grandfather called him to the telephone.
+
+"Helen," he said, "I want to ask your advice. I had an astonishing
+proposal made to me this afternoon. I must make a decision, I must say
+yes or no, and I'm not sure which to say."
+
+She looked up at him inquiringly.
+
+"This afternoon," he went on, "Doctor Parker called me into his office.
+There was a group of men there, prominent men in politics from about the
+country; Judge Baxter from Ostable was there, and Captain Warren from
+South Denboro, and others like them. What do you suppose they want me to
+do?"
+
+"I can't imagine."
+
+"They offer me the party nomination for Congress from this section. That
+is, of course, they want me to permit my name to stand and they seem
+sure my nomination will be confirmed by the voters. The nomination, they
+say, is equivalent to election. They seem certain of it. . . . And they
+were insistent that I accept."
+
+"Oh--oh, Albert!"
+
+"Yes. They said a good many flattering things, things I should like to
+believe. They said my war record and my writing and all that had made
+me a prominent man in the county--Please don't think I take any stock in
+that--"
+
+"But _I_ do. Go on."
+
+"Well, that is all. They seemed confident that I would make a good
+congressman. I am not so sure. Of course the thing . . . well, it does
+tempt me, I confess. I could keep on with my writing, of course. I
+should have to leave the home people for a part of the year, but I could
+be with them or near them the rest. And . . . well, Helen, I--I think
+I should like the job. Just now, when America needs Americans and the
+thing that isn't American must be fought, I should like--if I were sure
+I was capable of it--"
+
+"Oh, but you are--you ARE."
+
+"Do you really think so? Would you like to have me try?"
+
+He felt her arm tremble upon his. She drew a long breath.
+
+"Oh, I should be so PROUD!" she breathed.
+
+There was a quiver in her voice, almost a sob. He bent toward her. She
+was looking off toward the sea, the moonlight upon her face was like a
+glory, her eyes were shining--and there were tears in them. His heart
+throbbed wildly.
+
+"Helen!" he cried. "Helen!"
+
+She turned and looked up into his face. The next moment her own face was
+hidden against his breast, his arms were about her, and . . . and the
+risk, the risk he had feared to take, was taken.
+
+They walked home after a time, but it was a slow, a very slow walk with
+many interruptions.
+
+"Oh, Helen," he kept saying, "I don't see how you can. How can you? In
+spite of it all. I--I treated you so badly. I was SUCH an idiot. And you
+really care? You really do?"
+
+She laughed happily. "I really do . . . and . . . and I really have, all
+the time."
+
+"Always?"
+
+"Always."
+
+"Well--well, by George! And . . . Helen, do you know I think--I think I
+did too--always--only I was such a young fool I didn't realize it. WHAT
+a young fool I was!"
+
+"Don't say that, dear, don't. . . . You are going to be a great man.
+You are a famous one already; you are going to be great. Don't you know
+that?"
+
+He stooped and kissed her.
+
+"I think I shall have to be," he said, "if I am going to be worthy of
+you."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+
+Albert, sitting in the private office of Z. Snow and Co., dropped his
+newspaper and looked up with a smile as his grandfather came in. Captain
+Zelotes' florid face was redder even than usual, for it was a cloudy day
+in October and blowing a gale.
+
+"Whew!" puffed the captain, pulling off his overcoat and striding over
+to warm his hands at the stove; "it's raw as January comin' over the
+tops of those Trumet hills, and blowin' hard enough to part your back
+hair, besides. One time there I didn't know but I'd have to reef,
+cal'late I would if I'd known how to reef an automobile."
+
+"Is the car running as well as ever?" asked Albert.
+
+"You bet you! Took all but two of those hills on full steam and never
+slowed down a mite. Think of goin' to Trumet and back in a forenoon,
+and havin' time enough to do the talkin' I went to do besides. Why, Jess
+would have needed the whole day to make the down cruise, to say nothin'
+of the return trip. Well, the old gal's havin' a good rest now, nothin'
+much to do but eat and sleep. She deserves it; she's been a good horse
+for your grandma and me."
+
+He rubbed his hands before the stove and chuckled.
+
+"Olive's still scared to death for fear I'll get run into, or run over
+somebody or somethin'," he observed. "I tell her I can navigate that car
+now the way I used to navigate the old President Hayes, and I could
+do that walkin' in my sleep. There's a little exaggeration there," he
+added, with a grin. "It takes about all my gumption when I'm wide awake
+to turn the flivver around in a narrow road, but I manage to do it. . .
+. Well, what are you doin' in here, Al?" he added. "Readin' the Item's
+prophesy about how big your majority's goin' to be?"
+
+Albert smiled. "I dropped in here to wait for you, Grandfather," he
+replied. "The novel-writing mill wasn't working particularly well, so I
+gave it up and took a walk."
+
+"To the parsonage, I presume likely?"
+
+"Well, I did stop there for a minute or two."
+
+"You don't say! I'm surprised to hear it. How is Helen this mornin'? Did
+she think you'd changed much since you saw her last night?"
+
+"I don't know. She didn't say so if she did. She sent her love to you
+and Grandmother--"
+
+"What she had left over, you mean."
+
+"And said to tell you not to tire yourself out electioneering for
+me. That was good advice, too. Grandfather, don't you know that you
+shouldn't motor all the way to Trumet and back a morning like this? I'd
+rather--much rather go without the votes than have you do such things."
+
+Captain Zelotes seated himself in his desk chair.
+
+"But you ain't goin' to do without 'em," he chuckled. "Obed Nye--he's
+chairman of the Trumet committee--figgers you'll have a five-to-one
+majority. He told me to practice callin' you 'the Honorable' because
+that's what you'd be by Tuesday night of week after next. And next
+winter Mother and I will be takin' a trip to Washin'ton so as to set
+in the gallery and listen to you makin' speeches. We'll be some
+consider'ble proud of you, too, boy," he added, with a nod.
+
+His grandson looked away, out of the window, over the bleak yard with
+its piles of lumber. The voice of Issacher raised in expostulation with
+the driver of Cahoon's "truck-wagon" could be faintly heard.
+
+"I shall hate to leave you and Grandmother and the old place," he said.
+"If I am elected--"
+
+"WHEN you're elected; there isn't any 'if.'"
+
+"Well, all right. I shall hate to leave South Harniss. Every person I
+really care for will be here. Helen--and you people at home."
+
+"It's too bad you and Helen can't be married and go to Washin'ton
+together. Not to stay permanent," he added quickly, "but just while
+Congress is in session. Your grandma says then she'd feel as if you had
+somebody to look after you. She always figgers, you know, that a man
+ain't capable of lookin' out for himself. There'd ought to be at least
+one woman to take care of him, see that he don't get his feet wet and
+goes to meetin' reg'lar and so on; if there could be two, so much the
+better. Mother would have made a pretty good Mormon, in some ways."
+
+Albert laughed. "Helen feels she must stay with her father for the
+present," he said. "Of course she is right. Perhaps by and by we can
+find some good capable housekeeper to share the responsibility, but not
+this winter. IF I am sent to Washington I shall come back often, you may
+be sure."
+
+"When ARE you cal'latin' to be married, if that ain't a secret?"
+
+"Perhaps next spring. Certainly next fall. It will depend upon Mr.
+Kendall's health. But, Grandfather, I do feel rather like a deserter,
+going off and leaving you here--"
+
+"Good Lord! You don't cal'late I'M breakin' down, runnin' strong to talk
+and weakenin' everywhere else, like old Minister Kendall, do you?"
+
+"Well, hardly. But . . . well, you see, I have felt a little ungrateful
+ever since I came back from the war. In a way I am sorry that I feel I
+must give myself entirely to my writing--and my political work. I wish
+I might have gone on here in this office, accepted that partnership you
+would have given me--"
+
+"You can have it yet, you know. Might take it and just keep it to fall
+back on in case that story-mill of yours busts altogether or all hands
+in Ostable County go crazy and vote the wrong ticket. Just take it and
+wait. Always well to have an anchor ready to let go, you know."
+
+"Thanks, but that wouldn't be fair. I wish I MIGHT have taken it--for
+your sake. I wish for your sake I were so constituted as to be good for
+something at it. Of course I don't mean by that that I should be willing
+to give up my writing--but--well, you see, Grandfather, I owe you an
+awful lot in this world . . . and I know you had set your heart on my
+being your partner in Z. Snow and Co. I know you're disappointed."
+
+Captain Lote did not answer instantly. He seemed to be thinking. Then
+he opened a drawer in his desk and took out a box of cigars similar to
+those he had offered the Honorable Fletcher Fosdick on the occasion of
+their memorable interview.
+
+"Smoke, Al?" he asked. Albert declined because of the nearness to dinner
+time, but the captain, who never permitted meals or anything else to
+interfere with his smoking, lighted one of the cigars and leaned back in
+his chair, puffing steadily.
+
+"We-ll, Al," he said slowly, "I'll tell you about that. There was a
+time--I'll own up that there was a time when the idea you wasn't goin'
+to turn out a business man and the partner who would take over this
+concern after I got my clearance papers was a notion I wouldn't let
+myself think of for a minute. I wouldn't THINK of it, that's all. But
+I've changed my mind about that, as I have about some other things." He
+paused, tugged at his beard, and then added, "And I guess likely I might
+as well own up to the whole truth while I'm about it: I didn't change it
+because I wanted to, but because I couldn't help it--'twas changed for
+me."
+
+He made this statement more as if he were thinking aloud than as if he
+expected a reply. A moment later he continued.
+
+"Yes, sir," he said, "'twas changed for me. And," with a shrug, "I'd
+rather prided myself that when my mind was made up it stayed that way.
+But--but, well, consarn it, I've about come to the conclusion that I was
+a pig-headed old fool, Al, in some ways."
+
+"Nonsense, Grandfather. You are the last man to--"
+
+"Oh, I don't mean a candidate for the feeble-minded school. There ain't
+been any Snows put there that I can remember, not our branch of 'em,
+anyhow. But, consarn it, I--I--" he was plainly finding it hard to
+express his thought, "I--well, I used to think I knew consider'ble,
+had what I liked to think was good, hard sense. 'Twas hard enough, I
+cal'late--pretty nigh petrified in spots."
+
+Albert laid a hand on his knee.
+
+"Don't talk like that," he replied impulsively. "I don't like to hear
+you."
+
+"Don't you? Then I won't. But, you see, Al, it bothers me. Look how I
+used to talk about makin' up poetry and writin' yarns and all that. Used
+to call it silliness and a waste of time, I did--worse names than that,
+generally. And look what you're makin' at it in money, to say nothin' of
+its shovin' you into Congress, and keepin' the newspapers busy printin'
+stuff about you. . . . Well, well," with a sigh of resignation, "I don't
+understand it yet, but know it's so, and if I'd had my pig-headed way
+'twouldn't have been so. It's a dreadful belittlin' feelin' to a man at
+my time of life, a man that's commanded ten-thousand-ton steamers and
+handled crews and bossed a business like this. It makes him wonder how
+many other fool things he's done. . . . Why, do you know, Al," he added,
+in a sudden burst of confidence, "I was consider'ble prejudiced against
+you when you first came here."
+
+He made the statement as if he expected it to come as a stunning
+surprise. Albert would not have laughed for the world, nor in one way
+did he feel like it, but it was funny.
+
+"Well, perhaps you were, a little," he said gravely. "I don't wonder."
+
+"Oh, I don't mean just because you was your father's son. I mean on your
+own account, in a way. Somehow, you see, I couldn't believe--eh? Oh,
+come in, Labe! It's all right. Al and I are just talkin' about nothin'
+in particular and all creation in general."
+
+Mr. Keeler entered with a paper in his hand.
+
+"Sorry to bother you, Cap'n Lote," he said, "but this bill of Colby and
+Sons for that last lot of hardware ain't accordin' to agreement. The
+prices on those butts ain't right, and neither's those half-inch screws.
+Better send it back to em, eh?"
+
+Captain Zelotes inspected the bill.
+
+"Humph!" he grunted. "You're right, Labe. You generally are, I notice.
+Yes, send it back and tell 'em--anything you want to."
+
+Laban smiled. "I want to, all right," he said. "This is the third time
+they've sent wrong bills inside of two months. Well, Al," turning toward
+him, "I cal'late this makes you kind of homesick, don't it, this talk
+about bills and screws and bolts and such? Wa'n't teasin' for your old
+job back again, was you, Al? Cal'late he could have it, couldn't he,
+Cap'n? We'll need somebody to heave a bucket of water on Issy pretty
+soon; he's gettin' kind of pert and uppish again. Pretty much so. Yes,
+yes, yes."
+
+He departed, chuckling. Captain Zelotes looked after him. He tugged at
+his beard.
+
+"Al," he said, "do you know what I've about made up my mind to do?"
+
+Albert shook his head.
+
+"I've about made up my mind to take Labe Keeler into the firm of Z. Snow
+and Co. YOU won't come in, and," with a twinkle, "I need somebody to
+keep my name from gettin' lonesome on the sign."
+
+Albert was delighted.
+
+"Bully for you, Grandfather!" he exclaimed. "You couldn't do a better
+thing for Labe or for the firm. And he deserves it, too."
+
+"Ye-es, I think he does. Labe's a mighty faithful, capable feller, and
+now that he's sworn off on those vacations of his he can be trusted
+anywheres. Yes, I've as good as made up my mind to take him in. Of
+course," with the twinkle in evidence once more, "Issachar'll be a
+little mite jealous, but we'll have to bear up under that as best we
+can."
+
+"I wonder what Labe will say when you tell him?"
+
+"He'll say yes. I'll tell Rachel first and she'll tell him to say it.
+And then I'll tell 'em both I won't do it unless they agree to get
+married. I've always said I didn't want to die till I'd been to that
+weddin'. I want to hear Rachel tell the minister she'll 'obey' Labe. Ho,
+ho!"
+
+"Do you suppose they ever will be married?"
+
+"Why, yes, I kind of think so. I shouldn't wonder if they would be right
+off now if it wasn't that Rachel wouldn't think of givin' up keepin'
+house for your grandmother. She wouldn't do that and Labe wouldn't want
+her to. I've got to fix that somehow. Perhaps they could live along with
+us. Land knows there's room enough. They're all right, those two. Kind
+of funny to look at, and they match up in size like a rubber boot and a
+slipper, but I declare I don't know which has got the most common-sense
+or the biggest heart. And 'twould be hard to tell which thinks the most
+of you, Al. . . . Eh? Why, it's after half-past twelve o'clock! Olive'll
+be for combin' our topknots with a belayin' pin if we keep her dinner
+waitin' like this."
+
+As they were putting on their coats the captain spoke again.
+
+"I hadn't finished what I was sayin' to you when Labe came in," he
+observed. "'Twasn't much account; just a sort of confession, and they
+say that's good for the soul. I was just goin' to say that when you
+first came here I was prejudiced against you, not only because your
+father and I didn't agree, but because he was what he was. Because he
+was--was--"
+
+Albert finished the sentence for him.
+
+"A Portygee," he said.
+
+"Why, yes, that's what I called him. That's what I used to call about
+everybody that wasn't born right down here in Yankeeland. I used to be
+prejudiced against you because you was what I called a half-breed. I'm
+sorry, Al. I'm ashamed. See what you've turned out to be. I declare,
+I--"
+
+"Shh! shh! Don't, Grandfather. When I came here I was a little snob, a
+conceited, insufferable little--"
+
+"Here, here! Hold on! No, you wa'n't, neither. Or if you was, you was
+only a boy. I was a man, and I ought to--"
+
+"No, I'm going to finish. Whatever I am now, or whatever I may be. I owe
+to you, and to Grandmother, and Rachel and Laban--and Helen. You made me
+over between you. I know that now."
+
+They walked home instead of riding in the new car. Captain Zelotes
+declared he had hung on to that steering wheel all the forenoon and he
+was afraid if he took it again his fingers would grow fast to the rim.
+As they emerged from the office into the open air, he said:
+
+"Al, regardin' that makin'-over business, I shouldn't be surprised if
+it was a kind of--er--mutual thing between you and me. We both had some
+prejudices to get rid of, eh?"
+
+"Perhaps so. I'm sure I did."
+
+"And I'm sartin sure I did. And the war and all that came with it put
+the finishin' touches to the job. When I think of what the thousands
+and thousands of men did over there in those hell-holes of trenches, men
+with names that run all the way from Jones and Kelly to--er--"
+
+"Speranza."
+
+"Yes, and Whiskervitch and the land knows what more. When I think of
+that I'm ready to take off my hat to 'em and swear I'll never be so
+narrow again as to look down on a feller because he don't happen to be
+born in Ostable County. There's only one thing I ask of 'em, and that
+is that when they come here to live--to stay--under our laws and takin'
+advantage of the privileges we offer 'em--they'll stop bein' Portygees
+or Russians or Polacks or whatever they used to be or their folks were,
+and just be Americans--like you, Al."
+
+"That's what we must work for now, Grandfather. It's a big job, but it
+must be done."
+
+They walked on in silence for a time. Then the captain said:
+
+"It's a pretty fine country, after all, ain't it, Albert?"
+
+Albert looked about him over the rolling hills, the roofs of the little
+town, the sea, the dunes, the pine groves, the scene which had grown so
+familiar to him and which had become in his eyes so precious.
+
+"It is MY country," he declared, with emphasis.
+
+His grandfather caught his meaning.
+
+"I'm glad you feel that way, son," he said, "but 'twasn't just South
+Harniss I meant then. I meant all of it, the whole United States. It's
+got its faults, of course, lots of 'em. And if I was an Englishman or
+a Frenchman I'd probably say it wasn't as good as England or France,
+whichever it happened to be. That's all right; I ain't findin' any fault
+with 'em for that--that's the way they'd ought to feel. But you and I,
+Al, we're Americans. So the rest of the world must excuse us if we say
+that, take it by and large, it's a mighty good country. We've planned
+for it, and worked for it, and fought for it, and we know. Eh?"
+
+"Yes. We know."
+
+"Yes. And no howlin', wild-eyed bunch from somewhere else that haven't
+done any of these things are goin' to come here and run it their way if
+we can help it--we Americans; eh?"
+
+Alberto Miguel Carlos Speranza, American, drew a long breath.
+
+"No!" he said, with emphasis.
+
+"You bet! Well, unless I'm mistaken, I smell salt fish and potatoes,
+which, accordin' to Cape Cod notion, is a good American dinner. I don't
+know how you feel, Al, but I'm hungry."
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Portygee, by Joseph Crosby Lincoln
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+This etext was produced by Donald Lainson, charlie@idirect.com
+
+
+
+
+
+THE PORTYGEE
+
+by JOSEPH C. LINCOLN
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+Overhead the clouds cloaked the sky; a ragged cloak it was, and,
+here and there, a star shone through a hole, to be obscured almost
+instantly as more cloud tatters were hurled across the rent.  The
+pines threshed on the hill tops.  The bare branches of the wild-
+cherry and silverleaf trees scraped and rattled and tossed.  And
+the wind, the raw, chilling December wind, driven in, wet and
+salty, from the sea, tore over the dunes and brown uplands and
+across the frozen salt-meadows, screamed through the telegraph
+wires, and made the platform of the dismal South Harniss railway
+station the lonesomest, coldest, darkest and most miserable spot on
+the face of the earth.
+
+At least that was the opinion of the seventeen-year-old boy whom
+the down train--on time for once and a wonder--had just deposited
+upon that platform.  He would not have discounted the statement one
+iota.  The South Harniss station platform WAS the most miserable
+spot on earth and he was the most miserable human being upon it.
+And this last was probably true, for there were but three other
+humans upon that platform and, judging by externals, they seemed
+happy enough.  One was the station agent, who was just entering the
+building preparatory to locking up for the night, and the others
+were Jim Young, driver of the "depot wagon," and Doctor Holliday,
+the South Harniss "homeopath," who had been up to a Boston hospital
+with a patient and was returning home.  Jim was whistling "Silver
+Bells," a tune much in vogue the previous summer, and Doctor
+Holliday was puffing at a cigar and knocking his feet together to
+keep them warm while waiting to get into the depot wagon.  These
+were the only people in sight and they were paying no attention
+whatever to the lonely figure at the other end of the platform.
+
+The boy looked about him.  The station, with its sickly yellow
+gleam of kerosene lamp behind its dingy windowpane, was apparently
+the only inhabited spot in a barren wilderness.  At the edge of the
+platform civilization seemed to end and beyond was nothing but a
+black earth and a black sky, tossing trees and howling wind, and
+cold--raw, damp, penetrating cold.  Compared with this even the
+stuffy plush seats and smelly warmth of the car he had just left
+appeared temptingly homelike and luxurious.  All the way down from
+the city he had sneered inwardly at a one-horse railroad which ran
+no Pullmans on its Cape branch in winter time.  Now he forgot his
+longing for mahogany veneer and individual chairs and would gladly
+have boarded a freight car, provided there were in it a lamp and a
+stove.
+
+The light in the station was extinguished and the agent came out
+with a jingling bunch of keys and locked the door.  "Good-night,
+Jim," he shouted, and walked off into the blackness.  Jim responded
+with a "good-night" of his own and climbed aboard the wagon, into
+the dark interior of which the doctor had preceded him.  The boy
+at the other end of the platform began to be really alarmed.  It
+looked as if all living things were abandoning him and he was to be
+left marooned, to starve or freeze, provided he was not blown away
+first.
+
+He picked up the suitcase--an expensive suitcase it was, elaborately
+strapped and buckled, with a telescope back and gold fittings--and
+hastened toward the wagon.  Mr. Young had just picked up the reins.
+
+"Oh,--oh, I say!" faltered the boy.  We have called him "the boy"
+all this time, but he did not consider himself a boy, he esteemed
+himself a man, if not full-grown physically, certainly so mentally.
+A man, with all a man's wisdom, and more besides--the great, the
+all-embracing wisdom of his age, or youth.
+
+"Here, I say!  Just a minute!" he repeated.  Jim Young put his head
+around the edge of the wagon curtain.  "Eh?" he queried.  "Eh?
+Who's talkin'?  Oh, was it you, young feller?  Did you want me?"
+
+The young fellow replied that he did.  "This is South Harniss,
+isn't it?" he asked.
+
+Mr. Young chuckled.  "Darn sure thing," he drawled.  "I give in
+that it looks consider'ble like Boston, or Providence, R. I., or
+some of them capitols, but it ain't, it's South Harniss, Cape Cod."
+
+Doctor Holliday, on the back seat of the depot wagon, chuckled.
+Jim did not; he never laughed at his own jokes.  And his questioner
+did not chuckle, either.
+
+"Does a--does a Mr. Snow live here?" he asked.
+
+The answer was prompt, if rather indefinite.  "Um-hm," said the
+driver.  "No less'n fourteen of him lives here.  Which one do you
+want?"
+
+"A Mr. Z. Snow."
+
+"Mr. Z. Snow, eh?  Humph!  I don't seem to recollect any Mr. Z.
+Snow around nowadays.  There used to be a Ziba Snow, but he's dead.
+'Twan't him you wanted, was it?"
+
+"No.  The one I want is--is a Captain Snow.  Captain--" he paused
+before uttering the name which to his critical metropolitan ear had
+seemed so dreadfully countrified and humiliating; "Captain Zelotes
+Snow," he blurted, desperately.
+
+Jim Young laughed aloud.  "Good land, Doc!" he cried, turning
+toward his passenger; "I swan I clean forgot that Cap'n Lote's name
+begun with a Z.  Cap'n Lote Snow?  Why, darn sure!  I . . .  Eh?"
+He stopped short, evidently struck by a new idea.  "Sho!" he
+drawled, slowly.  "Why, I declare I believe you're . . .  Yes, of
+course!  I heard they was expectin' you.  Doc, you know who 'tis,
+don't you?  Cap'n Lote's grandson; Janie's boy."
+
+He took the lighted lantern from under the wagon seat and held it
+up so that its glow shone upon the face of the youth standing by
+the wheel.
+
+"Hum," he mused.  "Don't seem to favor Janie much, does he, Doc.
+Kind of got her mouth and chin, though.  Remember that sort of
+good-lookin' set to her mouth she had?  And SHE got it from old
+Cap'n Lo himself.  This boy's face must be more like his pa's, I
+cal'late.  Don't you cal'late so, Doc?"
+
+Whether Doctor Holliday cal'lated so or not he did not say.  It
+may be that he thought this cool inspection of and discussion
+concerning a stranger, even a juvenile stranger, somewhat
+embarrassing to its object.  Or the lantern light may have shown
+him an ominous pucker between the boy's black brows and a flash of
+temper in the big black eyes beneath them.  At any rate, instead of
+replying to Mr. Young, he said, kindly:
+
+"Yes, Captain Snow lives in the village.  If you are going to his
+house get right in here.  I live close by, myself."
+
+"Darned sure!" agreed Mr. Young, with enthusiasm.  "Hop right in,
+sonny."
+
+But the boy hesitated.  Then, haughtily ignoring the driver, he
+said:  "I thought Captain Snow would be here to meet me.  He wrote
+that he would."
+
+The irrepressible Jim had no idea of remaining ignored.  "Did Cap'n
+Lote write you that he'd be here to the depot?" he demanded.  "All
+right, then he'll be here, don't you fret.  I presume likely that
+everlastin' mare of his has eat herself sick again; eh, Doc?  By
+godfreys domino, the way they pet and stuff that fool horse is a
+sin and a shame.  It ain't Lote's fault so much as 'tis his wife's--
+she's responsible.  Don't you fret, Bub, the cap'n'll be here for
+you some time to-night.  If he said he'll come he'll come, even if
+he has to hire one of them limmysines.  He, he, he!  All you've got
+to do is wait, and . . .  Hey! . . .  Hold on a minute! . . .  Bub!"
+
+The boy was walking away.  And to hail him as "Bub" was, although
+Jim Young did not know it, the one way least likely to bring him
+back.
+
+"Bub!" shouted Jim again.  Receiving no reply he added what he had
+intended saying.  "If I run afoul of Cap'n Lote anywheres on the
+road," he called, "I'll tell him you're here a-waitin'.  So long,
+Bub.  Git dap, Chain Lightnin'."
+
+The horse, thus complimented, pricked up one ear, lifted a foot,
+and jogged off.  The depot wagon became merely a shadowy smudge
+against the darkness of the night.  For a few minutes the "chock,
+chock" of the hoofs upon the frozen road and the rattle of wheels
+gave audible evidence of its progress.  Then these died away and
+upon the windswept platform of the South Harniss station descended
+the black gloom of lonesomeness so complete as to make that which
+had been before seem, by comparison, almost cheerful.
+
+The youth upon that platform turned up his coat collar, thrust his
+gloved hands into his pockets, and shivered.  Then, still
+shivering, he took a brisk walk up and down beside the suitcase
+and, finally, circumnavigated the little station.  The voyage of
+discovery was unprofitable; there was nothing to discover.  So far
+as he could see--which was by no means far--upon each side of the
+building was nothing but bare fields and tossing pines, and wind
+and cold and blackness.  He came to anchor once more by the
+suitcase and drew a long, hopeless breath.
+
+He thought of the cheery dining room at the school he had left the
+day before.  Dinner would be nearly over by now.  The fellows were
+having dessert, or, probably, were filing out into the corridors,
+the younger chaps to go to the study hall and the older ones--the
+lordly seniors, of whom he had been one--on the way to their rooms.
+The picture of his own cheerful, gay room in the senior corridor
+was before his mind; of that room as it was before the telegram
+came, before the lawyer came with the letter, before the end of
+everything as he knew it and the beginning of--this.  He had not
+always loved and longed for that school as he loved and longed for
+it now.  There had been times when he referred to it as "the old
+jail," and professed to hate it.  But it had been the only real
+home he had known since he was eight years old and now he looked
+back upon it as a fallen angel might have looked back upon
+Paradise.  He sighed again, choked and hastily drew his gloved hand
+across his eyes.  At the age of seventeen it is very unmanly to
+cry, but, at that age also, manhood and boyhood are closely
+intermingled.  He choked again and then, squaring his shoulders,
+reached into his coat pocket for the silver cigarette case which,
+as a recent acquisition, was the pride of his soul.  He had just
+succeeded in lighting a cigarette when, borne upon the wind, he
+heard once more the sound of hoofs and wheels and saw in the
+distance a speck of light advancing toward the station.
+
+The sounds drew nearer, so did the light.  Then an old-fashioned
+buggy, drawn by a plump little sorrel, pulled up by the platform
+and a hand held a lantern aloft.
+
+"Hello!" hailed a voice.  "Where are you?"
+
+The hail did not have to be repeated.  Before the vehicle reached
+the station the boy had tossed away the cigarette, picked up the
+suitcase, and was waiting.  Now he strode into the lantern light.
+
+"Here I am," he answered, trying hard not to appear too eager.
+"Were you looking for me?"
+
+The holder of the lantern tucked the reins between the whip-socket
+and the dash and climbed out of the buggy.  He was a little man,
+perhaps about forty-eight or fifty, with a smooth-shaven face
+wrinkled at the corners of the mouth and eyes.  His voice was the
+most curious thing about him; it was high and piping, more like a
+woman's than a man's.  Yet his words and manner were masculine
+enough, and he moved and spoke with a nervous, jerky quickness.
+
+He answered the question promptly.  "Guess I be, guess I be," he
+said briskly.  "Anyhow, I'm lookin' for a boy name of--name of--
+My soul to heavens, I've forgot it again, I do believe!  What did
+you say your name was?"
+
+"Speranza.  Albert Speranza."
+
+"Sartin, sartin!  Sper--er--um--yes, yes.  Knew it just as well as
+I did my own.  Well, well, well!  Ye-es, yes, yes.  Get right
+aboard, Alfred.  Let me take your satchel."
+
+He picked up the suitcase.  The boy, his foot upon the buggy step,
+still hesitated.  "Then you're--you're not my grandfather?" he
+faltered.
+
+"Eh?  Who?  Your grandfather?  Me?  He, he, he!"  He chuckled
+shrilly.  "No, no!  No such luck.  If I was Cap'n Lote Snow, I'd be
+some older'n I be now and a dum sight richer.  Yes, yes.  No, I'm
+Cap'n Lote's bookkeeper over at the lumber consarn.  He's got a
+cold, and Olive--that's his wife--she said he shouldn't come out
+to-night.  He said he should, and while they was Katy-didin' back
+and forth about it, Rachel--Mrs. Ellis--she's the hired housekeeper
+there--she telephoned me to harness up and come meet you up here to
+the depot.  Er--er--little mite late, wan't I?"
+
+"Why, yes, just a little.  The other man, the one who drives the
+mail cart--I think that was what it was--said perhaps the horse was
+sick, or something like that."
+
+"No-o, no, that wan't it this time.  I--er--  All tucked in and
+warm enough, be you?  Ye-es, yes, yes.  No, I'm to blame, I
+shouldn't wonder.  I stopped at the--at the store a minute and met
+one or two of the fellers, and that kind of held me up.  All right
+now?  Ye-es, yes, yes.  G'long, gal."
+
+The buggy moved away from the platform.  Its passenger, his chilly
+feet and legs tightly wrapped in the robes, drew a breath of relief
+between his chattering teeth.  He was actually going somewhere at
+last; whatever happened, morning would not find him propped frozen
+stiff against the scarred and mangy clapboards of the South Harniss
+station.
+
+"Warm enough, be you?" inquired his driver cheerfully.
+
+"Yes, thank you."
+
+"That's good, that's good, that's good.  Ye-es, yes, yes.  Well--
+er--  Frederick, how do you think you're goin' to like South
+Harniss?"
+
+The answer was rather non-committal.  The boy replied that he had
+not seen very much of it as yet.  His companion seemed to find the
+statement highly amusing.  He chuckled and slapped his knee.
+
+"Ain't seen much of it, eh?  No-o, no, no.  I guess you ain't,
+guess you ain't.  He, he, he . . .  Um . . .  Let's see, what was I
+talkin' about?"
+
+"Why, nothing in particular, I think, Mr.--Mr.--"
+
+"Didn't I tell you my name?  Sho, sho!  That's funny.  My name's
+Keeler--Laban B. Keeler.  That's my name and bookkeeper is my
+station.  South Harniss is my dwellin' place--and I guess likely
+you'll have to see the minister about the rest of it.  He, he, he!"
+
+His passenger, to whom the old schoolbook quatrain was entirely
+unknown, wondered what on earth the man was talking about.
+However, he smiled politely and sniffed with a dawning suspicion.
+It seemed to him there was an unusual scent in the air, a
+spirituous scent, a--
+
+"Have a peppermint lozenger," suggested Mr. Keeler, with sudden
+enthusiasm.  "Peppermint is good for what ails you, so they tell
+me.  Ye-es, yes, yes.  Have one.  Have two, have a lot."
+
+He proceeded to have a lot himself, and the buggy was straightway
+reflavored, so to speak.  The boy, his suspicions by no means
+dispelled, leaned back in the corner behind the curtains and
+awaited developments.  He was warmer, that was a real physical and
+consequently a slight mental comfort, but the feeling of
+lonesomeness was still acute.  So far his acquaintanceship with the
+citizens of South Harniss had not filled him with enthusiasm.  They
+were what he, in his former and very recent state of existence,
+would have called "Rubes."  Were the grandparents whom he had never
+met this sort of people?  It seemed probable.  What sort of a place
+was this to which Fate had consigned him?  The sense of utter
+helplessness which had had him in its clutches since the day when
+he received the news of his father's death was as dreadfully real
+as ever.  He had not been consulted at all.  No one had asked him
+what he wished to do, or where he wished to go.  The letter had
+come from these people, the Cape Cod grandparents of whom, up to
+that time, he had never even heard, and he had been shipped to them
+as though he were a piece of merchandise.  And what was to become
+of him now, after he reached his destination?  What would they
+expect him to do?  Or be?  How would he be treated?
+
+In his extensive reading--he had been an omnivorous reader--there
+were numerous examples of youths left, like him, to the care of
+distant relatives, or step-parents, or utter strangers.  Their
+experiences, generally speaking, had not been cheerful ones.  Most
+of them had run away.  He might run away; but somehow the idea of
+running away, with no money, to face hardship and poverty and all
+the rest, did not make an alluring appeal.  He had been used to
+comfort and luxury ever since he could remember, and his imagination,
+an unusually active one, visualized much more keenly than the
+average the tribulations and struggles of a runaway.  David
+Copperfield, he remembered, had run away, but he did it when a kid,
+not a man like himself.  Nicholas Nickleby--no, Nicholas had not run
+away exactly, but his father had died and he had been left to an
+uncle.  It would be dreadful if his grandfather should turn out to
+be a man like Ralph Nickleby.  Yet Nicholas had gotten on well in
+spite of his wicked relative.  Yes, and how gloriously he had defied
+the old rascal, too!  He wondered if he would ever be called upon to
+defy his grandfather.  He saw himself doing it--quietly, a perfect
+gentleman always, but with the noble determination of one performing
+a disagreeable duty.  His chin lifted and his shoulders squared
+against the back of the buggy.
+
+Mr. Keeler, who had apparently forgotten his passenger altogether,
+broke into song,
+
+
+     "She's my darlin' hanky-panky
+        And she wears a number two,
+      Her father keeps a barber shop
+        Way out in Kalamazoo."
+
+
+He sang the foregoing twice over and then added a chorus, plainly
+improvised, made up of "Di doos" and "Di dums" ad lib.  And the
+buggy rolled up and over the slope of a little hill and, in the
+face of a screaming sea wind, descended a long, gentle slope to
+where, scattered along a two-mile water frontage, the lights of
+South Harniss twinkled sparsely.
+
+
+     "Did doo dum, dee dum, doo dum
+       Di doo dum, doo dum dee."
+
+
+So sang Mr. Keeler.  Then he broke off his solo as the little mare
+turned in between a pair of high wooden posts bordering a drive,
+jogged along that drive for perhaps fifty feet, and stopped beside
+the stone step of a white front door.  Through the arched window
+above that door shone lamplight warm and yellow.
+
+"Whoa!" commanded Mr. Keeler, most unnecessarily.  Then, as if
+himself a bit uncertain as to his exact whereabouts, he peered out
+at the door and the house of which it was a part, afterward
+settling back to announce triumphantly:  "And here we be!  Yes,
+sir, here we be!"
+
+Then the door opened.  A flood of lamplight poured upon the buggy
+and its occupants.  And the boy saw two people standing in the
+doorway, a man and a woman.
+
+It was the woman who spoke first.  It was she who had opened the
+door.  The man was standing behind her looking over her shoulder--
+over her head really, for he was tall and broad and she short and
+slender.
+
+"Is it--?" she faltered.
+
+Mr. Keeler answered.  "Yes, ma'am," he declared emphatically,
+"that's who 'tis.  Here we be--er--er--what's-your-name--Edward.
+Jump right out."
+
+His passenger alighted from the buggy.  The woman bent forward to
+look at him, her hands clasped.
+
+"It--it's Albert, isn't it?" she asked.
+
+The boy nodded.  "Yes," he said.
+
+The hands unclasped and she held them out toward him.  "Oh,
+Albert," she cried, "I'm your grandmother.  I--"
+
+The man interrupted.  "Wait till we get him inside, Olive," he
+said.  "Come in, son."  Then, addressing the driver, he ordered:
+"Labe, take the horse and team out to the barn and unharness for
+me, will you?"
+
+"Ye-es, yes, yes," replied Mr. Keeler.  "Yes indeed, Cap'n.  Take
+her right along--right off.  Yes indeedy.  Git dap!"
+
+He drove off toward the end of the yard, where a large building,
+presumably a barn, loomed black against the dark sky.  He sang as
+he drove and the big man on the step looked after him and sniffed
+suspiciously.
+
+Meanwhile the boy had followed the little woman into the house
+through a small front hall, from which a narrow flight of stairs
+shot aloft with almost unbelievable steepness, and into a large
+room.  Albert had a swift impression of big windows full of plants,
+of pictures of ships and schooners on the walls, of a table set for
+four.
+
+"Take your things right off," cried his grandmother.  "Here, I'll
+take 'em.  There! now turn 'round and let me look at you.  Don't
+move till I get a good look."
+
+He stood perfectly still while she inspected him from head to foot.
+
+"You've got her mouth," she said slowly.  "Yes, you've got her
+mouth.  Her hair and eyes were brown and yours are black, but--but
+I THINK you look like her.  Oh, I did so want you to!  May I kiss
+you, Albert?  I'm your grandmother, you know."
+
+With embarrassed shyness he leaned forward while she put her arms
+about his neck and kissed him on the cheek.  As he straightened
+again he became aware that the big man had entered the room and was
+regarding him intently beneath a pair of shaggy gray eyebrows.
+Mrs. Snow turned.
+
+"Oh, Zelotes," she cried, "he's got Janie's mouth, don't you think
+so?  And he DOES look like her, doesn't he?"
+
+Her husband shook his head.  "Maybe so, Mother," he said, with a
+half smile.  "I ain't a great hand for locatin' who folks look
+like.  How are you, boy?  Glad to see you.  I'm your grandfather,
+you know."
+
+They shook hands, while each inspected and made a mental estimate
+of the other.  Albert saw a square, bearded jaw, a firm mouth, gray
+eyes with many wrinkles at the corners, and a shock of thick gray
+hair.  The eyes had a way of looking straight at you, through you,
+as if reading your thoughts, divining your motives and making a
+general appraisal of you and them.
+
+Captain Zelotes Snow, for his part, saw a tall young fellow, slim
+and straight, with black curly hair, large black eyes and regular
+features.  A good-looking boy, a handsome boy--almost too handsome,
+perhaps, or with just a touch of the effeminate in the good looks.
+The captain's glance took in the well-fitting suit of clothes, the
+expensive tie, the gold watch chain.
+
+"Humph!" grunted Captain Zelotes.  "Well, your grandma and I are
+glad to have you with us.  Let me see, Albert--that's your right
+name, ain't it--Albert?"
+
+Something in his grandfather's looks or tone aroused a curious
+feeling in the youth.  It was not a feeling of antagonism, exactly,
+but more of defiance, of obstinacy.  He felt as if this big man,
+regarding him so keenly from under the heavy brows, was looking for
+faults, was expecting to find something wrong, might almost be
+disappointed if he did not find it.  He met the gaze for a moment,
+the color rising to his cheeks.
+
+"My name," he said deliberately, "is Alberto Miguel Carlos
+Speranza."
+
+Mrs. Snow uttered a little exclamation.  "Oh!" she ejaculated.  And
+then added:  "Why--why, I thought--we--we understood 'twas
+'Albert.'  We didn't know there was--we didn't know there was any
+more to it.  What did you say it was?"
+
+Her grandson squared his shoulders.  "Alberto Miguel Carlos
+Speranza," he repeated.  "My father"--there was pride in his voice
+now--"my father's name was Miguel Carlos.  Of course you knew
+that."
+
+He spoke as if all creation must have known it.  Mrs. Snow looked
+helplessly at her husband.  Captain Zelotes rubbed his chin.
+
+"We--ll," he drawled dryly, "I guess likely we'll get along with
+'Albert' for a spell.  I cal'late 'twill come more handy to us Cape
+folks.  We're kind of plain and everyday 'round here.  Sapper's
+ready, ain't it, Mother?  Al must be hungry.  I'm plaguey sure _I_
+am."
+
+"But, Zelotes, maybe he'd like to go up to his bedroom first.  He's
+been ridin' a long ways in the cars and maybe he'd like to wash up
+or change his clothes?"
+
+"Change his clothes!  Lord sakes, Olive, what would he want to
+change his clothes this time of night for?  You don't want to
+change your clothes, do you, boy?"
+
+"No, sir, I guess not."
+
+"Sartin sure you don't.  Want to wash?  There's a basin and soap
+and towel right out there in the kitchen."
+
+He pointed to the kitchen door.  At that moment the door was
+partially opened and a brisk feminine voice from behind it
+inquired:  "How about eatin'?  Are you all ready in there?"
+
+It was Captain Snow who answered.
+
+"You bet we are, Rachel!" he declared.  "All ready and then some.
+Trot her out.  Sit down, Mother.  Sit down, Al.  Now then, Rachel,
+all aboard."
+
+Rachel, it appeared, was the owner of the brisk feminine voice just
+mentioned.  She was brisk herself, as to age about forty, plump,
+rosy and very business-like.  She whisked the platter of fried
+mackerel and the dishes of baked potatoes, stewed corn, hot
+biscuits and all the rest, to the table is no time, and then, to
+Albert's astonishment, sat down at that table herself.  Mrs. Snow
+did the honors.
+
+"Albert," she said, "this is Mrs. Ellis, who helps me keep house.
+Rachel, this is my grandson, Albert--er--Speranza."
+
+She pronounced the surname in a tone almost apologetic.  Mrs. Ellis
+did not attempt to pronounce it.  She extended a plump hand and
+observed:  "Is that so?  Real glad to know you, Albert.  How do you
+think you're goin' to like South Harniss?"
+
+Considering that his acquaintance with the village had been so
+decidedly limited, Albert was somewhat puzzled how to reply.  His
+grandfather saved him the trouble.
+
+"Lord sakes, Rachel," he declared, "he ain't seen more'n three
+square foot of it yet.  It's darker'n the inside of a nigger's
+undershirt outdoors to-night.  Well, Al--Albert, I mean, how are
+you on mackerel?  Pretty good stowage room below decks?  About so
+much, eh?"
+
+Mrs. Snow interrupted.
+
+"Zelotes," she said reprovingly, "ain't you forgettin' somethin'?"
+
+"Eh?  Forgettin'?  Heavens to Betsy, so I am!  Lord, we thank thee
+for these and all other gifts, Amen.  What did I do with the fork;
+swallow it?"
+
+As long as he lives Albert Speranza will not forget that first meal
+in the home of his grandparents.  It was so strange, so different
+from any other meal he had ever eaten.  The food was good and there
+was an abundance of it, but the surroundings were so queer.
+Instead of the well-ordered and sedate school meal, here all the
+eatables from fish to pie were put upon the table at the same time
+and the servant--or housekeeper, which to his mind were one and the
+same--sat down, not only to eat with the family, but to take at
+least an equal part in the conversation.  And the conversation
+itself was so different.  Beginning with questions concerning his
+own journey from the New York town where the school was located, it
+at length reached South Harniss and there centered about the
+diminutive person of Laban Keeler, his loquacious and tuneful
+rescuer from the platform of the railway station.
+
+"Where are your things, Albert?" asked Mrs. Snow.  "Your trunk or
+travelin' bag, or whatever you had, I mean?"
+
+"My trunks are coming by express," began the boy.  Captain Zelotes
+interrupted him.
+
+"Your trunks?" he repeated.  "Got more'n one, have you?"
+
+"Why--why, yes, there are three.  Mr. Holden--he is the headmaster,
+you know--"
+
+"Eh?  Headmaster?  Oh, you mean the boss teacher up there at the
+school?  Yes, yes.  Um-hm."
+
+"Yes, sir.  Mr. Holden says the trunks should get here in a few
+days."
+
+Mrs. Ellis, the housekeeper, made the next remark.  "Did I
+understand you to say you had THREE trunks?" she demanded.
+
+"Why, yes."
+
+"Three trunks for one boy!  For mercy sakes, what have you got in
+'em?"
+
+"Why--why, my things.  My clothes and--and--everything."
+
+"Everything, or just about, I should say.  Goodness gracious me,
+when I go up to Boston I have all I can do to fill up one trunk.
+And I'm bigger'n you are--bigger 'round, anyway."
+
+There was no doubt about that.  Captain Zelotes laughed shortly.
+
+"That statement ain't what I'd call exaggerated, Rachel," he
+declared.  "Every time I see you and Laban out walkin' together he
+has to keep on the sunny side or be in a total eclipse.  And, by
+the way, speakin' of Laban--  Say, son, how did you and he get
+along comin' down from the depot?"
+
+"All right.  It was pretty dark."
+
+"I'll bet you!  Laban wasn't very talkative, was he?"
+
+"Why, yes, sir, he talked a good deal but he sang most of the
+time."
+
+This simple statement appeared to cause a most surprising sensation.
+The Snows and their housekeeper looked at each other.  Captain
+Zelotes leaned back in his chair and whistled.
+
+"Whew!" he observed.  "Hum!  Sho!  Thunderation!"
+
+"Oh, dear!" exclaimed his wife.
+
+Mrs. Ellis, the housekeeper, drew a long breath.  "I might have
+expected it," she said tartly.  "It's past time.  He's pretty nigh
+a month overdue, as 'tis."
+
+Captain Snow rose to his feet.  "I was kind of suspicious when he
+started for the barn," he declared.  "Seemed to me he was singin'
+then.  WHAT did he sing, boy?" he asked, turning suddenly upon his
+grandson.
+
+"Why--why, I don't know.  I didn't notice particularly.  You see,
+it was pretty cold and--"
+
+Mrs. Ellis interrupted.  "Did he sing anything about somebody's
+bein' his darlin' hanky-panky and wearin' a number two?" she
+demanded sharply.
+
+"Why--why, yes, he did."
+
+Apparently that settled it.  Mrs. Snow said, "Oh, dear!" again and
+the housekeeper also rose from the table.
+
+"You'd better go right out to the barn this minute, Cap'n Lote,"
+she said, "and I guess likely I'd better go with you."
+
+The captain already had his cap on his head.
+
+"No, Rachel," he said, "I don't need you.  Cal'late I can take care
+of 'most anything that's liable to have happened.  If he ain't put
+the bridle to bed in the stall and hung the mare up on the harness
+pegs I judge I can handle the job.  Wonder how fur along he'd got.
+Didn't hear him singin' anything about 'Hyannis on the Cape,' did
+you, boy?"
+
+"No."
+
+"That's some comfort.  Now, don't you worry, Mother.  I'll be back
+in a few minutes."
+
+Mrs. Snow clasped her hands.  "Oh, I HOPE he hasn't set the barn
+afire," she wailed.
+
+"No danger of that, I guess.  No, Rachel, you 'tend to your supper.
+I don't need you."
+
+He tramped out into the hall and the door closed behind him.  Mrs.
+Snow turned apologetically to her puzzled grandson, who was
+entirely at a loss to know what the trouble was about.
+
+"You see, Albert," she hesitatingly explained, "Laban--Mr. Keeler--
+the man who drove you down from the depot--he--he's an awful nice
+man and your grandfather thinks the world and all of him, but--but
+every once in a while he--  Oh, dear, I don't know how to say it to
+you, but--"
+
+Evidently Mrs. Ellis knew how to say it, for she broke into the
+conversation and said it then and there.
+
+"Every once in a while he gets tipsy," she snapped.  "And I only
+wish I had my fingers this minute in the hair of the scamp that
+gave him the liquor."
+
+A light broke upon Albert's mind.  "Oh!  Oh, yes!" he exclaimed.
+"I thought he acted a little queer, and once I thought I smelt--
+Oh, that was why he was eating the peppermints!"
+
+Mrs. Snow nodded.  There was a moment of silence.  Suddenly the
+housekeeper, who had resumed her seat in compliance with Captain
+Zelotes' order, slammed back her chair and stood up.
+
+"I've hated the smell of peppermint for twenty-two year," she
+declared, and went out into the kitchen.  Albert, looking after
+her, felt his grandmother's touch upon his sleeve.
+
+"I wouldn't say any more about it before her," she whispered.
+"She's awful sensitive."
+
+Why in the world the housekeeper should be particularly sensitive
+because the man who had driven him from the station ate peppermint
+was quite beyond the boy's comprehension.  Nor could he thoroughly
+understand why the suspicion of Mr. Keeler's slight inebriety
+should cause such a sensation in the Snow household.  He was
+inclined to think the tipsiness rather funny.  Of course alcohol
+was lectured against often enough at school and on one occasion a
+member of the senior class--a twenty-year-old "hold-over" who
+should have graduated the fall before--had been expelled for having
+beer in his room; but during his long summer vacations, spent
+precariously at hotels or in short visits to his father's friends,
+young Speranza had learned to be tolerant.  Tolerance was a
+necessary virtue in the circle surrounding Speranza Senior, in his
+later years.  The popping of corks at all hours of the night and
+bottles full, half full or empty, were sounds and sights to which
+Albert had been well accustomed.  When one has more than once seen
+his own father overcome by conviviality and the affair treated as
+a huge joke, one is not inclined to be too censorious when others
+slip.  What if the queer old Keeler guy was tight?  Was that
+anything to raise such a row about?
+
+Plainly, he decided, this was a strange place, this household of
+his grandparents.  His premonition that they might be "Rubes"
+seemed likely to have been well founded.  What would his father--
+his great, world-famous father--have thought of them?  "Bah! these
+Yankee bourgeoisie!"  He could almost hear him say it.  Miguel
+Carlos Speranza detested--in private--the Yankee bourgeoisie.  He
+took their money and he married one of their daughters, but he
+detested them.  During his last years, when the money had not
+flowed his way as copiously, the detest grew.
+
+"You won't say anything about Laban before Mrs. Ellis, will you,
+Albert?" persisted Mrs. Snow.  "She's dreadful sensitive.  I'll
+explain by and by."
+
+He promised, repressing a condescending smile.
+
+Both the housekeeper and Captain Snow returned in a few minutes.
+The latter reported that the mare was safe and sound in her stall.
+
+"The harness was mostly on the floor, but Jess was all right, thank
+the Lord," observed the captain.
+
+"Jess is our horse's name, Albert," explained Mrs. Snow.  "That is,
+her name's Jessamine, but Zelotes can't ever seem to say the whole
+of any name.  When we first bought Jessamine I named her Magnolia,
+but he called her 'Mag' all the time and I COULDN'T stand that.
+Have some more preserves, Albert, do."
+
+All through the meal Albert was uneasily conscious that his
+grandfather was looking at him from under the shaggy brows,
+measuring him, estimating him, reading him through and through.  He
+resented the scrutiny and the twinkle of sardonic humor which, it
+seemed to him, accompanied it.  His way of handling his knife and
+fork, his clothes, his tie, his manner of eating and drinking and
+speaking, all these Captain Zelotes seemed to note and appraise.
+But whatever the results of his scrutiny and appraisal might be
+he kept them entirely to himself.  When he addressed his grandson
+directly, which was not often, his remarks were trivial commonplaces
+and, although pleasant enough, were terse and to the point.
+
+Several times Mrs. Snow would have questioned Albert concerning the
+life at school, but each time her husband interfered.
+
+"Not now, not now, Mother," he said.  "The boy ain't goin' to run
+away to-night.  He'll be here to-morrow and a good many to-morrows,
+if"--and here again Albert seemed to detect the slight sarcasm and
+the twinkle--"if we old-fashioned 'down easters' ain't too common
+and every-day for a high-toned young chap like him to put up with.
+No, no, don't make him talk to-night.  Can't you see he's so sleepy
+that it's only the exercise of openin' his mouth to eat that keeps
+his eyes from shuttin'?  How about that, son?"
+
+It was perfectly true.  The long train ride, the excitement, the
+cold wait on the station platform and the subsequent warmth of the
+room, the hearty meal, all these combined to make for sleepiness
+so overpowering that several times the boy had caught his nose
+descending toward his plate in a most inelegant nod.  But it hurt
+his pride to think his grandfather had noticed his condition.
+
+"Oh, I'm all right," he said, with dignity.
+
+Somehow the dignity seemed to have little effect upon Captain
+Zelotes.
+
+"Um--yes, I know," observed the latter dryly, "but I guess likely
+you'll be more all right in bed.  Mother, you'll show Albert where
+to turn in, won't you?  There's your suitcase out there in the
+hall, son.  I fetched it in from the barn just now."
+
+Mrs. Snow ventured a protest.
+
+"Oh, Zelotes," she cried, "ain't we goin' to talk with him at ALL?
+Why, there is so much to say!"
+
+"'Twill say just as well to-morrow mornin', Mother; better, because
+we'll have all day to say it in.  Get the lamp."
+
+Albert looked at his watch.
+
+"Why, it's only half-past nine," he said.
+
+Captain Zelotes, who also had been looking at the watch, which was
+a very fine and very expensive one, smiled slightly.  "Half-past
+nine some nights," he said, "is equal to half-past twelve others.
+This is one of the some.  There, there, son, you're so sleepy this
+minute that you've got a list to starboard.  When you and I have
+that talk that's comin' to us we want to be shipshape and on an
+even keel.  Rachel, light that lamp."
+
+The housekeeper brought in and lighted a small hand lamp.  Mrs.
+Snow took it and led the way to the hall and the narrow, breakneck
+flight of stairs.  Captain Zelotes laid a hand on his grandson's
+shoulder.
+
+"Good-night, son," he said quietly.
+
+Albert looked into the gray eyes.  Their expression was not
+unkindly, but there was, or he imagined there was, the same
+quizzical, sardonic twinkle.  He resented that twinkle more than
+ever; it made him feel very young indeed, and correspondingly
+obstinate.  Something of that obstinacy showed in his own eyes as
+he returned his grandfather's look.
+
+"Good-night--sir," he said, and for the life of him he could not
+resist hesitating before adding the "sir."  As he climbed the steep
+stairs he fancied he heard a short sniff or chuckle--he was not
+certain which--from the big man in the dining-room.
+
+His bedroom was a good-sized room; that is, it would have been of
+good size if the person who designed it had known what the term
+"square" meant.  Apparently he did not, and had built the apartment
+on the hit-or-miss, higglety-pigglety pattern, with unexpected
+alcoves cut into the walls and closets and chimneys built out from
+them.  There were three windows, a big bed, an old-fashioned
+bureau, a chest of drawers, a washstand, and several old-fashioned
+chairs.  Mrs. Snow put the lamp upon the bureau.  She watched him
+anxiously as he looked about the room.
+
+"Do--do you like it?" she asked.
+
+Albert replied that he guessed he did.  Perhaps there was not too
+much certainty in his tone.  He had never before seen a room like
+it.
+
+"Oh, I hope you will like it!  It was your mother's room, Albert.
+She slept here from the time she was seven until--until she went
+away."
+
+The boy looked about him with a new interest, an odd thrill.  His
+mother's room.  His mother.  He could just remember her, but that
+was all.  The memories were childish and unsatisfactory, but they
+were memories.  And she had slept there; this had been her room
+when she was a girl, before she married, before--long before such a
+person as Alberto Miguel Carlos Speranza had been even dreamed of.
+That was strange, it was queer to think about.  Long before he was
+born, when she was years younger than he as he stood there now, she
+had stood there, had looked from those windows, had--
+
+His grandmother threw her arms about his neck and kissed him.  Her
+cheek was wet.
+
+"Good-night, Albert," she said chokingly, and hurried out of the
+room.
+
+He undressed quickly, for the room was very cold.  He opened the
+window, after a desperate struggle, and climbed into bed.  The
+wind, whistling in, obligingly blew out the lamp for him.  It
+shrieked and howled about the eaves and the old house squeaked and
+groaned.  Albert pulled the comforter up about his neck and
+concentrated upon the business of going to sleep.  He, who could
+scarcely remember when he had had a real home, was desperately
+homesick.
+
+Downstairs in the dining-room Captain Zelotes stood, his hands in
+his pockets, looking through the mica panes of the stove door at
+the fire within.  His wife came up behind him and laid a hand on
+his sleeve.
+
+"What are you thinkin' about, Father?" she asked.
+
+Her husband shook his head.  "I was wonderin'," he said, "what my
+granddad, the original Cap'n Lote Snow that built this house, would
+have said if he'd known that he'd have a great-great-grandson come
+to live in it who was," scornfully, "a half-breed."
+
+Olive's grip tightened on his arm.
+
+"Oh, DON'T talk so, Zelotes," she begged.  "He's our Janie's boy."
+
+The captain opened the stove door, regarded the red-hot coals for
+an instant, and then slammed the door shut again.
+
+"I know, Mother," he said grimly.  "It's for the sake of Janie's
+half that I'm takin' in the other."
+
+"But--but, Zelotes, don't you think he seems like a nice boy?"
+
+The twinkle reappeared in Captain Lote's eyes.
+
+"I think HE thinks he's a nice boy, Mother," he said.  "There,
+there, let's go to bed."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+The story of the events which led up to the coming, on this
+December night, of a "half-breed" grandson to the Snow homestead,
+was an old story in South Harniss.  The date of its beginning was
+as far back as the year 1892.
+
+In the fall of that year Captain Zelotes Snow was in Savannah.
+He was in command of the coasting schooner Olive S. and the said
+schooner was then discharging a general cargo, preparatory to
+loading with rice and cotton for Philadelphia.  With the captain in
+Savannah was his only daughter, Jane Olivia, age a scant eighteen,
+pretty, charming, romantic and head over heels in love with a
+handsome baritone then singing in a popular-priced grand opera
+company.  It was because of this handsome baritone, who, by the
+way, was a Spaniard named Miguel Carlos Speranza, that Jane Snow
+was then aboard her father's vessel.  Captain Lote was not in the
+habit of taking his women-folks on his voyages with him.  "Skirts
+clutter up the deck too much," was his opinion.
+
+He had taken Jane, however, not only on this voyage, but on that
+preceding it, which had been to Rio.  It was Captain Lote's belief,
+and his wife's hope, that a succession of sea winds might blow away
+recollections of Senor Speranza--"fan the garlic out of her head,"
+as the captain inelegantly expressed it.  Jane had spent her
+sixteenth and seventeenth years at a school for girls near Boston.
+The opera company of which Speranza was a member was performing at
+one of the minor theaters.  A party of the school girls, duly
+chaperoned and faculty-guarded, of course, attended a series of
+matinees.  At these matinees Jane first saw her hero, brave in
+doublet and hose, and braver still in melody and romance.  She and
+her mates looked and listened and worshiped from afar, as is the
+habit of maidenly youth under such circumstances.  There is no
+particular danger in such worship provided the worshiper remains
+always at a safely remote distance from the idol.  But in Jane's
+case this safety-bar was removed by Fate.  The wife of a friend of
+her father's, the friend being a Boston merchant named Cole with
+whom Captain Zelotes had had business dealings for many years, was
+a music lover.  She was in the habit of giving what she was pleased
+to call "musical teas" at her home.  Jane, to whom Mr. and Mrs.
+Cole had taken a marked fancy, was often invited to those teas and,
+because the Coles were "among our nicest people," she was permitted
+by the school authorities to attend.
+
+At one of those teas Senor Miguel Carlos Speranza was the brightest
+star.  The Senor, then in his twenty-ninth year, handsome, talented
+and picturesque, shone refulgent.  Other and far more experienced
+feminine hearts than Jane Snow's were flutteringly disturbed by the
+glory of his rays.  Jane and he met, they shook hands, they
+conversed.  And at subsequent teas they met again, for Speranza, on
+his part, was strongly attracted to the simple, unaffected Cape Cod
+schoolgirl.  It was not her beauty alone--though beauty she had and
+of an unusual type--it was something else, a personality which
+attracted all who met her.  The handsome Spaniard had had many love
+affairs of a more or less perfunctory kind, but here was something
+different, something he had not known.  He began by exerting his
+powers of fascination in a lazy, careless way.  To his astonishment
+the said powers were not overwhelming.  If Jane was fascinated she
+was not conquered.  She remained sweet, simple, direct, charmingly
+aloof.
+
+And Speranza was at first puzzled, then piqued, then himself madly
+fascinated.  He wrote fervid letters, he begged for interviews, he
+haunted each one of Mrs. Cole's "teas."  And, at last, he wrung
+from Jane a confession of her love, her promise to marry him.  And
+that very week Miss Donaldson, the head of the school, discovered
+and read a package of the Senor's letters to her pupil.
+
+Captain Zelotes happened to be at home from a voyage.  Being
+summoned from South Harniss, he came to Boston and heard the tale
+from Miss Donaldson's agitated lips.  Jane was his joy, his pride;
+her future was the great hope and dream of his life.  WHEN she
+married--which was not to be thought of for an indefinite number of
+years to come--she would of course marry a--well, not a President
+of the United States, perhaps--but an admiral possibly, or a
+millionaire, or the owner of a fleet of steamships, or something
+like that.  The idea that she should even think of marrying a
+play-actor was unbelievable.  The captain had never attended the
+performance of an opera; what was more, he never expected to attend
+one.  He had been given to understand that a "parcel of play-actin'
+men and women hollered and screamed to music for a couple of
+hours."  Olive, his wife, had attended an opera once and, according
+to her, it was more like a cat fight than anything else.  Nobody
+but foreigners ever had anything to do with operas.  And for
+foreigners of all kinds--but the Latin variety of foreigner in
+particular--Captain Zelotes Snow cherished a detest which was
+almost fanatic.
+
+And now his daughter, his own Janie, was receiving ardent love
+letters from a play-acting foreigner, a Spaniard, a "Portygee," a
+"macaroni-eater"!  When finally convinced that it was true, that
+the letters had really been written to Jane, which took some time,
+he demanded first of all to be shown the "Portygee."  Miss
+Donaldson could not, of course, produce the latter forthwith, but
+she directed her irate visitor to the theater where the opera
+company was then performing.  To the theater Captain Zelotes went.
+He did not find Speranza there, but from a frightened attendant he
+browbeat the information that the singer was staying at a certain
+hotel.  So the captain went to the hotel.  It was eleven o'clock in
+the morning, Senor Speranza was in bed and could not be disturbed.
+Couldn't, eh?  By the great and everlasting et cetera and continued
+he was going to be disturbed then and there.  And unless some of
+the hotel's "hired help" set about the disturbing it would be done
+for them.  So, rather than summon the police, the hotel management
+summoned its guest, and the first, and only, interview between the
+father and lover of Jane Snow took place.
+
+It was not a long interview, but it was spirited.  Captain Zelotes
+began by being what he considered diplomatic.  Having assured his
+wife before leaving home, and the alarmed Miss Donaldson
+subsequently, that there was to be no trouble whatever--everything
+would be settled as smooth and easy as slidin' downhill; "that
+feller won't make any fuss, you'll see"--having thus prophesied,
+the captain felt it incumbent upon himself to see to the
+fulfillment.  So he began by condescendingly explaining that of
+course he was kind of sorry for the young man before him, young
+folks were young folks and of course he presumed likely 'twas
+natural enough, and the like of that, you understand.  But of
+course also Mr. Speranza must realize that the thing could not go
+on any further.  Jane was his daughter and her people were nice
+people, and naturally, that being the case, her mother and he would
+be pretty particular as to who she kept company with, to say
+nothing of marrying, which event was not to be thought of for ten
+years, anyway.  Now he didn't want to be--er--personal or anything
+like that, and of course he wouldn't think of saying that Mr.
+Speranza wasn't a nice enough man for--well, for--for . . .  You
+see, everybody wasn't as particular as he and Mrs. Snow were.  But--
+
+Here Senor Speranza interrupted.  He politely desired to know if
+the person speaking was endeavoring to convey the idea that he,
+Miguel Carlos Speranza, was not of sufficient poseetion, goodness,
+standing, what it is? to be considered as suitor for that person's
+daughter's hand.  Did Meester Snow comprehend to whom he addressed
+himself?
+
+The interview terminated not long after.  The captain's parting
+remark was in the nature of an ultimatum.  It was to the effect
+that if Speranza, or any other condemned undesirable like him,
+dared to so much as look in the direction of Jane Olivia Snow, his
+daughter, he personally would see that the return for that look
+was a charge of buckshot.  Speranza, white-faced and furiously
+gesticulative, commanded the astonished bellboy to put that "Bah!
+pig-idiot!" out into the hall and air the room immediately
+afterward.
+
+Having, as he considered, satisfactorily attended to the presumptuous
+lover, Captain Zelotes returned to the school and to what he
+believed would be the comparatively easy task, the bringing of his
+daughter to reason.  Jane had always been an obedient girl, she was
+devoted to her parents.  Of course, although she might feel rather
+disappointed at first, she would soon get over it.  The idea that
+she might flatly refuse to get over it, that she might have a will
+of her own, and a determination equal to that of the father from
+whom she inherited it, did not occur to the captain at all.
+
+But his enlightenment was prompt and complete.  Jane did not rage
+or become hysterical, she did not even weep in his presence.  But,
+quietly, with a set of her square little chin, she informed Captain
+Zelotes that she loved Speranza, that she meant to marry him and
+that she should marry him, some day or other.  The captain raged,
+commanded, pleaded, begged.  What was the matter with her?  What
+had come over her?  Didn't she love her father and mother any more
+that she should set out to act this way?  Yes, she declared that
+she loved them as much as ever, but that she loved her lover more
+than all the world, and no one--not even her parents--should
+separate them.
+
+Captain Zelotes gave it up at last.  That is, he gave up the appeal
+to reason and the pleadings.  But he did not give up the idea of
+having his own way in the matter; being Zelotes Snow, he certainly
+did not give that up.  Instead he took his daughter home with him
+to South Harniss, where a tearful and heart-broken Olive added her
+persuasions to his.  But, when she found Jane obdurate, Mrs. Snow
+might have surrendered.  Not her husband, however.  Instead he
+conceived a brilliant idea.  He was about to start on a voyage to
+Rio Janeiro; he would take his wife and daughter with him.  Under
+their immediate observation and far removed from the influence of
+"that Portygee," Jane would be in no danger and might forget.
+
+Jane made no remonstrance.  She went to Rio and returned.  She was
+always calm, outwardly pleasant and quiet, never mentioned her
+lover unless in answer to a question; but she never once varied
+from her determination not to give him up.  The Snows remained at
+home for a month.  Then Zelotes, Jane accompanying him, sailed from
+Boston to Savannah.  Olive did not go with them; she hated the sea
+and by this time both she and her husband were somewhat reassured.
+So far as they could learn by watchful observation of their
+daughter, the latter had not communicated with Speranza nor
+received communications from him.  If she had not forgotten him it
+seemed likely that he had forgotten her.  The thought made the
+captain furiously angry, but it comforted him, too.
+
+During the voyage to Savannah this sense of comfort became
+stronger.  Jane seemed in better spirits.  She was always obedient,
+but now she began to seem almost cheerful, to speak, and even laugh
+occasionally just as she used to.  Captain Zelotes patted himself
+on the back, figuratively.  His scheme had been a good one.
+
+And in Savannah, one afternoon, Jane managed to elude her father's
+observation, to leave the schooner and to disappear completely.
+And that night came a letter.  She and Miguel Carlos Speranza had
+been in correspondence all the time, how or through whose
+connivance is a mystery never disclosed.  He had come to Savannah,
+in accordance with mutual arrangement; they had met, were married,
+and had gone away together.
+
+"I love you, Father," Jane wrote in the letter.  "I love you and
+Mother so very, VERY much.  Oh, PLEASE believe that!  But I love
+him, too.  And I could not give him up.  You will see why when you
+know him, really know him.  If it were not for you I should be SO
+happy.  I know you can't forgive me now, but some day I am sure you
+will forgive us both."
+
+Captain Zelotes was far, far from forgiveness as he read that
+letter.  His first mate, who was beside him when he opened and read
+it, was actually frightened when he saw the look on the skipper's
+face.  "He went white," said the mate; "not pale, but white, same
+as a dead man, or--or the underside of a flatfish, or somethin'.
+'For the Lord sakes, Cap'n,' says I, 'what's the matter?'  He never
+answered me, stood starin' at the letter.  Then he looked up, not
+at me, but as if somebody else was standin' there on t'other side
+of the cabin table.  'Forgive him!' he says, kind of slow and under
+his breath.  'I won't forgive his black soul in hell.'  When I
+heard him say it I give you my word my hair riz under my cap.  If
+ever there was killin' in a man's voice and in his looks 'twas in
+Cap'n Lote's that night.  When I asked him again what was the
+matter he didn't answer any more than he had the first time.  A few
+minutes afterwards he went into his stateroom and shut the door.  I
+didn't see him again until the next mornin'."
+
+Captain Zelotes made no attempt to follow the runaway couple.  He
+did take pains to ascertain that they were legally married, but
+that was all.  He left his schooner in charge of the mate at
+Savannah and journeyed north to South Harniss and his wife.  A week
+he remained at home with her, then returned to the Olive S. and
+took up his command and its duties as if nothing had happened.  But
+what had happened changed his whole life.  He became more taciturn,
+a trifle less charitable, a little harder and more worldly.  Before
+the catastrophe he had been interested in business success and the
+making of money chiefly because of his plans for his daughter's
+future.  Now he worked even harder because it helped him to forget.
+He became sole owner of the Olive S., then of other schooners.
+People spoke of him as one destined to become a wealthy man.
+
+Jane lived only a few years after her marriage.  She died at the
+birth of her second child, who died with her.  Her first, a boy,
+was born a year after the elopement.  She wrote her mother to tell
+that news and Olive answered the letter.  She begged permission of
+her husband to invite Jane and the baby to visit the old home.  At
+first Zelotes said no, flatly; the girl had made her bed, let her
+lie in it.  But a year later he had so far relented as to give
+reluctant consent for Jane and the child to come, provided her
+condemned husband did not accompany them.  "If that low-lived
+Portygee sets foot on my premises, so help me God, I'll kill him!"
+declared the captain.  In his vernacular all foreigners were
+"Portygees."
+
+But Jane was as proud and stubborn as he.  Where her husband was
+not welcome she would not go.  And a little later she had gone on
+the longest of all journeys.  Speranza did not notify her parents
+except to send a clipped newspaper account of her death and burial,
+which arrived a week after the latter had taken place.  The news
+prostrated Olive, who was ill for a month.  Captain Zelotes bore
+it, as he had borne the other great shock, with outward calm and
+quiet.  Yet a year afterward he suddenly announced his determination
+of giving up the sea and his prosperous and growing shipping
+business and of spending the rest of his days on the Cape.
+
+Olive was delighted, of course.  Riches--that is, more than a
+comfortable competency--had no temptations for her.  The old house,
+home of three generations of Snows, was painted, repaired and, to
+some extent, modernized.  For another year Captain Zelotes
+"loafed," as he called it, although others might have considered
+his activities about the place anything but that.  At the end of
+that year he surprised every one by buying from the heirs of the
+estate the business equipment of the late Eben Raymond, hardware
+dealer and lumber merchant of South Harniss, said equipment
+comprising an office, a store and lumber yards near the railway
+station.  "Got to have somethin' to keep me from gettin'
+barnacled," declared Captain Lote.  "There's enough old hulks
+rottin' at their moorin's down here as 'tis.  I don't know anything
+about lumber and half as much about hardware, but I cal'late I can
+learn."  As an aid in the learning process he retained as
+bookkeeper Laban Keeler, who had acted in that capacity for the
+former proprietor.
+
+The years slipped away, a dozen of them, as smoothly and lazily as
+South Harniss years have always slipped.  Captain Zelotes was past
+sixty now, but as vigorous as when forty, stubborn as ever, fond of
+using quarter-deck methods on shore and especially in town-meeting,
+and very often in trouble in consequence.  He was a member of the
+Board of Selectmen and was in the habit of characterizing those
+whose opinions differed from his as "narrow-minded."  They retorted
+by accusing him of being "pig-headed."  There was some truth on
+both sides.  His detest of foreigners had not abated in the least.
+
+And then, in this December of the year 1910, fell as from a clear
+sky the legacy of a grandson.  From Senor Miguel Carlos Speranza
+the Snows had had no direct word, had received nothing save the
+newspaper clipping already mentioned.  Olive had never seen him;
+her husband had seen him only on the occasion of the memorable
+interview in the hotel room.  They never spoke of him, never
+mentioned him to each other.  Occasionally, in the Boston
+newspapers, his likeness in costume had appeared amid the music
+notes or theatrical jottings.  But these had not been as numerous
+of late.  Of his son, their own daughter's child, they knew
+nothing; he might be alive or he might be dead.  Sometimes Olive
+found herself speculating concerning him, wondering if he was
+alive, and if he resembled Jane.  But she put the speculation from
+her thoughts; she could not bear to bring back memories of the old
+hopes and their bitter ending.  Sometimes Captain Lote at his desk
+in the office of "Z. Snow & Co., Lumber and Builders' Hardware,"
+caught himself dreaming of his idolized daughter and thinking how
+different the future might have been for him had she married a
+"white man," the kind of man he had meant for her to marry.  There
+might be grandchildren growing up now, fine boys and girls, to
+visit the old home at South Harniss.  "Ah hum!  Well! . . .  Labe,
+how long has this bill of Abner Parker's been hangin' on?  For
+thunder sakes, why don't he pay up?  He must think we're runnin' a
+meetin'-house Christmas tree."
+
+The letter from the lawyer had come first.  It was written in New
+York, was addressed to "Captain Lotus Snow," and began by taking
+for granted the fact that the recipient knew all about matters of
+which he knew nothing.  Speranza was dead, so much was plain, and
+the inference was that he had been fatally injured in an automobile
+accident, "particulars of which you have of course read in the
+papers."  Neither Captain Lote nor his wife had read anything of
+the kind in the papers.  The captain had been very busy of late and
+had read little except political news, and Mrs. Snow never read of
+murders and accidents, their details at least.  She looked up from
+the letter, which her husband had hastened home from the office to
+bring her, with a startled face.
+
+"Oh, Zelotes," she cried, "he's dead!"
+
+The captain nodded.
+
+"Seems so," he said.  "That part's plain enough, but go on.  The
+rest of it is what I can't get a hand-hold on.  See what you make
+of the rest of it, Olive."
+
+The rest of it was to the effect that the writer, being Mr.
+Speranza's business adviser, "that is to say, as much or more so
+than any one else," had been called in at the time of the accident,
+had conferred with the injured man, and had learned his last
+wishes.  "He expressed himself coherently concerning his son," went
+on the letter, "and it is in regard to that son that I am asking an
+interview with you.  I should have written sooner, but have been
+engaged with matters pertaining to Mr. Speranza's estate and
+personal debts.  The latter seem to be large--"
+
+"I'LL bet you!" observed Captain Zelotes, sententiously,
+interrupting his wife's reading by pointing to this sentence
+with a big forefinger.
+
+"'And the estate's affairs much tangled,'" went on Olive, reading
+aloud.  "'It seems best that I should see you concerning the boy at
+once.  I don't know whether or not you are aware that he is at
+school in ----, New York.  I am inclined to think that the estate
+itself will scarcely warrant the expense of his remaining there.
+Could you make it convenient to come to New York and see me at
+once?  Or, if not, I shall be in Boston on Friday of next week and
+can you meet me there?  It seems almost impossible for me to come
+to you just now, and, of course, you will understand that I am
+acting as a sort of temporary executor merely because Mr. Speranza
+was formerly my friend and not because I have any pecuniary
+interest in the settlement of his affairs.
+
+"'Very truly yours,
+
+"'MARCUS W. WEISSMANN.'"
+
+
+"Weissman!  Another Portygee!" snorted Captain Lote.
+
+"But--but what does it MEAN?" begged Mrs. Snow.  "Why--why should
+he want to see you, Zelotes?  And the boy--why--why, that's HER
+boy.  It's Janie's boy he must mean, Zelotes."
+
+Her husband nodded.
+
+"Hers and that blasted furriner's," he muttered.  "I suppose so."
+
+"Oh, DON'T speak that way, Zelotes!  Don't!  He's dead."
+
+Captain Lote's lips tightened.  "If he'd died twenty years ago
+'twould have been better for all hands," he growled.
+
+"Janie's boy!" repeated Olive slowly.  "Why--why, he must be a big
+boy now.  Almost grown up."
+
+Her husband did not speak.  He was pacing the floor, his hands in
+his pockets.
+
+"And this man wants to see you about him," said Olive.  Then, after
+a moment, she added timidly:  "Are you goin', Zelotes?"
+
+"Goin'?  Where?"
+
+"To New York?  To see this lawyer man?"
+
+"I?  Not by a jugful!  What in blazes should I go to see him for?"
+
+"Well--well, he wants you to, you know.  He wants to talk with you
+about the--the boy."
+
+"Humph!"
+
+"It's her boy, Zelotes."
+
+"Humph!  Young Portygee!"
+
+"Don't, Zelotes!  Please! . . .  I know you can't forgive that--
+that man.  We can't either of us forgive him; but--"
+
+The captain stopped in his stride.  "Forgive him!" he repeated.
+"Mother, don't talk like a fool.  Didn't he take away the one thing
+that I was workin' for, that I was plannin' for, that I was LIVIN'
+for?  I--"
+
+She interrupted, putting a hand on his sleeve.
+
+"Not the only thing, dear," she said.  "You had me, you know."
+
+His expression changed.  He looked down at her and smiled.
+
+"That's right, old lady," he admitted.  "I had you, and thank the
+Almighty for it.  Yes, I had you . . .  But," his anger returning,
+"when I think how that damned scamp stole our girl from us and then
+neglected her and killed her--"
+
+"ZELOTES!  How you talk!  He DIDN'T kill her.  How can you!"
+
+"Oh, I don't mean he murdered her, of course.  But I'll bet all
+I've got that he made her miserable.  Look here, Mother, you and
+she used to write back and forth once in a while.  In any one of
+those letters did she ever say she was happy?"
+
+Mrs. Snow's answer was somewhat equivocal.  "She never said she was
+unhappy," she replied.  Her husband sniffed and resumed his pacing
+up and down.
+
+After a little Olive spoke again.
+
+"New York IS a good ways," she said.  "Maybe 'twould be better for
+you to meet this lawyer man in Boston.  Don't you think so?"
+
+"Bah!"
+
+Another interval.  Then:  "Zelotes?"
+
+"Yes," impatiently.  "What is it?"
+
+"It's her boy, after all, isn't it?  Our grandson, yours and mine.
+Don't you think--don't you think it's your duty to go, Zelotes?"
+
+Captain Lote stamped his foot.
+
+"For thunderation sakes, Olive, let up!" he commanded.  "You ought
+to know by this time that there's one thing I hate worse than doin'
+my duty, that's bein' preached to about it.  Let up!  Don't you say
+another word."
+
+She did not, having learned much by years of experience.  He said
+the next word on the subject himself.  At noon, when he came home
+for dinner, he said, as they rose from the table:  "Where's my
+suitcase, up attic?"
+
+"Why, yes, I guess likely 'tis.  Why?"
+
+Instead of answering he turned to the housekeeper, Mrs. Ellis.
+
+"Rachel," he said, "go up and get that case and fetch it down to
+the bedroom, will you?  Hurry up!  Train leaves at half-past two
+and it's 'most one now."
+
+Both women stared at him.  Mrs. Ellis spoke first.
+
+"Why, Cap'n Lote," she cried; "be you goin' away?"
+
+Her employer's answer was crisp and very much to the point.  "I am
+if I can get that case time enough to pack it and make the train,"
+he observed.  "If you stand here askin' questions I probably shall
+stay to home."
+
+The housekeeper made a hasty exit by way of the back stairs.  Mrs.
+Snow still gazed wonderingly at her husband.
+
+"Zelotes," she faltered, "are you--are you--"
+
+"I'm goin' to New York on to-night's boat.  I've telegraphed that--
+that Weiss--Weiss--what-do-you-call-it--that Portygee lawyer--that
+I'll be to his office to-morrow mornin'."
+
+"But, Zelotes, we haven't scarcely talked about it, you and I, at
+all.  You might have waited till he came to Boston.  Why do you go
+so SOON?"
+
+The captain's heavy brows drew together.
+
+"You went to the dentist's last Friday," he said.  "Why didn't you
+wait till next week?"
+
+"Why--why, what a question!  My tooth ached and I wanted to have it
+fixed quick as possible."
+
+"Um-m, yes.  Well, this tooth aches and I want it fixed or hauled
+out, one or t'other.  I want the thing off my mind. . . .  Don't
+TALK to me?" he added, irritably.  "I know I'm a fool.  And," with
+a peremptory wave of the hand, "don't you DARE say anything about
+DUTY!"
+
+He was back again two days later.  His wife did not question him,
+but waited for him to speak.  Those years of experience already
+mentioned had taught her diplomacy.  He looked at her and pulled
+his beard.  "Well," he observed, when they were alone together, "I
+saw him."
+
+"The--the boy?" eagerly.
+
+"No, no!  Course not!  The boy's at school somewhere up in New York
+State; how could I see him!  I saw that lawyer and I found out
+about--about the other scamp.  He was killed in an auto accident,
+drunk at the time, I cal'late.  Nigh's I can gather he's been
+drinkin' pretty heavy for the last six or seven years.  Always
+lived high, same as his kind generally does, and spent money like
+water, I judge--but goin' down hill fast lately.  His voice was
+givin' out on him and he realized it, I presume likely.  Now he's
+dead and left nothin' but trunks full of stage clothes and
+photographs and," contemptuously, "letters from fool women, and
+debts--Lord, yes! debts enough."
+
+"But the boy, Zelotes.  Janie's boy?"
+
+"He's been at this school place for pretty nigh ten years, so the
+lawyer feller said.  That lawyer was a pretty decent chap, too, for
+a furriner.  Seems he used to know this--Speranza rascal--when
+Speranza was younger and more decent--if he ever was really decent,
+which I doubt.  But this lawyer man was his friend then and about
+the only one he really had when he was hurt.  There was plenty of
+make-believe friends hangin' on, like pilot-fish to a shark, for
+what they could get by spongin' on him, but real friends were
+scarce."
+
+"And the boy--"
+
+"For the Lord sakes, Mother, don't keep sayin' 'The boy,' 'the
+boy,' over and over again like a talkin' machine!  Let me finish
+about the father first.  This Weis--er--thingamajig--the lawyer,
+had quite a talk with Speranza afore he died, or while he was
+dyin'; he only lived a few hours after the accident and was out of
+his head part of that.  But he said enough to let Weiss--er--er--
+Oh, why CAN'T I remember that Portygee's name?--to let him know
+that he'd like to have him settle up what was left of his affairs,
+and to send word to us about--about the boy.  There!  I hope you
+feel easier, Mother; I've got 'round to 'the boy' at last."
+
+"But why did he want word sent to us, Zelotes?  He never wrote a
+line to us in his life."
+
+"You bet he didn't!" bitterly; "he knew better.  Why did he want
+word sent now?  The answer to that's easy enough.  'Cause he wanted
+to get somethin' out of us, that's the reason.  From what that
+lawyer could gather, and from what he's found out since, there
+ain't money enough for the boy to stay another six weeks at that
+school, or anywhere else, unless the young feller earns it himself.
+And, leavin' us out of the count, there isn't a relation this side
+of the salt pond.  There's probably a million or so over there in
+Portygee-land," with a derisive sniff; "those foreigners breed like
+flies.  But THEY don't count."
+
+"But did he want word sent to us about the--"
+
+"Sshh!  I'm tellin' you, Olive, I'm tellin' you.  He wanted word
+sent because he was in hopes that we--you and I, Mother--would take
+that son of his in at our house here and give him a home.  The
+cheek of it!  After what he'd done to you and me, blast him!  The
+solid brass nerve of it!"
+
+He stormed up and down the room.  His wife did not seem nearly so
+much disturbed as he at the thought of the Speranza presumption.
+She looked anxious--yes, but she looked eager, too, and her gaze
+was fixed upon her husband's face.
+
+"Oh!" she said, softly.  "Oh! . . .  And--and what did you say,
+Zelotes?"
+
+"What did I say?  What do you suppose I said?  I said no, and I
+said it good and loud, too."
+
+Olive made no comment.  She turned away her head, and the captain,
+who now in his turn was watching her, saw a suspicious gleam, as of
+moisture, on her cheek.  He stopped his pacing and laid a hand on
+her shoulder.
+
+"There, there, Mother," he said, gently.  "Don't cry.  He's
+comin'."
+
+"Comin'?"  She turned pale.  "Comin'?" she repeated.  "Who?"
+
+"That boy! . . .  Sshh! shh!" impatiently.  "Now don't go askin' me
+questions or tellin' me what I just said I said.  I SAID the right
+thing, but--  Well, hang it all, what else could I DO?  I wrote the
+boy--Albert--a letter and I wrote the boss of the school another
+one.  I sent a check along for expenses and--  Well, he'll be here
+'most any day now, I shouldn't wonder.  And WHAT in the devil are
+we goin' to do with him?"
+
+His wife did not reply to this outburst.  She was trembling with
+excitement.
+
+"Is--is his name Albert?" she faltered.
+
+"Um-hm.  Seems so."
+
+"Why, that's your middle name!  Do you--do you s'pose Janie could
+have named him for--for you?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"Of course," with some hesitation, "it may be she didn't.  If she'd
+named him Zelotes--"
+
+"Good heavens, woman!  Isn't one name like that enough in the
+family?  Thank the Lord we're spared two of 'em!  But there! he's
+comin'.  And when he gets here--then what?"
+
+Olive put her arm about her big husband.
+
+"I hope--yes, I'm sure you did right, Zelotes, and that all's goin'
+to turn out to be for the best."
+
+"Are you?  Well, _I_ ain't sure, not by a thousand fathom."
+
+"He's Janie's boy."
+
+"Yes.  And he's that play-actor's boy, too.  One Speranza pretty
+nigh ruined your life and mine, Olive.  What'll this one do? . . .
+Well, God knows, I suppose likely, but He won't tell.  All we can
+do is wait and see.  I tell you honest I ain't very hopeful."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+A brisk rap on the door; then a man's voice.
+
+"Hello, there!  Wake up."
+
+Albert rolled over, opened one eye, then the other and raised
+himself on his elbow.
+
+"Eh?  Wh-what?" he stammered.
+
+"Seven o'clock!  Time to turn out."
+
+The voice was his grandfather's.  "Oh--oh, all right!" he answered.
+
+"Understand me, do you?"
+
+"Yes--yes, sir.  I'll be right down."
+
+The stairs creaked as Captain Zelotes descended them.  Albert
+yawned cavernously, stretched and slid one foot out of bed.  He
+drew it back instantly, however, for the sensation was that of
+having thrust it into a bucket of cold water.  The room had been
+cold the previous evening; plainly it was colder still now.  The
+temptation was to turn back and go to sleep again, but he fought
+against it.  Somehow he had a feeling that to disregard his
+grandfather's summons would be poor diplomacy.
+
+He set his teeth and, tossing back the bed clothes, jumped to the
+floor.  Then he jumped again, for the floor was like ice.  The
+window was wide open and he closed it, but there was no warm
+radiator to cuddle against while dressing.  He missed his
+compulsory morning shower, a miss which did not distress him
+greatly.  He shook himself into his clothes, soused his head and
+neck in a basin of ice water poured from a pitcher, and, before
+brushing his hair, looked out of the window.
+
+It was a sharp winter morning.  The wind had gone down, but before
+subsiding it had blown every trace of mist or haze from the air,
+and from his window-sill to the horizon every detail was clean cut
+and distinct.  He was looking out, it seemed, from the back of the
+house.  The roof of the kitchen extension was below him and, to the
+right, the high roof of the barn.  Over the kitchen roof and to the
+left he saw little rolling hills, valleys, cranberry swamps, a
+pond.  A road wound in and out and, scattered along it, were
+houses, mostly white with green blinds, but occasionally varied by
+the gray of unpainted, weathered shingles.  A long, low-spreading
+building a half mile off looked as if it might be a summer hotel,
+now closed and shuttered.  Beyond it was a cluster of gray shanties
+and a gleam of water, evidently a wharf and a miniature harbor.
+And, beyond that, the deep, brilliant blue of the sea.  Brown and
+blue were the prevailing colors, but, here and there, clumps and
+groves of pines gave splashes of green.
+
+There was an exhilaration in the crisp air.  He felt an unwonted
+liveliness and a desire to be active which would have surprised some
+of his teachers at the school he had just left.  The depression of
+spirits of which he had been conscious the previous night had
+disappeared along with his premonitions of unpleasantness.  He felt
+optimistic this morning.  After giving his curls a rake with the
+comb, he opened the door and descended the steep stairs to the lower
+floor.
+
+His grandmother was setting the breakfast table.  He was a little
+surprised to see her doing it.  What was the use of having servants
+if one did the work oneself?  But perhaps the housekeeper was ill.
+
+"Good morning," he said.
+
+Mrs. Snow, who had not heard him enter, turned and saw him.  When
+he crossed the room, she kissed him on the cheek.
+
+"Good morning, Albert," she said.  "I hope you slept well."
+
+Albert replied that he had slept very well indeed.  He was a trifle
+disappointed that she made no comment on his promptness in answering
+his grandfather's summons.  He felt such promptness deserved
+commendation.  At school they rang two bells at ten minute intervals,
+thus giving a fellow a second chance.  It had been a point of senior
+etiquette to accept nothing but that second chance.  Here,
+apparently, he was expected to jump at the first.  There was a
+matter of course about his grandmother's attitude which was
+disturbing.
+
+She went on setting the table, talking as she did so.
+
+"I'm real glad you did sleep," she said.  "Some folks can hardly
+ever sleep the first night in a strange room.  Zelotes--I mean your
+grandpa--'s gone out to see to the horse and feed the hens and the
+pig.  He'll be in pretty soon.  Then we'll have breakfast.  I
+suppose you're awful hungry."
+
+As a matter of fact he was not very hungry.  Breakfast was always a
+more or less perfunctory meal with him.  But he was surprised to
+see the variety of eatables upon that table.  There were cookies
+there, and doughnuts, and even half an apple pie.  Pie for
+breakfast!  It had been a newspaper joke at which he had laughed
+many times.  But it seemed not to be a joke here, rather a solemn
+reality.
+
+The kitchen door opened and Mrs. Ellis put in her head.  To
+Albert's astonishment the upper part of the head, beginning just
+above the brows, was swathed in a huge bandage.  The lower part was
+a picture of hopeless misery.
+
+"Has Cap'n Lote come in yet?" inquired the housekeeper, faintly.
+
+"Not yet, Rachel," replied Mrs. Snow.  "He'll be here in a minute,
+though.  Albert's down, so you can begin takin' up the things."
+
+The head disappeared.  A sigh of complete wretchedness drifted in
+as the door closed.  Albert looked at his grandmother in alarm.
+
+"Is she sick?" he faltered.
+
+"Who?  Rachel?  No, she ain't exactly sick . . .  Dear me!  Where
+did I put that clean napkin?"
+
+The boy stared at the kitchen door.  If his grandmother had said
+the housekeeper was not exactly dead he might have understood.  But
+to say she was not exactly sick--
+
+"But--but what makes her look so?" he stammered.  "And--and what's
+she got that on her head for?  And she groaned!  Why, she MUST be
+sick!"
+
+Mrs. Snow, having found the clean napkin, laid it beside her
+husband's plate.
+
+"No," she said calmly.  "It's one of her sympathetic attacks;
+that's what she calls 'em, sympathetic attacks.  She has 'em every
+time Laban Keeler starts in on one of his periodics.  It's nerves,
+I suppose.  Cap'n Zelotes--your grandfather--says it's everlastin'
+foolishness.  Whatever 'tis, it's a nuisance.  And she's so
+sensible other times, too."
+
+Albert was more puzzled than ever.  Why in the world Mrs. Ellis
+should tie up her head and groan because the little Keeler person
+had gone on a spree was beyond his comprehension.
+
+His grandmother enlightened him a trifle.
+
+"You see," she went on, "she and Laban have been engaged to be
+married ever since they were young folks.  It's Laban's weakness
+for liquor that's kept 'em apart so long.  She won't marry him
+while he drinks and he keeps swearin' off and then breaking down.
+He's a good man, too; an awful good man and capable as all get-out
+when he's sober.  Lately that is, for the last seven or eight
+years, beginnin' with the time when that lecturer on mesmerism and
+telegraphy--no, telepathy--thought-transfers and such--was at the
+town hall--Rachel has been havin' these sympathetic attacks of
+hers.  She declares that alcohol-takin' is a disease and that Laban
+suffers when he's tipsy and that she and he are so bound up
+together that she suffers just the same as he does.  I must say I
+never noticed him sufferin' very much, not at the beginnin,'
+anyhow--acts more as he was havin' a good time--but she seems to.
+I don't wonder you smile," she added.  "'Tis funny, in a way, and
+it's queer that such a practical, common-sense woman as Rachel
+Ellis is, should have such a notion.  It's hard on us, though.
+Don't say anything to her about it, and don't laugh at her,
+whatever you do."
+
+Albert wanted to laugh very much.  "But, Mrs. Snow--" he began.
+
+"Mercy sakes alive!  You ain't goin' to call me 'Mrs. Snow,' I
+hope."
+
+"No, of course not.  But, Grandmother why do you and Captain--you
+and Grandfather keep her and Keeler if they are so much trouble?
+Why don't you let them go and get someone else?"
+
+"Let 'em go?  Get someone else!  Why, we COULDN'T get anybody else,
+anyone who would be like them.  They're almost a part of our
+family; that is, Rachel is, she's been here since goodness knows
+when.  And, when he's sober Laban almost runs the lumber business.
+Besides, they're nice folks--almost always."
+
+Plainly the ways of South Harniss were not the ways of the world he
+had known.  Certainly these people were "Rubes" and queer Rubes,
+too.  Then he remembered that two of them were his grandparents and
+that his immediate future was, so to speak, in their hands.  The
+thought was not entirely comforting or delightful.  He was still
+pondering upon it when his grandfather came in from the barn.
+
+The captain said good morning in the same way he had said good
+night, that is, he and Albert shook hands and the boy was again
+conscious of the gaze which took him in from head to foot and of
+the quiet twinkle in the gray eyes.
+
+"Sleep well, son?" inquired Captain Zelotes.
+
+"Yes . . .  Yes, sir."
+
+"That's good.  I judged you was makin' a pretty good try at it when
+I thumped on your door this mornin'.  Somethin' new for you to be
+turned out at seven, eh?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"Eh?  It wasn't?"
+
+"No, sir.  The rising bell rang at seven up at school.  We were
+supposed to be down at breakfast at a quarter past."
+
+"Humph!  You were, eh?  Supposed to be?  Does that mean that you
+were there?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+There was a surprised look in the gray eyes now, a fact which
+Albert noticed with inward delight.  He had taken one "rise" out
+of his grandfather, at any rate.  He waited, hoping for another
+opportunity, but it did not come.  Instead they sat down to
+breakfast.
+
+Breakfast, in spite of the morning sunshine at the windows, was
+somewhat gloomy.  The homesickness, although not as acute as on the
+previous night, was still in evidence.  Albert felt lost, out of
+his element, lonely.  And, to add a touch of real miserableness,
+the housekeeper served and ate like a near relative of the deceased
+at a funeral feast.  She moved slowly, she sighed heavily, and the
+bandage upon her forehead loomed large and portentous.  When spoken
+to she seldom replied before the third attempt.  Captain Zelotes
+lost patience.
+
+"Have another egg?" he roared, brandishing the spoon containing it
+at arm's length and almost under her nose.  "Egg!  Egg!  EGG!  If
+you can't hear it, smell it.  Only answer, for heaven sakes!"
+
+The effect of this outburst was obviously not what he had hoped.
+Mrs. Ellis stared first at the egg quivering before her face, then
+at the captain.  Then she rose and marched majestically to the
+kitchen.  The door closed, but a heartrending sniff drifted in
+through the crack.  Olive laid down her knife and fork.
+
+"There!" she exclaimed, despairingly.  "Now see what you've done.
+Oh, Zelotes, how many times have I told you you've got to treat her
+tactful when she's this way?"
+
+Captain Lote put the egg back in the bowl.
+
+"DAMN!" he observed, with intense enthusiasm.
+
+His wife shook her head.
+
+"Swearin' don't help it a mite, either," she declared.  "Besides I
+don't know what Albert here must think of you."  Albert, who,
+between astonishment and a wild desire to laugh, was in a critical
+condition, appeared rather embarrassed.  His grandfather looked at
+him and smiled grimly.
+
+"I cal'late one damn won't scare him to death," he observed.
+"Maybe he's heard somethin' like it afore.  Or do they say, 'Oh,
+sugar!' up at that school you come from?" he added.
+
+Albert, not knowing how to reply, looked more embarrassed than
+ever.  Olive seemed on the point of weeping.
+
+"Oh, Zelotes, how CAN you!" she wailed.  "And to-day, of all days!
+His very first mornin'!"
+
+Captain Lote relented.
+
+"There, there, Mother!" he said.  "I'm sorry.  Forget it.  Sorry if
+I shocked you, Albert.  There's times when salt-water language is
+the only thing that seems to help me out . . .  Well, Mother, what
+next?  What'll we do now?"
+
+"You know just as well as I do, Zelotes.  There's only one thing
+you can do.  That's go out and beg her pardon this minute.  There's
+a dozen places she could get right here in South Harniss without
+turnin' her hand over.  And if she should leave I don't know WHAT
+I'd do."
+
+"Leave!  She ain't goin' to leave any more'n than the ship's cat's
+goin' to jump overboard.  She's been here so long she wouldn't know
+how to leave if she wanted to."
+
+"That don't make any difference.  The pitcher that goes to the
+well--er--er--"
+
+She had evidently forgotten the rest of the proverb.  Her husband
+helped her out.
+
+"Flocks together or gathers no moss, or somethin', eh?  All right,
+Mother, don't fret.  There ain't really any occasion to, considerin'
+we've been through somethin' like this at least once every six
+months for ten years."
+
+"Zelotes, won't you PLEASE go and ask her pardon?"
+
+The captain pushed back his chair.  "I'll be hanged if it ain't a
+healthy note," he grumbled, "when the skipper has to go and
+apologize to the cook because the cook's made a fool of herself!
+I'd like to know what kind of rum Labe drinks.  I never saw any but
+his kind that would go to somebody else's head.  Two people gettin'
+tight and only one of 'em drinkin' is somethin'--"
+
+He disappeared into the kitchen, still muttering.  Mrs. Snow smiled
+feebly at her grandson.
+
+"I guess you think we're funny folks, Albert," she said.  "But
+Rachel is one hired help in a thousand and she has to be treated
+just so."
+
+Five minutes later Cap'n 'Lote returned.  He shrugged his shoulders
+and sat down at his place.
+
+"All right, Mother, all right," he observed.  "I've been heavin'
+ile on the troubled waters and the sea's smoothin' down.  She'll be
+kind and condescendin' enough to eat with us in a minute or so."
+
+She was.  She came into the dining-room with the air of a saint
+going to martyrdom and the remainder of the meal was eaten by the
+quartet almost in silence.  When it was over the captain said:
+
+"Well, Al, feel like walkin', do you?"
+
+"Why, why, yes, sir, I guess so."
+
+"Humph!  You don't seem very wild at the prospect.  Walkin' ain't
+much in your line, maybe.  More used to autoin', perhaps?"
+
+Mrs. Snow put in a word.  "Don't talk so, Zelotes," she said.
+"He'll think you're makin' fun of him."
+
+"Who?  Me?  Not a bit of it.  Well, Al, do you want to walk down to
+the lumber yard with me?"
+
+The boy hesitated.  The quiet note of sarcasm in his grandfather's
+voice was making him furiously angry once more, just as it had done
+on the previous night.
+
+"Do you want me to?" he asked, shortly.
+
+"Why, yes, I cal'late I do."
+
+Albert, without another word, walked to the hat-rack in the hall
+and began putting on his coat.  Captain Lote watched him for a
+moment and then put on his own.
+
+"We'll be back to dinner, Mother," he said.  "Heave ahead, Al, if
+you're ready."
+
+There was little conversation between the pair during the half mile
+walk to the office and yards of "Z. Snow and Co., Lumber and
+Builders' Hardware."  Only once did the captain offer a remark.
+That was just as they came out by the big posts at the entrance to
+the driveway.  Then he said:
+
+"Al, I don't want you to get the idea from what happened at the
+table just now--that foolishness about Rachel Ellis--that your
+grandmother ain't a sensible woman.  She is, and there's no better
+one on earth.  Don't let that fact slip your mind."
+
+Albert, somewhat startled by the abruptness of the observation,
+looked up in surprise.  He found the gray eyes looking down at him.
+
+"I noticed you lookin' at her," went on his grandfather, "as if you
+was kind of wonderin' whether to laugh at her or pity her.  You
+needn't do either.  She's kind-hearted and that makes her put up
+with Rachel's silliness.  Then, besides, Rachel herself is common
+sense and practical nine-tenths of the time.  It's always a good
+idea, son, to sail one v'yage along with a person before you decide
+whether to class 'em as A. B. or just roustabout."
+
+The blood rushed to the boy's face.  He felt guilty and the feeling
+made him angrier than ever.
+
+"I don't see why," he burst out, indignantly, "you should say I was
+laughing at--at Mrs. Snow--"
+
+"At your grandmother."
+
+"Well--yes--at my grandmother.  I don't see why you should say
+that.  I wasn't."
+
+"Wasn't you?  Good!  I'm glad of it.  I wouldn't, anyhow.  She's
+liable to be about the best friend you'll have in this world."
+
+To Albert's mind flashed the addition:  "Better than you, that
+means," but he kept it to himself.
+
+The lumber yards were on a spur track not very far from the railway
+station where he had spent that miserable half hour the previous
+evening.  The darkness then had prevented his seeing them.  Not
+that he would have been greatly interested if he had seen them, nor
+was he more interested now, although his grandfather took him on a
+personally conducted tour between the piles of spruce and pine and
+hemlock and pointed out which was which and added further details.
+"Those are two by fours," he said.  Or, "Those are larger joist,
+different sizes."  "This is good, clear stock, as good a lot of
+white pine as we've got hold of for a long spell."  He gave
+particulars concerning the "handiest way to drive a team" to one or
+the other of the piles.  Albert found it rather boring.  He longed
+to speak concerning enormous lumber yards he had seen in New York
+or Chicago or elsewhere.  He felt almost a pitying condescension
+toward this provincial grandparent who seemed to think his little
+piles of "two by fours" so important.
+
+It was much the same, perhaps a little worse, when they entered the
+hardware shop and the office.  The rows and rows of little drawers
+and boxes, each with samples of its contents--screws, or bolts, or
+hooks, or knobs--affixed to its front, were even more boring than
+the lumber piles.  There was a countryfied, middle-aged person in
+overalls sweeping out the shop and Captain Zelotes introduced him.
+
+"Albert," he said, "this is Mr. Issachar Price, who works around
+the place here.  Issy, let me make you acquainted with my grandson,
+Albert."
+
+Mr. Price, looking over his spectacles, extended a horny hand and
+observed:  "Yus, yus.  Pleased to meet you, Albert.  I've heard
+tell of you."
+
+Albert's private appraisal of "Issy" was that the latter was
+another funny Rube.  Whatever Issy's estimate of his employer's
+grandson might have been, he, also, kept it to himself.
+
+Captain Zelotes looked about the shop and glanced into the office.
+
+"Humph!" he grunted.  "No sign or symptoms of Laban this mornin', I
+presume likely?"
+
+Issachar went on with his sweeping.
+
+"Nary one," was his laconic reply.
+
+"Humph!  Heard anything about him?"
+
+Mr. Price moistened his broom in a bucket of water.  "I see Tim
+Kelley on my way down street," he said.  "Tim said he run afoul of
+Laban along about ten last night.  Said he cal'lated Labe was on
+his way.  He was singin' 'Hyannis on the Cape' and so Tim figgered
+he'd got a pretty fair start already."
+
+The captain shook his head.  "Tut, tut, tut!" he muttered.  "Well,
+that means I'll have to do office work for the next week or so.
+Humph!  I declare it's too bad just now when I was countin' on him
+to--"  He did not finish the sentence, but instead turned to his
+grandson and said:  "Al, why don't you look around the hardware
+store here while I open the mail and the safe.  If there's anything
+you see you don't understand Issy'll tell you about it."
+
+He went into the office.  Albert sauntered listlessly to the window
+and looked out.  So far as not understanding anything in the shop
+was concerned he was quite willing to remain in ignorance.  It did
+not interest him in the least.  A moment later he felt a touch on
+his elbow.  He turned, to find Mr. Price standing beside him.
+
+"I'm all ready to tell you about it now," volunteered the unsmiling
+Issy.  "Sweepin's all finished up."
+
+Albert was amused.  "I guess I can get along," he said.
+
+"Don't worry."
+
+"_I_ ain't worried none.  I don't believe in worryin'; worryin'
+don't do folks no good, the way I look at it.  But long's Cap'n
+Lote wants me to tell you about the hardware I'd ruther do it now,
+than any time.  Henry Cahoon's team'll be here for a load of lath
+in about ten minutes or so, and then I'll have to leave you.  This
+here's the shelf where we keep the butts--hinges, you understand.
+Brass along here, and iron here.  Got quite a stock, ain't we."
+
+He took the visitor's arm in his mighty paw and led him from
+shelves to drawers and from drawers to boxes, talking all the time,
+so the boy thought, "like a catalogue."  Albert tried gently to
+break away several times and yawned often, but yawns and hints were
+quite lost on his guide, who was intent only upon the business--and
+victim--in hand.  At the window looking across toward the main road
+Albert paused longest.  There was a girl in sight--she looked, at
+that distance, as if she might be a rather pretty girl--and the
+young man was languidly interested.  He had recently made the
+discovery that pretty girls may be quite interesting; and, moreover,
+one or two of them whom he had met at the school dances--when the
+young ladies from the Misses Bradshaws' seminary had come over, duly
+guarded and chaperoned, to one-step and fox-trot with the young
+gentlemen of the school--one or two of these young ladies had
+intimated a certain interest in him.  So the feminine possibility
+across the road attracted his notice--only slightly, of course; the
+sophisticated metropolitan notice is not easily aroused--but still,
+slightly.
+
+"Come on, come on," urged Issachar Price.  "I ain't begun to show
+ye the whole of it yet . . .  Eh?  Oh, Lord, there comes Cahoon's
+team now!  Well, I got to go.  Show you the rest some other time.
+So long . . .  Eh?  Cap'n Lote's callin' you, ain't he?"
+
+Albert went into the office in response to his grandfather's call
+to find the latter seated at an old-fashioned roll-top desk, piled
+with papers.
+
+"I've got to go down to the bank, Al," he said.  "Some business
+about a note that Laban ought to be here to see to, but ain't.
+I'll be back pretty soon.  You just stay here and wait for me.  You
+might be lookin' over the books, if you want to.  I took 'em out of
+the safe and they're on Labe's desk there," pointing to the high
+standing desk by the window.  "They're worth lookin' at, if only to
+see how neat they're kept.  A set of books like that is an example
+to any young man.  You might be lookin' 'em over."
+
+He hurried out.  Albert smiled condescendingly and, instead of
+looking over Mr. Keeler's books, walked over to the window and
+looked out of that.  The girl was not in sight now, but she might
+be soon.  At any rate watching for her was as exciting as any
+amusement he could think of about that dull hole.  Ah hum! he
+wondered how the fellows were at school.
+
+The girl did not reappear.  Signs of animation along the main road
+were limited.  One or two men went by, then a group of children
+obviously on their way to school.  Albert yawned again, took the
+silver cigarette case from his pocket and looked longingly at its
+contents.  He wondered what his grandfather's ideas might be on the
+tobacco question.  But his grandfather was not there then . . .
+and he might not return for some time . . . and . . .  He took a
+cigarette from the case, tapped, with careful carelessness, its end
+upon the case--he would not have dreamed of smoking without first
+going through the tapping process--lighted the cigarette and blew a
+large and satisfying cloud.  Between puffs he sang:
+
+
+      "To you, beautiful lady,
+       I raise my eyes.
+     My heart, beautiful lady,
+       To your heart cries:
+     Come, come, beautiful lady,
+       To Par-a-dise,
+     As the sweet, sweet--'"
+
+
+Some one behind him said:  "Excuse me."  The appeal to the
+beautiful lady broke off in the middle, and he whirled about to
+find the girl whom he had seen across the road and for whose
+reappearance he had been watching at the window, standing in the
+office doorway.  He looked at her and she looked at him.  He was
+embarrassed.  She did not seem to be.
+
+"Excuse me," she said:  "Is Mr. Keeler here?"
+
+She was a pretty girl, so his hasty estimate made when he had first
+sighted her was correct.  Her hair was dark, so were her eyes, and
+her cheeks were becomingly colored by the chill of the winter air.
+She was a country girl, her hat and coat proved that; not that they
+were in bad taste or unbecoming, but they were simple and their
+style perhaps nearer to that which the young ladies of the Misses
+Bradshaws' seminary had worn the previous winter.  All this Albert
+noticed in detail later on.  Just then the particular point which
+attracted his embarrassed attention was the look in the dark eyes.
+They seemed to have almost the same disturbing quality which he had
+noticed in his grandfather's gray ones.  Her mouth was very proper
+and grave, but her eyes looked as if she were laughing at him.
+
+Now to be laughed at by an attractive young lady is disturbing and
+unpleasant.  It is particularly so when the laughter is from the
+provinces and the laughee--so to speak--a dignified and sophisticated
+city man.  Albert summoned the said dignity and sophistication to
+his rescue, knocked the ashes from his cigarette and said, haughtily:
+
+"I beg your pardon?"
+
+"Is Mr. Keeler here?" repeated the girl.
+
+"No, he is out."
+
+"Will he be back soon, do you think?"
+
+Recollections of Mr. Price's recent remark concerning the missing
+bookkeeper's "good start" came to Albert's mind and he smiled,
+slightly.  "I should say not," he observed, with delicate irony.
+
+"Is Issy--I mean Mr. Price, busy?"
+
+"He's out in the yard there somewhere, I believe.  Would you like
+to have me call him?"
+
+"Why, yes--if you please--sir."
+
+The "sir" was flattering, if it was sincere.  He glanced at her.
+The expression of the mouth was as grave as ever, but he was still
+uncertain about those eyes.  However, he was disposed to give her
+the benefit of the doubt, so, stepping to the side door of the
+office--that leading to the yards--he opened it and shouted:
+"Price! . . .  Hey, Price!"
+
+There was no answer, although he could hear Issachar's voice and
+another above the rattle of lath bundles.
+
+"Price!" he shouted, again.  "Pri-i-ce!"
+
+The rattling ceased.  Then, in the middle distance, above a pile of
+"two by fours," appeared Issachar's head, the features agitated and
+the forehead bedewed with the moisture of honest toil.
+
+"Huh?" yelled Issy.  "What's the matter?  Be you hollerin' to me?"
+
+"Yes.  There's some one here wants to see you."
+
+"Hey?"
+
+"I say there's some one here who wants to see you."
+
+"What for?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"Well, find out, can't ye?  I'm busy."
+
+Was that a laugh which Albert heard behind him?  He turned around,
+but the young lady's face wore the same grave, even demure,
+expression.
+
+"What do you want to see him for?" he asked.
+
+"I wanted to buy something."
+
+"She wants to buy something," repeated Albert, shouting.
+
+"Hey?"
+
+"She wants to--BUY--something."  It was humiliating to have to
+scream in this way.
+
+"Buy?  Buy what?"
+
+"What do you want to buy?"
+
+"A hook, that's all.  A hook for our kitchen door.  Would you mind
+asking him to hurry?  I haven't much time."
+
+"She wants a hook."
+
+"Eh?  We don't keep books.  What kind of a book?"
+
+"Not book--HOOK.  H-O-O-K!  Oh, great Scott!  Hook!  HOOK!  Hook for
+a door!  And she wants you to hurry."
+
+"Eh?  Well, I can't hurry now for nobody.  I got to load these
+laths and that's all there is to it.  Can't you wait on him?"
+Evidently the customer's sex had not yet been made clear to the
+Price understanding.  "You can get a hook for him, can't ye?  You
+know where they be, I showed ye.  Ain't forgot so soon, 'tain't
+likely."
+
+The head disappeared behind the "two by fours."  Its face was red,
+but no redder than Mr. Speranza's at that moment.
+
+"Fool rube!" he snorted, disgustedly.
+
+"Excuse me, but you've dropped your cigarette," observed the young
+lady.
+
+Albert savagely slammed down the window and turned away.  The
+dropped cigarette stump lay where it had fallen, smudging and
+smelling.
+
+His caller looked at it and then at him.
+
+"I'd pick it up, if I were you," she said.  "Cap'n Snow HATES
+cigarettes."
+
+Albert, his dignity and indignation forgotten, returned her look
+with one of anxiety.
+
+"Does he, honest?" he asked.
+
+"Yes.  He hates them worse than anything."
+
+The cigarette stump was hastily picked up by its owner.
+
+"Where'll I put it?" he asked, hurriedly.
+
+"Why don't you--  Oh, don't put it in your pocket!  It will set you
+on fire.  Put it in the stove, quick."
+
+Into the stove it went, all but its fragrance, which lingered.
+
+"Do you think you COULD find me that hook?" asked the girl.
+
+"I'll try.  _I_ don't know anything about the confounded things."
+
+"Oh!" innocently.  "Don't you?"
+
+"No, of course I don't.  Why should I?"
+
+"Aren't you working here?"
+
+"Here?  Work HERE?  ME?  Well, I--should--say--NOT!"
+
+"Oh, excuse me.  I thought you must be a new bookkeeper, or--or a
+new partner, or something."
+
+Albert regarded her intently and suspiciously for some seconds
+before making another remark.  She was as demurely grave as ever,
+but his suspicions were again aroused.  However, she WAS pretty,
+there could be no doubt about that.
+
+"Maybe I can find the hook for you," he said.  "I can try, anyway."
+
+"Oh, thank you ever so much," gratefully.  "It's VERY kind of you
+to take so much trouble."
+
+"Oh," airily, "that's all right.  Come on; perhaps we can find it
+together."
+
+They were still looking when Mr. Price came panting in.
+
+"Whew!" he observed, with emphasis.  "If anybody tells you heavin'
+bundles of laths aboard a truck-wagon ain't hard work you tell him
+for me he's a liar, will ye.  Whew!  And I had to do the heft of
+everything, 'cause Cahoon sent that one-armed nephew of his to
+drive the team.  A healthy lot of good a one-armed man is to help
+heave lumber!  I says to him, says I:  'What in time did--'  Eh?
+Why, hello, Helen!  Good mornin'.  Land sakes! you're out airly,
+ain't ye?"
+
+The young lady nodded.  "Good morning, Issachar," she said.  "Yes,
+I am pretty early and I'm in a dreadful hurry.  The wind blew our
+kitchen door back against the house last night and broke the hook.
+I promised Father I would run over here and get him a new one and
+bring it back to him before I went to school.  And it's quarter to
+nine now."
+
+"Land sakes, so 'tis!  Ain't--er--er--what's-his-name--Albert here,
+found it for you yet?  He ain't no kind of a hand to find things,
+is he?  We'll have to larn him better'n that.  Yes indeed!"
+
+Albert laughed, sarcastically.  He was about to make a satisfyingly
+crushing reproof to this piece of impertinence when Mr. Price began
+to sniff the air.
+
+"What in tunket?" he demanded.  "Sn'f!  Sn'f!  Who's been smokin'
+in here?  And cigarettes, too, by crimus!  Sn'f!  Sn'f!  Yes, sir,
+cigarettes, by crimustee!  Who's been smokin' cigarettes in here?
+If Cap'n Lote knew anybody'd smoked a cigarette in here I don't
+know's he wouldn't kill 'em.  Who done it?"
+
+Albert shivered.  The girl with the dark blue eyes flashed a quick
+glance at him.  "I think perhaps someone went by the window when it
+was open just now," she suggested.  "Perhaps they were smoking and
+the smoke blew in."
+
+"Eh?  Well, maybe so.  Must have been a mighty rank cigarette to
+smell up the whole premises like this just goin' past a window.
+Whew!  Gosh! no wonder they say them things are rank pison.  I'd
+sooner smoke skunk-cabbage myself; 'twouldn't smell no worse and
+'twould be a dum sight safer.  Whew! . . .  Well, Helen, there's
+about the kind of hook I cal'late you need.  Fifteen cents 'll let
+you out on that.  Cheap enough for half the money, eh?  Give my
+respects to your pa, will ye.  Tell him that sermon he preached
+last Sunday was fine, but I'd like it better if he'd laid it on to
+the Univer'lists a little harder.  Folks that don't believe in hell
+don't deserve no consideration, 'cordin' to my notion.  So long,
+Helen . . .  Oh say," he added, as an afterthought, "I guess you
+and Albert ain't been introduced, have ye?  Albert, this is Helen
+Kendall, she's our Orthodox minister's daughter.  Helen, this young
+feller is Albert--er--er--  Consarn it, I've asked Cap'n Lote that
+name a dozen times if I have once!  What is it, anyway?"
+
+"Speranza," replied the owner of the name.
+
+"That's it, Sperandy.  This is Albert Sperandy, Cap'n Lote's
+grandson."
+
+Albert and Miss Kendall shook hands.
+
+"Thanks," said the former, gratefully and significantly.
+
+The young lady smiled.
+
+"Oh, you're welcome," she said.  I knew who you were all the time--
+or I guessed who you must be.  Cap'n Snow told me you were coming."
+
+She went out.  Issachar, staring after her, chuckled admiringly.
+"Smartest girl in THIS town," he observed, with emphasis.  "Head of
+her class up to high school and only sixteen and three-quarters at
+that."
+
+Captain Zelotes came bustling in a few minutes later.  He went to
+his desk, paying little attention to his grandson.  The latter
+loitered idly up and down the office and hardware shop, watching
+Issachar wait on customers or rush shouting into the yard to attend
+to the wants of others there.  Plainly this was Issachar's busy
+day.
+
+"Crimus!" he exclaimed, returning from one such excursion and
+mopping his forehead.  "This doin' two men's work ain't no fun.
+Every time Labe goes on a time seem's if trade was brisker'n it's
+been for a month.  Seems as if all creation and part of East
+Harniss had been hangin' back waitin' till he had a shade on 'fore
+they come to trade.  Makes a feller feel like votin' the
+Prohibition ticket.  I WOULD vote it, by crimustee, if I thought
+'twould do any good.  'Twouldn't though; Labe would take to
+drinkin' bay rum or Florida water or somethin', same as Hoppy
+Rogers done when he was alive.  Jim Young says he went into Hoppy's
+barber-shop once and there was Hoppy with a bottle of a new kind of
+hair-tonic in his hand.  'Drummer that was here left it for a
+sample,' says Hoppy.  'Wanted me to try it and, if I liked it, he
+cal'lated maybe I'd buy some.  I don't think I shall, though,' he
+says; 'don't taste right to me.'  Yes, sir, Jim Young swears that's
+true.  Wan't enough snake-killer in that hair tonic to suit Hoppy.
+I--  Yes, Cap'n Lote, what is it?  Want me, do ye?"
+
+But the captain did not, as it happened, want Mr. Price at that
+time.  It was Albert whose name he had called.  The boy went into
+the office and his grandfather rose and shut the door.
+
+"Sit down, Al," he said, motioning toward a chair.  When his
+grandson had seated himself Captain Zelotes tilted back his own
+desk chair upon its springs and looked at him.
+
+"Well, son," he said, after a moment, "what do you think of it?"
+
+"Think of it?  I don't know exactly what--"
+
+"Of the place here.  Shop, yards, the whole business.  Z. Snow and
+Company--what do you think of it?"
+
+Privately Albert was inclined to classify the entire outfit as one-
+horse and countrified, but he deemed it wiser not to express this
+opinion.  So he compromised and replied that it "seemed to be all
+right."
+
+His grandfather nodded.  "Thanks," he observed, dryly.  "Glad you
+find it that way.  Well, then, changin' the subject for a minute or
+two, what do you think about yourself?"
+
+"About myself?  About me?  I don't understand?"
+
+"No, I don't suppose you do.  That's what I got you over here this
+mornin' for, so as we could understand--you and me.  Al, have you
+given any thought to what you're goin' to do from this on?  How
+you're goin' to live?"
+
+Albert looked at him uncomprehendingly.
+
+"How I'm going to live?" he repeated.  "Why--why, I thought--I
+supposed I was going to live with you--with you and Grandmother."
+
+"Um-hm, I see."
+
+"I just kind of took that for granted, I guess.  You sent for me to
+come here.  You took me away from school, you know."
+
+"Yes, so I did.  You know why I took you from school?"
+
+"No, I--I guess I DON'T, exactly.  I thought--I supposed it was
+because you didn't want me to go there any more."
+
+"'Twasn't that.  I don't know whether I would have wanted you to go
+there or not if things had been different.  From what I hear it was
+a pretty extravagant place, and lookin' at it from the outside
+without knowin' too much about it, I should say it was liable to
+put a lot of foolish and expensive notions into a boy's head.  I
+may be wrong, of course; I have been wrong at least a few times in
+my life."
+
+It was evident that he considered the chances of his being wrong in
+this instance very remote.  His tone again aroused in the youth the
+feeling of obstinacy, of rebellion, of desire to take the other
+side.
+
+"It is one of the best schools in this country," he declared.  "My
+father said so."
+
+Captain Zelotes picked up a pencil on his desk and tapped his chin
+lightly with the blunt end.  "Um," he mused.  "Well, I presume
+likely he knew all about it."
+
+"He knew as much as--most people," with a slight but significant
+hesitation before the "most."
+
+"Um-hm.  Naturally, havin' been schooled there himself, I suppose."
+
+"He wasn't schooled there.  My father was a Spaniard."
+
+"So I've heard. . . .  Well, we're kind of off the subject, ain't
+we?  Let's leave your father's nationality out of it for a while.
+And we'll leave the school, too, because no matter if it was the
+best one on earth you couldn't go there.  I shouldn't feel 'twas
+right to spend as much money as that at any school, and you--well,
+son, you ain't got it to spend.  Did you have any idea what your
+father left you, in the way of tangible assets?"
+
+"No.  I knew he had plenty of money always.  He was one of the most
+famous singers in this country."
+
+"Maybe so."
+
+"It WAS so," hotly.  "And he was paid enough in one week to buy
+this whole town--or almost.  Why, my father--"
+
+"Sshh!  Sssh!"
+
+"No, I'm not going to hush.  I'm proud of my father.  He was a--a
+great man.  And--and I'm not going to stand here and have you--"
+
+Between indignation and emotion he choked and could not finish the
+sentence.  The tears came to his eyes.
+
+"I'm not going to have you or anyone else talk about him that way,"
+he concluded, fiercely.
+
+His grandfather regarded him with a steady, but not at all
+unkindly, gaze.
+
+"I ain't runnin' down your father, Albert," he said.
+
+"Yes, you are.  You hated him.  Anybody could see you hated him."
+
+The captain slowly rapped the desk with the pencil.  He did not
+answer at once.
+
+"Well," he said, after a moment, "I don't know as I ought to deny
+that.  I don't know as I can deny it and be honest.  Years ago he
+took away from me what amounted to three-quarters of everything
+that made my life worth while.  Some day you'll know more about it
+than you do now, and maybe you'll understand my p'int of view
+better.  No, I didn't like your father--  Eh?  What was you
+sayin'?"
+
+Albert, who had muttered something, was rather confused.  However,
+he did not attempt to equivocate.  "I said I guessed that didn't
+make much difference to Father," he answered, sullenly.
+
+"I presume likely it didn't.  But we won't go into that question
+now.  What I'm tryin' to get at in this talk we're having is you
+and your future.  Now you can't go back to school because you can't
+afford it.  All your father left when he died was--this is the
+honest truth I'm tellin' you now, and if I'm puttin' it pretty
+blunt it's because I always think it's best to get a bad mess out
+of the way in a hurry--all your father left was debts.  He didn't
+leave money enough to bury him, hardly."
+
+The boy stared at him aghast.  His grandfather, leaning a little
+toward him, would have put a hand on his knee, but the knee was
+jerked out of the way.
+
+"There, that's over, Al," went on Captain Zelotes.  "You know the
+worst now and you can say, 'What of it?'  I mean just that:  What
+of it?  Bein' left without a cent, but with your health and a fair
+chance to make good--that, at seventeen or eighteen ain't a bad
+lookout, by any manner of means.  It's the outlook _I_ had at
+fifteen--exceptin' the chance--and I ain't asked many favors of
+anybody since.  At your age, or a month or two older, do you know
+where I was?  I was first mate of a three-masted schooner.  At
+twenty I was skipper; and at twenty-five, by the Almighty, I owned
+a share in her.  Al, all you need now is a chance to go to work.
+And I'm goin' to give you that chance."
+
+Albert gasped.  "Do you mean--do you mean I've got to be a--a
+sailor?" he stammered.
+
+Captain Zelotes put back his head and laughed, laughed aloud.
+
+"A sailor!" he repeated.  "Ho, ho!  No wonder you looked scared.
+No, I wan't cal'latin' to make a sailor out of you, son.  For one
+reason, sailorin' ain't what it used to be; and, for another, I
+have my doubts whether a young feller of your bringin' up would
+make much of a go handlin' a bunch of fo'mast hands the first day
+out.  No, I wasn't figgerin' to send you to sea . . .  What do you
+suppose I brought you down to this place for this mornin'?"
+
+And then Albert understood.  He knew why he had been conducted
+through the lumber yards, about the hardware shop, why his
+grandfather and Mr. Price had taken so much pains to exhibit and
+explain.  His heart sank.
+
+"I brought you down here," continued the captain, "because it's a
+first-rate idea to look a vessel over afore you ship aboard her.
+It's kind of late to back out after you have shipped.  Ever since I
+made up my mind to send for you and have you live along with your
+grandmother and me I've been plannin' what to do with you.  I knew,
+if you was a decent, ambitious young chap, you'd want to do
+somethin' towards makin' a start in life.  We can use--that is,
+this business can use that kind of a chap right now.  He could larn
+to keep books and know lumber and hardware and how to sell and how
+to buy.  He can larn the whole thing.  There's a chance here, son.
+It's your chance; I'm givin' it to you.  How big a chance it turns
+out to be 'll depend on you, yourself."
+
+He stopped.  Albert was silent.  His thoughts were confused, but
+out of their dismayed confusion two or three fixed ideas reared
+themselves like crags from a whirlpool.  He was to live in South
+Hamiss always--always; he was to keep books--  Heavens, how he hated
+mathematics, detail work of any kind!--for drunken old Keeler; he
+was to "heave lumber" with Issy Price.  He--  Oh, it was dreadful!
+It was horrible.  He couldn't!  He wouldn't!  He--
+
+Captain Zelotes had been watching him, his heavy brows drawing
+closer together as the boy delayed answering.
+
+"Well?" he asked, for another minute. "Did you hear what I said?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Understood, did you?"
+
+"Yes--sir."
+
+"Well?"
+
+Albert was clutching at straws.  "I--I don't know how to keep
+books," he faltered.
+
+"I didn't suppose you did.  Don't imagine they teach anything as
+practical as bookkeepin' up at that school of yours.  But you can
+larn, can't you?"
+
+"I--I guess so."
+
+"I guess so, too.  Good Lord, I HOPE so!  Humph!  You don't seem to
+be jumpin' for joy over the prospect.  There's a half dozen smart
+young fellers here in South Harniss that would, I tell you that."
+
+Albert devoutly wished they had jumped--and landed--before his
+arrival.  His grandfather's tone grew more brusque.
+
+"Don't you want to work?" he demanded.
+
+"Why, yes, I--I suppose I do.  I--I hadn't thought much about it."
+
+"Humph!  Then I think it's time you begun.  Hadn't you had ANY
+notion of what you wanted to do when you got out of that school of
+yours?"
+
+"I was going to college."
+
+"Humph! . . .  Yes, I presume likely.  Well, after you got out of
+college, what was you plannin' to do then?"
+
+"I wasn't sure.  I thought I might do something with my music.  I
+can play a little.  I can't sing--that is, not well enough.  If I
+could," wistfully, "I should have liked to be in opera, as father
+was, of course."
+
+Captain Zelotes' only comment was a sniff or snort, or combination
+of both.  Albert went on.
+
+"I had thought of writing--writing books and poems, you know.  I've
+written quite a good deal for the school magazine.  And I think I
+should like to be an actor, perhaps.  I--"
+
+"Good God!"  His grandfather's fist came down upon the desk before
+him.  Slowly he shook his head.
+
+"A--a poetry writer and an actor!" he repeated.  "Whew! . . .
+Well, there!  Perhaps maybe we hadn't better talk any more just
+now.  You can have the rest of the day to run around town and sort
+of get acquainted, if you want to.  Then to-morrow mornin' you and
+I'll come over here together and we'll begin to break you in.  I
+shouldn't wonder," he added, dryly, "if you found it kind of dull
+at first--compared to that school and poetry makin' and such--but
+it'll be respectable and it'll pay for board and clothes and
+somethin' to eat once in a while, which may not seem so important
+to you now as 'twill later on.  And some day I cal'late--anyhow
+we'll hope--you'll be mighty glad you did it."
+
+Poor Albert looked and felt anything but glad just then.  Captain
+Zelotes, his hands in his pockets, stood regarding him.  He, too,
+did not look particularly happy.
+
+"You'll remember," he observed, "or perhaps you don't know, that
+when your father asked us to look out for you--"
+
+Albert interrupted.  "Did--did father ask you to take care of me?"
+he cried, in surprise.
+
+"Um-hm.  He asked somebody who was with him to ask us to do just
+that."
+
+The boy drew a long breath.  "Well, then," he said, hopelessly,
+"I'll--I'll try."
+
+"Thanks.  Now you run around town and see the sights.  Dinner's at
+half past twelve prompt, so be on hand for that."
+
+After his grandson had gone, the captain, hands still in his
+pockets, stood for some time looking out of the window.  At length
+he spoke aloud.
+
+"A play actor or a poetry writer!" he exclaimed.  "Tut, tut, tut!
+No use talkin', blood will tell!"
+
+Issachar, who was putting coal on the office fire, turned his head.
+
+"Eh?" he queried.
+
+"Nothin'," said Captain Lote.
+
+He would have been surprised if he could have seen his grandson
+just at that moment.  Albert, on the beach whither he had strayed
+in his desire to be alone, safely hidden from observation behind a
+sand dune, was lying with his head upon his arms and sobbing
+bitterly.
+
+A disinterested person might have decided that the interview which
+had just taken place and which Captain Zelotes hopefully told his
+wife that morning would probably result in "a clear, comf'table
+understandin' between the boy and me"--such a disinterested person
+might have decided that it had resulted in exactly the opposite.
+In calculating the results to be obtained from that interview the
+captain had not taken into consideration two elements, one his own
+and the other his grandson's.  These elements were prejudice and
+temperament.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+The next morning, with much the same feeling that a convict must
+experience when he enters upon a life imprisonment, Albert entered
+the employ of "Z. Snow and Co., Lumber and Builders' Hardware."
+The day, he would have sworn it, was at least a year long.  The
+interval between breakfast and dinner was quite six months, yet the
+dinner hour itself was the shortest sixty minutes he had ever
+known.  Mr. Keeler had not yet returned to his labors, so there was
+no instruction in bookkeeping; but his grandfather gave him letters
+to file and long dreary columns of invoice figures to add.  Twice
+Captain Zelotes went out and then, just as Albert settled back for
+a rest and breathing spell, Issachar Price appeared, warned
+apparently by some sort of devilish intuition, and invented
+"checking up stock" and similar menial and tiresome tasks to keep
+him uncomfortable till the captain returned.  The customers who
+came in asked questions concerning him and he was introduced to at
+least a dozen citizens of South Harniss, who observed "Sho!" and
+"I want to know!" when told his identity and, in some instances,
+addressed him as "Bub," which was of itself a crime deserving
+capital punishment.
+
+That night, as he lay in bed in the back bedroom, he fell asleep
+facing the dreary prospect of another monotonous imprisonment the
+following day, and the next day, and the day after that, and after
+that--and after that--and so on--and on--and on--forever and ever,
+as long as life should last.  This, then, was to be the end of all
+his dreams, this drudgery in a country town among these commonplace
+country people.  This was the end of his dreams of some day writing
+deathless odes and sonnets or thrilling romances; of treading the
+boards as the hero of romantic drama while star-eyed daughters of
+multi-millionaires gazed from the boxes in spellbound rapture.
+This . . .  The thought of the star-eyed ones reminded him of the
+girl who had come into the office the afternoon of his first visit
+to that torture chamber.  He had thought of her many times since
+their meeting and always with humiliation and resentment.  It was
+his own foolish tongue which had brought the humiliation upon him.
+When she had suggested that he might be employed by Z. Snow and Co.
+he had replied:  "Me?  Work HERE!  Well, I should say NOT!"  And
+all the time she, knowing who he was, must have known he was doomed
+to work there.  He resented that superior knowledge of hers.  He
+had made a fool of himself but she was to blame for it.  Well, by
+George, he would NOT work there!  He would run away, he would show
+her, and his grandfather and all the rest what was what.  Night
+after night he fell asleep vowing to run away, to do all sorts of
+desperate deeds, and morning after morning he went back to that
+office.
+
+On the fourth morning the prodigal came home, the stray lamb
+returned to the fold--Mr. Keeler returned to his desk and his
+duties.  There was a premonition of his return at the Snow breakfast
+table.  For three days Mrs. Ellis had swathed her head in white and
+her soul in black.  For three days her favorite accompaniment to
+conversation had been a groan or a sigh.  Now, on this fourth
+morning, she appeared without the bandage on her brow or the crape
+upon her spirit.  She was not hilarious but she did not groan once,
+and twice during the meal she actually smiled. Captain Lote
+commented upon the change, she being absent from table momentarily.
+
+"Whew!" he observed, in an undertone, addressing his wife.  "If it
+ain't a comfort to see the wrinkles on Rachel's face curvin' up
+instead of down.  I'm scared to death that she'll go out some time
+in a cold spell when she's havin' one of them sympathetics of hers,
+and her face'll freeze that way.  Well, Albert," turning to his
+grandson, "the colors'll be h'isted to the truck now instead of
+half-mast and life'll be somethin' besides one everlastin' 'last
+look at the remains.' Now we can take off the mournin' till the
+next funeral."
+
+"Yes," said Olive, "and Laban'll be back, too.  I'm sure you must
+have missed him awfully, Zelotes."
+
+"Missed him!  I should say so.  For one thing, I miss havin' him
+between me and Issy.  When Labe's there Is talks to him and Labe
+keeps on thinkin' of somethin' else and so it don't worry him any.
+I can't do that, and my eardrums get to wearin' thin and that makes
+me nervous.  Maybe you've noticed that Issy's flow of conversation
+ain't what you'd call a trickle," he added, turning to Albert.
+
+Albert had noticed it.  "But," he asked, "what makes Rachel--Mrs.
+Ellis--so cheerful this morning?  Does she know that Mr. Keeler
+will be back at work?  How does she know?  She hasn't seen him, has
+she?"
+
+"No," replied the captain.  "She ain't seen him.  Nobody sees him,
+far's that goes.  He generally clears out somewheres and locks
+himself up in a room, I judge, till his vacation's over.  I suppose
+that's one way to have fun, but it ain't what I'd call hilarious."
+
+"Don't, Zelotes," said Mrs. Snow.  "I do wish you wouldn't call it
+fun."
+
+"I don't, but Laban seems to.  If he don't do it for fun I don't
+know what he does it for.  Maybe it's from a sense of duty.  It
+ain't to oblige me, I know that."
+
+Albert repeated his question.  "But how does she know he will be
+back to-day?" he asked.
+
+His grandmother shook her head.  "That's the mysterious part about
+it," she whispered.  "It makes a person think there may be
+somethin' in the sympathetic notion she talks so much about.  She
+don't see him at all and yet we can always tell when he's comin'
+back to work by her spirits.  If he ain't back to-day he will be
+to-morrow, you'll see.  She never misses by more than a day.  _I_
+think it's real sort of mysterious, but Zelotes laughs at me."
+
+Captain Lote's lip twitched.  "Yes, Mother," he said, "it's about
+as mysterious as the clock's strikin' twelve when it's noon.  _I_
+know it's morally sartin that Labe'll be back aboard to-day or to-
+morrow because his sprees don't ever last more than five days.  I
+can't swear to how she knows, but that's how _I_ know--and I'm
+darned sure there's no 'sympathy' about my part."  Then, as if
+realizing that he had talked more than usual, he called, brusquely:
+"Come on, Al, come on.  Time we were on the job, boy."
+
+Sure enough, as they passed the window of the office, there, seated
+on the stool behind the tall desk, Albert saw the diminutive figure
+of the man who had been his driver on the night of his arrival.
+He was curious to see how the delinquent would apologize for or
+explain his absence.  But Mr. Keeler did neither, nor did Captain
+Snow ask a question.  Instead the pair greeted each other as if
+they had parted in that office at the close of business on the
+previous day.
+
+"Mornin', Cap'n Lote," said Laban, quietly.
+
+"Mornin', Labe," replied the captain, just as calmly.
+
+He went on and opened his own desk, leaving his grandson standing
+by the door, not knowing whether to speak or offer to shake hands.
+The situation was a little difficult, particularly as Mr. Keeler
+gave no sign of recognition, but, after a glance at his employer's
+companion, went on making entries in the ledger.
+
+Captain Zelotes looked up a moment later.  His gray eyes inspected
+the pair and the expression on Albert's face caused them to twinkle
+slightly.  "Labe," he said, "this is my grandson, Albert, the one I
+told you was comin' to live with us."
+
+Laban turned on the stool, regarded Albert over his spectacles, and
+extended a hand.
+
+"Pleased to meet you," he said.  "Yes, yes . . .  Yes, yes, yes. . .
+Pleased to meet you.  Cap'n Lote said you was comin'--er--er--
+Alfred.  Howdy do."
+
+They shook hands.  Mr. Keeler's hand trembled a little, but that
+was the only symptom of his recent "vacation" which the youth could
+notice.  Certain vivid remembrances of his father's bad humor on
+mornings following convivial evenings recurred to him.  Was it
+possible that this odd, precise, dried-up little man had been on a
+spree for four days?  It did not seem possible.  He looked more as
+if he might be expected to rap on the desk and ask the school to
+come to order.
+
+"Albert's goin' to take hold here with us in the office," went on
+Captain Lote.  "You'll remember I spoke to you about that when we
+talked about his comin'.  Al, Labe--Mr. Keeler here--will start you
+in larnin' to bookkeep.  He'll be your first mate from now on.
+Don't forget you're a fo'mast hand yet awhile and the way for a
+fo'mast hand to get ahead is to obey orders.  And don't," he added,
+with a quiet chuckle, "do any play-actin' or poetry-makin' when
+it's your watch on deck.  Laban nor I ain't very strong for play-
+actin', are we, Labe?"
+
+Laban, to whom the reference was anything but clear, replied rather
+vaguely that he didn't know as he was, very.  Albert's temper
+flared up again.  His grandfather was sneering at him once more; he
+was always sneering at him.  All right, let him sneer--now.  Some
+day he would be shown.  He scowled and turned away.  And Captain
+Zelotes, noticing the scowl, was reminded of a scowl he had seen
+upon the face of a Spanish opera singer some twenty years before.
+He did not like to be reminded of that man.
+
+He went out soon afterward and then Laban, turning to Albert, asked
+a few questions.
+
+"How do you think you're goin' to like South Harniss, Ansel?" he
+asked.
+
+Albert was tempted to reply that he, Keeler, had asked him that
+very question before, but he thought it best not to do so.
+
+"I don't know yet," he answered, carelessly.  "Well enough, I
+guess."
+
+"You'll like it fust-rate bimeby.  Everybody does when they get
+used to it.  Takes some time to get used to a place, don't you know
+it does, Ansel?"
+
+"My name is Albert."
+
+"Eh?  Yes, yes, so 'tis.  Yes, yes, yes.  I don't know why I called
+you Ansel, 'less 'twas on account of my knowin' an Ansel Olsen
+once . . .  Hum . . .  Yes, yes.  Well, you'll like South Harniss
+when you get used to it."
+
+The boy did not answer.  He was of the opinion that he should die
+long before the getting used process was completed.  Mr. Keeler
+continued.
+
+"Come on yesterday's train, did you?" he asked.
+
+Albert looked at him.  Was the fellow joking?  He did not look as
+if he was.
+
+"Why no," he replied.  "I came last Monday night.  Don't you
+remember?"
+
+"Eh?  Oh, yes . . .  Yes, yes, yes . . .  Last Monday night you
+come, eh?  On the night train, eh?"  He hesitated a moment and then
+asked.  "Cap'n Lote fetch you down from the depot?"
+
+Albert stared at him open-mouthed.
+
+"Why, no!" he retorted.  "You drove me down yourself."
+
+For the first time a slight shade of embarrassment crossed the
+bookkeeper's features.  He drew a long breath.
+
+"Yes," he mused.  "Yes, yes, yes.  I kind of thought I--yes, yes,--
+I--I thought likely I did . . .  Yes, yes, course I did, course I
+did.  Well, now maybe we'd better be startin' you in to work--er--
+Augustus.  Know anything about double-entry, do you?"
+
+Albert did not, nor had he the slightest desire to learn.  But
+before the first hour was over he foresaw that he was destined to
+learn, if he remained in that office, whether he wanted to or not.
+Laban Keeler might be, and evidently was, peculiar in his ways, but
+as a bookkeeper he was thoroughness personified.  And as a teacher
+of his profession he was just as thorough.  All that forenoon
+Albert practiced the first principles of "double entry" and, after
+the blessed hour for dinner, came back to practice the remainder of
+the working day.
+
+And so for many days.  Little by little he learned to invoice and
+journalize and "post in the ledger" and all the rest of the detail
+of bookkeeping.  Not that his instructor permitted him to do a
+great deal of actual work upon the books of Z. Snow and Co.  Those
+books were too spotless and precious for that.  Looking over them
+Albert was surprised and obliged to admit a grudging admiration at
+the manner in which, for the most part, they had been kept.  Page
+after page of the neatest of minute figures, not a blot, not a
+blur, not an erasure.  So for months; then, in the minor books,
+like the day-book or journal, would suddenly break out an eruption
+of smudges and scrawls in the rugged handwriting of Captain
+Zelotes.  When he first happened upon one of these Albert
+unthinkingly spoke to Mr. Keeler about it.  He asked the latter
+what it meant.
+
+Laban slowly stroked his nose with his thumb and finger, a habit he
+had.
+
+"I cal'late I was away for a spell then," he said, gravely.  "Yes,
+yes . . .  Yes, yes, yes.  I was away for a little spell."
+
+He went soberly back to his desk.  His new assistant, catching a
+glimpse of his face, felt a pang of real pity for the little man.
+Of course the reason for the hiatus in the books was plain enough.
+He knew about those "little spells."  Oddly enough Laban seemed to
+feel sorry for them.  He remembered how funny the bookkeeper had
+appeared at their first meeting, when one "spell" was just
+developing, and the contrast between the singing, chirruping clown
+and the precise, grave little person at the desk struck even his
+youthful mind as peculiar.  He had read "Doctor Jekyll and Mr.
+Hyde," and now here was an example of something similar.  He was
+beginning to like Laban Keeler, although he was perfectly sure that
+he should never like bookkeeping.
+
+He did not slave at the books all the time, of course.  For
+stretches, sometimes lasting whole days, his slavery was of another
+sort.  Then he was working in the lumber yard with Issachar, or
+waiting on customers in the hardware shop.  The cold of winter set
+in in earnest now and handling "two by fours" and other timber out
+where the raw winds swept piercingly through one's overcoat and
+garments and flesh to the very bone was a trying experience.  His
+hands were chapped and cracked, even though his grandmother had
+knit him a pair of enormous red mittens.  He appreciated the warmth
+of the mittens, but he hated the color.  Why in the name of all
+that was inartistic did she choose red; not a deep, rich crimson,
+but a screeching vermilion, like a fireman's shirt?
+
+Issachar, when he had the opportunity, was a hard boss.  It suited
+Mr. Price to display his superior knowledge and to find fault with
+his helper's lack of skill.  Albert's hot temper was at the boiling
+point many times, but he fought it down.  Occasionally he retorted
+in kind, but his usual and most effective weapon was a more or less
+delicate sarcasm.  Issachar did not understand sarcasm and under
+rapid fire he was inclined to lose his head.
+
+"Consarn it!" he snapped, irritably, on one occasion.  "Consarn it,
+Al, why don't you h'ist up on t'other end of that j'ist?  What do
+you cal'late you're out here along of me for; to look harnsome?"
+
+Albert shook his head.  "No, Is," he answered, gravely.  "No, that
+wouldn't be any use.  With you around nobody else has a look-in at
+the 'handsome' game.  Issy, what do you do to your face?"
+
+"Do to it?  What do you mean by do to it?"
+
+"What do you do to it to make it look the way it does?  Don't tell
+me it grew that way naturally."
+
+"Grew!  Course it grew!  What kind of talk's that?"
+
+"Issy, with a face like yours how do you keep the birds away?"
+
+"Eh?  Keep the birds away!  Now look here, just--"
+
+"Excuse me.  Did I say 'birds,' Issy?  I didn't mean birds like--
+like crows.  Of course a face like yours would keep the crows away
+all right enough.  I meant girls.  How do you keep the girls away?
+I should think they would be making love all the time."
+
+"Aw, you shut up!  Just 'cause you're Cap'n Lote's grandson I
+presume likely you think you can talk any kind of talk, don't ye?"
+
+"Not any kind, Is.  I can't talk like you.  Will you teach me?"
+
+"Shut up!  Now, by Crimus, you--you furriner--you Speranzy--"
+
+Mr. Keeler appeared at the office window.  His shrill voice rose
+pipingly in the wintry air as he demanded to know what was the
+trouble out there.
+
+Mr. Price, still foaming, strode toward the window; Albert
+laughingly followed him.
+
+"What's the matter?" repeated Laban.  "There's enough noise for a
+sewin' circle.  Be still, Is, can't you, for a minute.  Al, what's
+the trouble?"
+
+"Issy's been talking about his face," explained Albert, soberly.
+
+"I ain't neither.  I was h'istin' up my end of a j'ist, same as I'm
+paid to do, and, 'stead of helpin' he stands there and heaves out
+talk about--about--"
+
+"Well, about what?"
+
+"Aw, about--about me and--and girls--and all sorts of dum
+foolishness.  I tell ye, I've got somethin' else to do beside
+listen to that kind of cheap talk."
+
+"Um.  Yes, yes.  I see.  Well, Al, what have you got to say?"
+
+"Nothing.  I'm sure I don't know what it is all about.  I was
+working as hard as I could and all at once he began pitching into
+me."
+
+"Pitchin' into you?  How?"
+
+"Oh, I don't know.  Something about my looks he didn't like, I
+guess.  Wanted to know if I thought I was as handsome as he was, or
+something like that."
+
+"Eh?  I never neither!  All I said was--"
+
+Mr. Keeler raised his hand.  "Seems to be a case for an umpire," he
+observed.  "Um.  Seem's if 'twas, seems so, seems so.  Well,
+Captain Lote's just comin' across the road and, if you say the
+word, I'll call him in to referee.  What do you say?"
+
+They said nothing relevant to the subject in hand.  Issachar made
+the only remark.  "Crimus-TEE!" he ejaculated.  "Come on, Al, come
+on."
+
+The pair hurried away to resume lumber piling.  Laban smiled
+slightly and closed the window.  It may be gathered from this
+incident that when the captain was in charge of the deck there was
+little idle persiflage among the "fo'mast hands."  They, like
+others in South Harniss, did not presume to trifle with Captain
+Lote Snow.
+
+So the business education of Alberto Miguel Carlos Speranza
+progressed.  At the end of the first six weeks in South Harniss he
+had learned a little about bookkeeping, a little about selling
+hardware, a little about measuring and marking lumber.  And it must
+be admitted that that little had been acquired, not because of
+vigorous application on the part of the pupil, but because, being
+naturally quick and intelligent, he could not help learning
+something.  He liked the work just as little as he had in the
+beginning of his apprenticeship.  And, although he was forgetting
+his thoughts of running away, of attempting fortune on his own
+hook, he was just as rebellious as ever against a future to be
+spent in that office and at that work.
+
+Outside the office and the hateful bookkeeping he was beginning to
+find several real interests.  At the old house which had for
+generations been called "the Snow place," he was beginning to feel
+almost at home.  He and his grandmother were becoming close
+friends.  She was not looking for trouble, she never sat for long
+intervals gazing at him as if she were guessing, guessing, guessing
+concerning him.  Captain Zelotes did that, but Olive did not.  She
+had taken the boy, her "Janie's boy," to her heart from the moment
+she saw him and she mothered him and loved him in a way which--so
+long as it was not done in public--comforted his lonely soul.  They
+had not yet reached the stage where he confided in her to any great
+extent, but that was certain to come later.  It was his grandmother's
+love and the affection he was already beginning to feel for her
+which, during these first lonesome, miserable weeks, kept him from,
+perhaps, turning the running away fantasy into a reality.
+
+Another inmate of the Snow household with whom Albert was becoming
+better acquainted with was Mrs. Rachel Ellis.  Their real
+acquaintanceship began one Sunday forenoon when Captain Zelotes and
+Olive had gone to church.  Ordinarily he would have accompanied
+them, to sit in the straight-backed old pew on a cushion which felt
+lumpy and smelt ancient and musty, and pretend to listen while old
+Mr. Kendall preached a sermon which was ancient and musty likewise.
+
+But this Sunday morning he awoke with a headache and his grandmother
+had pleaded for him, declaring that he ought to "lay to bed" a while
+and get over it.  He got over it with surprising quickness after the
+church bell ceased ringing, and came downstairs to read Ivanhoe in
+the sitting room.  He had read it several times before, but he
+wanted to read something and the choice of volumes in the Snow
+bookcase was limited.  He was stretched out on the sofa with the
+book in his hand when the housekeeper entered, armed with a
+dust-cloth.  She went to church only "every other" Sunday.  This
+was one of the others without an every, and she was at home.
+
+"What are you readin', Albert?" she asked, after a few' minutes
+vigorous wielding of the dust-cloth.  "It must be awful interestin',
+you stick at it so close."
+
+The Black Knight was just then hammering with his battle-axe at the
+gate of Front de Buef's castle, not minding the stones and beams
+cast down upon him from above "no more than if they were thistle-
+down or feathers."  Albert absently admitted that the story was
+interesting.  The housekeeper repeated her request to be told its
+name.
+
+"Ivanhoe," replied the boy; adding, as the name did not seem to
+convey any definite idea to his interrogator's mind:  "It's by
+Walter Scott, you know."
+
+Mrs. Ellis made no remark immediately.  When she did it was to the
+effect that she used to know a colored man named Scott who worked
+at the hotel once.  "He swept out and carried trunks and such
+things," she explained.  "He seemed to be a real nice sort of
+colored man, far as ever I heard."
+
+Albert was more interested in the Black Knight of Ivanhoe than the
+black man of the hotel, so he went on reading.  Rachel sat down in
+a chair by the window and looked out, twisting and untwisting the
+dust-cloth in her lap.
+
+"I presume likely lots and lots of folks have read that book, ain't
+they?" she asked, after another interval.
+
+"What?  Oh, yes, almost everybody.  It's a classic, I suppose."
+
+"What's that?"
+
+"What's what?"
+
+"What you said the book was.  A class-somethin' or other?"
+
+"Oh, a classic.  Why, it's--it's something everybody knows about,
+or--or ought to know about.  One of the big things, you know.
+Like--like Shakespeare or--or Robinson Crusoe or Paradise Lost or--
+lots of them.  It's a book everybody reads and always will."
+
+"I see.  Humph!  Well, I never read it. . . .  I presume likely you
+think that's pretty funny, don't you?"
+
+Albert tore himself away from the fight at the gate.
+
+"Why, I don't know," he replied.
+
+"Yes, you do.  You think it's awful funny.  Well, you wouldn't if
+you knew more about how busy I've been all my life.  I ain't had
+time to read the way I'd ought to.  I read a book once though that
+I'll never forget.  Did you ever read a book called Foul Play?"
+
+"No. . . .  Why, hold on, though; I think I have.  By Charles
+Reade, wasn't it?"
+
+"Yes, that's who wrote it, a man named Charles Reade.  Laban told
+me that part of it; he reads a lot, Laban does.  I never noticed
+who wrote it, myself.  I was too interested in it to notice little
+extry things like that.  But ain't that a WONDERFUL book?  Ain't
+that the best book you ever read in all your LIFE?"
+
+She dropped the dust-cloth and was too excited and enthusiastic to
+pick it up.  Albert did his best to recall something definite
+concerning Foul Play.  The book had been in the school library and
+he, who read almost everything, had read it along with the others.
+
+"Let me see," he said musingly.  "About a shipwreck--something
+about a shipwreck in it, wasn't there?"
+
+"I should say there was!  My stars above!  Not the common kind of
+shipwreck, neither, the kind they have down to Setuckit P'int on
+the shoals.  No sir-ee!  This one was sunk on purpose.  That Joe
+Wylie bored holes right down through her with a gimlet, the wicked
+thing!  And that set 'em afloat right out on the sea in a boat, and
+there wan't anything to eat till Robert Penfold--oh, HE was the
+smart one; he'd find anything, that man!--he found the barnacles on
+the bottom of the boat, just the same as he found out how to
+diffuse intelligence tied onto a duck's leg over land knows how
+many legs--leagues, I mean--of ocean.  But that come later.  Don't
+you remember THAT?"
+
+Albert laughed.  The story was beginning to come back to him.
+
+"Oh, sure!" he exclaimed.  "I remember now.  He--the Penfold
+fellow--and the girl landed on this island and had all sorts of
+adventures, and fell in love and all that sort of stuff, and then
+her dad came and took her back to England and she--she did
+something or other there to--to get the Penfold guy out of
+trouble."
+
+"Did somethin'!  I should say she did!  Why, she found out all
+about who forged the letter--the note, I mean--that's what she
+done.  'Twas Arthur Wardlaw, that's who 'twas.  And he was tryin'
+to get Helen all the time for himself, the skinner!  Don't talk to
+me about that Arthur Wardlaw!  I never could bear HIM."
+
+She spoke as if she had known the detested Wardlaw intimately from
+childhood.  Young Speranza was hugely amused.  Ivanhoe was quite
+forgotten.
+
+"Foul Play was great stuff," he observed.  "When did you read it?"
+
+"Eh?  When?  Oh, ever and ever so long ago.  When I was about
+twenty, I guess, and laid up with the measles.  That's the only
+time I ever was real what you might call down sick in my life, and
+I commenced with measles.  That's the way a good many folks
+commence, I know, but they don't generally wait till they're out of
+their 'teens afore they start.  I was workin' for Mrs. Philander
+Bassett at the time, and she says to me:  'Rachel,' she says,
+'you're on the mendin' hand now, wouldn't you like a book to read?'
+I says, 'Why, maybe I would.'  And she fetched up three of 'em.  I
+can see 'em now, all three, plain as day.  One was Barriers Burned
+Away.  She said that was somethin' about a big fire.  Well, I'm
+awful nervous about fires, have been from a child, so I didn't read
+that.  And another had the queerest kind of a name, if you'd call
+it a name at all; 'twas She."
+
+Albert nodded.
+
+"Yes," he said.  "I've read that."
+
+"Have you?  Well, I begun to, but my stars, THAT wasn't any book to
+give to a person with nerve symptoms.  I got as far as where those
+Indians or whatever they was started to put red-hot kettles on
+folks's heads, and that was enough for ME.  'Give me somethin'
+civilized,' says I, 'or not at all.'  So I commenced Foul Play, and
+I tell you I kept right on to the end.
+
+"I don't suppose," she went on, "that there ever was a much better
+book than that wrote, was there?"
+
+Albert temporized.  "It is a good one," he admitted.
+
+"Don't seem to me there could be much better.  Laban says it's
+good, though he won't go so far as to say it's the very best.  He's
+read lots and lots of books, Laban has.  Reads an awful lot in his
+spare time.  He's what you'd call an educated person, which is what
+I ain't.  And I guess you'll say that last is plain enough without
+bein' told," she added.
+
+Her companion, not exactly knowing how to answer, was silent for a
+moment.  Rachel, who had picked up and was again twisting the dust-
+cloth, returned to the subject she so delighted in.
+
+"But that Foul Play book," she continued, "I've read till I've
+pretty nigh wore the covers off.  When Mrs. Bassett saw how much I
+liked it she gave it to me for a present.  I read a little bit in
+it every little while.  I kind of fit the folks in that book to
+folks in real life, sort of compare 'em, you know.  Do you ever do
+that?"
+
+Albert, repressing a chuckle, said, "Sure!" again.  She nodded.
+
+"Now there's General Rolleson in that book," she said.  "Do you
+know who he makes me think of?  Cap'n Lote, your grandpa, that's
+who."
+
+General Rolleson, as Albert remembered him, was an extremely
+dignified, cultured and precise old gentleman.  Just what
+resemblance there might be between him and Captain Zelotes Snow,
+ex-skipper of the Olive S., he could not imagine.  He could not
+repress a grin, and the housekeeper noticed it.
+
+"Seems funny to you, I presume likely," she said.  "Well, now you
+think about it.  This General Rolleson man was kind of proud and
+sot in his ways just as your grandpa is, Albert.  He had a daughter
+he thought all the world of; so did Cap'n Lote.  Along come a
+person that wanted to marry the daughter.  In the book 'twas Robert
+Penfold, who had been a convict.  In your grandpa's case, 'twas
+your pa, who had been a play-actor.  So you see--"
+
+Albert sat up on the sofa.  "Hold on!" he interrupted indignantly.
+"Do you mean to compare my father with a--with a CONVICT?  I want
+you to understand--"
+
+Mrs. Ellis held up the dust-cloth.  "Now, now, now," she protested.
+"Don't go puttin' words in my mouth that I didn't say.  I don't
+doubt your pa was a nice man, in his way, though I never met him.
+But 'twan't Cap'n Lote's way any more than Robert Penfold's was
+General Rolleson's."
+
+"My father was famous," declared the youth hotly.  "He was one of
+the most famous singers in this country.  Everybody knows that--
+that is, everybody but Grandfather and the gang down here," he
+added, in disgust.
+
+"I don't say you're wrong.  Laban tells me that some of those
+singin' folks get awful high wages, more than the cap'n of a
+steamboat, he says, though that seems like stretchin' it to me.
+But, as I say, Cap'n Lote was proud, and nobody but the best would
+satisfy him for Janie, your mother.  Well, in that way, you see, he
+reminds me of General Rolleson in the book."
+
+"Look here, Mrs. Ellis.  Tell me about this business of Dad's
+marrying my mother.  I never knew much of anything about it."
+
+"You didn't?  Did your pa never tell you?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Humph!  That's funny.  Still, I don't know's as 'twas, after all,
+considerin' you was only a boy.  Probably he'd have told you some
+day.  Well, I don't suppose there's any secret about it.  'Twas
+town talk down here when it happened."
+
+She told him the story of the runaway marriage.  Albert listened
+with interest and the almost incredulous amazement with which the
+young always receive tales of their parents' love affairs.  Love,
+for people of his age or a trifle older, was a natural and
+understandable thing, but for his father, as he remembered him, to
+have behaved in this way was incomprehensible.
+
+"So," said Rachel, in conclusion, "that's how it happened.  That's
+why Cap'n Lote couldn't ever forgive your father."
+
+He tossed his head.  "Well, he ought to have forgiven him," he
+declared.  "He was dead lucky to get such a man for a son-in-law,
+if you ask me."
+
+"He didn't think so.  And he wouldn't ever mention your pa's name."
+
+"Oh, I don't doubt that.  Anybody can see how he hated Father.  And
+he hates me the same way," he added moodily.
+
+Mrs. Ellis was much disturbed.  "Oh, no, he don't," she cried.
+"You mustn't think that, Albert.  He don't hate you, I'm sure of
+it.  He's just kind of doubtful about you, that's all.  He
+remembers how your pa acted--or how he thinks he acted--and so he
+can't help bein' the least mite afraid the same thing may crop out
+in you.  If you just stick to your job over there at the lumber
+yards and keep on tryin' to please him, he'll get all over that
+suspicion, see if he don't.  Cap'n Lote Snow is stubborn sometimes
+and hard to turn, but he's square as a brick.  There's some that
+don't like him, and a good many that don't agree with him--but
+everybody respects him."
+
+Albert did not answer.  The housekeeper rose from her chair.
+
+"There!" she exclaimed.  "I don't know when I've set down for so
+long.  Goodness knows I've got work enough to do without settin'
+around talkin'.  I can't think what possessed me to do it this
+time, unless 'twas seein' you readin' that book."  She paused a
+moment and then said:  "Albert, I--I don't want you and your
+grandpa to have any quarrels.  You see--well, you see, I used to
+know your mother real well, and--and I thought an awful sight of
+her.  I wish--I do wish when you and the cap'n have any trouble or
+anything, or when you think you're liable to have any, you'd come
+and talk it over with me.  I'm like the feller that Laban tells
+about in his dog-fight yarn.  This feller was watchin' the fight
+and when they asked him to stop it afore one or t'other of the dogs
+was killed, he just shook his head.  'No-o,' he says, kind of slow
+and moderate, 'I guess I shan't interfere.  One of 'em's been
+stealin' my chickens and the other one bit me.  I'm a friend to
+both parties,' he says.  Course I don't mean it exactly that way,"
+she added, with a smile, "but you know what I do mean, I guess.
+WILL you talk things over with me sometimes, Albert?"
+
+His answer was not very enthusiastic, but he said he guessed so,
+and Rachel seemed satisfied with that.  She went on with her
+dusting, and he with his reading, but the conversation was the
+first of many between the pair.  The housekeeper appeared to
+consider his having read her beloved Foul Play a sort of password
+admitting him to her lodge and that thereafter they were, in
+consequence, to be confidants and comrades.  She never hesitated to
+ask him the most personal questions concerning his work, his plans,
+the friends or acquaintances he was making in the village.  Some of
+those questions he answered honestly and fully, some he dodged,
+some he did not answer at all.  Mrs. Ellis never resented his not
+answering.  "I presume likely that ain't any of my business, is
+it?" she would say, and ask about something else.
+
+On the other hand, she was perfectly outspoken concerning her own
+affairs.  He was nearly overcome with hilarious joy when, one day,
+she admitted that, in her mind, Robert Penfold, the hero of Foul
+Play, lived again in the person of Laban Keeler.
+
+"Why, Mrs. Ellis," he cried, as soon as he could trust himself to
+speak at all, "I don't see THAT.  Penfold was a six-footer, wasn't
+he?  And--and athletic, you know, and--and a minister, and young--
+younger, I mean--and--"
+
+Rachel interrupted.  "Yes, yes, I know," she said.  "And Laban is
+little, and not very young, and, whatever else he is, he ain't a
+minister.  I know all that.  I know the outside of him don't look
+like Robert Penfold at all.  But," somewhat apologetically, "you
+see I've been acquainted with him so many years I've got into the
+habit of seein' his INSIDE.  Now that sounds kind of ridiculous, I
+know," she added.  "Sounds as if I--I--well, as if I was in the
+habit of takin' him apart, like a watch or somethin'.  What I mean
+is that I know him all through.  I've known him for a long, long
+while.  He ain't much to look at, bein' so little and sort of dried
+up, but he's got a big, fine heart and big brains.  He can do 'most
+anything he sets his hand to.  When I used to know him, when I was
+a girl, folks was always prophesyin' that Laban Keeler would turn
+out to be a whole lot more'n the average.  He would, too, only for
+one thing, and you know what that is.  It's what has kept me from
+marryin' him all this time.  I swore I'd never marry a man that
+drinks, and I never will.  Why, if it wasn't for liquor Labe would
+have been runnin' his own business and gettin' rich long ago.  He
+all but runs Cap'n Lote's place as 'tis.  The cap'n and a good many
+other folks don't realize that, but it's so."
+
+It was plain that she worshiped the little bookkeeper and, except
+during the periods of "vacation" and "sympathetics," was
+tremendously proud of him.  Albert soon discovered that Mr.
+Keeler's feeling for her was equally strong.  In his case, though,
+there was also a strong strain of gratitude.
+
+"She's a fine woman, Al," he confided to his assistant on one
+occasion.  "A fine woman. . . .  Yes, yes, yes.  They don't
+make 'em any finer.  Ah hum!  And not so long ago I read about
+a passel of darn fools arguin' that the angels in heaven was all
+he-ones. . . .  Umph! . . .  Sho, sho!  If men was as good as women,
+Ansel--Alfred--Albert, I mean--we could start an opposition heaven
+down here most any time.  'Most any time--yes, yes."
+
+It was considerable for him to say.  Except when on a vacation,
+Laban was not loquacious.
+
+Each Sunday afternoon, when the weather was pleasant, he came,
+dressed in his best black cutaway, shiny at elbows and the under
+part of the sleeves, striped trousers and a pearl gray soft hat
+with a black band, a hat which looked as much out of place above
+his round, withered little face as a red roof might have looked on
+a family vault, and he and the housekeeper went for a walk.
+
+Rachel, in her Sunday black, bulked large beside him.  As Captain
+Zelotes said, the pair looked like "a tug takin' a liner out to
+sea."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+Outside of the gates of the Snow place Albert was making many
+acquaintances and a few friends.  After church on Sundays his
+grandmother had a distressful habit of suddenly seizing his arm or
+his coat-tail as he was hurrying toward the vestibule and the
+sunshine of outdoors, and saying:  "Oh, Albert, just a minute!
+Here's somebody you haven't met yet, I guess.  Elsie"--or Nellie or
+Mabel or Henry or Charlie or George, whichever it happened to be--
+"this is my grandson, Albert Speranza."  And the young person to
+whom he was thus introduced would, if a male, extend a hesitating
+hand, give his own an embarrassed shake, smile uncertainly and say,
+"Yes--er--yes.  Pleased to meet you."  Or, if of the other sex,
+would blush a little and venture the observation that it was a
+lovely morning, and wasn't the sermon splendid.
+
+These Sabbath introductions led to week-day, or rather week-
+evening, meetings.  The principal excitement in South Harniss was
+"going for the mail."  At noon and after supper fully one-half of
+the village population journeyed to the post office.  Albert's
+labors for Z. Snow and Co. prevented his attending the noon
+gatherings--his grandfather usually got the morning mail--but he
+early formed the habit of sauntering "down street" in the evening
+if the weather was not too cold or disagreeable.  There he was
+certain to find groups of South Harniss youth of both sexes,
+talking, giggling, skylarking and flirting.  Sometimes he joined
+one or the other of these groups; quite as often he did not, but
+kept aloof and by himself, for it may as well be acknowledged now,
+if it is not already plain, that the son of Miguel Carlos Speranza
+had inherited a share of his father's temperament and self-esteem.
+The whim of the moment might lead him to favor these young people
+with his society, but he was far from considering himself under
+obligation to do so.  He had not the least idea that he was in any
+way a snob, he would have hotly resented being called one, but he
+accepted his estimate of his own worth as something absolute and
+certain, to be taken for granted.
+
+Now this attitude of mind had its dangers.  Coupled with its
+possessor's extraordinary good looks, it was fascinating to a large
+percentage of the village girls.  The Speranza eyes and the
+Speranza curls and nose and chin were, when joined with the easy
+condescension of the Speranza manner, a combination fatal to the
+susceptible.  The South Harniss "flappers," most of them, enthused
+over the new bookkeeper in the lumber office.  They ogled and
+giggled and gushed in his presence, and he was tolerant or bored,
+just as he happened to be feeling at the moment.  But he never
+displayed a marked interest in any one of them, for the very good
+reason that he had no such interest.  To him they were merely
+girls, nice enough in their way, perhaps, but that way not his.
+Most of the town young fellows of his age he found had a "girl" and
+almost every girl had a "fellow"; there was calf love in abundance,
+but he was a different brand of veal.
+
+However, a great man must amuse himself, and so he accepted
+invitations to church socials and suppers and to an occasional
+dance or party.  His style of dancing was not that of South Harniss
+in the winter.  It was common enough at the hotel or the "tea
+house" in July and August when the summer people were there, but
+not at the town hall at the Red Men's Annual Ball in February.  A
+fellow who could foxtrot as he could swept all before him.  Sam
+Thatcher, of last year's class in the high school, but now clerking
+in the drug store, who had hitherto reigned as the best "two-
+stepper" in town, suddenly became conscious of his feet.  Then,
+too, the contents of the three trunks which had been sent on from
+school were now in evidence.  No Boston or Brockton "Advanced
+Styles" held a candle to those suits which the tailor of the late
+Miguel Carlos had turned out for his patron's only son.  No other
+eighteen-year-older among the town's year-around residents
+possessed a suit of evening clothes.  Albert wore his "Tux" at the
+Red Men's Ball and hearts palpitated beneath new muslin gowns and
+bitter envy stirred beneath the Brockton "Advanced Styles."
+
+In consequence, by spring the social status of Albert Speranza
+among those of his own age in the village had become something
+like this:  He was in high favor with most of the girls and in
+corresponding disfavor with most of the young fellows.  The girls,
+although they agreed that he was "stand-offish and kind of queer,"
+voted him "just lovely, all the same."  Their envious beaux
+referred to him sneeringly among themselves as a "stuck-up dude."
+Some one of them remembered having been told that Captain Zelotes,
+years before, had been accustomed to speak of his hated son-in-law
+as "the Portygee."  Behind his back they formed the habit of
+referring to their new rival in the same way.  The first time
+Albert heard himself called a "Portygee" was after prayer meeting
+on Friday evening, when, obeying a whim, he had walked home with
+Gertie Kendrick, quite forgetful of the fact that Sam Thatcher, who
+aspired to be Gertie's "steady," was himself waiting on the church
+steps for that privilege.
+
+Even then nothing might have come of it had he and Sam not met in
+the path as he was sauntering back across lots to the main road
+and home.  It was a brilliant moonlight night and the pair came
+together, literally, at the bend where the path turns sharply
+around the corner of Elijah Doane's cranberry shanty.  Sam, plowing
+along, head down and hands in his pockets, swung around that corner
+and bumped violently into Albert, who, a cigarette between his
+lips--out here in the fields, away from civilization and Captain
+Zelotes, was a satisfyingly comfortable place to smoke a cigarette--
+was dreaming dreams of a future far away from South Harniss.  Sam
+had been thinking of Gertie.  Albert had not.  She had been a mere
+incident of the evening; he had walked home with her because he
+happened to be in the mood for companionship and she was rather
+pretty and always talkative.  His dreams during the stroll back
+alone in the moonlight had been of lofty things, of poetry and fame
+and high emprise; giggling Gerties had no place in them.  It was
+distinctly different with Sam Thatcher.
+
+They crashed together, gasped and recoiled.
+
+"Oh, I'm sorry!" exclaimed Albert.
+
+"Can't you see where you're goin', you darned Portygee half-breed?"
+demanded Sam.
+
+Albert, who had stepped past him, turned and came back.
+
+"What did you say?" he asked.
+
+"I said you was a darned half-breed, and you are.  You're a no-good
+Portygee, like your father."
+
+It was all he had time to say.  For the next few minutes he was too
+busy to talk.  The Speranzas, father and son, possessed temperament;
+also they possessed temper.  Sam's face, usually placid and
+good-natured, for Sam was by no means a bad fellow in his way, was
+fiery red.  Albert's, on the contrary, went perfectly white.  He
+seemed to settle back on his heels and from there almost to fly at
+his insulter.  Five minutes or so later they were both dusty and
+dirty and dishevelled and bruised, but Sam was pretty thoroughly
+licked.  For one thing, he had been taken by surprise by his
+adversary's quickness; for another, Albert's compulsory training in
+athletics at school gave him an advantage.  He was by no means an
+unscarred victor, but victor he was.  Sam was defeated, and very
+much astonished.  He leaned against the cranberry house and held on
+to his nose.  It had been a large nose in the beginning, it was
+larger now.
+
+Albert stood before him, his face--where it was not a pleasing
+combination of black and blue--still white.
+
+"If you--if you speak of my father or me again like that," he
+panted, "I'll--I'll kill you!"
+
+Then he strode off, a bit wobbly on his legs, but with dignity.
+
+Oddly enough, no one except the two most interested ever knew of
+this encounter.  Albert, of course, did not tell.  He was rather
+ashamed of it.  For the son of Miguel Carlos Speranza to conquer
+dragons was a worthy and heroic business, but there seemed to be
+mighty little heroism in licking Sam Thatcher behind 'Lije Doane's
+cranberry shack.  And Sam did not tell.  Gertie next day confided
+that she didn't care two cents for that stuck-up Al Speranza,
+anyway; she had let him see her home only because Sam had danced so
+many times with Elsie Wixon at the ball that night.  So Sam said
+nothing concerning the fight, explaining the condition of his nose
+by saying that he had run into something in the dark.  And he did
+not appear to hold a grudge against his conqueror; on the contrary
+when others spoke of the latter as a "sissy," Sam defended him.
+"He may be a dude," said Sam; "I don't say he ain't.  But he ain't
+no sissy."
+
+When pressed to tell why he was so certain, his answer was:
+"Because he don't act like one."  It was not a convincing answer,
+the general opinion being that that was exactly how Al Speranza did
+act.
+
+There was one young person in the village toward whom Albert found
+himself making exceptions in his attitude of serenely impersonal
+tolerance.  That person was Helen Kendall, the girl who had come
+into his grandfather's office the first morning of his stay in
+South Harniss.  He was forced to make these exceptions by the young
+lady herself.  When he met her the second time--which was after
+church on his first Sunday--his manner was even more loftily
+reserved than usual.  He had distinct recollections of their first
+conversation.  His own part in it had not been brilliant, and in it
+he had made the absurd statement--absurd in the light of what came
+after--that he was certainly NOT employed by Z. Snow and Co.
+
+So he was cool and superior when his grandmother brought them
+together after the meeting was over.  If Helen noticed the
+superiority, she was certainly not over-awed by it, for she was so
+simple and natural and pleasant that he was obliged to unbend and
+be natural too.  In fact, at their third meeting he himself spoke
+of the interview in the lumber office and again expressed his
+thanks for warning him of his grandfather's detestation of
+cigarettes.
+
+"Gee!" he exclaimed, "I'm certainly glad that you put me on to the
+old boy's feelings.  I think he'd have murdered me if he had come
+back and found me puffing a Pall Mall in there."
+
+She smiled.  "He does hate them, doesn't he?" she said.
+
+"Hate them!  I should say he did.  Hating cigarettes is about the
+only point where he and Issy get along without an argument.  If a
+traveler for a hardware house comes into the office smoking a cig,
+Issy opens all the windows to let the smell out, and Grandfather
+opens the door to throw the salesman out.  Well, not exactly to
+throw him out, of course, but he never buys a single cent's worth
+of a cigarette smoker."
+
+Helen glanced at him.  "You must be awfully glad you're not a
+traveling salesman," she said demurely.
+
+Albert did not know exactly what to make of that remark.  He, in
+his turn, looked at her, but she was grave and quite unconcerned.
+
+"Why?" he asked, after a moment.
+
+"Why--what?"
+
+"Why ought I to be glad I'm not a traveling salesman?"
+
+"Oh, I don't know.  It just seemed to me that you ought, that's
+all."
+
+"But why?"
+
+"Well, if you were you wouldn't make a great hit with your
+grandfather, would you?"
+
+"Eh? . . .  Oh, you mean because I smoke.  Say, YOU'RE not silly
+enough to be down on cigarettes the way grandfather is, are you?"
+
+"No-o, I'm not down on them, especially.  I'm not very well
+acquainted with them."
+
+"Neither is he.  He never smoked one in his life.  It's just
+country prejudice, that's all."
+
+"Well, I live in the country, too, you know."
+
+"Yes, but you're different."
+
+"How do you know I am?"
+
+"Oh, because any one can see you are."  The manner in which this
+remark was made, a manner implying a wide knowledge of humanity and
+a hint of personal interest and discriminating appreciation, had
+been found quite effective by the precocious young gentleman
+uttering it.  With variations to suit the case and the individual
+it had been pleasantly received by several of the Misses Bradshaw's
+pupils.  He followed it with another equally tried and trustworthy.
+
+"Say," he added, "would YOU rather I didn't smoke?"
+
+The obvious reply should have been, "Oh, would you stop if I asked
+you to?"  But Helen Kendall was a most disconcerting girl.  Instead
+of purring a pleased recognition of the implied flattery, she
+laughed merrily.  The Speranza dignity was hurt.
+
+"What is there to laugh at?" he demanded.  "Are you laughing at
+me?"
+
+The answer was as truthful as truth itself.
+
+"Why, of course I am," she replied; and then completed his
+discomfiture by adding, "Why should I care whether you smoke or
+not?  You had better ask your grandfather that question, I should
+think."
+
+Now Alberto Miguel Carlos Speranza had not been accustomed to this
+sort of treatment from young persons of the other sex, and he
+walked away in a huff.  But the unusual is always attractive, and
+the next time he and Miss Kendall met he was as gracious and
+cordial as ever.  But it was not long before he learned that the
+graciousness was, in her case, a mistake.  Whenever he grew lofty,
+she took him down, laughed at him with complete frankness, and
+refused to treat him as anything but a boy.  So they gradually grew
+friendly, and when they met at parties or church socials he spent
+most of the time in her company, or, rather, he would have so spent
+it had she permitted.  But she was provokingly impartial and was
+quite as likely to refuse a dance with him to sit out one with Sam
+Thatcher or Ben Hammond or any other village youth of her
+acquaintance.  However, although she piqued and irritated him, he
+was obliged to admit to his inner consciousness that she was the
+most interesting person he had yet discovered in South Harniss,
+also that even in the eyes of such connoisseurs as his fellow
+members of the senior class at school she would have been judged a
+"good looker," in spite of her country clothes.
+
+He met her father, of course.  The Reverend Mr. Kendall was a dreamy
+little old gentleman with white hair and the stooped shoulders of a
+student.  Everybody liked him, and it was for that reason principally
+that he was still the occupant of the Congregational pulpit, for to
+quote Captain Zelotes, his sermons were inclined to be like the
+sandy road down to Setuckit Point, "ten mile long and dry all the
+way."  He was a widower and his daughter was his companion and
+managing housekeeper.  There was a half-grown girl, one of the
+numerous Price family, a cousin of Issachar's, who helped out with
+the sweeping, dish-washing and cooking, but Helen was the real head
+of the household.
+
+"And she's a capable one, too," declared Mrs. Snow, when at supper
+one evening Helen's name had come into the conversation.  "I
+declare when I was there yesterday to see the minister about
+readin' poetry to us at sewin'-circle next Monday that parlor was
+as neat as wax.  And 'twas all Helen's work that kept it so, that
+was plain enough.  You could see her way of settin' a vase or
+puttin' on a table cloth wherever you looked.  Nobody else has just
+that way.  And she does it after school or before school or 'most
+any odd time.  And whatever 'tis is done right."
+
+The housekeeper put in a word.  "There's no doubt about that," she
+said, "and there ain't any more doubt that she don't get much help
+from her pa or that Maria B."  There were so many Prices within the
+township limits that individuals were usually distinguished by
+their middle initial.  "As for Mr. Kendall," went on Rachel, "he
+moves with his head in the clouds and his feet cruisin' with nobody
+at the wheel two-thirds of the time.  Emma Smith says to me
+yesterday, says she, 'Mr. Kendall is a saint on earth, ain't he,'
+says she.  'Yes,' says I, 'and he'll be one in heaven any minute if
+he goes stumblin' acrost the road in front of Doctor Holliday's
+automobile the way I see him yesterday.'  The doctor put on the
+brakes with a slam and a yell.  The minister stopped right there in
+the middle of the road with the front wheels of that auto not
+MORE'N two foot from his old baggy trousers' knees, and says he,
+'Eh?  Did you want me, Doctor?'  The doctor fetched a long breath.
+'Why, no, Mr. Kendall,' he says, 'I didn't, but I come darn nigh
+gettin' you.'  I don't know what WOULD become of him if he didn't
+have Helen to look out for him."
+
+As they came to know each other better their conversation dealt
+with matters more personal.  They sometimes spoke of plans for the
+future.  Albert's plans and ambitions were lofty, but rather vague.
+Helen's were practical and definite.  She was to graduate from high
+school that spring.  Then she was hoping to teach in the primary
+school there in the village; the selectmen had promised her the
+opportunity.
+
+"But, of course," she said, "I don't mean to stay here always.
+When I can, after I have saved some money and if Father doesn't
+need me too badly, I shall go away somewhere, to Bridgewater, or
+perhaps to Radcliffe, and study.  I want to specialize in my
+teaching, you know."
+
+Albert regarded her with amused superiority.
+
+"I don't see why on earth you are so anxious to be a school-marm,"
+he said.  "That's the last job I'd want."
+
+Her answer was given promptly, but without the least trace of
+temper.  That was one of the most provoking things about this girl,
+she would not lose her temper.  He usually lost his trying to make
+her.  She spoke now, pleasantly, and deliberately, but as if she
+were stating an undesirable fact.
+
+"I think it would be the last one you would get," she said.
+
+"Why?  Great Scott!  I guess I could teach school if I wanted to.
+But you bet I wouldn't want to! . . .  NOW what are you laughing
+at?"
+
+"I'm not laughing."
+
+"Yes, you are.  I can always tell when you're laughing; you get
+that look in your eyes, that sort of--of--  Oh, I can't tell you
+what kind of look it is, but it makes me mad.  It's the same kind
+of look my grandfather has, and I could punch him for it sometimes.
+Why should you and he think I'm not going to amount to anything?"
+
+"I don't think so.  And I'm sure he doesn't either.  And I wasn't
+laughing at you.  Or, if I was, it--it was only because--"
+
+"Well, because what?"
+
+"Oh, because you are so AWFULLY sure you know--well, know more than
+most people."
+
+"Meaning I'm stuck on myself, I suppose.  Well, now I tell you I'm
+not going to hang around in this one-horse town all my life to
+please grandfather or any one else."
+
+When he mentioned his determination to win literary glory she was
+always greatly interested.  Dreams of histrionic achievement were
+more coldly received.  The daughter of a New England country
+clergyman, even in these days of broadening horizons, could
+scarcely be expected to look with favor upon an actor's career.
+
+June came and with it the first of the summer visitors.  For the
+next three months Albert was happy with a new set of acquaintances.
+They were HIS kind, these young folks from the city, and his spare
+moments were for the most part spent in their society.  He was
+popular with them, too.  Some of them thought it queer that he
+should be living all the year in the village and keeping books for
+a concern like Z. Snow and Co., but juvenile society is tolerant
+and a youth who could sing passably, dance wonderfully and, above
+all, was as beautifully picturesque as Albert Speranza, was
+welcomed, especially by the girls.  So the Saturdays and Sundays
+and evenings of that summer were pleasant for him.  He saw little
+of Helen or Gertie Kendrick while the hotel or the cottages
+remained open.
+
+Then came the fall and another long, dreary winter.  Albert plodded
+on at his desk or in the yard, following Mr. Keeler's suggestions,
+obeying his grandfather's orders, tormenting Issy, doing his daily
+stint because he had to, not because he liked it.  For amusement he
+read a good deal, went to the usual number of sociables and
+entertainments, and once took part in amateur theatricals, a play
+given by the church society in the town hall.  There was where he
+shone.  As the dashing young hero he was resplendent.  Gertie
+Kendrick gazed upon him from the third settee center with shining
+eyes.  When he returned home after it was over his grandmother and
+Mrs. Ellis overwhelmed him with praises.
+
+"I declare you was perfectly splendid, Albert!" exclaimed Olive.
+"I was so proud of you I didn't know what to do."
+
+Rachel looked upon him as one might look upon a god from Olympus.
+
+"All I could think of was Robert Penfold," she said.  "I says so to
+Laban:  'Laban,' says I, ain't he Robert Penfold and nobody else?'
+There you was, tellin' that Hannibal Ellis that you was innocent
+and some day the world would know you was, just the way Robert
+Penfold done in the book.  I never did like that Hannie Ellis!"
+
+Mrs. Snow smiled.  "Mercy, Rachel," she said, "I hope you're not
+blamin' Hannie because of what he did in that play.  That was his
+part, he had to do it."
+
+But Rachel was not convinced.  "He didn't have to be so everlastin'
+mean and spiteful about it, anyhow," she declared.  "But there,
+that family of Ellises never did amount to nothin' much.  But, as I
+said to Laban, Albert, you was Robert Penfold all over."
+
+"What did Labe say to that?" asked Albert, laughing.
+
+"He never had a chance to say nothin'.  Afore he could answer,
+that Maria B. Price--she was settin' right back of me and eatin'
+molasses candy out of a rattly paper bag till I thought I SHOULD
+die--she leaned forward and she whispered:  'He looks more to me
+like that Stevie D. that used to work for Cap'n Crowell over to
+the Center.  Stevie D. had curly hair like that and HE was part
+Portygee, you remember; though there was a little nigger blood in
+him, too,' she says.  I could have shook her!  And then she went to
+rattlin' that bag again."
+
+Even Mr. Keeler congratulated him at the office next morning.  "You
+done well, Al," he said.  "Yes--yes--yes.  You done fust-rate,
+fust-rate."
+
+His grandfather was the only one who refused to enthuse.
+
+"Well," inquired Captain Zelotes, sitting down at his desk and
+glancing at his grandson over his spectacles, "do you cal'late to
+be able to get down to earth this mornin' far enough to figger up
+the payroll?  You can put what you made from play-actin' on a
+separate sheet.  It's about as much as the average person makes at
+that job," he added.
+
+Albert's face flushed.  There were times when he hated his
+grandfather.  Mr. Keeler, a moment later, put a hand on his
+shoulder.
+
+"You mustn't mind the old man, Al," he whispered.  "I expect that
+seein' you last night brought your dad's job back to him strong.
+He can't bear play-actin', you know, on your dad's account.  Yes--
+yes.  That was it.  Yes--yes--yes."
+
+It may have been a truthful explanation, but as an apology it was a
+limited success.
+
+"My father was a gentleman, at any rate," snapped Albert.  Laban
+opened his mouth to reply, but closed it again and walked back to
+his books.
+
+In May, which was an unusually balmy month, the Congregational
+Sunday School gave an automobile excursion and box-luncheon party
+at High Point Light down at Trumet.  As Rachel Ellis said, it was
+pretty early for picnickin', but if the Almighty's season was ahead
+of time there didn't seem to be any real good reason why one of his
+Sunday schools shouldn't be.  And, which was the principal excuse
+for the hurry, the hotel busses could be secured, which would not
+be the case after the season opened.
+
+Albert went to the picnic.  He was not very keen on going, but his
+grandfather had offered him a holiday for the purpose, and it was
+one of his principles never to refuse a chance to get away from
+that office.  Besides, a number of the young people of his age were
+going, and Gertie Kendrick had been particularly insistent.
+
+"You just MUST come, Al," she said.  "It won't be any fun at all if
+you don't come."
+
+It is possible that Gertie found it almost as little fun when he
+did come.  He happened to be in one of his moods that day;
+"Portygee streaks," his grandfather termed these moods, and told
+Olive that they were "that play-actor breakin' out in him."  He
+talked but little during the ride down in the bus, refused to sing
+when called upon, and, after dinner, when the dancing in the
+pavilion was going on, stepped quietly out of the side door and
+went tramping along the edge of the bluff, looking out over the sea
+or down to the beach, where, one hundred and fifty feet below, the
+big waves were curling over to crash into a creamy mass of froth
+and edge the strand with lacy ripples.
+
+The high clay bluffs of Trumet are unique.  No other part of the
+Cape shows anything just like them.  High Point Light crowns their
+highest and steepest point and is the flashing beacon the rays of
+which spell "America" to the incoming liner Boston bound.
+
+Along the path skirting the edge of the bluff Albert strolled, his
+hands in his pockets and his thoughts almost anywhere except on the
+picnic and the picnickers of the South Harniss Congregational
+Church.  His particular mood on this day was one of discontent and
+rebellion against the fate which had sentenced him to the assistant
+bookkeeper's position in the office of Z. Snow and Co.  At no time
+had he reconciled himself to the idea of that position as a
+permanent one; some day, somehow he was going to break away and
+do--marvelous things.  But occasionally, and usually after a
+disagreeable happening in the office, he awoke from his youthful
+day dreams of glorious futures to a realization of the dismal to-
+day.
+
+The happening which had brought about realization in this instance
+was humorous in the eyes of two-thirds of South Harniss's
+population.  They were chuckling over it yet.  The majority of
+the remaining third were shocked.  Albert, who was primarily
+responsible for the whole affair, was neither amused nor shocked;
+he was angry and humiliated.
+
+The Reverend Seabury Calvin, of Providence, R. I., had arrived in
+town and opened his summer cottage unusually early in the season.
+What was quite as important, Mrs. Seabury Calvin had arrived with
+him.  The Reverend Calvin, whose stay was in this case merely
+temporary, was planning to build an addition to his cottage porch.
+Mrs. Calvin, who was the head of the summer "Welfare Workers,"
+whatever they were, had called a meeting at the Calvin house to
+make Welfare plans for the season.
+
+The lumber for the new porch was ordered of Z. Snow and Co.  The
+Reverend Calvin ordered it himself in person.  Albert received the
+order.
+
+"I wish this delivered to-morrow without fail," said Mr. Calvin.
+Albert promised.
+
+But promises are not always easy to keep.  One of Z. Snow and Co.'s
+teams was busy hauling lumber for the new schoolhouse at Bayport.
+The other Issachar had commandeered for deliveries at Harniss
+Center and refused to give up his claim.  And Laban Keeler, as it
+happened, was absent on one of his "vacations."  Captain Zelotes
+was attending a directors' meeting at Osham and from there was
+going to Boston for a day's stay.
+
+"The ship's in your hands, Al," he had said to his grandson.  "Let
+me see how you handle her."
+
+So, in spite of Albert's promise, the Calvin lumber was not
+delivered on time.  The Reverend gentleman called to ask why.  His
+manner was anything but receptive so far as excuses were concerned.
+
+"Young man," he said loftily, "I am accustomed to do business with
+business people.  Did you or did you not promise to deliver my
+order yesterday?"
+
+"Why, yes sir, I promised, but we couldn't do it.  We--"
+
+"I don't care to know why you didn't do it.  The fact that you did
+not is sufficient.  Will that order of mine be delivered to-day?"
+
+"If it is a possible thing, Mr. Calvin, it--"
+
+"Pardon me.  Will it be delivered?"
+
+The Speranza temper was rising.  "Yes," said the owner of that
+temper, succinctly.
+
+"Does yes mean yes, in this case; or does it mean what it meant
+before?"
+
+"I have told you why--"
+
+"Never mind.  Young man, if that lumber is not delivered to-day I
+shall cancel the order.  Do you understand?"
+
+Albert swallowed hard.  "I tell you, Mr. Calvin, that it shall be
+delivered," he said.  "And it will be."
+
+But delivering it was not so easy.  The team simply could NOT be
+taken off the schoolhouse job, fulfillment of a contract was
+involved there.  And the other horse had gone lame and Issachar
+swore by all that was solemn that the animal must not be used.
+
+"Let old Calvin wait till to-morrow," said Issy.  "You can use the
+big team then.  And Cap'n Lote'll be home, besides."
+
+But Albert was not going to let "old Calvin" wait.  That lumber was
+going to be delivered, if he had to carry it himself, stick by
+stick.  He asked Mr. Price if an extra team might not be hired.
+
+"Ain't none," said Issy.  "Besides, where'd your granddad's profits
+be if you spent money hirin' extry teams to haul that little mite
+of stuff?  I've been in this business a good long spell, and I tell
+you--"
+
+He did not get a chance to tell it, for Albert walked off and left
+him.  At half-past twelve that afternoon he engaged "Vessie" Young--
+christened Sylvester Young and a brother to the driver of the
+depot wagon--to haul the Calvin lumber in his rickety, fragrant old
+wagon.  Simpson Mullen--commonly called "Simp"--was to help in the
+delivery.
+
+Against violent protests from Issy, who declared that Ves Young's
+rattle-trap wan't fit to do nothin' but haul fish heads to the
+fertilizer factory, the Calvin beams and boards were piled high on
+the wagon and with Ves on the driver's seat and Simp perched, like
+a disreputable carrion crow on top of the load, the equipage
+started.
+
+"There!" exclaimed Albert, with satisfaction.  "He can't say it
+wasn't delivered this time according to promise."
+
+"Godfreys!" snorted Issy, gazing after the departing wagon.  "He
+won't be able to say nothin' when he sees that git-up--and smells
+it.  Ves carts everything in that cart from dead cows to gurry
+barrels.  Whew!  I'd hate to have to set on that porch when 'twas
+built of that lumber.  And, unless I'm mistook, Ves and Simp had
+been havin' a little somethin' strong to take, too."
+
+Mr. Price, as it happened, was not "mistook."  Mr. Young had, as
+the South Harniss saying used to be, "had a jug come down" on the
+train from Boston that very morning.  The jug was under the seat of
+his wagon and its contents had already been sampled by him and by
+Simp.  The journey to the Calvin cottage was enlivened by frequent
+stops for refreshment.
+
+Consequently it happened that, just as Mrs. Calvin's gathering of
+Welfare Workers had reached the cake and chocolate stage in their
+proceedings and just as the Reverend Mr. Calvin had risen by
+invitation to say a few words of encouragement, the westerly wind
+blowing in at the open windows bore to the noses and ears of the
+assembled faithful a perfume and a sound neither of which was
+sweet.
+
+Above the rattle and squeak of the Young wagon turning in at the
+Calvin gate arose the voices of Vessie and Simp uplifted in song.
+
+"'Here's to the good old whiskey, drink 'er daown,'" sang Mr.
+Young.
+
+
+     "'Here's to the good old whiskey,
+         Drink 'er daown!
+       Here's to the good old whiskey,
+       It makes you feel so frisky,
+         Drink 'er--'
+
+
+Git up there, blank blank ye!  What the blankety blank you stoppin'
+here for?  Git up!"
+
+The horse was not the only creature that got up.  Mrs. Calvin rose
+from her chair and gazed in horror at the window.  Her husband,
+being already on his feet, could not rise but he broke off short
+the opening sentence of his "few words" and stared and listened.
+Each Welfare Worker stared and listened also.
+
+"Git up, you blankety blank blank," repeated Ves Young, with
+cheerful enthusiasm.  Mr. Mullen, from the top of the load of
+lumber, caroled dreamily on:
+
+
+     "'Here's to the good old rum,
+         Drink 'er daown!
+       Here's to the good old rum,
+         Drink 'er daown!
+       Here's to the good old rum,
+       Ain't you glad that you've got some?
+       Drink 'er daown!  Drink 'er daown!
+         Drink 'er daown!'"
+
+
+And floating, as it were, upon the waves of melody came the odor of
+the Young wagon, an odor combining deceased fish and late lamented
+cow and goodness knows what beside.
+
+The dissipated vehicle stopped beneath the parlor windows of the
+Calvin cottage.  Mr. Young called to his assistant.
+
+"Here we be, Simp!" he yelled.  "A-a-ll ashore that's goin' ashore!
+Wake up there, you unmentionably described old rum barrel and help
+unload this everlastingly condemned lumber."
+
+Mr. Calvin rushed to the window.  "What does this mean?" he
+demanded, in frothing indignation.
+
+Vessie waved at him reassuringly.  "'Sall right, Mr. Calvin," he
+shouted.  "Here's your lumber from Ze-lotes Snow and Co., South
+Harniss, Mass., U. S. A.  'Sall right.  Let 'er go, Simp!  Let 'er
+blankety-blank go!"
+
+Mr. Mullen responded with alacrity and a whoop.  A half dozen
+boards crashed to the ground beneath the parlor windows.  Mrs.
+Calvin rushed to her husband's side.
+
+"This is DREADFUL, Seabury!" she cried.  "Send those creatures and--
+and that horrible wagon away at once."
+
+The Reverend Calvin tried to obey orders.  He commanded Mr. Young
+to go away from there that very moment.  Vessie was surprised.
+
+"Ain't this your lumber?" he demanded.
+
+"It doesn't make any difference whether it is or not, I--"
+
+"Didn't you tell Z. Snow and Co. that this lumber'd got to be
+delivered to-day or you'd cancel the order?"
+
+"Never mind.  That is my business, sir.  You--"
+
+"Hold on!  Ho-o-ld on!  _I_ got a business, too.  My business is
+deliverin' what I'm paid to deliver.  Al Speranzy he says to me:
+'Ves,' he says, 'if you don't deliver that lumber to old man Calvin
+to-day you don't get no money, see.  Will you deliver it?'  Says I,
+'You bet your crashety-blank life I'll (hic) d'liver it!  What I
+say I'll do, I'll do!'  And I'm deliverin' it, ain't I?  Hey?
+Ain't I?  Well, then, what the--"  And so forth and at length,
+while Mrs. Calvin collapsed half fainting in an easy-chair, and
+horrified Welfare Workers covered their ears--and longed to cover
+their noses.
+
+The lumber was delivered that day.  Its delivery was, from the
+viewpoint of Messrs. Young and Mullen, a success.  The spring
+meeting of the Welfare Workers was not a success.
+
+The following day Mr. Calvin called at the office of Z. Snow and
+Co.  He had things to say and said them.  Captain Zelotes, who had
+returned from Boston, listened.  Then he called his grandson.
+
+"Tell him what you've just told me, Mr. Calvin," he said.
+
+The reverend gentleman told it, with added details.
+
+"And in my opinion, if you'll excuse me, Captain Snow," he said, in
+conclusion, "this young man knew what he was doing when he sent
+those drunken scoundrels to my house.  He did it purposely, I am
+convinced."
+
+Captain Zelotes looked at him.
+
+"Why?" he asked.
+
+"Why, because--because of--of what I said to him--er--er--when I
+called here yesterday morning.  He--I presume he took offense and--
+and this outrage is the result.  I am convinced that--"
+
+"Wait a minute.  What did you say for him to take offense at?"
+
+"I demanded that order should be delivered as promised.  I am
+accustomed to do business with business men and--"
+
+"Hold on just a minute more, Mr. Calvin.  We don't seem to be
+gettin' at the clam in this shell as fast as we'd ought to.  Al,
+what have you got to say about all this business?"
+
+Albert was white, almost as white as when he fought Sam Thatcher,
+but as he stood up to Sam so also did he face the irate clergyman.
+He told of the latter's visit to the office, of the threat to
+cancel the order unless delivery was promised that day, of how his
+promise to deliver was exacted, of his effort to keep that promise.
+
+"I HAD to deliver it, Grandfather," he said hotly.  "He had all but
+called me a liar and--and by George, I wasn't going to--"
+
+His grandfather held up a warning hand.
+
+"Sshh!  Ssh!" he said.  "Go on with your yarn, boy."
+
+Albert told of the lame horse, of his effort to hire another team,
+and finally how in desperation he had engaged Ves Young as a last
+resort.  The captain's face was serious but there was the twinkle
+under his heavy brows.  He pulled at his beard.
+
+"Humph!" he grunted.  "Did you know Ves and Simp had been drinkin'
+when you hired 'em?"
+
+"Of course I didn't.  After they had gone Issy said he suspected
+that they had been drinking a little, but _I_ didn't know it.  All
+I wanted was to prove to HIM," with a motion toward Mr. Calvin,
+"that I kept my word."
+
+Captain Zelotes pulled at his beard.  "All right, Al," he said,
+after a moment; "you can go."
+
+Albert went out of the private office.  After he had gone the
+captain turned to his irate customer.
+
+"I'm sorry this happened, Mr. Calvin," he said, "and if Keeler or I
+had been here it probably wouldn't.  But," he added, "as far as I
+can see, the boy did what he thought was the best thing to do.
+And," the twinkle reappeared in the gray eyes, "you sartinly did
+get your lumber when 'twas promised."
+
+Mr. Calvin stiffened.  He had his good points, but he suffered from
+what Laban Keeler once called "ingrowin' importance," and this
+ailment often affected his judgment.  Also he had to face Mrs.
+Calvin upon his return home.
+
+"Do I understand," he demanded, "that you are excusing that young
+man for putting that outrage upon me?"
+
+"We-ll, as I say, I'm sorry it happened.  But, honest, Mr. Calvin,
+I don't know's the boy's to blame so very much, after all.  He
+delivered your lumber, and that's somethin'."
+
+"Is that all you have to say, Captain Snow?  Is that--that impudent
+young clerk of yours to go unpunished?"
+
+"Why, yes, I guess likely he is."
+
+"Then I shall NEVER buy another dollar's worth of your house again,
+sir."
+
+Captain Zelotes bowed.  "I'm sorry to lose your trade, Mr. Calvin,"
+he said.  "Good mornin'."
+
+Albert, at his desk in the outer office, was waiting rebelliously
+to be called before his grandfather and upbraided.  And when so
+called he was in a mood to speak his mind.  He would say a few
+things, no matter what happened in consequence.  But he had no
+chance to say them.  Captain Zelotes did not mention the Calvin
+affair to him, either that day or afterward.  Albert waited and
+waited, expecting trouble, but the trouble, so far as his
+grandfather was concerned, did not materialize.  He could not
+understand it.
+
+But if in that office there was silence concerning the unusual
+delivery of the lumber for the Calvin porch, outside there was talk
+enough and to spare.  Each Welfare Worker talked when she reached
+home and the story spread.  Small boys shouted after Albert when he
+walked down the main street, demanding to know how Ves Young's cart
+was smellin' these days.  When he entered the post office some one
+in the crowd was almost sure to hum, "Here's to the good old
+whiskey, drink her down."  On the train on the way to the picnic,
+girls and young fellows had slyly nagged him about it.  The affair
+and its consequence were the principal causes of his mood that day;
+this particular "Portygee streak" was due to it.
+
+The path along the edge of the high bluff entered a grove of
+scraggy pitch pines about a mile from the lighthouse and the picnic
+ground.  Albert stalked gloomily through the shadows of the little
+grove and emerged on the other side.  There he saw another person
+ahead of him on the path.  This other person was a girl.  He
+recognized her even at this distance.  She was Helen Kendall,
+
+She and he had not been quite as friendly of late.  Not that there
+was any unfriendliness between them, but she was teaching in the
+primary school and, as her father had not been well, spent most of
+her evenings at home.  During the early part of the winter he had
+called occasionally but, somehow, it had seemed to him that she
+was not quite as cordial, or as interested in his society and
+conversation as she used to be.  It was but a slight indifference
+on her part, perhaps, but Albert Speranza was not accustomed to
+indifference on the part of his feminine acquaintances.  So he did
+not call again.  He had seen her at the picnic ground and they had
+spoken, but not at any length.
+
+And he did not care to speak with her now.  He had left the
+pavilion because of his desire to be alone, and that desire still
+persisted.  However, she was some little distance ahead of him and
+he waited in the edge of the grove until she should go over the
+crest of the little hill at the next point.
+
+But she did not go over the crest.  Instead, when she reached it,
+she walked to the very edge of the bluff and stood there looking
+off at the ocean.  The sea breeze ruffled her hair and blew her
+skirts about her and she made a pretty picture.  But to Albert it
+seemed that she was standing much too near the edge.  She could not
+see it, of course, but from where he stood he could see that the
+bank at that point was much undercut by the winter rains and winds,
+and although the sod looked firm enough from above, in reality
+there was little to support it.  Her standing there made him a
+trifle uneasy and he had a mind to shout and warn her.  He
+hesitated, however, and as he watched she stepped back of her own
+accord.  He turned, re-entered the grove and started to walk back
+to the pavilion.
+
+He had scarcely done so when he heard a short scream followed by a
+thump and a rumbling, rattling sound.  He turned like a flash, his
+heart pounding violently.
+
+The bluff edge was untenanted.  A semi-circular section of the sod
+where Helen had stood was missing.  From the torn opening where it
+had been rose a yellow cloud of dust.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+
+A goodly number of the South Harniss "natives," those who had not
+seen him play tennis, would have been willing to swear that running
+was, for Albert Speranza, an impossibility.  His usual gait was a
+rather languid saunter.  They would have changed their minds had
+they seen him now.
+
+He ran along that path as he had run in school at the last track
+meet, where he had been second in the hundred-yard dash.  He
+reached the spot where the sod had broken and, dropping on his
+knees, looked fearfully over.  The dust was still rising, the sand
+and pebbles were still rattling in a diminishing shower down to the
+beach so far below.  But he did not see what he had so feared to
+see.
+
+What he did see, however, was neither pleasant nor altogether
+reassuring.  The bluff below the sod at its top dropped sheer and
+undercut for perhaps ten feet.  Then the sand and clay sloped
+outward and the slope extended down for another fifty feet, its
+surface broken by occasional clinging chunks of beach grass.  Then
+it broke sharply again, a straight drop of eighty feet to the
+mounds and dunes bordering the beach.
+
+Helen had of course fallen straight to the upper edge of the slope,
+where she had struck feet first, and from there had slid and rolled
+to the very edge of the long drop to the beach.  Her skirt had
+caught in the branches of an enterprising bayberry bush which had
+managed to find roothold there, and to this bush and a clump of
+beach grass she was clinging, her hands outstretched and her body
+extended along the edge of the clay precipice.
+
+Albert gasped.
+
+"Helen!" he called breathlessly.
+
+She turned her head and looked up at him.  Her face was white, but
+she did not scream.
+
+"Helen!" cried Albert, again.  "Helen, do you hear me?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Are you badly hurt?"
+
+"No.  No, I don't think so."
+
+"Can you hold on just as you are for a few minutes?"
+
+"Yes, I--I think so."
+
+"You've got to, you know.  Here!  You're not going to faint, are
+you?"
+
+"No, I--I don't think I am."
+
+"You can't!  You mustn't!  Here!  Don't you do it!  Stop!"
+
+There was just a trace of his grandfather in the way he shouted the
+order.  Whether or not the vigor of the command produced the result
+is a question, but at any rate she did not faint.
+
+"Now you stay right where you are," he ordered again.  "And hang on
+as tight as you can.  I'm coming down."
+
+Come down he did, swinging over the brink with his face to the
+bank, dropping on his toes to the upper edge of the slope and
+digging boots and fingers into the clay to prevent sliding further.
+
+"Hang on!" he cautioned, over his shoulder.  "I'll be there in a
+second.  There!  Now wait until I get my feet braced.  Now give me
+your hand--your left hand.  Hold on with your right."
+
+Slowly and cautiously, clinging to his hand, he pulled her away
+from the edge of the precipice and helped her to scramble up to
+where he clung.  There she lay and panted.  He looked at her
+apprehensively.
+
+"Don't go and faint now, or any foolishness like that," he ordered
+sharply.
+
+"No, no, I won't.  I'll try not to.  But how are we ever going to
+climb up--up there?"
+
+Above them and at least four feet out of reach, even if they stood
+up, and that would be a frightfully risky proceeding, the sod
+projected over their heads like the eaves of a house.
+
+Helen glanced up at it and shuddered.
+
+"Oh, how CAN we?" she gasped.
+
+"We can't.  And we won't try."
+
+"Shall we call for help?"
+
+"Not much use.  Nobody to hear us.  Besides, we can always do that
+if we have to.  I think I see a way out of the mess.  If we can't
+get up, perhaps we can get down."
+
+"Get DOWN?"
+
+"Yes, it isn't all as steep as it is here.  I believe we might sort
+of zig-zag down if we were careful.  You hold on here just as you
+are; I'm going to see what it looks like around this next point."
+
+The "point" was merely a projection of the bluff about twenty feet
+away.  He crawfished along the face of the slope, until he could
+see beyond it.  Helen kept urging him to be careful--oh, be
+careful!
+
+"Of course I'll be careful," he said curtly.  "I don't want to
+break my neck.  Yes--yes, by George, it IS easier around there!  We
+could get down a good way.  Here, here; don't start until you take
+my hand.  And be sure your feet are braced before you move.  Come
+on, now."
+
+"I--I don't believe I can."
+
+"Of course you can.  You've GOT to.  Come on.  Don't look down.
+Look at the sand right in front of you."
+
+Getting around that point was a decidedly ticklish operation, but
+they managed it, he leading the way, making sure of his foothold
+before moving and then setting her foot in the print his own had
+made.  On the other side of the projection the slope was less
+abrupt and extended much nearer to the ground below.  They
+zigzagged down until nearly to the edge of the steep drop.  Then
+Albert looked about for a new path to safety.  He found it still
+farther on.
+
+"It takes us down farther," he said, "and there are bushes to hold
+on to after we get there.  Come on, Helen!  Brace up now, be a
+sport!"
+
+She was trying her best to obey orders, but being a sport was no
+slight undertaking under the circumstances.  When they reached the
+clump of bushes her guide ordered her to rest.
+
+"Just stop and catch your breath," he said.  "The rest is going to
+be easier, I think.  And we haven't so very far to go."
+
+He was too optimistic.  It was anything but easy; in fact, the last
+thirty feet was almost a tumble, owing to the clay giving way
+beneath their feet.  But there was soft sand to tumble into and
+they reached the beach safe, though in a dishevelled, scratched and
+thoroughly smeared condition.  Then Helen sat down and covered her
+face with her hands.  Her rescuer gazed triumphantly up at the
+distant rim of broken sod and grinned.
+
+"There, by George!" he exclaimed.  "We did it, didn't we?  Say,
+that was fun!"
+
+She removed her hands and looked at him.
+
+"WHAT did you say it was?" she faltered.
+
+"I said it was fun.  It was great!  Like something out of a book,
+eh?"
+
+She began to laugh hysterically.  He turned to her in indignant
+surprise.  "What are you laughing at?" he demanded.
+
+"Oh--oh, don't, please!  Just let me laugh.  If I don't laugh I
+shall cry, and I don't want to do that.  Just don't talk to me for
+a few minutes, that's all."
+
+When the few minutes were over she rose to her feet.
+
+"Now we must get back to the pavilion, I suppose," she said.  "My,
+but we are sights, though!  Do let's see if we can't make ourselves
+a little more presentable."
+
+She did her best to wipe off the thickest of the clay smears with
+her handkerchief, but the experiment was rather a failure.  As they
+started to walk back along the beach she suddenly turned to him and
+said:
+
+"I haven't told you how--how much obliged I am for--for what you
+did.  If you hadn't come, I don't know what would have happened to
+me."
+
+"Oh, that's all right," he answered lightly.  He was reveling in
+the dramatic qualities of the situation.  She did not speak again
+for some time and he, too, walked on in silence enjoying his day
+dream.  Suddenly he became aware that she was looking at him
+steadily and with an odd expression on her face.
+
+"What is it?" he asked.  "Why do you look at me that way?"
+
+Her answer was, as usual, direct and frank.
+
+"I was thinking about you," she said.  "I was thinking that I must
+have been mistaken, partly mistaken, at least."
+
+"Mistaken?  About me, do you mean?"
+
+"Yes; I had made up my mind that you were--well, one sort of
+fellow, and now I see that you are an entirely different sort.
+That is, you've shown that you can be different."
+
+"What on earth do you mean by that?"
+
+"Why, I mean--I mean--  Oh, I'm sure I had better not say it.  You
+won't like it, and will think I had better mind my own affairs--
+which I should do, of course."
+
+"Go on; say it."
+
+She looked at him again, evidently deliberating whether or not to
+speak her thought.  Then she said:
+
+"Well, I will say it.  Not that it is really my business, but
+because in a way it is begging your pardon, and I ought to do that.
+You see, I had begun to believe that you were--that you were--well,
+that you were not very--very active, you know."
+
+"Active?  Say, look here, Helen!  What--"
+
+"Oh, I don't wonder you don't understand.  I mean that you were
+rather--rather fond of not doing much--of--of--"
+
+"Eh?  Not doing much?  That I was lazy, do you mean?"
+
+"Why, not exactly lazy, perhaps, but--but--  Oh, how CAN I say just
+what I mean!  I mean that you were always saying that you didn't
+like the work in your grandfather's office."
+
+"Which I don't."
+
+"And that some day you were going to do something else."
+
+Which I am."
+
+"Write or act or do something--"
+
+"Yes, and that's true, too."
+
+"But you don't, you know.  You don't do anything.  You've been
+talking that way ever since I knew you, calling this a one-horse
+town and saying how you hated it, and that you weren't going to
+waste your life here, and all that, but you keep staying here and
+doing just the same things.  The last long talk we had together you
+told me you knew you could write poems and plays and all sorts of
+things, you just felt that you could.  You were going to begin
+right away.  You said that some months ago, and you haven't done
+any writing at all.  Now, have you?"
+
+"No-o.  No, but that doesn't mean I shan't by and by."
+
+"But you didn't begin as you said you would.  That was last spring,
+more than a year ago, and I don't believe you have tried to write a
+single poem.  Have you?"
+
+He was beginning to be ruffled.  It was quite unusual for any one,
+most of all for a girl, to talk to him in this way.
+
+"I don't know that I have," he said loftily.  "And, anyway, I don't
+see that it is--is--"
+
+"My business whether you have or not.  I know it isn't.  I'm sorry
+I spoke.  But, you see, I--  Oh, well, never mind.  And I do want
+you to know how much I appreciate your helping me as you did just
+now.  I don't know how to thank you for that."
+
+But thanks were not exactly what he wanted at that moment.
+
+"Go ahead and say the rest," he ordered, after a short pause.
+"You've said so much that you had better finish it, seems to me.
+I'm lazy, you think.  What else am I?"
+
+"You're brave, awfully brave, and you are so strong and quick--yes,
+and--and--masterful; I think that is the right word.  You ordered
+me about as if I were a little girl.  I didn't want to keep still,
+as you told me to; I wanted to scream.  And I wanted to faint, too,
+but you wouldn't let me.  I had never seen you that way before.  I
+didn't know you could be like that.  That is what surprises me so.
+That is why I said you were so different."
+
+Here was balm for wounded pride.  Albert's chin lifted.  "Oh, that
+was nothing," he said.  "Whatever had to be done must be done right
+off, I could see that.  You couldn't hang on where you were very
+long."
+
+She shuddered.  "No," she replied, "I could not.  But _I_ couldn't
+think WHAT to do, and you could.  Yes, and did it, and made me do
+it."
+
+The chin lifted still more and the Speranza chest began to expand.
+Helen's next remark was in the natures of a reducer for the said
+expansion.
+
+"If you could be so prompt and strong and--and energetic then," she
+said, "I can't help wondering why you aren't like that all the
+time.  I had begun to think you were just--just--"
+
+"Lazy, eh?" he suggested.
+
+"Why--why, no-o, but careless and indifferent and with not much
+ambition, certainly.  You had talked so much about writing and yet
+you never tried to write anything, that--that--"
+
+"That you thought I was all bluff.  Thanks!  Any more compliments?"
+
+She turned on him impulsively.  "Oh, don't!" she exclaimed.
+"Please don't!  I know what I am saying sounds perfectly horrid,
+and especially now when you have just saved me from being badly
+hurt, if not killed.  But don't you see that--that I am saying it
+because I am interested in you and sure you COULD do so much if you
+only would?  If you would only try."
+
+This speech was a compound of sweet and bitter.  Albert
+characteristically selected the sweet.
+
+"Helen," he asked, in his most confidential tone, "would you like
+to have me try and write something?  Say, would you?"
+
+"Of course I would.  Oh, will you?"
+
+"Well, if YOU asked me I might.  For your sake, you know."
+
+She stopped and stamped her foot impatiently.
+
+"Oh, DON'T be silly!" she exclaimed.  "I don't want you to do it
+for my sake.  I want you to do it for your own sake.  Yes, and for
+your grandfather's sake."
+
+"My grandfather's sake!  Great Scott, why do you drag him in?  HE
+doesn't want me to write poetry."
+
+"He wants you to do something, to succeed.  I know that."
+
+"He wants me to stay here and help Labe Keeler and Issy Price.  He
+wants me to spend all my life in that office of his; that's what HE
+wants.  Now hold on, Helen!  I'm not saying anything against the
+old fellow.  He doesn't like me, I know, but--"
+
+"You DON'T know.  He does like you.  Or he wants to like you very
+much indeed.  He would like to have you carry on the Snow Company's
+business after he has gone, but if you can't--or won't--do that, I
+know he would be very happy to see you succeed at anything--
+anything."
+
+Albert laughed scornfully.  "Even at writing poetry?" he asked.
+
+"Why, yes, at writing; although of course he doesn't know a thing
+about it and can't understand how any one can possibly earn a
+living that way.  He has read or heard about poets and authors
+starving in garrets and he thinks they're all like that.  But if
+you could only show him and prove to him that you could succeed by
+writing, he would be prouder of you than any one else would be.  I
+know it."
+
+He regarded her curiously.  "You seem to know a lot about my
+grandfather," he observed.
+
+"I do know something about him.  He and I have been friends ever
+since I was a little girl, and I like him very much indeed.  If he
+were my grandfather I should be proud of him.  And I think you
+ought to be."
+
+She flashed the last sentence at him in a sudden heat of enthusiasm.
+He was surprised at her manner.
+
+"Gee!  You ARE strong for the old chap, aren't you?" he said.
+"Well, admitting that he is all right, just why should I be proud
+of him?  I AM proud of my father, of course; he was somebody in the
+world."
+
+"You mean he was somebody just because he was celebrated and lots
+of people knew about him.  Celebrated people aren't the only ones
+who do worth while things.  If I were you, I should be proud of
+Captain Zelotes because he is what he has made himself.  Nobody
+helped him; he did it all.  He was a sea captain and a good one.
+He has been a business man and a good one, even if the business
+isn't so very big.  Everybody here in South Harniss--yes, and all
+up and down the Cape--knows of him and respects him.  My father
+says in all the years he has preached in his church he has never
+heard a single person as much as hint that Captain Snow wasn't
+absolutely honest, absolutely brave, and the same to everybody,
+rich or poor.  And all his life he has worked and worked hard.
+What HE has belongs to him; he has earned it.  That's why I should
+be proud of him if he were my grandfather."
+
+Her enthusiasm had continued all through this long speech.  Albert
+whistled.
+
+"Whew!" he exclaimed.  "Regular cheer for Zelotes, fellows!  One--
+two--!  Grandfather's got one person to stand up for him, I'll say
+that.  But why this sudden outbreak about him, anyhow?  It was me
+you were talking about in the beginning--though I didn't notice any
+loud calls for cheers in that direction," he added.
+
+She ignored the last part of the speech.  "I think you yourself
+made me think of him," she replied.  "Sometimes you remind me of
+him.  Not often, but once in a while.  Just now, when we were
+climbing down that awful place you seemed almost exactly like him.
+The way you knew just what to do all the time, and your not
+hesitating a minute, and the way you took command of the situation
+and," with a sudden laugh, "bossed me around; every bit of that was
+like him, and not like you at all.  Oh, I don't mean that," she
+added hurriedly.  "I mean it wasn't like you as you usually are.
+It was different."
+
+"Humph!  Well, I must say--  See here, Helen Kendall, what is it
+you expect me to do; sail in and write two or three sonnets and a
+'Come Into the Garden, Maud,' some time next week?  You're terribly
+keen about Grandfather, but he has rather got the edge on me so far
+as age goes.  He's in the sixties, and I'm just about nineteen."
+
+"When he was nineteen he was first mate of a ship."
+
+"Yes, so I've heard him say.  Maybe first-mating is a little bit
+easier than writing poetry."
+
+"And maybe it isn't.  At any rate, he didn't know whether it was
+easy or not until he tried.  Oh, THAT'S what I would like to see
+you do--TRY to do something.  You could do it, too, almost anything
+you tried, I do believe.  I am confident you could.  But--  Oh,
+well, as you said at the beginning, it isn't my business at all,
+and I've said ever and ever so much more than I meant to.  Please
+forgive me, if you can.  I think my tumble and all the rest must
+have made me silly.  I'm sorry, Albert.  There are the steps up to
+the pavilion.  See them!"
+
+He was tramping on beside her, his hands in his pockets.  He did
+not look at the long flight of steps which had suddenly come into
+view around the curve of the bluff.  When he did look up and speak
+it was in a different tone, some such tone as she had heard him use
+during her rescue.
+
+"All right," he said, with decision, "I'll show you whether I can
+try or not.  I know you think I won't, but I will.  I'm going up to
+my room to-night and I'm going to try to write something or other.
+It may be the rottenest poem that ever was ground out, but I'll
+grind it if it kills me."
+
+She was pleased, that was plain, but she shook her head.
+
+"Not to-night, Albert," she said.  "To-night, after the picnic, is
+Father's reception at the church.  Of course you'll come to that."
+
+"Of course I won't.  Look here, you've called me lazy and
+indifferent and a hundred other pet names this afternoon.  Well,
+this evening I'll make you take some of 'em back.  Reception be
+hanged!  I'm going to write to-night."
+
+That evening both Mrs. Snow and Rachel Ellis were much disturbed
+because Albert, pleading a headache, begged off from attendance at
+the reception to the Reverend Mr. Kendall.  Either, or both ladies
+would have been only too willing to remain at home and nurse the
+sufferer through his attack, but he refused to permit the sacrifice
+on their part.  After they had gone his headache disappeared and,
+supplied with an abundance of paper, pens and ink, he sat down at
+the table in his room to invoke the Muse.  The invocation lasted
+until three A. M.  At that hour, with a genuine headache, but a
+sense of triumph which conquered pain, Albert climbed into bed.
+Upon the table lay a poem, a six stanza poem, having these words at
+its head:
+
+
+        TO MY LADY'S SPRING HAT
+           By A. M. Speranza.
+
+
+The following forenoon he posted that poem to the editor of The
+Cape Cod Item.  And three weeks later it appeared in the pages of
+that journal.  Of course there was no pecuniary recompense for its
+author, and the fact was indisputable that the Item was generally
+only too glad to publish contributions which helped to fill its
+columns.  But, nevertheless, Albert Speranza had written a poem and
+that poem had been published.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+
+It was Rachel who first discovered "To My Lady's Spring Hat" in the
+Item three weeks later.  She came rushing into the sitting room
+brandishing the paper.
+
+"My soul!  My soul!  My soul!" she cried.
+
+Olive, sitting sewing by the window, was, naturally, somewhat
+startled.  "Mercy on us, Rachel!" she exclaimed.  "What IS it?"
+
+"Look!" cried the housekeeper, pointing to the contribution in the
+"Poets' Corner" as Queen Isabella may have pointed at the evidence
+of her proteges discovery of a new world.  "LOOK!"
+
+Mrs. Snow looked, read the verses to herself, and then aloud.
+
+"Why, I declare, they're real sort of pretty, ain't they?" she
+exclaimed, in astonished admiration.
+
+"Pretty!  They're perfectly elegant!  And right here in the paper
+for all hands to see.  Ain't you PROUD of him, Mrs. Snow?"
+
+Olive had been growing more and more proud of her handsome grandson
+ever since his arrival.  She was prouder still now and said so.
+Rachel nodded, triumphantly.
+
+"He'll be a Robert Penfold afore he dies, or I miss MY guess!" she
+declared.
+
+She showed it to feminine acquaintances all over town, and Olive,
+when callers came, took pains to see that a copy of the Item,
+folded with the "Poets' Corner" uppermost, lay on the center table.
+Customers, dropping in at the office, occasionally mentioned the
+poem to its author.
+
+"See you had a piece in the Item, Al," was their usual way of
+referring to it.  "Pretty cute piece 'twas, too, seemed to me.
+Say, that girl of yours must have SOME spring bunnit.  Ho, ho!"
+
+Issachar deigned to express approval, approval qualified with
+discerning criticism of course, but approval nevertheless.
+
+"Pretty good piece, Al," he observed.  "Pretty good.  Glad to see
+you done so well.  Course you made one little mistake, but 'twan't
+a very big one.  That part where you said--  What was it, now?
+Where'd I put that piece of poetry?  Oh, yes, here 'tis!  Where you
+said--er--er--
+
+
+     'It floats upon her golden curls
+      As froth upon the wave.'
+
+
+Now of course nothin'--a hat or nothin' else--is goin' to float on
+top of a person's head.  Froth floatin', that's all right, you
+understand; but even if you took froth right out of the water and
+slapped it up onto anybody's hair 'twouldn't FLOAT up there.  If
+you'd said,
+
+
+     'It SETS up onto her golden curls,
+      Same as froth sets on top of a wave.'
+
+
+that would have been all right and true.  But there, don't feel bad
+about it.  It's only a little mistake, same as anybody's liable to
+make.  Nine persons out of ten wouldn't have noticed it.  I'm extry
+partic'lar, I presume likely.  I'm findin' mistakes like that all
+the time."
+
+Laban's comment was less critical, perhaps, but more reserved.
+
+"It's pretty good, Al," he said.  "Yes--er--yes, sir, it's pretty
+good.  It ain't all new, there's some of it that's been written
+before, but I rather guess that might have been said about
+Shakespeare's poetry when he fust commenced.  It's pretty good, Al.
+Yes--yes, yes.  It is so."
+
+Albert was inclined to resent the qualified strain in the
+bookkeeper's praise.  He was tempted to be sarcastic.
+
+"Well," he observed, "of course you've read so much real poetry
+that you ought to know."
+
+Laban nodded, slowly.  "I've read a good deal," he said quietly.
+"Readin' is one of the few things I ain't made a failure of in this
+life.  Um-hm.  One of the few.  Yes yes--yes."
+
+He dipped his pen in the inkwell and carefully made an entry in the
+ledger.  His assistant felt a sudden pang of compunction.
+
+"I beg your pardon, Mr. Keeler," he said.  "That was pretty fresh
+of me.  I'm sorry."
+
+Laban looked up in mild surprise.  "Sorry?" he repeated.  "What
+for? . . .  Oh, that's all right, Al, that's all right.  Lord knows
+I'm the last one on earth who'd ought to criticize anybody.  All I
+had in mind in sayin' what I did was to--well, to kind of keep you
+from bein' too well satisfied and not try harder on the next one.
+It don't pay to be too well satisfied. . . .  Years ago, I can
+remember, _I_ was pretty well satisfied--with myself and my work.
+Sounds like a joke, I know, but 'twas so. . . .  Well, I've had a
+nice long chance to get over it.  Um-hm.  Yes--yes.  So I have, so
+I have."
+
+Only Captain Zelotes at first said nothing about the poem.  He read
+it, his wife saw to that, but his comment even to her was a non-
+committal grunt.
+
+"But don't you think it's real sort of pretty, Zelotes?" she asked.
+
+The captain grunted again.  "Why, I guess likely 'tis if you say
+so, Mother.  I don't know much about such things."
+
+"But everybody says it is."
+
+"Want to know!  Well, then 'twon't make much difference whether I
+say it or not."
+
+"But ain't you goin' to say a word to Albert about it, Zelotes?"
+
+"Humph!  I don't know's I know what to say."
+
+"Why, say you like it."
+
+"Ye-es, and if I do he'll keep on writin' more.  That's exactly
+what I don't want him to do.  Come now, Mother, be sensible.  This
+piece of his may be good or it may not, _I_ wouldn't undertake to
+say.  But this I do know: I don't want the boy to spend his time
+writin' poetry slush for that 'Poets' Corner.'  Letitia Makepeace
+did that--she had a piece in there about every week--and she died
+in the Taunton asylum."
+
+"But, Zelotes, it wasn't her poetry got her into the asylum."
+
+"Wan't it?  Well, she was in the poorhouse afore that.  I don't
+know whether 'twas her poetryin' that got her in there, but I know
+darned well it didn't get her out."
+
+"But ain't you goin' to say one word?  'Twould encourage him so."
+
+"Good Lord!  We don't want to encourage him, do we?  If he was
+takin' to thievin' you wouldn't encourage him in that, would you?"
+
+"Thievin'!  Zelotes Snow, you don't mean to say you compare a poet
+to a THIEF!"
+
+The captain grinned.  "No-o, Mother," he observed drily.  "Sometimes
+a thief can manage to earn a livin' at his job.  But there, there,
+don't feel bad.  I'll say somethin' to Al, long's you think I ought
+to."
+
+The something was not much, and yet Captain Zelotes really meant it
+to be kindly and to sound like praise.  But praising a thing of
+which you have precious little understanding and with which you
+have absolutely no sympathy is a hard job.
+
+"See you had a piece in the Item this week, Al," observed the
+captain.
+
+"Why--yes, sir," said Albert.
+
+"Um-hm.  I read it.  I don't know much about such things, but they
+tell me it is pretty good."
+
+"Thank you, sir."
+
+"Eh?  Oh, you're welcome."
+
+That was all.  Perhaps considering its source it was a good deal,
+but Albert was not of the age where such considerations are likely
+to be made.
+
+Helen's praise was warm and enthusiastic.  "I knew you could do it
+if you only would," she declared.  "And oh, I'm SO glad you did!
+Now you must keep on trying."
+
+That bit of advice was quite superfluous.  Young Speranza having
+sampled the sublime intoxication of seeing himself in print, was
+not ready to sober off yet a while.  He continued to bombard the
+Item with verses.  They were invariably accepted, but when he sent
+to a New York magazine a poem which he considered a gem, the
+promptness with which it was returned staggered his conceit and was
+in that respect a good thing for him.
+
+However, he kept on trying.  Helen would not have permitted him to
+give up even if he had wished.  She was quite as much interested in
+his literary aspirations as he was himself and her encouragement
+was a great help to him.  After months of repeated trial and
+repeated rejection he opened an envelope bearing the name of a
+fairly well-known periodical to find therein a kindly note stating
+that his poem, "Sea Spaces" had been accepted.  And a week later
+came a check for ten dollars.  That was a day of days.  Incidentally
+it was the day of a trial balance in the office and the assistant
+bookkeeper's additions and multiplications contained no less than
+four ghastly errors.
+
+The next afternoon there was an interview in the back office.
+Captain Zelotes and his grandson were the participants.  The
+subject discussed was "Business versus Poetry," and there was a
+marked difference of opinion.  Albert had proclaimed his triumph at
+home, of course, had exhibited his check, had been the recipient of
+hugs and praises from his grandmother and had listened to paeans
+and hallelujahs from Mrs. Ellis.  When he hurried around to the
+parsonage after supper, Helen had been excited and delighted at the
+good news.  Albert had been patted on the back quite as much as was
+good for a young man whose bump of self-esteem was not inclined
+toward under-development.  When he entered the private office of Z.
+Snow and Co. in answer to his grandfather's summons, he did so
+light-heartedly, triumphantly, with self-approval written large
+upon him.
+
+But though he came like a conquering hero, he was not received like
+one.  Captain Zelotes sat at his desk, the copy of the Boston
+morning paper which he had been reading sticking out of the waste
+basket into which it had been savagely jammed a half hour before.
+The news had not been to the captain's liking.  These were the
+September days of 1914; the German Kaiser was marching forward "mit
+Gott" through Belgium, and it began to look as if he could not be
+stopped short of Paris.  Consequently, Captain Zelotes, his
+sympathies from the first with England and the Allies, was not
+happy in his newspaper reading.
+
+Albert entered, head erect and eyes shining.  If Gertie Kendrick
+could have seen him then she would have fallen down and worshiped.
+His grandfather looked at him in silence for a moment, tapping his
+desk with the stump of a pencil.  Albert, too, was silent; he was
+already thinking of another poem with which to dazzle the world,
+and his head was among the rosy clouds.
+
+"Sit down, Al," said Captain Zelotes shortly.
+
+Albert reluctantly descended to earth and took the battered
+armchair standing beside the desk.  The captain tapped with his
+pencil upon the figure-covered sheet of paper before him.  Then he
+said:
+
+"Al, you've been here three years come next December, ain't you?"
+
+"Why--yes, sir, I believe I have."
+
+"Um-hm, you have.  And for the heft of that time you've been in
+this office."
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Yes.  And Labe Keeler and I have been doin' our best to make a
+business man out of you.  You understand we have, don't you?"
+
+Albert looked puzzled and a little uneasy.  Into his roseate dreams
+was just beginning to filter the idea that his grandfather's tone
+and manner were peculiar.
+
+"Why, yes, sir, of course I understand it," he replied.
+
+"Well, I asked you because I wasn't quite sure whether you did or
+not.  Can you guess what this is I've got on my desk here?"
+
+He tapped the figure-covered sheet of paper once more.  Before
+Albert could speak the captain answered his own question.
+
+"I'll tell you what it is," he went on.  "It's one of the latest
+samples of your smartness as a business man.  I presume likely you
+know that Laban worked here in this office until three o'clock this
+mornin', didn't you?"
+
+Albert did not know it.  Mr. Keeler had told him nothing of the
+sort.
+
+"Why, no," he replied.  "Did he?  What for?"
+
+"Ye-es, he did.  And what for?  Why, just to find out what was the
+matter with his trial balance, that's all.  When one of Labe's
+trial balances starts out for snug harbor and ends up on a reef
+with six foot of water in her hold, naturally Labe wants to get her
+afloat and pumped dry as quick as possible.  He ain't used to it,
+for one thing, and it makes him nervous."
+
+Albert's uneasiness grew.  When his grandfather's speech became
+sarcastic and nautical, the young man had usually found that there
+was trouble coming for somebody.
+
+"I--I'm sorry Laban had to stay so late," he stammered.  "I should
+have been glad to stay and help him, but he didn't ask me."
+
+"No-o.  Well, it may possibly be that he cal'lated he was carryin'
+about all your help that the craft would stand, as 'twas.  Any more
+might sink her.  See here, young feller--"  Captain Zelotes dropped
+his quiet sarcasm and spoke sharp and brisk:  "See here," he said,
+"do you realize that this sheet of paper I've got here is what
+stands for a day's work done by you yesterday?  And on this sheet
+there was no less than four silly mistakes that a child ten years
+old hadn't ought to make, that an able-bodied idiot hadn't ought to
+make.  But YOU made 'em, and they kept Labe Keeler here till three
+o'clock this mornin'.  Now what have you got to say for yourself?"
+
+As a matter of fact, Albert had very little to say, except that he
+was sorry, and that his grandfather evidently did not consider
+worth the saying.  He waved the protestation aside.
+
+"Sorry!" he repeated impatiently.  "Of course you're sorry, though
+even at that I ain't sure you're sorry enough.  Labe was sorry,
+too, I don't doubt, when his bedtime went by and he kept runnin'
+afoul of one of your mistakes after another.  I'm sorry, darned
+sorry, to find out that you can make such blunders after three
+years on board here under such teachin' as you've had.  But bein'
+sorry don't help any to speak of.  Any fool can be sorry for his
+foolishness, but if that's all, it don't help a whole lot.  Is
+bein' sorry the best excuse you've got to offer?  What made you
+make the mistakes in the first place?"
+
+Albert's face was darkly red under the lash of his grandfather's
+tongue.  Captain Zelotes and he had had disagreements and verbal
+encounters before, but never since they had been together had the
+captain spoken like this.  And the young fellow was no longer
+seventeen, he was twenty.  The flush began to fade from his cheeks
+and the pallor which meant the rise of the Speranza temper took its
+place.
+
+"What made you make such fool blunders?" repeated the captain.
+"You knew better, didn't you?"
+
+"Yes," sullenly, "I suppose I did."
+
+"You know mighty well you did.  And as nigh as I can larn from what
+I got out of Laban--which wasn't much; I had to pump it out of him
+word by word--this ain't the first set of mistakes you've made.
+You make 'em right along.  If it wasn't for him helpin' you out and
+coverin' up your mistakes, this firm would be in hot water with its
+customers two-thirds of the time and the books would be fust-rate
+as a puzzle, somethin' to use for a guessin' match, but plaguey
+little good as straight accounts of a goin' concern.  Now what
+makes you act this way?  Eh?  What makes you?"
+
+"Oh, I don't know.  See here, Grandfather--"
+
+"Hold on a minute.  You don't know, eh?  Well, I know.  It ain't
+because you ain't smart enough to keep a set of books and keep 'em
+well.  I don't expect you to be a Labe Keeler; there ain't many
+bookkeepers like him on this earth.  But I do know you're smart
+enough to keep my books and keep 'em as they'd ought to be, if you
+want to keep 'em.  The trouble with you is that you don't want to.
+You've got too much of your good-for-nothin--"  Captain Lote pulled
+up short, cleared his throat, and went on:  "You've got too much
+'poet' in you," he declared, "that's what's the matter."
+
+Albert leaned forward.  "That wasn't what you were going to say,"
+he said quickly.  "You were going to say that I had too much of my
+father in me."
+
+It was the captain's turn to redden.  "Eh?" he stammered.  "Why,
+I--I--  How do you know what I was goin' to say?"
+
+"Because I do.  You say it all the time.  Or, if you don't say it,
+you look it.  There is hardly a day that I don't catch you looking
+at me as if you were expecting me to commit murder or do some
+outrageous thing or other.  And I know, too, that it is all because
+I'm my father's son.  Well, that's all right; feel that way about
+me if you want to, I can't help it."
+
+"Here, here, Al!  Hold on!  Don't--"
+
+"I won't hold on.  And I tell you this: I hate this work here.  You
+say I don't want to keep books.  Well, I don't.  I'm sorry I made
+the errors yesterday and put Keeler to so much trouble, but I'll
+probably make more.  No," with a sudden outburst of determination,
+"I won't make any more.  I won't, because I'm not going to keep
+books any more.  I'm through."
+
+Captain Zelotes leaned back in his chair.
+
+"You're what?" he asked slowly.
+
+"I'm through.  I'll never work in this office another day.  I'm
+through."
+
+The captain's brows drew together as he stared steadily at his
+grandson.  He slowly tugged at his beard.
+
+"Humph!" he grunted, after a moment.  "So you're through, eh?
+Goin' to quit and go somewheres else, you mean?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Um-hm.  I see.  Where are you goin' to go?"
+
+"I don't know.  But I'm not going to make a fool of myself at this
+job any longer.  I can't keep books, and I won't keep them.  I hate
+business.  I'm no good at it.  And I won't stay here."
+
+"I see.  I see.  Well, if you won't keep on in business, what will
+you do for a livin'?  Write poetry?"
+
+"Perhaps."
+
+"Um-m.  Be kind of slim livin', won't it?  You've been writin'
+poetry for about a year and a half, as I recollect, and so far
+you've made ten dollars."
+
+"That's all right.  If I don't make it I may starve, as you are
+always saying that writers do.  But, starve or not, I shan't ask
+YOU to take care of me."
+
+"I've taken care of you for three years or so."
+
+"Yes.  But you did it because--because--  Well, I don't know why
+you did, exactly, but you won't have to do it any longer.  I'm
+through."
+
+The captain still stared steadily, and what he saw in the dark eyes
+which flashed defiance back at him seemed to trouble him a little.
+His tugs at his beard became more strenuous.
+
+"Humph!" he muttered.  "Humph! . . .  Well, Al, of course I can't
+make you stay by main force.  Perhaps I could--you ain't of age
+yet--but I shan't.  And you want to quit the ship altogether, do
+you?"
+
+"If you mean this office--yes, I do."
+
+"I see, I see.  Want to quit South Harniss and your grandmother--
+and Rachel--and Labe--and Helen--and all the rest of 'em?"
+
+"Not particularly.  But I shall have to, of course."
+
+"Yes. . . .  Um-hm. . . .  Yes.  Have you thought how your
+grandmother's liable to feel when she hears you are goin' to clear
+out and leave her?"
+
+Albert had not thought in that way, but he did now.  His tone was a
+trifle less combative as he answered.
+
+"She'll be sorry at first, I suppose," he said, "but she'll get
+over it."
+
+"Um-hm.  Maybe she will.  You can get over 'most anything in time--
+'MOST anything.  Well, and how about me?  How do you think I'll
+feel?"
+
+Albert's chin lifted.  "You!" he exclaimed.  "Why, you'll be mighty
+glad of it."
+
+Captain Zelotes picked up the pencil stump and twirled it in his
+fingers.  "Shall I?" he asked.  "You think I will, do you?"
+
+"Of course you will.  You don't like me, and never did."
+
+"So I've heard you say.  Well, boy, don't you cal'late I like you
+at least as much as you like me?"
+
+"No.  What do you mean?  I like you well enough.  That is, I should
+if you gave me half a chance.  But you don't do it.  You hate me
+because my father--"
+
+The captain interrupted.  His big palm struck the desk.
+
+"DON'T say that again!" he commanded.  "Look here, if I hated you
+do you suppose I'd be talkin' to you like this?  If I hated you do
+you cal'late I'd argue when you gave me notice?  Not by a jugful!
+No man ever came to me and said he was goin' to quit and had me beg
+him to stay.  If we was at sea he stayed until we made port; then
+he WENT, and he didn't hang around waitin' for a boat to take him
+ashore neither.  I don't hate you, son.  I'd ask nothin' better
+than a chance to like you, but you won't give it to me."
+
+Albert's eyes and mouth opened.
+
+"_I_ won't give YOU a chance?" he repeated.
+
+"Sartin.  DO you give me one?  I ask you to keep these books of
+mine.  You could keep 'em A Number One.  You're smart enough to do
+it.  But you won't.  You let 'em go to thunder and waste your time
+makin' up fool poetry and such stuff."
+
+"But I like writing, and I don't like keeping books."
+
+"Keepin' books is a part of l'arnin' the business, and business is
+the way you're goin' to get your livin' by and by."
+
+"No, it isn't.  I am going to be a writer."
+
+"Now DON'T say that silly thing again!  I don't want to hear it."
+
+"I shall say it because it is true."
+
+"Look here, boy:  When I tell you or anybody else in this office to
+do or not to do a thing, I expect 'em to obey orders.  And I tell
+you not to talk any more of that foolishness about bein' a writer.
+D'you understand?"
+
+"Yes, of course I understand."
+
+"All right, then, that much is settled. . . .  Here!  Where are you
+goin'?"
+
+Albert had turned and was on his way out of the office.  He stopped
+and answered over his shoulder, "I'm going home," he said.
+
+"Goin' HOME?  Why, you came from home not more than an hour and a
+half ago!  What are you goin' there again now for?"
+
+"To pack up my things."
+
+"To pack up your things!  To pack up--  Humph!  So you really mean
+it!  You're really goin' to quit me like this?  And your grandma,
+too!"
+
+The young man felt a sudden pang of compunction, a twinge of
+conscience.
+
+"Grandfather," he said, "I'm sorry.  I--"
+
+But the change in his attitude and tone came too late.  Captain
+Lote's temper was boiling now, contradiction was its worst
+provocative.
+
+"Goin' to quit!" he sneered.  "Goin' to quit because you don't like
+to work.  All right, quit then!  Go ahead!  I've done all I can to
+make a man of you.  Go to the devil in your own way."
+
+"Grandfather, I--"
+
+"Go ahead!  _I_ can't stop you.  It's in your breed, I cal'late."
+
+That was sufficient.  Albert strode out of the private office, head
+erect.  Captain Zelotes rose and slammed the door after his
+departing grandson.
+
+At ten that evening Albert was in his room, sitting in a chair by
+the window, gloomily looking out.  The packing, most of it, had
+been done.  He had not, as he told his grandfather he intended
+doing, left the office immediately and come straight home to pack.
+As he emerged from the inner office after the stormy interview with
+the captain he found Laban Keeler hard at work upon the books.  The
+sight of the little man, so patiently and cheerfully pegging away,
+brought another twinge of conscience to the assistant bookkeeper.
+Laban had been such a brick in all their relationships.  It must
+have been a sore trial to his particular, business-like soul, those
+errors in the trial balance.  Yet he had not found fault nor
+complained.  Captain Zelotes himself had said that every item
+concerning his grandson's mistakes and blunders had been dragged
+from Mr. Keeler much against the latter's will.  Somehow Albert
+could not bear to go off and leave him at once.  He would stay and
+finish his day's work, for Labe Keeler's sake.
+
+So stay he did and when Captain Zelotes later came out of his
+private office and found him there neither of them spoke.  At home,
+during supper, nothing was said concerning the quarrel of the
+afternoon.  Yet Albert was as determined to leave as ever, and the
+Captain, judging by the expression of his face, was just as
+determined to do nothing more to prevent him.  After supper the
+young man went to his room and began the packing.  His grandfather
+went out, an unusual proceeding for him, saying that he guessed he
+would go down street for a spell.
+
+Now Albert, as he sat there by the window, was gloomy enough.  The
+wind, howling and wailing about the gables of the old house, was
+not an aid to cheerfulness and he needed every aid.  He had sworn
+to go away, he was going away--but where should he go?  He had a
+little money put by, not much but a little, which he had been
+saving for quite another purpose.  This would take him a little
+way, would pay his bills for a short time, but after that--  Well,
+after that he could earn more.  With the optimism of youth and the
+serene self-confidence which was natural to him he was sure of
+succeeding sooner or later.  It was not the dread of failure and
+privation which troubled him.  The weight which was pressing upon
+his spirit was not the fear of what might happen to him.
+
+There was a rap upon the door.  Then a voice, the housekeeper's
+voice, whispered through the crack.
+
+"It's me, Al," whispered Mrs. Ellis.  "You ain't in bed yet, are
+you?  I'd like to talk with you a minute or two, if I might."
+
+He was not anxious to talk to her or anyone else just then, but he
+told her to come in.  She entered on tiptoe, with the mysterious
+air of a conspirator, and shut the door carefully after her.
+
+"May I set down just a minute?" she asked.  "I can generally talk
+better settin'."
+
+He pulled forward the ancient rocker with the rush seat.  The
+cross-stitch "tidy" on the back was his mother's handiwork, she had
+made it when she was fifteen.  Rachel sat down in the rocker.
+
+"Al" she began, still in the same mysterious whisper, "I know all
+about it."
+
+He looked at her.  "All about what?" he asked.
+
+"About the trouble you and Cap'n Lote had this afternoon.  I know
+you're plannin' to leave us all and go away somewheres and that he
+told you to go, and all that.  I know what you've been doin' up
+here to-night.  Fur's that goes," she added, with a little catch in
+her breath and a wave of her hand toward the open trunk and
+suitcase upon the floor, "I wouldn't need to know, I could SEE."
+
+Albert was surprised and confused.  He had supposed the whole
+affair to be, so far, a secret between himself and his grandfather.
+
+"You know?" he stammered.  "You--  How did you know?"
+
+"Laban told me.  Labe came hurryin' over here just after supper and
+told me the whole thing.  He's awful upset about it, Laban is.  He
+thinks almost as much of you as he does of Cap'n Lote or--or me,"
+with an apologetic little smile.
+
+Albert was astonished and troubled.  "How did Labe know about it?"
+he demanded.
+
+"He heard it all.  He couldn't help hearin'."
+
+"But he couldn't have heard.  The door to the private office was
+shut."
+
+"Yes, but the window at the top--the transom one, you know--was
+wide open.  You and your grandpa never thought of that, I guess,
+and Laban couldn't hop up off his stool and shut it without givin'
+it away that he'd been hearin'.  So he had to just set and listen
+and I know how he hated doin' that.  Laban Keeler ain't the
+listenin' kind.  One thing about it all is a mercy," she added,
+fervently.  "It's the Lord's own mercy that that Issy Price wasn't
+where HE could hear it, too.  If Issy heard it you might as well
+paint it up on the town-hall fence; all creation and his wife
+wouldn't larn it any sooner."
+
+Albert drew a long breath.  "Well," he said, after a moment, "I'm
+sorry Labe heard, but I don't suppose it makes much difference.
+Everyone will know all about it in a day or two . . .  I'm going."
+
+Rachel leaned forward.
+
+"No, you ain't, Al," she said.
+
+"I'm not?  Indeed I am!  Why, what do you mean?"
+
+"I mean just what I say.  You ain't goin'.  You're goin' to stay
+right here.  At least I hope you are, and I THINK you are. . . .
+Oh, I know," she added, quickly, "what you are goin' to say.
+You're goin' to tell me that your grandpa is down on you on account
+of your father, and that you don't like bookkeepin', and that you
+want to write poetry and--and such.  You'll say all that, and maybe
+it's all true, but whether 'tis or not ain't the point at all just
+now.  The real point is that you're Janie Snow's son and your
+grandpa's Cap'n Lote Snow and your grandma's Olive Snow and there
+ain't goin' to be another smash-up in this family if I can help it.
+I've been through one and one's enough.  Albert, didn't you promise
+me that Sunday forenoon three years ago when I came into the
+settin'-room and we got talkin' about books and Robert Penfold and
+everything--didn't you promise me then that when things between you
+and your grandpa got kind of--of snarled up and full of knots you'd
+come to me with 'em and we'd see if we couldn't straighten 'em out
+together?  Didn't you promise me that, Albert?"
+
+Albert remembered the conversation to which she referred.  As he
+remembered it, however, he had not made any definite promise.
+
+"You asked me to talk them over with you, Rachel," he admitted.  "I
+think that's about as far as it went."
+
+"Well, maybe so, but now I ask you again.  Will you talk this over
+with me, Albert?  Will you tell me every bit all about it, for my
+sake?  And for your grandma's sake. . . .  Yes, more'n that, for
+your mother's sake, Albert; she was pretty nigh like my own sister,
+Jane Snow was.  Different as night from day of course, she was
+pretty and educated and all that and I was just the same then as I
+am now, but we did think a lot of each other, Albert.  Tell me the
+whole story, won't you, please.  Just what Cap'n Lote said and what
+you said and what you plan to do--and all?  Please, Albert."
+
+There were tears in her eyes.  He had always liked her, but it was
+a liking with a trace of condescension in it.  She was peculiar,
+her "sympathetic attacks" were funny, and she and Laban together
+were an odd pair.  Now he saw her in a new light and he felt a
+sudden rush of real affection for her.  And with this feeling, and
+inspired also by his loneliness, came the impulse to comply with
+her request, to tell her all his troubles.
+
+He began slowly at first, but as he went on the words came quicker.
+She listened eagerly, nodding occasionally, but saying nothing.
+When he had finished she nodded again.
+
+"I see," she said.  "'Twas almost what Laban said and about what he
+and I expected.  Well, Albert, I ain't goin' to be the one to blame
+you, not very much anyhow.  I don't see as you are to blame; you
+can't help the way you're made.  But your grandfather can't help
+bein' made his way, either.  He can't see with your spectacles and
+you can't see with his."
+
+He stirred rebelliously.  "Then we had better go our own ways, I
+should say," he muttered.
+
+"No, you hadn't.  That's just what you mustn't do, not now, anyhow.
+As I said before, there's been enough of all hands goin' their own
+ways in this family and look what came of it."
+
+"But what do you expect me to do?  I will not give up every plan
+I've made and my chance in the world just because he is too
+stubborn and cranky to understand them.  I will NOT do it."
+
+"I don't want you to.  But I don't want you to upset the whole
+kettle just because the steam has scalded your fingers.  I don't
+want you to go off and leave your grandma to break her heart a
+second time and your grandpa to give up all his plans and hopes
+that he's been makin' about you."
+
+"Plans about me?  He making plans about me?  What sort of plans?"
+
+"All sorts.  Oh, he don't say much about 'em, of course; that ain't
+his way.  But from things he's let drop I know he has hoped to take
+you in with him as a partner one of these days, and to leave you
+the business after he's gone."
+
+"Nonsense, Rachel!"
+
+"No, it ain't nonsense.  It's the one big dream of Cap'n Lote's
+life.  That Z. Snow and Co. business is his pet child, as you might
+say.  He built it up, he and Labe together, and when he figgered to
+take you aboard with him 'twas SOME chance for you, 'cordin' to his
+lookout.  Now you can't hardly blame him for bein' disappointed
+when you chuck that chance away and take to writin' poetry pieces,
+can you?"
+
+"But--but--why, confound it, Rachel, you don't understand!"
+
+"Yes, I do, but your grandpa don't.  And you don't understand
+him. . . .  Oh, Albert, DON'T be as stubborn as he is, as your
+mother was--the Lord and she forgive me for sayin' it.  She was
+partly right about marryin' your pa and Cap'n Lote was partly right,
+too. If they had met half way and put the two 'partlys' together the
+whole thing might have been right in the end.  As 'twas, 'twas all
+wrong.  Don't, don't, DON'T, Albert, be as stubborn as that.  For
+their sakes, Al,--yes, and for my sake, for I'm one of your family,
+too, or seems as if I was--don't."
+
+She hastily wiped her eyes with her apron.  He, too was greatly
+moved.
+
+"Don't cry, Rachel," he muttered, hurriedly.  "Please don't. . . .
+I didn't know you felt this way.  I didn't know anybody did.  I
+don't want to make trouble in the family--any more trouble.
+Grandmother has been awfully good to me; so, too, has Grandfather,
+I suppose, in his way.  But--oh, what am I going to do?  I can't
+stay in that office all my life.  I'm not good at business.  I
+don't like it.  I can't give up--"
+
+"No, no, course you mustn't.  I don't want you to give up."
+
+"Then what do you want me to do?"
+
+"I want you to go to your grandpa and talk to him once more.  Not
+givin' up your plans altogether but not forcin' him to give up his
+either, not right away.  Tell him you realize he wants you to go on
+with Z. Snow and Company and that you will--for a while--"
+
+"But--"
+
+"For a while, I said; three or four years, say.  You won't be so
+dreadful old then, not exactly what you'd call a Methusalem.  Tell
+him you'll do that and on his side he must let you write as much as
+you please, provided you don't let the writin' interfere with the
+Z. Snow and Co. work.  Then, at the end of the three or four years,
+if you still feel the same as you do now, you can tackle your
+poetry for keeps and he and you'll still be friends.  Tell him
+that, Albert, and see what he says. . . .  Will you?"
+
+Albert took some moments to consider.  At length he said:  "If I
+did I doubt if he would listen."
+
+"Oh, yes he would.  He'd more than listen, I'm pretty sartin.  I
+think he'd agree."
+
+"You do?"
+
+"Yes, I do.  You see," with a smile, "while I've been talkin' to
+you there's been somebody else talkin' to him. . . .  There, there!
+don't you ask any questions.  I promised not to tell anybody and if
+I ain't exactly broke that promise, I've sprained its ankle, I'm
+afraid.  Good night, Albert, and thank you ever and ever so much
+for listenin' so long without once tellin' me to mind my own
+business."
+
+"Good night, Rachel. . . .  And thank you for taking so much
+interest in my affairs.  You're an awfully good friend, I can see
+that."
+
+"Don't--don't talk that way.  And you WILL have that talk with your
+grandpa?"
+
+"Yes, I will."
+
+"Oh, I'm SO glad!  There!  Good night.  I come pretty nigh kissin'
+you then and for a woman that's been engaged to be married for
+upwards of eighteen years that's a nice way to act, ain't it!  Good
+night, good night."
+
+She hurried out of the room.  Albert sat down again in his chair by
+the window.  He had promised to go to his grandfather and talk to
+him.  As he sat there, thinking of the coming interview, he
+realized more and more that the keeping of that promise was likely
+to be no easy matter.  He must begin the talk, he must break the
+ice--and how should he break it?  Timid and roundabout approaches
+would be of little use; unless his grandfather's state of mind had
+changed remarkably since their parting in the Z. Snow and Co.
+office they and their motive would be misunderstood.  No, the only
+way to break the ice was to break it, to plunge immediately into
+the deepest part of the subject.  It promised to be a chilly
+plunge.  He shivered at the prospect.
+
+A half hour later he heard the door of the hall open and shut and
+knew that Captain Zelotes had returned.  Rising, he descended the
+stairs.  He descended slowly.  Just as he reached the foot of the
+narrow flight Captain Zelotes entered the hall from the dining-room
+and turned toward him.  Both were surprised at the meeting.  Albert
+spoke first.
+
+"Good evening, Grandfather," he stammered.  "I--I was just coming
+down to see you.  Were you going to bed?"
+
+Captain Lote shook his head.  "No-o," he said, slowly, "not
+exactly."
+
+"Do you mind waiting a minute?  I have a few things--I have
+something to say to you and--and I guess I shall sleep better if I
+say it to-night.  I--I won't keep you long."
+
+The captain regarded him intently for an instant, then he turned
+and led the way to the dining-room.
+
+"Go ahead," he ordered, laconically.  Albert squared his shoulders,
+preparatory to the plunge.
+
+"Grandfather," he began, "first of all I want to tell you I am
+sorry for--for some of the things I said this afternoon."
+
+He had rehearsed this opening speech over and over again, but in
+spite of the rehearsals it was dreadfully hard to make.  If his
+grandfather had helped him even a little it might have been easier,
+but the captain merely stood there, expressionless, saying nothing,
+waiting for him to continue.
+
+Albert swallowed, clenched his fists, and took a new start.
+
+"Of course," he began, "I am sorry for the mistakes I made in my
+bookkeeping, but that I have told you before.  Now--now I want to
+say I am sorry for being so--well, so pig-headed about the rest of
+it.  I realize that you have been mighty kind to me and that I owe
+you about everything that I've got in this world."
+
+He paused again.  It had seemed to him that Captain Zelotes was
+about to speak.  However, he did not, so the young man stumbled on.
+
+"And--and I realize, too," he said, "that you have, I guess, been
+trying to give me a real start in business, the start you think I
+ought to have."
+
+The captain nodded slowly.  "That was my idea in startin' you," he
+said.
+
+"Yes--and fact that I haven't done more with the chance is because
+I'm made that way, I guess.  But I do want to--yes, and I MEAN to
+try to succeed at writing poetry or stories or plays or something.
+I like that and I mean to give it a trial.  And so--and so, you
+see, I've been thinking our talk over and I've concluded that
+perhaps you may be right, maybe I'm not old enough to know what I
+really am fitted for, and yet perhaps _I_ may be partly right, too.
+I--I've been thinking that perhaps some sort of--of--"
+
+"Of what?"
+
+"Well, of half-way arrangement--some sort of--of compromise, you
+know, might be arranged.  I might agree to stay in the office and
+do my very best with bookkeeping and business for--well, say, three
+years or so.  During that time I should be trying to write of
+course, but I would only do that sort of writing evenings or on
+Saturdays and holidays.  It shouldn't interfere with your work nor
+be done in the time you pay me for.  And at the end of the three or
+four years--"
+
+He paused again.  This time the pause was longer than ever.
+Captain Lote broke the silence.  His big right hand had wandered
+upward and was tugging at his beard.
+
+"Well? . . .  And then?" he asked.
+
+"Why, then--if--if--  Well, then we could see.  If business seemed
+to be where I was most likely to succeed we'd call it settled and I
+would stay with Z. Snow and Co.  If poetry-making or--or--literature
+seemed more likely to be the job I was fitted for, that would be the
+job I'd take.  You--you see, don't you, Grandfather?"
+
+The captain's beard-pulling continued.  He was no longer looking
+his grandson straight in the eye.  His gaze was fixed upon the
+braided mat at his feet and he answered without looking up.
+
+"Ye-es," he drawled, "I cal'late I see.  Well, was that all you had
+to say?"
+
+"No-o, not quite.  I--I wanted to say that which ever way it turned
+out, I--I hoped we--you and I, you know--would agree to be--to be
+good-natured about it and--and friends just the same.  I--I--
+Well, there!  That's all, I guess.  I haven't put it very well, I'm
+afraid, but--but what do you think about it, Grandfather?"
+
+And now Captain Zelotes did look up.  The old twinkle was in his
+eye.  His first remark was a question and that question was rather
+surprising.
+
+"Al," he asked, "Al, who's been talkin' to you?"
+
+The blood rushed to his grandson's face.  "Talking to me?" he
+stammered.  "Why--why, what do you mean?"
+
+"I mean just that.  You didn't think out this scheme all by
+yourself.  Somebody's been talkin' to you and puttin' you up to it.
+Haven't they?"
+
+"Why--why, Grandfather, I--"
+
+"Haven't they?"
+
+"Why--  Well, yes, someone has been talking to me, but the whole
+idea isn't theirs.  I WAS sorry for speaking to you as I did and
+sorry to think of leaving you and grandmother.  I--I was sitting up
+there in my room and feeling blue and mean enough and--and--"
+
+"And then Rachel came aboard and gave you your sailin' orders; eh?"
+
+Albert gasped.  "For heaven's sake how did you know that?" he
+demanded.  "She--  Why, she must have told you, after all!  But she
+said--"
+
+"Hold on, boy, hold on!" Captain Lote chuckled quietly.  "No," he
+said, "Rachel didn't tell me; I guessed she was the one.  And it
+didn't take a Solomon in all his glory to guess it, neither.  Labe
+Keeler's been talkin' to ME, and when you come down here and began
+proposin' the same scheme that I was just about headin' up to your
+room with to propose to you, then--well, then the average whole-
+witted person wouldn't need more'n one guess.  It couldn't be Labe,
+'cause he'd been whisperin' in MY ear, so it must have been the
+other partner in the firm.  That's all the miracle there is to it."
+
+Albert's brain struggled with the situation.  "I see," he said,
+after a moment.  "She hinted that someone had been talking to you
+along the same line.  Yes, and she was so sure you would agree.  I
+might have known it was Laban."
+
+"Um-hm, so you might. . . .  Well, there have been times when if a
+man had talked to me as Labe did to-night I'd have knocked him
+down, or told him to go to--um--well, the tropics--told him to mind
+his own business, at least.  But Labe is Labe, and besides MY
+conscience was plaguin' me a little mite, maybe . . . maybe."
+
+The young man shook his head.  "They must have talked it over,
+those two, and agreed that one should talk to you and the other to
+me.  By George, I wonder they had the nerve.  It wasn't their
+business, really."
+
+"Not a darn bit."
+
+"Yet--yet I--I'm awfully glad she said it to me.  I--I needed it,
+I guess."
+
+"Maybe you did, son. . . .  And--humph--well, maybe I needed it,
+too. . . .  Yes, I know that's consider'ble for me to say," he
+added dryly.
+
+Albert was still thinking of Laban and Rachel.
+
+"They're queer people," he mused.  "When I first met them I thought
+they were about the funniest pair I ever saw.  But--but now I can't
+help liking them and--and--  Say, Grandfather, they must think a
+lot of your--of our family."
+
+"Cal'late they do, son. . . .  Well, boy, we've had our sermon, you
+and me, what shall we do?  Willin' to sign for the five years trial
+cruise if I will, are you?"
+
+Albert couldn't help smiling.  "It was three years Rachel proposed,
+not five," he said.
+
+"Was, eh?  Suppose we split the difference and make it four?
+Willin' to try that?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Agreement bein' that you shall stick close to Z. Snow and Co.
+durin' work hours and write as much poetry as you darned please
+other times, neither side to interfere with those arrangements?
+That right?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Good!  Shall we shake hands on it?"
+
+They shook, solemnly.  Captain Lote was the first to speak after
+ratification of the contract.
+
+"There, now I cal'late I'll go aloft and turn in," he observed.
+Then he added, with a little hesitation, "Say, Al, maybe we'd
+better not trouble your grandma about all this fool business--the
+row this afternoon and all.  'Twould only worry her and--" he
+paused, looked embarrassed, cleared his throat, and said, "to tell
+you the truth, I'm kind of ashamed of my part---er--er--that is,
+some of it."
+
+His grandson was very much astonished.  It was not often that
+Captain Zelotes Snow admitted having been in the wrong.  He blurted
+out the question he had been dying to ask.
+
+"Grandfather," he queried, "had you--did you really mean what you
+said about starting to come to my room and--and propose this scheme
+of ours--I mean of Rachel's and Labe's--to me?"
+
+"Eh? . . .  Ye-es--yes.  I was on my way up there when I met you
+just now."
+
+"Well, Grandfather, I--I--"
+
+"That's all right, boy, that's all right.  Don't let's talk any
+more about it."
+
+"We won't.  And--and--  But, Grandfather, I just want you to know
+that I guess I understand things a little better than I did, and--
+and when my father--"
+
+The captain's heavy hand descended upon his shoulder.
+
+"Heave short, Al!" he commanded.  "I've been doin' consider'ble
+thinkin' since Labe finished his--er--discourse and pronounced the
+benediction, and I've come to a pretty definite conclusion on one
+matter.  I've concluded that you and I had better cut out all the
+bygones from this new arrangement of ours.  We won't have fathers
+or--or--elopements--or past-and-done-with disapp'intments in it.
+This new deal--this four year trial v'yage of ours--will be just
+for Albert Speranza and Zelotes Snow, and no others need apply. . . .
+Eh? . . .  Well, good night, Al."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+
+So the game under the "new deal" began.  At first it was much
+easier than the old.  And, as a matter of fact, it was never as
+hard as before.  The heart to heart talk between Captain Zelotes
+and his grandson had given each a glimpse of the other's inner
+self, a look from the other's point of view, and thereafter it was
+easier to make allowances.  But the necessity for the making of
+those allowances was still there and would continue to be there.
+At first Albert made almost no mistakes in his bookkeeping, was
+almost painfully careful.  Then the carefulness relaxed, as it was
+bound to do, and some mistakes occurred.  Captain Lote found little
+fault, but at times he could not help showing some disappointment.
+Then his grandson would set his teeth and buckle down to painstaking
+effort again.  He was resolved to live up to the very letter of the
+agreement.
+
+In his spare time he continued to write and occasionally he sold
+something.  Whenever he did so there was great rejoicing among the
+feminine members of the Snow household; his grandmother and Rachel
+Ellis were enraptured.  It was amusing to see Captain Zelotes
+attempt to join the chorus.  He evidently felt that he ought to
+praise, or at least that praise was expected from him, but it was
+also evident that he did not approve of what he was praising.
+
+"Your grandma says you got rid of another one of your poetry
+pieces, Al," he would say.  "Pay you for it, did they?"
+
+"Not yet, but they will, I suppose."
+
+"I see, I see.  How much, think likely?"
+
+"Oh, I don't know.  Ten dollars, perhaps."
+
+"Um-hm . . . I see. . . .  Well, that's pretty good, considerin', I
+suppose. . . .  We did first-rate on that Hyannis school-house
+contract, didn't we.  Nigh's I can figger it we cleared over
+fourteen hundred and eighty dollars on that."
+
+He invariably followed any reference to the profit from the sale of
+verses by the casual mention of a much larger sum derived from the
+sale of lumber or hardware.  This was so noticeable that Laban
+Keeler was impelled to speak of it.
+
+"The old man don't want you to forget that you can get more for
+hard pine than you can for soft sonnets, sellin' 'em both by the
+foot," observed Labe, peering over his spectacles.  "More money in
+shingles than there is in jingles, he cal'lates. . . .  Um. . . .
+Yes, yes. . . .  Consider'ble more, consider'ble."
+
+Albert smiled, but it astonished him to find that Mr. Keeler knew
+what a sonnet was.  The little bookkeeper occasionally surprised
+him by breaking out unexpectedly in that way.
+
+From the indiscriminate praise at home, or the reluctant praise of
+his grandfather, he found relief when he discussed his verses with
+Helen Kendall.  Her praise was not indiscriminate, in fact
+sometimes she did not praise at all, but expressed disapproval.
+They had some disagreements, marked disagreements, but it did not
+affect their friendship.  Albert was a trifle surprised to find
+that it did not.
+
+So as the months passed he ground away at the books of Z. Snow and
+Company during office hours and at the poetry mill between times.
+The seeing of his name in print was no longer a novelty and he
+poetized not quite as steadily.  Occasionally he attempted prose,
+but the two or three short stories of his composition failed to
+sell.  Helen, however, urged him to try again and keep trying.  "I
+know you can write a good story and some day you are going to," she
+said.
+
+His first real literary success, that which temporarily lifted him
+into the outer circle of the limelight of fame, was a poem written
+the day following that upon which came the news of the sinking of
+the Lusitania.  Captain Zelotes came back from the post-office that
+morning, a crumpled newspaper in his hand, and upon his face the
+look which mutinous foremast hands had seen there just before the
+mutiny ended.  Laban Keeler was the first to notice the look.  "For
+the land sakes, Cap'n, what's gone wrong?" he asked.  The captain
+flung the paper upon the desk.  "Read that," he grunted.  Labe
+slowly spread open the paper; the big black headlines shrieked the
+crime aloud.
+
+"Good God Almighty!" exclaimed the little bookkeeper.  Captain
+Zelotes snorted.  "He didn't have anything to do with it," he
+declared.  "The bunch that pulled that off was handled from the
+other end of the line.  And I wish to thunder I was young enough to
+help send 'em back there," he added, savagely.
+
+That evening Albert wrote his poem.  The next day he sent it to a
+Boston paper.  It was published the following morning, spread
+across two columns on the front page, and before the month was over
+had been copied widely over the country.  Within the fortnight its
+author received his first request, a bona fida request for verse
+from a magazine.  Even Captain Lote's praise of the Lusitania poem
+was whole-hearted and ungrudging.
+
+That summer was a busy one in South Harniss.  There was the usual
+amount of summer gaiety, but in addition there were the gatherings
+of the various committees for war relief work.  Helen belonged to
+many of these committees.  There were dances and theatrical
+performances for the financial benefit of the various causes and
+here Albert shone.  But he did not shine alone.  Helen Kendall was
+very popular at the social gatherings, popular not only with the
+permanent residents but with the summer youth as well.  Albert
+noticed this, but he did not notice it so particularly until Issy
+Price called his attention to it.
+
+"Say, Al," observed Issy, one afternoon in late August of that
+year, "how do YOU like that Raymond young feller?"
+
+Albert looked up absently from the page of the daybook.
+
+"Eh?  What?" he asked.
+
+"I say how do YOU like that Eddie Raymond, the Down-at-the-Neck
+one?"
+
+"Down at the neck?  There's nothing the matter with his neck that I
+know of."
+
+"Who said there was?  He LIVES down to the Neck, don't he?  I mean
+that young Raymond, son of the New York bank man, the ones that's
+had the Cahoon house all summer.  How do you like him?"
+
+Albert's attention was still divided between the day-book and Mr.
+Price.  "Oh, I guess he's all right," he answered, carelessly.  "I
+don't know him very well.  Don't bother me, Issy, I'm busy."
+
+Issachar chuckled.  "He's busy, too," he observed.  "He, he, he!
+He's busy trottin' after Helen Kendall.  Don't seem to have time
+for much else these days.  Noticed that, ain't you, Al?  He, he!"
+
+Albert had not noticed it.  His attention left the day-book
+altogether.  Issachar chuckled again.
+
+"Noticed it, ain't you, Al?" he repeated.  "If you ain't you're the
+only one.  Everybody's cal'latin' you'll be cut out if you ain't
+careful.  Folks used to figger you was Helen's steady comp'ny, but
+it don't look as much so as it did.  He, he!  That's why I asked
+you how you liked the Raymond one.  Eh?  How do you, Al?  Helen,
+SHE seems to like him fust-rate.  He, he, he!"
+
+Albert was conscious of a peculiar feeling, partly of irritation at
+Issachar, partly something else.  Mr. Price crowed delightedly.
+
+"Hi!" he chortled.  "Why, Al, your face is gettin' all redded up.
+Haw, haw!  Blushin', ain't you, Al?  Haw, haw, haw!  Blushin', by
+crimustee!"
+
+Albert laid down his pen.  He had learned by experience that, in
+Issy's case, the maxim of the best defensive being a strong
+offensive was absolutely true.  He looked with concern about the
+office.
+
+"There's a window open somewhere, isn't there, Is?" he inquired.
+"There's a dreadful draught anyhow."
+
+"Eh?  Draught?  I don't feel no draught.  Course the window's open;
+it's generally open in summer time, ain't it.  Haw, haw!"
+
+"There it is again!  Where--  Oh, _I_ see!  It's your mouth that's
+open, Issy.  That explains the draught, of course.  Yes, yes, of
+course."
+
+"Eh?  My mouth!  Never you mind my mouth.  What you've got to think
+about is that Eddie Raymond.  Yes sir-ee!  Haw, haw!"
+
+"Issy, what makes you make that noise?"
+
+"What noise?"
+
+"That awful cawing.  If you're trying to make me believe you're a
+crow you're wasting your time."
+
+"Say, look here, Al Speranzy, be you crazy?"
+
+"No-o, I'M not.  But in your case--well, I'll leave it to any fair-
+minded person--"
+
+And so on until Mr. Price stamped disgustedly out of the office.
+It was easy enough, and required nothing brilliant in the way of
+strategy or repartee, to turn Issachar's attack into retreat.  But
+all the rest of that afternoon Albert was conscious of that
+peculiar feeling of uneasiness.  After supper that night he did not
+go down town at once but sat in his room thinking deeply.  The
+subjects of his thoughts were Edwin Raymond, the young chap from
+New York, Yale, and "The Neck"--and Helen Kendall.  He succeeded
+only in thinking himself into an even more uneasy and unpleasant
+state of mind.  Then he walked moodily down to the post-office.  He
+was a little late for the mail and the laughing and chatting groups
+were already coming back after its distribution.  One such group he
+met was made up of half a dozen young people on their way to the
+drug store for ices and sodas.  Helen was among them and with her
+was young Raymond.  They called to him to join them, but he
+pretended not to hear.
+
+Now, in all the years of their acquaintance it had not once
+occurred to Albert Speranza that his interest in Helen Kendall was
+anything more than that of a friend and comrade.  He liked her, had
+enjoyed her society--when he happened to be in the mood to wish
+society--and it pleased him to feel that she was interested in his
+literary efforts and his career.  She was the only girl in South
+Harniss who would have "talked turkey" to him as she had on the day
+of their adventure at High Point Light and he rather admired her
+for it.  But in all his dreams of romantic attachments and
+sentimental adventure, and he had such dreams of course, she had
+never played a part.  The heroines of these dreams were beautiful
+and mysterious strangers, not daughters of Cape Cod clergymen.
+
+But now, thanks to Issy's mischievous hints, his feelings were in a
+puzzled and uncomfortable state.  He was astonished to find that he
+did not relish the idea of Helen's being particularly interested in
+Ed Raymond.  He, himself, had not seen her as frequently of late,
+she having been busy with her war work and he with his own interests.
+But that, according to his view, was no reason why she should permit
+Raymond to become friendly to the point of causing people to talk.
+He was not ready to admit that he himself cared, in a sentimental
+way, for Helen, but he resented any other fellow's daring to do so.
+And she should not have permitted it, either.  As a matter of fact,
+Alberto Miguel Carlos Speranza, hitherto reigning undisputed king of
+hearts in South Harniss, was for the first time in his imperial life
+feeling the pangs of jealousy.
+
+He stalked gloomily on to the post-office.  Gertie Kendrick, on the
+arm of Sam Thatcher, passed him and he did not even notice her.
+Gertie whispered to Sam that he, Albert, was a big stuck-up
+nothing, but she looked back over Sam's shoulder, nevertheless.
+Albert climbed the post-office steps and walked over to the rack of
+letter boxes.  The Snow box contained little of interest to him,
+and he was turning away when he heard his name spoken.
+
+"Good evening, Mr. Speranza," said a feminine voice.
+
+Albert turned again, to find Jane Kelsey and another young lady,
+a stranger, standing beside him.  Miss Kelsey was one of South
+Harniss's summer residents.  The Kelsey "cottage," which was larger
+by considerable than the Snow house, was situated on the Bay Road,
+the most exclusive section of the village.  Once, and not so many
+years before, the Bay Road was contemptuously referred to as
+"Poverty Lane" and dwellers along its winding, weed-grown track
+vied with one another in shiftless shabbiness.  But now all
+shabbiness had disappeared and many-gabled "cottages" proudly stood
+where the shanties of the Poverty Laners once humbly leaned.
+
+Albert had known Jane Kelsey for some time.  They had met at one of
+the hotel tea-dances during his second summer in South Harniss.  He
+and she were not intimate friends exactly, her mother saw to that,
+but they were well acquainted.  She was short and piquant, had a
+nose which freckled in the Cape Cod sunshine, and she talked and
+laughed easily.
+
+"Good evening, Mr. Speranza," she said, again.  "You looked so very
+forlorn I couldn't resist speaking.  Do tell us why you are so sad;
+we're dying to know."
+
+Albert, taken by surprise, stammered that he didn't know that he
+was sad.  Miss Kelsey laughed merrily and declared that everyone
+who saw him knew it at once.  "Oh, excuse me, Madeline," she added.
+"I forgot that you and Mr. Speranza had not met.  Of course as
+you're going to live in South Harniss you must know him without
+waiting another minute.  Everybody knows everybody down here.  He
+is Albert Speranza--and we sometimes call him Albert because here
+everybody calls everyone else by their first names.  There, now you
+know each other and it's all very proper and formal.
+
+The young lady who was her companion smiled.  The smile was
+distinctly worth looking at, as was the young lady herself, for
+that matter.
+
+"I doubt if Mr. Speranza knows me very well, Jane," she observed.
+
+"Doesn't know you!  Why, you silly thing, haven't I just introduced
+you?"
+
+"Well, I don't know much about South Harniss introductions, but
+isn't it customary to mention names?  You haven't told him mine."
+
+Miss Kelsey laughed in high delight.  "Oh, how perfectly ridiculous!"
+she exclaimed.  "Albert--Mr. Speranza, I mean--this is my friend
+Miss Madeline Fosdick.  She is from New York and she has decided to
+spend her summers in South Harniss--which _I_ consider very good
+judgment.  Her father is going to build a cottage for her to spend
+them in down on the Bay Road on the hill at the corner above the
+Inlet.  But of course you've heard of THAT!"
+
+Of course he had.  The purchase of the Inlet Hill land by Fletcher
+Fosdick, the New York banker, and the price paid Solomon Dadgett
+for that land, had been the principal topics of conversation around
+South Harniss supper tables for the past ten days.  Captain Lote
+Snow had summed up local opinion of the transaction when he said:
+"We-ll, Sol Dadgett's been talkin' in prayer-meetin' ever since I
+can remember about the comin' of Paradise on earth.  Judgin' by the
+price he got for the Inlet Hill sand heap he must have cal'lated
+Paradise had got here and he was sellin' the golden streets by the
+runnin' foot."  Or, as Laban Keeler put it:  "They say King Soloman
+was a wise man, but I guess likely 'twas a good thing for him that
+Sol Dadgett wasn't alive in his time.  King Sol would have needed
+all his wisdom to keep Dadgett from talkin' him into buying the
+Jerusalem salt-ma'sh to build the temple on. . . .  Um. . . .
+Yes--yes--yes."
+
+So Albert, as he shook hands with Miss Fosdick, regarded her with
+unusual interest.  And, judging by the way in which she looked at
+him, she too was interested.  After some minutes of the usual
+conventional summer-time chat the young gentleman suggested that
+they adjourn to the drug store for refreshments.  The invitation
+was accepted, the vivacious Miss Kelsey acting as spokesman--or
+spokeswoman--in the matter.
+
+"I think you must be a mind-reader, Mr. Speranza," she declared.
+"I am dying for a sundae and I have just discovered that I haven't
+my purse or a penny with me.  I should have been reduced to the
+humiliation of borrowing from Madeline here, or asking that deaf
+old Burgess man to trust me until to-morrow.  And he is so
+frightfully deaf," she added in explanation, "that when I asked him
+the last time he made me repeat it until I thought I should die of
+shame, or exhaustion, one or the other.  Every time I shouted he
+would say 'Hey?' and I was obliged to shout again.  Of course, the
+place was crowded, and--  Oh, well, I don't like to even think
+about it.  Bless you, bless you, Albert Speranza!  And do please
+let's hurry!"
+
+When they entered the drug store--it also sold, according to its
+sign, "Cigars, soda, ice-cream, patent medicines, candy, knick-
+knacks, chewing gum, souvenirs and notions"--the sextette of which
+Helen Kendall made one was just leaving.  She nodded pleasantly to
+Albert and he nodded in return, but Ed Raymond's careless bow he
+did not choose to see.  He had hitherto rather liked that young
+gentleman; now he felt a sudden but violent detestation for him.
+
+Sundaes pleasant to the palate and disastrous to all but youthful
+digestions were ordered.  Albert's had a slight flavor of gall and
+wormwood, but he endeavored to counterbalance this by the sweetness
+derived from the society of Jane Kelsey and her friend.  His
+conversation was particularly brilliant and sparkling that evening.
+Jane laughed much and chatted more.  Miss Fosdick was quieter, but
+she, too, appeared to be enjoying herself.  Jane demanded to know
+how the poems were developing.  She begged him to have an
+inspiration now--  "Do, PLEASE, so that Madeline and I can see
+you."  It seemed to be her idea that having an inspiration was
+similar to having a fit.  Miss Fosdick laughed at this, but she
+declared that she adored poetry and specified certain poems which
+were objects of her especial adoration.  The conversation
+thereafter became what Miss Kelsey described as "high brow," and
+took the form of a dialogue between Miss Fosdick and Albert.  It
+was interrupted by the arrival of the Kelsey limousine, which
+rolled majestically up to the drug store steps.  Jane spied it
+first.
+
+"Oh, mercy me, here's mother!" she exclaimed.  "And your mother,
+too, Madeline.  We are tracked to our lair. . . .  No, no, Mr.
+Speranza, you mustn't go out.  No, really, we had rather you
+wouldn't.  Thanks, ever so much, for the sundaes.  Come, Madeline."
+
+Miss Fosdick held out her hand.
+
+"Thank you, Mr. Speranza," she said.  "I have enjoyed our poetry
+talk SO much.  It must be wonderful to write as you do.  Good
+night."
+
+She looked admiringly into his eyes as she said it.  In spite of
+the gall and wormwood Albert found it not at all unpleasant to be
+looked at in that way by a girl like Madeline Fosdick.  His
+reflections on that point were interrupted by a voice from the car.
+
+"Come, Madeline, come," it said, fussily.  "What ARE you waiting
+for?"
+
+Albert caught a glimpse of a majestic figure which, seated beside
+Mrs. Kelsey on the rear seat of the limousine, towered above that
+short, plump lady as a dreadnaught towers above a coal barge.  He
+surmised this figure to be that of the maternal Fosdick.  Madeline
+climbed in beside her parent and the limousine rolled away.
+
+Albert's going-to-bed reflections that evening were divided in
+flavor, like a fruit sundae, a combination of sweet and sour.  The
+sour was furnished by thoughts of Edwin Raymond and Helen Kendall,
+the former's presumption in daring to seek her society as he did,
+and Helen's amazing silliness in permitting such a thing.  The
+sweet, of course, was furnished by a voice which repeated to his
+memory the words, "It must be wonderful to write as you do."  Also
+the tone of that voice and the look in the eyes.
+
+Could he have been privileged to hear the closing bits of a
+conversation which was taking place at that moment his reflections
+might have been still further saccharined.  Miss Jane Kelsey was
+saying:  "And NOW what do you think of our Cape Cod poet?  Didn't I
+promise you to show you something you couldn't find on Fifth
+Avenue?"  And to this Miss Madeline Fosdick made reply:  "I think
+he is the handsomest creature I ever saw.  And so clever!  Why, he
+is wonderful, Jane!  How in the world does he happen to be living
+here--all the time?"
+
+It is perhaps, on the whole, a good thing that Albert Speranza
+could not hear this.  It is certainly a good thing that Captain
+Zelotes Snow did not hear it.
+
+And although the balance of sweet and sour in Albert's mind that
+night was almost even, the sour predominated next day and continued
+to predominate.  Issachar Price had sowed the seed of jealousy in
+the mind of the assistant bookkeeper of Z. Snow and Company, and
+that seed took root and grew as it is only too likely to do under
+such circumstances.  That evening Albert walked again to the post-
+office.  Helen was not there, neither was Miss Kelsey or Miss
+Fosdick.  He waited for a time and then determined to call at the
+Kendall home, something he had not done for some time.  As he came
+up to the front walk, between the arbor-vitae hedges, he saw that
+the parlor windows were alight.  The window shade was but partially
+drawn and beneath it he could see into the room.  Helen was seated
+at the piano and Edwin Raymond was standing beside her, ready to
+turn the page of her music.
+
+Albert whirled on his heel and walked out of the yard and down the
+street toward his own home.  His attitude of mind was a curious
+one.  He had a mind to wait until Raymond left and then go into
+the Kendall parlor and demand of Helen to know what she meant by
+letting that fellow make such a fool of himself.  What right had
+he--Raymond--to call upon her, and turn her music and--and set the
+whole town talking?  Why--  Oh, he could think of many things to
+ask and say.  The trouble was that the saying of them would, he
+felt sure, be distinctly bad diplomacy on his part.  No one--not
+even he--could talk to Helen Kendall in that fashion; not unless
+he wished it to be their final conversation.
+
+So he went home, to fret and toss angrily and miserably half the
+night.  He had never before considered himself in the slightest
+degree in love with Helen, but he had taken for granted the thought
+that she liked him better than anyone else.  Now he was beginning
+to fear that perhaps she did not, and, with his temperament,
+wounded vanity and poetic imagination supplied the rest.  Within a
+fortnight he considered himself desperately in love with her.
+
+During this fortnight he called at the parsonage, the Kendall home,
+several times.  On the first of these occasions the Reverend Mr.
+Kendall, having just completed a sermon dealing with the war and,
+being full of his subject, read the said sermon to his daughter and
+to Albert.  The reading itself lasted for three-quarters of an hour
+and Mr. Kendall's post-argument and general dissertation on German
+perfidy another hour after that.  By that time it was late and
+Albert went home.  The second call was even worse, for Ed Raymond
+called also and the two young men glowered at each other until ten
+o'clock.  They might have continued to glower indefinitely, for
+neither meant to leave before the other, but Helen announced that
+she had some home-study papers to look over and she knew they would
+excuse her under the circumstances.  On that hint they departed
+simultaneously, separating at the gate and walking with deliberate
+dignity in opposite directions.
+
+At his third attempt, however, Albert was successful to the extent
+that Helen was alone when he called and there was no school work to
+interrupt.  But in no other respect was the interview satisfactory.
+All that week he had been boiling with the indignation of the
+landed proprietor who discovers a trespasser on his estate, and
+before this call was fifteen minutes old his feelings had boiled
+over.
+
+"What IS the matter with you, Al?" asked Helen.  "Do tell me and
+let's see if I can't help you out of your trouble."
+
+Her visitor flushed.  "Trouble?" he repeated, stiffly.  "I don't
+know what you mean."
+
+"Oh yes, do.  You must.  What IS the matter?"
+
+"There is nothing the matter with me."
+
+"Nonsense!  Of course there is.  You have scarcely spoken a word of
+your own accord since you came, and you have been scowling like a
+thundercloud all the time.  Now what is it?  Have I done something
+you don't like?"
+
+"There is nothing the matter, I tell you."
+
+"Please don't be so silly.  Of course there is.  I thought there
+must be something wrong the last time you were here, that evening,
+when Ed called, too.  It seemed to me that you were rather queer
+then.  Now you are queerer still.  What is it?"
+
+This straightforward attack, although absolutely characteristic of
+Helen, was disconcerting.  Albert met it by an attack of his own.
+
+"Helen," he demanded, "what does that Raymond fellow mean by coming
+to see you as he does?"
+
+Now whether or not Helen was entirely in the dark as to the cause
+of her visitor's "queerness" is a question not to be answered here.
+She was far from being a stupid young person and it is at least
+probable that she may have guessed a little of the truth.  But,
+being feminine, she did not permit Albert to guess that she had
+guessed.  If her astonishment at the question was not entirely
+sincere, it certainly appeared to be so.
+
+"What does he mean?" she repeated.  "What does he mean by coming
+to see me?  Why, what do YOU mean?  I should think that was the
+question.  Why shouldn't he come to see me, pray?"
+
+Now Albert has a dozen reasons in his mind, each of which was to
+him sufficiently convincing.  But expressing those reasons to Helen
+Kendall he found singularly difficult.  He grew confused and
+stammered.
+
+"Well--well, because he has no business to come here so much," was
+the best he could do.  Helen, strange to say, was not satisfied.
+
+"Has no business to?" she repeated.  "Why, of course he has.  I
+asked him to come."
+
+"You did?  Good heavens, you don't LIKE him, do you?"
+
+"Of course I like him.  I think he is a very nice fellow.  Don't
+you?"
+
+"No, I don't."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Well--well, because I don't, that's all.  He has no business to
+monopolize you all the time.  Why, he is here about every night in
+the week, or you're out with him, down town, or--or somewhere.
+Everybody is talking about it and--"
+
+"Wait a minute, please.  You say everybody is talking about Ed
+Raymond and me.  What do you mean by that?  What are they saying?"
+
+"They're saying. . . .  Oh, they're saying you and he are--are--"
+
+"Are what?"
+
+"Are--are--  Oh, they're saying all sorts of things.  Look here,
+Helen, I--"
+
+"Wait!  I want to know more about this.  What have you heard said
+about me?"
+
+"Oh, a lot of things. . . .  That is--er--well, nothing in
+particular, perhaps, but--"
+
+"Wait!  Who have you heard saying it?"
+
+"Oh, never mind!  Helen--"
+
+"But I do mind.  Who have you heard saying this 'lot of things'
+about me?"
+
+"Nobody, I tell you. . . .  Oh, well, if you must know, Issy Price
+said--well, he said you and this Raymond fellow were what he called
+'keeping company' and--and that the whole town was talking about
+it."
+
+She slowly shook her head.
+
+"Issy Price!" she repeated.  "And you listened to what Issy Price
+said.  Issy Price, of all people!"
+
+"Well--well, he said everyone else said the same thing."
+
+"Did he say more than that?"
+
+"No, but that was enough, wasn't it.  Besides, the rest was plain.
+I could see it myself.  He is calling here about every night in the
+week, and--and being around everywhere with you and--and--  Oh,
+anyone can see!"
+
+Helen's usually placid temper was beginning to ruffle.
+
+"Very well," she said, "then they may see.  Why shouldn't he call
+here if he wishes--and I wish?  Why shouldn't I be 'around with
+him,' as you say?  Why not?"
+
+"Well, because I don't like it.  It isn't the right thing for you
+to do.  You ought to be more careful of--of what people say."
+
+He realized, almost as soon as this last sentence was blurted out,
+the absolute tactlessness of it.  The quiet gleam of humor he had
+so often noticed in Helen's eyes was succeeded now by a look he had
+never before seen there.
+
+"Oh, I'm sorry," he added, hastily.  "I beg your pardon, Helen.  I
+didn't mean to say that.  Forgive me, will you?"
+
+She did not answer immediately.  Then she said, "I don't know
+whether I shall or not.  I think I shall have to think it over.
+And perhaps you had better go now."
+
+"But I'M sorry, Helen.  It was a fool thing to say.  I don't know
+why I was such an idiot.  Do forgive me; come!"
+
+She slowly shook her head.  "I can't--yet," she said.  "And this
+you must understand:  If Ed Raymond, or anyone else, calls on me
+and I choose to permit it, or if I choose to go out with him
+anywhere at any time, that is my affair and not 'everyone else's'--
+which includes Issachar Price.  And my FRIENDS--my real friends--
+will not listen to mean, ridiculous gossip.  Good night."
+
+So that was the end of that attempt at asserting the Divine Right
+by the South Harniss king of hearts.  Albert was more miserable
+than ever, angrier than ever--not only at Raymond and Helen, but at
+himself--and his newly-discovered jealousy burned with a brighter
+and greener flame.  The idea of throwing everything overboard,
+going to Canada and enlisting in the Canadian Army--an idea which
+had had a strong and alluring appeal ever since the war broke out--
+came back with redoubled force.  But there was the agreement with
+his grandfather.  He had given his word; how could he break it?
+Besides, to go away and leave his rival with a clear field did not
+appeal to him, either.
+
+On a Wednesday evening in the middle of September the final social
+event of the South Harniss summer season was to take place.  The
+Society for the Relief of the French Wounded was to give a dance in
+the ballroom of the hotel, the proceeds from the sale of tickets to
+be devoted to the purpose defined by the name of this organization.
+Every last member of the summer colony was to attend, of course,
+and all those of the permanent residents who aspired to social
+distinction and cared to pay the high price of admission.
+
+Albert was going, naturally.  That is, he had at first planned to
+go, then--after the disastrous call at the parsonage--decided that
+he would go under no circumstances, and at the last changed his
+mind once more to the affirmative.  Miss Madeline Fosdick, Jane
+Kelsey's friend, was responsible for the final change.  She it was
+who had sold him his ticket and urged him to be present.  He and
+she had met several times since the first meeting at the post-
+office.  Usually when they met they talked concerning poetry and
+kindred lofty topics.  Albert liked Miss Fosdick.  It is hard not
+to like a pretty, attractive young lady who takes such a flattering
+interest in one's aspirations and literary efforts.  The "high brow
+chit-chats"--quoting Miss Kelsey again--were pleasant in many ways;
+for instance, they were in the nature of a tonic for weakened self-
+esteem, and the Speranza self-esteem was suffering just at this
+time, from shock.
+
+Albert had, when he first heard that the dance was to take place,
+intended inviting Helen to accompany him.  He had taken her
+acceptance for granted, he having acted as her escort to so many
+dances and social affairs.  So he neglected inviting her and then
+came Issy's mischief-making remarks and the trouble which followed.
+So, as inviting her was out of the question, he resolved not to
+attend, himself.  But Miss Fosdick urged so prettily that he bought
+his ticket and promised to be among those present.
+
+"Provided, of course," he ventured, being in a reckless mood, "that
+you save me at least four dances."  She raised her brows in mock
+dismay.
+
+"Oh, my goodness!" she exclaimed.  "I'm afraid I couldn't do that.
+Four is much too many.  One I will promise, but no more."
+
+However, as he persisted, she yielded another.  He was to have two
+dances and, possibly an "extra."
+
+"And you are a lucky young man," declared Jane Kelsey, who had also
+promised two.  "If you knew how many fellows have begged for just
+one.  But, of course," she added, "THEY were not poets, second
+editions of Tennyson and Keats and all that.  It is Keats who was
+the poet, isn't it, Madeline?" she added, turning to her friend.
+"Oh, I'm so glad I got it right the first time.  I'm always mixing
+him up with Watts, the man who invented the hymns and wrote the
+steam-engine--or something."
+
+The Wednesday evening in the middle of September was a beautiful
+one and the hotel was crowded.  The Item, in its account the
+following week, enumerating those present, spoke of "Our new
+residents, Mrs. Fletcher Story Fosdick and Miss Madeline Fosdick,
+who are to occupy the magnificent residence now about being built
+on the Inlet Hill by their husband and father, respectively,
+Fletcher Story Fosdick, Esquire, the well-known New York banker."
+The phrasing of this news note caused much joy in South Harniss,
+and the Item gained several new and hopeful subscribers.
+
+But when the gushing reporter responsible for this added that "Miss
+Fosdick was a dream of loveliness on this occasion" he was stating
+only the truth.  She was very beautiful indeed and a certain young
+man who stepped up to claim his first dance realized the fact.  The
+said young man was outwardly cool, but red-hot within, the internal
+rise in temperature being caused by the sight of Helen Kendall
+crossing the floor arm in arm with Edwin Raymond.  Albert's face
+was white with anger, except for two red spots on his cheeks, and
+his black eyes flashed.  Consequently he, too, was considered quite
+worth the looking at and feminine glances followed him.
+
+"Who is that handsome, foreign-looking fellow your friend is
+dancing with?" whispered one young lady, a guest at the hotel, to
+Miss Kelsey.  Jane told her.
+
+"But he isn't a foreigner," she added.  "He lives here in South
+Harniss all the year.  He is a poet, I believe, and Madeline, who
+knows about such things--inherits it from her mother, I suppose--
+says his poetry is beautiful."
+
+Her companion watched the subject of their conversation as, with
+Miss Fosdick, he moved lightly and surely through the crowd on the
+floor.
+
+"He LOOKS like a poet," she said, slowly.  "He is wonderfully
+handsome, so distinguished, and SUCH a dancer!  But why should a
+poet live here--all the year?  Is that all he does for a living--
+write poetry?"
+
+Jane pretended not to hear her and, a masculine friend coming to
+claim his dance, seized the opportunity to escape.  However,
+another "sitter out" supplied the information.
+
+"He is a sort of assistant bookkeeper at the lumber yard by the
+railroad station," said this person.  "His grandfather owns the
+place, I believe.  One would never guess it to look at him now. . . .
+Humph!  I wonder if Mrs. Fosdick knows.  They say she is--well,
+not democratically inclined, to say the least."
+
+Albert had his two promised dances with Madeline Fosdick, but the
+"extra" he did not obtain.  Mrs. Fosdick, the ever watchful, had
+seen and made inquiries.  Then she called her daughter to her and
+issued an ultimatum.
+
+"I am SO sorry," said the young lady, in refusing the plea for the
+"extra."  "I should like to, but I--but Mother has asked me to
+dance with a friend of ours from home.  I--I AM sorry, really."
+
+She looked as if she meant it.  Albert was sorry, too.  This had
+been a strange evening, another combination of sweet and sour.  He
+glanced across the floor and saw Helen and the inevitable Raymond
+emerge together from the room where the refreshments were served.
+Raging jealousy seized him at the sight.  Helen had not been near
+him, had scarcely spoken to him since his arrival.  He forgot that
+he had not been near nor spoken to her.
+
+He danced twice or thrice more with acquaintances, "summer" or
+permanent, and then decided to go home.  Madeline Fosdick he saw at
+the other end of the room surrounded by a group of young masculinity.
+Helen he could not see at the moment.  He moved in the direction of
+the coatroom.  Just as he reached the door he was surprised to see
+Ed Raymond stride by him, head down and looking anything but joyful.
+He watched and was still more astonished to see the young man get
+his coat and hat from the attendant and walk out of the hotel.  He
+saw him stride away along the drive and down the moonlit road.  He
+was, apparently, going home--going home alone.
+
+He got his own coat and hat and, before putting them on, stepped
+back for a final look at the ballroom.  As he stood by the
+cloakroom door someone touched his arm.  Turning he saw Helen.
+
+"Why--why, Helen!" he exclaimed, in surprise.
+
+"Are you going home?" she asked, in a low tone.
+
+"Yes, I--"
+
+"And you are going alone?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Would you mind--would it trouble you too much to walk with me as
+far as our house?"
+
+"Why--why of course not.  I shall be delighted.  But I thought you--
+I thought Ed Raymond--"
+
+"No, I'm alone.  Wait here; I will be ready in just a minute."
+
+She hurried away.  He gazed after her in bewilderment.  She and he
+had scarcely exchanged a word during the evening, and now, when the
+evening was almost over, she came and asked him to be her escort.
+What in the wide world--?
+
+The minute she had specified had hardly elapsed when she reappeared,
+ready for out of doors.  She took his arm and they walked down the
+steps of the hotel, past the group of lights at the head of the
+drive and along the road, with the moon shining down upon it and the
+damp, salt breeze from the ocean blowing across it.  They walked for
+the first few minutes in silence.  There were a dozen questions he
+would have liked to ask, but his jealous resentment had not entirely
+vanished and his pride forbade.  It was she who spoke first.
+
+"Albert," she said, "you must think this very odd."
+
+He knew what she meant, but he did not choose to admit it.
+
+"What?" he asked.
+
+"Why, my asking you to walk home with me, after--after our trouble.
+It is strange, I suppose, particularly as you had not spoken before
+this whole evening."
+
+"_I_--spoken to YOU?  Why, you bowed to me when I came into the
+room and that was the only sign of recognition you gave me until
+just now.  Not a dance--not one."
+
+"Did you expect me to look you up and beg you to dance with me?"
+
+"Did you expect me to trot at that fellow's heels and wait my
+chance to get a word with you, to take what he left?  I should say
+not!  By George, Helen, I--"
+
+She interrupted him.  "Hush, hush!" she pleaded.  "This is all so
+silly, so childish.  And we mustn't quarrel any more.  I have made
+up my mind to that.  We mustn't."
+
+"Humph!  All right, _I_ had no thought of quarreling in the
+beginning.  But there are some things a self-respecting chap can't
+stand.  I have SOME pride, I hope."
+
+She caught her breath quickly.  "Do you think," she asked, "that it
+was no sacrifice to my pride to beg you to walk home with me?
+After--after the things you said the other evening?  Oh, Albert,
+how could you say them!"
+
+"Well--" he hesitated, and then added, "I told you I was sorry."
+
+"Yes, but you weren't really sorry.  You must have believed the
+things that hateful Issachar Price said or you wouldn't have
+repeated them. . . .  Oh, but never mind that now, I didn't mean to
+speak of it at all.  I asked you to walk home with me because I
+wanted to make up our quarrel.  Yes, that was it.  I didn't want to
+go away and feel that you and I were not as good friends as ever.
+So, you see, I put all MY pride to one side--and asked."
+
+One phrase in one sentence of this speech caught and held the young
+man's attention.  He forgot the others.
+
+"You are going away?" he repeated.  "What do you mean?  Where are
+you going?"
+
+"I am going to Cambridge to study.  I am going to take some courses
+at Radcliffe.  You know I told you I hoped to some day.  Well, it
+has been arranged.  I am to live with my cousin, father's half
+sister in Somerville.  Father is well enough to leave now and I
+have engaged a capable woman, Mrs. Peters, to help Maria with the
+housework.  I am going Friday morning, the day after to-morrow."
+
+He stopped short to stare at her.
+
+"You are going away?" he asked, again.  "You are going to do that
+and--and--  Why didn't you tell me before?"
+
+It was a characteristic return to his attitude of outraged royalty.
+She had made all these plans, had arranged to do this thing, and he
+had not been informed.  At another time Helen might have laughed at
+him; she generally did when he became what she called the "Grand
+Bashaw."  She did not laugh now, however, but answered quietly.
+
+"I didn't know I was going to do it until a little more than a week
+ago," she said.  "And I have not seen you since then."
+
+"No, you've been too busy seeing someone else."
+
+She lost patience for the instant.  "Oh, don't, don't, don't!" she
+cried.  "I know who you mean, of course.  You mean Ed Raymond.
+Don't you know why he has been at the house so much of late?  Why
+he and I have been so much together?  Don't you really know?"
+
+"What? . . .  No, I don't--except that you and he wanted to be
+together."
+
+"And it didn't occur to you that there might be some other reason?
+You forgot, I suppose, that he and I were appointed on the Ticket
+Committee for this very dance?"
+
+He had forgotten it entirely.  Now he remembered perfectly the
+meeting of the French Relief Society at which the appointment had
+been made.  In fact Helen herself had told him of it at the time.
+For the moment he was staggered, but he rallied promptly.
+
+"Committee meetings may do as an excuse for some things," he said,
+"but they don't explain the rest--his calls here every other
+evening and--and so on.  Honest now, Helen, you know he hasn't been
+running after you in this way just because he is on that committee
+with you; now don't you?"
+
+They were almost at the parsonage.  The light from Mr. Kendall's
+study window shone through the leaves of the lilac bush behind the
+white fence.  Helen started to speak, but hesitated.  He repeated
+his question.
+
+"Now don't you?" he urged.
+
+"Why, why, yes, I suppose I do," she said, slowly.  "I do know--
+now.  But I didn't even think of such a thing until--until you came
+that evening and told me what Issy Price said."
+
+"You mean you didn't guess at all?"
+
+"Well--well, perhaps I--I thought he liked to come--liked to--  Oh,
+what is the use of being silly!  I did think he liked to call, but
+only as a friend.  He was jolly and lots of fun and we were both
+fond of music.  I enjoyed his company.  I never dreamed that there
+was anything more than that until you came and were so--disagreeable.
+And even then I didn't believe--until to-night."
+
+Again she hesitated.  "To-night?" he repeated.  "What happened to-
+night?"
+
+"Oh nothing.  I can't tell you.  Oh, why can't friends be friends
+and not. . . .  That is why I spoke to you, Albert, why I wanted to
+have this talk with you.  I was going away so soon and I couldn't
+bear to go with any unfriendliness between us.  There mustn't be.
+Don't you see?"
+
+He heard but a part of this.  The memory of Raymond's face as he
+had seen it when the young man strode out of the cloakroom and out
+of the hotel came back to him and with it a great heart-throbbing
+sense of relief, of triumph.  He seized her hand.
+
+"Helen," he cried, "did he--did you tell him--  Oh, by George,
+Helen, you're the most wonderful girl in the world!  I'm--I--  Oh,
+Helen, you know I--I--"
+
+It was not his habit to be at a loss for words, but he was just
+then.  He tried to retain her hand, to put his arm about her.
+
+"Oh, Helen!" he cried.  "You're wonderful!  You're splendid!  I'm
+crazy about you!  I really am!  I--"
+
+She pushed him gently away.  "Don't!  Please don't!" she said.
+"Oh, don't!"
+
+"But I must.  Don't you see I. . . .  Why, you're crying!"
+
+Her face had, for a moment, been upturned.  The moon at that moment
+had slipped behind a cloud, but the lamplight from the window had
+shown him the tears in her eyes.  He was amazed.  He could have
+shouted, have laughed aloud from joy or triumphant exultation just
+then, but to weep!  What occasion was there for tears, except on Ed
+Raymond's part?
+
+"You're crying!" he repeated.  "Why, Helen--!"
+
+"Don't!" she said, again.  "Oh, don't!  Please don't talk that
+way."
+
+"But don't you want me to, Helen?  I--I want you to know how I
+feel.  You don't understand.  I--"
+
+"Hush! . . .  Don't, Al, don't, please.  Don't talk in that way.  I
+don't want you to."
+
+"But why not?"
+
+"Oh, because I don't.  It's--it is foolish.  You're only a boy, you
+know."
+
+"A boy!  I'm more than a year older than you are."
+
+"Are you?  Why yes, I suppose you are, really.  But that doesn't
+make any difference.  I guess girls are older than boys when they
+are our age, lots older."
+
+"Oh, bother all that!  We aren't kids, either of us.  I want you to
+listen.  You don't understand what I'm trying to say."
+
+"Yes, I do.  But I'm sure you don't.  You are glad because you have
+found you have no reason to be jealous of Ed Raymond and that makes
+you say--foolish things.  But I'm not going to have our friendship
+spoiled in that way.  I want us to be real friends, always.  So you
+mustn't be silly."
+
+"I'm not silly.  Helen, if you won't listen to anything else, will
+you listen to this?  Will you promise me that while you are away
+you won't have other fellows calling on you or--or anything like
+that?  And I'll promise you that I'll have nothing to say to
+another girl--in any way that counts, I mean.  Shall we promise
+each other that, Helen?  Come!"
+
+She paused for some moment before answering, but her reply, when it
+came, was firm.
+
+"No," she said, "I don't think we should promise anything, except
+to remain friends.  You might promise and then be sorry, later."
+
+"_I_ might?  How about you?"
+
+"Perhaps we both might.  So we won't take the risk.  You may come
+and see me to-morrow evening and say good-by, if you like.  But you
+mustn't stay long.  It is my last night with father for some time
+and I mustn't cheat him out of it.  Good night, Albert.  I'm so
+glad our misunderstanding is over, aren't you?"
+
+"Of course I am.  But, Helen--"
+
+"I must go in now.  Good night."
+
+The reflections of Alberto Speranza during his walk back to the
+Snow place were varied but wonderful.  He thought of Raymond's
+humiliation and gloried in it.  He thought of Helen and rhapsodized.
+And if, occasionally, he thought also of the dance and of Madeline
+Fosdick, forgive him.  He was barely twenty-one and the moon was
+shining.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+
+The good-by call the following evening was, to him at least, not
+very satisfactory.  Helen was tired, having been busy all day with
+the final preparations for leaving, and old Mr. Kendall insisted
+on being present during the entire visit and in telling long and
+involved stories of the trip abroad he had made when a young man
+and the unfavorable opinion which he had then formed of Prussians
+as traveling companions.  Albert's opinion of Prussians was at
+least as unfavorable as his own, but his complete and even eager
+agreement with each of the old gentleman's statements did not have
+the effect of choking the latter off, but rather seemed to act as
+encouragement for more.  When ten o'clock came and it was time to
+go Albert felt as if he had been listening to a lecture on the
+Hohenzollerns.  "Great Scott, Helen," he whispered, as she came to
+the door with him, "I don't feel as if I had talked with you a
+minute.  Why, I scarcely--"
+
+But just here Mr. Kendall came hurrying from the sitting-room to
+tell of one incident which he had hitherto forgotten, and so even
+this brief interval of privacy was denied.  But Albert made one
+more attempt.
+
+"I'm going to run over to the station to-morrow morning to see you
+off," he called from the gate.  "Good night."
+
+The morning train left at nine o'clock, and at a quarter to nine
+Albert, who had kept his eye on the clock ever since eight, his
+hour of arriving at the office, called to Mr. Price.
+
+"I say," he said, in a low tone and one as casual as he could
+assume, "I am going to run out for a few minutes.  I'll be right
+back."
+
+Issachar's response was as usual anything but low.
+
+"Eh?" he shouted.  "Goin' out?  Where you goin'?"
+
+"Oh, I'm just going out--er--on an errand."
+
+"What kind of an errand?  I was cal'latin' to run out myself for a
+little spell.  Can't I do your errand for you?"
+
+"No, no. . .  There, there, don't bother me any more.  I'm in a
+hurry."
+
+"Hurry!  So'm I in a hurry.  I was cal'latin' to run acrost to the
+deepo and see Helen Kendall start for Boston.  She's goin' this
+morning; did you know it?"
+
+Before the somewhat flustered assistant bookkeeper could reply
+Captain Zelotes called from the inner office:
+
+"Wouldn't wonder if that was where Al was bound, too," he observed.
+"And I was thinkin' of the same thing.  Suppose we all go together.
+Labe'll keep shop, won't you, Labe?"
+
+Mr. Keeler looked over his spectacles.  "Eh?" he observed.  "Oh,
+yes, yes . . .  yes, yes, yes.  And say good-by to Helen for me,
+some of you, if you happen to think of it.  Not that 'twill make
+much difference to her," he added, "whether she gets my good-bys or
+not, but it might make some to me. . . .  Um, yes, yes."
+
+Mr. Price was eager to oblige.
+
+"I'll tell her you sent 'em, Labe," he said, patronizingly.  "Set
+your mind to rest; I'll tell her."
+
+Laban's lip twitched.  "Much obliged, Is," he chirruped.  "That's a
+great relief!  My mind's rested some already."
+
+So, instead of going alone to the railway station, Albert made one
+of a delegation of three.  And at the station was Mr. Kendall, and
+two of the school committee, and one or two members of the church
+sewing circle, and the president and secretary of the Society for
+the Relief of the French Wounded.  So far from being an intimate
+confidential farewell, Helen's departure was in the nature of a
+public ceremony with speech-making.  Mr. Price made most of the
+speeches, in fact the lower portion of his countenance was in
+violent motion most of the ten minutes.
+
+"Take care of yourself, Helen," he urged loudly.  "Don't you worry
+about your pa, we'll look out for him.  And don't let none of them
+Boston fellers carry you off.  We'll watch and see that Eddie
+Raymond and Al here don't get into mischief while you're gone.
+I . . . Crimustee!  Jim Young, what in time's the matter with you?
+Can't ye see nothin'?"
+
+This last outburst was directed at the driver of the depot-wagon,
+who, wheeling a trunk on a baggage truck, had bumped violently into
+the rear of Mr. Price's legs, just at the knee joint, causing their
+owner to bend backward unexpectedly, and with enthusiasm.
+
+"Can't you see nothin' when it's right in front of ye?" demanded
+Issachar, righteously indignant.
+
+Jim Young winked over his shoulder at Albert.  "Sorry, Is," he
+said, as he continued toward the baggage car.  "I didn't notice you
+WAS in front of me."
+
+"Well, then, you'd better. . . .  Eh?  See here, what do you mean
+by that?"
+
+Even after Mr. Price had thus been pushed out of the foreground, so
+to speak, Albert was denied the opportunity of taking his place by
+Helen's side.  Her father had a few last messages to deliver, then
+Captain Zelotes shook her hand and talked for a moment, and, after
+that, the ladies of the sewing circle and the war work society felt
+it their duty to, severally and jointly, kiss her good-by.  This
+last was a trying operation to watch.
+
+Then the engine bell rang and the train began to move.  Albert,
+running beside the platform of the last car, held up his hand for a
+farewell clasp.
+
+"Good-by," he said, and added in a whisper, "You'll write, won't
+you?"
+
+"Of course.  And so must you.  Good-by."
+
+The last car and the handkerchief waving figure on its platform
+disappeared around the curve.  The little group by the station
+broke up.  Albert and his grandfather walked over to the office
+together.
+
+"There goes a good girl, Al," was Captain Lote's only comment.  "A
+mighty good capable girl."
+
+Albert nodded.  A moment later he lifted his hat to a group in a
+passing automobile.
+
+"Who were those folks?" asked the Captain.
+
+"The Fosdicks," was the reply.  "The people who are going to build
+down by the Inlet."
+
+It was Madeline and her mother.  The latter had been serenely
+indifferent, but the young lady had smiled and bowed behind the
+maternal shoulders.
+
+"Oh; that so?" observed Captain Zelotes, looking after the flying
+car with interest.  "That's who 'tis, eh?  Nice lookin', the young
+one, ain't she?"
+
+Albert did not answer.  With the noise of the train which was
+carrying Helen out of his life still ringing in his ears it seemed
+wicked even to mention another girl's name, to say nothing of
+commenting upon her good looks.  For the rest of that day he was a
+gloomy spirit, a dark shadow in the office of Z. Snow and Co.
+
+Before the end of another fortnight the season at South Harniss was
+definitely over.  The hotel closed on the Saturday following the
+dance, and by October first the last of the cottages was locked and
+shuttered.  The Kelseys went on the twentieth and the Fosdicks went
+with them.  Albert met Madeline and Jane at the post-office in the
+evening of the nineteenth and there more farewells were said.
+
+"Don't forget us down here in the sand, will you?" he suggested to
+Miss Fosdick.  It was Jane Kelsey who answered.
+
+"Oh, she won't forget," returned that young lady.  "Why she has
+your photograph to remember you by."
+
+Madeline colored becomingly and was, as Jane described it, "awfully
+fussed."
+
+"Nonsense!" she exclaimed, with much indignation, "I haven't any
+such thing.  You know I haven't, Jane."
+
+"Yes, you have, my dear.  You have a photograph of him standing
+in front of the drug store and looking dreamily in at--at the
+strawberry sundaes.  It is a most romantic pose, really."
+
+Albert laughed.  He remembered the photograph.  It was one of a
+series of snapshots taken with Miss Kelsey's camera one Saturday
+afternoon when a party of young people had met in front of the
+sundae dispensary.  Jane had insisted on "snapping" everyone.
+
+"That reminds me that I have never seen the rest of those
+photographs," he said.
+
+"Haven't you?" exclaimed Jane.  "Well, you ought to see them.  I
+have Madeline's with me.  It is a dream, if I do say it as I took
+it."
+
+She produced the snapshot, which showed her friend standing beside
+the silver-leaf tree before the druggist's window and smiling at
+the camera.  It was a good likeness and, consequently, a very
+pretty picture.
+
+"Isn't it a dream, just as I said?" demanded the artist.  "Honest
+now, isn't it?
+
+Albert of course declared it to be beyond praise.
+
+"May I have this one?" he asked, on the impulse of the moment.
+
+"Don't ask me, stupid," commanded Jane, mischievously.  "It isn't
+my funeral--or my portrait, either."
+
+"May I?" he repeated, turning to Madeline.  She hesitated.
+
+"Why--why yes, you may, if you care for it," she said.  "That
+particular one is Jane's, anyway, and if she chooses to give it
+away I don't see how I can prevent her.  But why you should want
+the old thing I can't conceive.  I look as stiff and wooden as a
+sign-post."
+
+Jane held up a protesting finger.
+
+"Fibs, fibs, fibs," she observed.  "Can't conceive why he should
+want it!  As if you weren't perfectly aware that he will wear it
+next his heart and--  Oh, don't put it in THAT pocket!  I said next
+your heart, and that isn't on your RIGHT side."
+
+Albert took the photograph home and stuck it between the frame and
+glass of his bureau.  Then came a sudden remembrance of his parting
+with Helen and with it a twinge of conscience.  He had begged her
+to have nothing to do with any other fellow.  True she had refused
+to promise and consequently he also was unbound, but that made no
+difference--should not make any.  So he put the photograph at the
+back of the drawer where he kept his collars and ties, with a
+resolve never to look at it.  He did not look at it--very often.
+
+Then came another long winter.  He ground away at the bookkeeping--
+he was more proficient at it, but he hated it as heartily as ever--
+and wrote a good deal of verse and some prose.  For the first time
+he sold a prose article, a short story, to a minor magazine.  He
+wrote long letters to Helen and she replied.  She was studying
+hard, she liked her work, and she had been offered the opportunity
+to tutor in a girls' summer camp in Vermont during July and August
+and meant to accept provided her father's health continued good.
+Albert protested violently against her being absent from South
+Harniss for so long.  "You will scarcely be home at all," he wrote.
+"I shall hardly see you.  What am I going to do?  As it is now I
+miss you--" and so on for four closely written pages.  Having
+gotten into the spirit of composition he, so to speak, gloried in
+his loneliness, so much so that Helen was moved to remonstrate.
+"Your letter made me almost miserable," she wrote, "until I had
+read it over twice.  Then I began to suspect that you were enjoying
+your wretchedness, or enjoying writing about it.  I truly don't
+believe anyone--you especially--could be quite as lonesome as all
+that.  Honestly now, Albert, weren't you exaggerating a little?  I
+rather think you were?"
+
+He had been, of course, but it irritated him to think that she
+recognized the fact.  She had an uncanny faculty of seeing through
+his every pretense.  In his next letter he said nothing whatever
+about being lonesome.
+
+At home, and at the office, the war was what people talked about
+most of the time.  Since the Lusitania's sinking Captain Zelotes
+had been a battle charger chafing at the bit.  He wanted to fight
+and to fight at once.
+
+"We've got to do it, Mother," he declared, over and over again.
+"Sooner or later we've got to fight that Kaiser gang.  What are we
+waitin' for; will somebody tell me that?"
+
+Olive, as usual, was mild and unruffled.
+
+"Probably the President knows as much about it as you and me,
+Zelotes," she suggested.  "I presume likely he has his own
+reasons."
+
+"Humph!  When Seth Bassett got up in the night and took a drink out
+of the bottle of Paris Green by mistake 'Bial Cahoon asked him what
+in time he kept Paris Green in his bedroom for, anyhow.  All that
+Seth would say was that he had his own reasons.  The rest of the
+town was left to guess what those reasons was.  That's what the
+President's doin'--keepin' us guessin'.  By the everlastin', if I
+was younger I'd ship aboard a British lime-juicer and go and fight,
+myself!"
+
+It was Rachel Ellis who caused the Captain to be a bit more
+restrained in his remarks.
+
+"You hadn't ought to talk that way, Cap'n Lote," she said.  "Not
+when Albert's around, you hadn't."
+
+"Eh?  Why not?"
+
+"Because the first thing you know he'll be startin' for Canada to
+enlist.  He's been crazy to do it for 'most a year."
+
+"He has?  How do you know he has?"
+
+"Because he's told me so, more'n once."
+
+Her employer looked at her.
+
+"Humph!" he grunted.  "He seems to tell you a good many things he
+doesn't tell the rest of us."
+
+The housekeeper nodded.  "Yes," she said gravely, "I shouldn't
+wonder if he did."  A moment later she added, "Cap'n Lote, you will
+be careful, won't you?  You wouldn't want Al to go off and leave Z.
+Snow and Company when him and you are gettin' on so much better.
+You ARE gettin' on better, ain't you?"
+
+The captain pulled at his beard.
+
+"Yes," he admitted, "seems as if we was.  He ain't any wonder at
+bookkeepin', but he's better'n he used to be; and he does seem to
+try hard, I'll say that for him."
+
+Rachael beamed gratification.  "He'll be a Robert Penfold yet," she
+declared; "see if he isn't.  So you musn't encourage him into
+enlistin' in the Canadian army.  You wouldn't want him to do that
+any more'n the rest of us would."
+
+The captain gazed intently into the bowl of the pipe which he had
+been cleaning.  He made no answer.
+
+"You wouldn't want him to do that, would you?" repeated the
+housekeeper.
+
+Captain Lote blew through the pipe stem.  Then he said, "No, I
+wouldn't . . . but I'm darn glad he's got the spunk to WANT to do
+it.  We may get that Portygee streak out of him, poetry and all,
+give us time; eh, Rachael?"
+
+It was the first time in months that he had used the word "Portygee"
+in connection with his grandson.  Mrs. Ellis smiled to herself.
+
+In April the arbutus buds began to appear above the leaf mold
+between the scrub oaks in the woods, and the walls of Fletcher
+Fosdick's new summer home began to rise above the young pines on
+the hill by the Inlet in the Bay Road.  The Item kept its readers
+informed, by weekly installments, of the progress made by the
+builders.
+
+
+The lumber for Mr. Fletcher Fosdick's new cottage is beginning to
+be hauled to his property on Inlet Hill in this town.  Our
+enterprising firm of South Harniss dealers, Z. Snow & Co., are
+furnishing said lumber.  Mr. Nehemiah Nickerson is to do the mason
+work.  Mr. Fosdick shows good judgment as well as a commendable
+spirit in engaging local talent in this way.  We venture to say he
+will never regret it.
+
+
+A week later:
+
+
+Mr. Fletcher Fosdick's new residence is beginning building, the
+foundation being pretty near laid.
+
+
+And the following week:
+
+
+The Fosdick mansion is growing fast.  South Harniss may well be
+proud of its new ornament.
+
+
+The rise in three successive numbers from "cottage" to "mansion" is
+perhaps sufficient to indicate that the Fosdick summer home was to
+be, as Issachar Price described it, "Some considerable house!  Yes
+sir, by crimus, some considerable!"
+
+In June, Helen came home for a week.  At the end of the week she
+left to take up her new duties at the summer camp for girls in
+Vermont.  Albert and she were together a good deal during that
+week.  Anticipating her arrival, the young man's ardent imagination
+had again fanned what he delighted to think of as his love for her
+into flame.  During the last months of the winter he had not played
+the languishing swain as conscientiously as during the autumn.
+Like the sailor in the song "is 'eart was true to Poll" always, but
+he had broken away from his self-imposed hermitage in his room at
+the Snow place several times to attend sociables, entertainments
+and, even, dances.  Now, when she returned he was eagerly awaiting
+her and would have haunted the parsonage before and after working
+hours of every day as well as the evening, if she had permitted,
+and when with her assumed a proprietary air which was so obvious
+that even Mr. Price felt called upon to comment on it.
+
+"Say, Al," drawled Issachar, "cal'late you've cut out Eddie Raymond
+along with Helen, ain't ye?  Don't see him hangin' around any since
+she got back, and the way you was actin' when I see you struttin'
+into the parsonage yard last night afore mail time made me think
+you must have a first mortgage on Helen and her pa and the house
+and the meetin'-house and two-thirds of the graveyard.  I never see
+such an important-lookin' critter in MY life.  Haw, haw!  Eh?  How
+'bout it?"
+
+Albert did not mind the Price sarcasm; instead he felt rather
+grateful to have the proletariat recognize that he had triumphed
+again.  The fly in his ointment, so to speak, was the fact that
+Helen herself did not in the least recognize that triumph.  She
+laughed at him.
+
+"Don't look at me like that, please, please, don't," she begged.
+
+"Why not?" with a repetition of the look.
+
+"Because it is silly."
+
+"Silly!  Well, I like that!  Aren't you and I engaged?  Or just the
+same as engaged?"
+
+"No, of course we are not."
+
+"But we promised each other--"
+
+"No, we did not.  And you know we didn't."
+
+"Helen, why do you treat me that way?  Don't you know that--that I
+just worship the ground you tread on?  Don't you know you're the
+only girl in this world I could ever care for?  Don't you know
+that?"
+
+They were walking home from church Sunday morning and had reached
+the corner below the parsonage.  There, screened by the thicket of
+young silver-leafs, she stopped momentarily and looked into his
+face.  Then she walked on.
+
+"Don't you know how much I care?" he repeated.
+
+She shook her head.  "You think you do now, perhaps," she said,
+"but you will change your mind."
+
+"What do you mean by that?  How do you know I will?"
+
+"Because I know you.  There, there, Albert, we won't quarrel, will
+we?  And we won't be silly.  You're an awfully nice boy, but you
+are just a boy, you know."
+
+He was losing his temper.
+
+"This is ridiculous!" he declared.  "I'm tired of being grandmothered
+by you.  I'm older than you are, and I know what I'm doing.  Come,
+Helen, listen to me."
+
+But she would not listen, and although she was always kind and
+frank and friendly, she invariably refused to permit him to become
+sentimental.  It irritated him, and after she had gone the
+irritation still remained.  He wrote her as before, although not
+quite so often, and the letters were possibly not quite so long.
+His pride was hurt and the Speranza pride was a tender and
+important part of the Speranza being.  If Helen noted any change in
+his letters she did not refer to it nor permit it to influence her
+own, which were, as always, lengthy, cheerful, and full of interest
+in him and his work and thoughts.
+
+During the previous fall, while under the new influence aroused in
+him by his discovery that Helen Kendall was "the most wonderful
+girl in the world," said discovery of course having been previously
+made for him by the unfortunate Raymond, he had developed a habit
+of wandering off into the woods or by the seashore to be alone and
+to seek inspiration.  When a young poet is in love, or fancies
+himself in love, inspiration is usually to be found wherever
+sought, but even at that age and to one in that condition solitude
+is a marked aid in the search.  There were two or three spots which
+had become Albert Speranza's favorites.  One was a high, wind-swept
+knoll, overlooking the bay, about a half mile from the hotel,
+another was a secluded nook in the pine grove beside Carver's Pond,
+a pretty little sheet of water on the Bayport boundary.  On
+pleasant Saturday afternoons or Sundays, when the poetic fit was on
+him, Albert, with a half dozen pencils in his pocket, and a rhyming
+dictionary and a scribbling pad in another, was wont to stroll
+towards one or the other of these two retreats.  There he would
+sprawl amid the beachgrass or upon the pine-needles and dream and
+think and, perhaps, ultimately write.
+
+One fair Saturday in late June he was at the first of these
+respective points.  Lying prone on the beach grass at the top of
+the knoll and peering idly out between its stems at the water
+shimmering in the summer sun, he was endeavoring to find a subject
+for a poem which should deal with love and war as requested by the
+editor of the Columbian Magazine.  "Give us something with a girl
+and a soldier in it," the editor had written.  Albert's mind was
+lazily drifting in search of the pleasing combination.
+
+The sun was warm, the breeze was light, the horizon was veiled with
+a liquid haze.  Albert's mind was veiled with a similar haze and
+the idea he wanted would not come.  He was losing his desire to
+find it and was, in fact, dropping into a doze when aroused by a
+blood-curdling outburst of barks and yelps and growls behind him,
+at his very heels.  He came out of his nap with a jump and,
+scrambling to a sitting position and turning, he saw a small Boston
+bull-terrier standing within a yard of his ankles and, apparently,
+trying to turn his brindled outside in, or his inside out, with
+spiteful ferocity.  Plainly the dog had come upon him unexpectedly
+and was expressing alarm, suspicion and disapproval.
+
+Albert jerked his ankles out of the way and said "Hello, boy," in
+as cheerfully cordial a tone as he could muster at such short
+notice.  The dog took a step forward, evidently with the idea of
+always keeping the ankles within jumping distance, showed a double
+row of healthy teeth and growled and barked with renewed violence.
+
+"Nice dog," observed Albert.  The nice dog made a snap at the
+nearest ankle and, balked of his prey by a frenzied kick of the
+foot attached to the ankle, shrieked, snarled and gurgled like a
+canine lunatic.
+
+"Go home, you ugly brute," commanded the young man, losing
+patience, and looking about for a stone or stick.  On the top of
+that knoll the largest stone was the size of a buckshot and the
+nearest stick was, to be Irish, a straw.
+
+"Nice doggie!  Nice old boy!  Come and be patted! . . .  Clear out
+with you!  Go home, you beast!"
+
+Flatteries and threats were alike in their result.  The dog continued
+to snarl and growl, darting toward the ankles occasionally.
+Evidently he was mustering courage for the attack.  Albert in
+desperation scooped up a handful of sand.  If worst came to worst
+he might blind the creature temporarily.  What would happen after
+that was not clear.  Unless he might by a lucky cast fill the dog's
+interior so full of sand that--like the famous "Jumping Frog"--it
+would be too heavy to navigate, he saw no way of escape from a
+painful bite, probably more than one.  What Captain Zelotes had
+formerly called his "Portygee temper" flared up.
+
+"Oh, damn you, clear out!" he shouted, springing to his feet.
+
+From a little way below him; in fact, from behind the next dune,
+between himself and the beach, a feminine voice called his name.
+
+"Oh, Mr. Speranza!" it said.  "Is it you?  I'm so glad!"
+
+Albert turned, but the moment he did so the dog made a dash at his
+legs, so he was obliged to turn back again and kick violently.
+
+"Oh, I am so glad it is you," said the voice again.  "I was sure it
+was a dreadful tramp.  Googoo loathes tramps."
+
+As an article of diet that meant, probably.  Googoo--if that was
+the dog's name--was passionately fond of poets, that was self-
+evident, and intended to make a meal of this one, forthwith.  He
+flew at the Speranza ankles.  Albert performed a most undignified
+war dance, and dashed his handful of sand into Googoo's open
+countenance.  For a minute or so there was a lively shindy on top
+of that knoll.  At the end of the minute the dog, held tightly in a
+pair of feminine arms, was emitting growls and coughs and sand,
+while Madeline Fosdick and Albert Speranza were kneeling in more
+sand and looking at each other.
+
+"Oh, did he bite you?" begged Miss Fosdick.
+
+"No . . . no, I guess not," was the reply.  "I--I scarcely know
+yet. . . .  Why, when did you come?  I didn't know you were in
+town."
+
+"We came yesterday.  Motored from home, you know.  I--be still,
+Goo, you bad thing!  It was such a lovely day that I couldn't
+resist going for a walk along the beach.  I took Googoo because he
+does love it so, and--Goo, be still, I tell you!  I am sure he
+thinks you are a tramp, out here all alone in the--in the
+wilderness.  And what were you doing here?"
+
+Albert drew a long breath.  "I was half asleep, I guess," he said,
+"when he broke loose at my heels.  I woke up quick enough then, as
+you may imagine.  And so you are here for the summer?  Your new
+house isn't finished, is it?"
+
+"No, not quite.  Mother and Goo and I are at the hotel for a month.
+But you haven't answered my question.  What were you doing off here
+all alone?  Have you been for a walk, too?"
+
+"Not exactly.  I--well, I come here pretty often.  It is one of my
+favorite hiding places.  You see, I . . . don't laugh if I tell
+you, will you?"
+
+"Of course not.  Go on; this is very mysterious and interesting."
+
+"Well, I come here sometimes on pleasant days, to be alone--and
+write."
+
+"Write?  Write poetry, do you mean?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Oh, how wonderful!  Were you writing when I--when Goo interrupted
+you?"
+
+"No; I had made two or three attempts, but nothing that I did
+satisfied me.  I had just about decided to tear them up and to give
+up trying for this afternoon."
+
+"Oh, I hope you won't tear them up.  I'm sure they shouldn't be.
+Perhaps you were not in a proper mood to judge, yourself."
+
+"Perhaps not.  Perhaps they might look a little less hopeless to
+some one else.  But that person would have to be really interested,
+and there are few people in South Harniss who know or care anything
+about poetry."
+
+"I suppose that is true.  I--I don't suppose you would care to show
+them to me, would you?"
+
+"Why," eagerly, "would you really care to see them?"
+
+"Indeed I should!  Not that my judgment or advice is worth
+anything, of course.  But I am very, very fond of poetry, and to
+see how a real poet wrote would be wonderful.  And if I could help
+you, even the least little bit, it would be such an honor."
+
+This sort of thing was balm to the Speranza spirit.  Albert's
+temperamental ego expanded under it like a rosebud under a summer
+sun.  Yet there was a faint shadow of doubt--she might be making
+fun of him.  He looked at her intently and she seemed to read his
+thoughts, for she said:
+
+"Oh, I mean it!  Please believe I do.  I haven't spoken that way
+when Jane was with me, for she wouldn't understand and would laugh,
+but I mean it, Mr. Speranza.  It would be an honor--a great honor."
+
+So the still protesting and rebellious Googoo was compelled to go a
+few feet away and lie down, while his mistress and the young man
+whom he had attempted to devour bent their heads together over a
+scribbling-pad and talked and exclaimed during the whole of that
+hour and a full three-quarters of the next.  Then the distant town
+clock in the steeple of the Congregational church boomed five times
+and Miss Fosdick rose to her feet.
+
+"Oh," she said, "it can't really be five o'clock, can it?  But it
+is!  What WILL mother fancy has become of me?  I must go this
+minute.  Thank you, Mr. Speranza.  I have enjoyed this so much.
+It has been a wonderful experience."
+
+Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were shining.  She had grown
+handsomer than ever during the winter months.  Albert's eyes were
+shining also as he impulsively seized her hand.
+
+"Thank you, Miss Fosdick," he said.  "You have helped me more than
+I can tell you.  I was about to give up in despair before you came,
+and now--now I KNOW I shall write the best thing I have ever done.
+And you will be responsible for it."
+
+She caught her breath.  "Oh, not really!" she exclaimed.  "You
+don't mean it, really?"
+
+"Indeed I do!  If I might have your help and sympathy once in
+awhile, I believe--I believe I could do almost anything.  Will you
+help me again some day?  I shall be here almost every pleasant
+Saturday and Sunday afternoon.  Will you come again?"
+
+She hesitated.  "I--I'll see; perhaps," she answered hurriedly.
+"But I must go now.  Come, Goo."
+
+She hastened away, down the knoll and along the beach toward the
+hotel.  Googoo followed her, turning occasionally to cast
+diabolical glances at the Speranza ankles.  Albert gazed until the
+graceful figure in the trim sport costume disappeared behind the
+corner of the point of the beach.  Just at the point she paused to
+wave to him.  He waved in return.  Then he tramped homeward.  There
+was deep sand beneath his feet and, later, pine-needles and grass.
+They were all alike to him, for he was traveling on air.
+
+That evening at supper his radiant appearance caused comment.
+
+"What makes you look so happy, Albert?" asked his grandmother.
+"Seems to me I never saw you look so sort of--well, glorified, as
+you might say.  What is the reason?"
+
+The glorified one reddened and was confused.  He stammered that he
+did not know, he was not aware of any particular reason.
+
+Mrs. Ellis beamed upon him.  "I presume likely his bookkeepin' at
+the office has been goin' pretty well lately," she suggested.
+
+Captain Zelote's gray eyes twinkled.  "Cal'late he's been makin' up
+more poetry about girls," was his offering.  "Another one of those
+pieces about teeth like pearls and hair all curls, or somethin'
+like that.  Say, Al, why don't you poetry-makin' fellers try a new
+one once in a while?  Say, 'Her hair's like rope and her face has
+lost hope.'  Eh?  Why not, for a change?"
+
+The protests on the part of Olive and the housekeeper against the
+captain's innovation in poetry-making had the effect of distracting
+attention from Albert's "glorified" appearance.  The young man
+himself was thankful for the respite.
+
+That night before he retired he took Madeline Fosdick's photograph
+from the back of the drawer among the ties and collars and looked
+at it for five minutes at least.  She was a handsome girl,
+certainly.  Not that that made any difference to him.  And she was
+an intelligent girl; she understood his poetry and appreciated it.
+Yes, and she understood him, too, almost as well as Helen. . . .
+Helen!  He hastily returned the Fosdick photograph to the drawer;
+but this time he did not put it quite so near the back.
+
+On the following Saturday he was early at the knoll, a brand-new
+scribbling-pad in his pocket and in his mind divine gems which were
+later, and with Miss Fosdick's assistance, to be strung into a
+glittering necklace of lyric song and draped, with the stringer's
+compliments, about the throat of a grateful muse.  But no gems were
+strung that day.  Madeline did not put in an appearance, and by and
+by it began to rain, and Albert walked home, damp, dejected, and
+disgusted.  When, a day or two later, he met Miss Fosdick at the
+post office and asked why she had not come he learned that her
+mother had insisted upon a motor trip to Wapatomac that afternoon.
+
+"Besides," she said, "you surely mustn't expect me EVERY Saturday."
+
+"No," he admitted grudgingly, "I suppose not.  But you will come
+sometimes, won't you?  I have a perfectly lovely idea for a ballad
+and I want to ask your advice about it."
+
+"Oh, do you really?  You're not making fun?  You mean that my
+advice is really worth something?  I can't believe it."
+
+He convinced her that it was, and the next Saturday afternoon they
+spent together at the inspiration point among the dunes, at work
+upon the ballad.  It was not finished on that occasion, nor on the
+next, for it was an unusually long ballad, but progress was made,
+glorious progress.
+
+And so, during that Summer, as the Fosdick residence upon the Bay
+Road grew and grew, so did the acquaintanceship, the friendship,
+the poetic partnership between the Fosdick daughter and the
+grandson of Captain Zelotes Snow grow and grow.  They met almost
+every Saturday, they met at the post office on week evenings,
+occasionally they saw each other for a moment after church on
+Sunday mornings.  Mrs. Fletcher Fosdick could not imagine why her
+only child cared to attend that stuffy little country church and
+hear that prosy Kendall minister drone on and on.  "I hope, my
+dear, that I am as punctilious in my religious duties as the
+average woman, but one Kendall sermon was sufficient for me, thank
+you.  What you see in THAT church to please you, _I_ can't guess."
+
+If she had attended as often as Madeline did she might have guessed
+and saved herself much.  But she was busy organizing, in connection
+with Mrs. Seabury Calvin, a Literary Society among the summer
+people of South Harniss.  The Society was to begin work with the
+discussion of the poetry of Rabindranath Tagore.  Mrs. Fosdick
+said she doted on Tagore; Mrs. Calvin expressed herself as being
+positively insane about him.  A warm friendship had sprung up
+between the two ladies, as each was particularly fond of shining as
+a literary light and neither under any circumstances permitted a
+new lion to roar unheard in her neighborhood, provided, of course,
+that the said roarings had been previously endorsed and well
+advertised by the critics and the press.
+
+So Mrs. Fosdick was too busy to accompany Madeline to church on
+Sunday or to walk on Saturday, and the young lady was left to
+wander pretty much at her own sweet will.  That sweet will led her
+footsteps to trails frequented by Albert Speranza and they walked
+and talked and poetized together.  As for Mr. Fletcher Fosdick, he
+was busy at his office in New York and came to South Harniss only
+for infrequent week-ends.
+
+The walks and talks and poetizings were innocent enough.  Neither
+of the partners in poesy had the least idea of anything more than
+being just that.  They liked each other, they had come to call each
+other by their Christian names, and on Albert's bureau Madeline's
+photograph now stood openly and without apology.  Albert had
+convinced himself there was nothing to apologize for.  She was his
+friend, that was all.  He liked to write and she liked to help him--
+er--well, just as Helen used to when she was at home.  He did not
+think of Helen quite as often as formerly, nor were his letters to
+her as frequent or as long.
+
+So the summer passed and late August came, the last Saturday
+afternoon of that month.  Albert and Madeline were together,
+walking together along the beach from the knoll where they had met
+so often.  It was six o'clock and the beach was deserted.  There
+was little wind, the tiny waves were lapping and plashing along the
+shore, and the rosy light of the sinking sun lay warm upon the
+water and the sand.  They were thinking and speaking of the summer
+which was so near its end.
+
+"It has been a wonderful summer, hasn't it?" said Albert.
+
+"Yes, wonderful," agreed Madeline.
+
+"Yes, I--I--by George, I never believed a summer could be so
+wonderful."
+
+"Nor I."
+
+Silence.  Then Albert, looking at her, saw her eyes looking into
+his and saw in them--
+
+He kissed her.
+
+That morning Albert Speranza had arisen as usual, a casual,
+careless, perfectly human young fellow.  He went to bed that night
+a superman, an archangel, a demi-god, with his head in the clouds
+and the earth a cloth of gold beneath his feet.  Life was a pathway
+through Paradise arched with rainbows.
+
+He and Madeline Fosdick loved each other madly, devotedly.  They
+were engaged to be married.  They had plighted troth.  They were to
+be each other's, and no one else's, for ever--and ever--and ever.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+
+The remainder of that summer was a paradisical meandering over the
+cloth of gold beneath the rainbows.  Albert and his Madeline met
+often, very often.  Few poems were written at these meetings.  Why
+trouble to put penciled lines on paper when the entire universe was
+a poem especially composed for your benefit?  The lovers sat upon
+the knoll amid the sand dunes and gazed at the bay and talked of
+themselves separately, individually, and, more especially,
+collectively.  They strolled through the same woody lanes and
+discussed the same satisfactory subjects.  They met at the post
+office or at the drug store and gazed into each other's eyes.  And,
+what was the most astonishing thing about it all, their secret
+remained undiscovered.  Undiscovered, that is to say, by those by
+whom discovery would have meant calamity.  The gossips among the
+townspeople winked and chuckled and cal'lated Fletcher Fosdick had
+better look out or his girl would be took into the firm of Z. Snow
+and Co.  Issachar Price uttered sarcastic and sly innuendoes.  Jane
+Kelsey and her set ragged the pair occasionally.  But even these
+never really suspected that the affair was serious.  And neither
+Mrs. Fletcher Fosdick nor Captain and Mrs. Zelotes Snow gave it a
+minute's attention.
+
+It was serious enough with the principals, however.  To them it was
+the only serious matter in the world.  Not that they faced or
+discussed the future with earnest and complete attention.  Some day
+or other--that was of course the mutually accepted idea--some day
+or other they were to marry.  In the meantime here was the blissful
+present with its roses and rainbows and here, for each, was the
+other.  What would be likely to happen when the Fosdick parents
+learned of the engagement of their only child to the assistant
+bookkeeper of the South Harniss lumber and hardware company was
+unpleasant to contemplate, so why contemplate it?  Upon one point
+they were agreed--never, never, NEVER would they give each other
+up.  No power on earth--which included parents and grandparents--
+should or could separate them.
+
+Albert's conscience troubled him slightly at first when he thought
+of Helen Kendall.  It had been in reality such a short time--
+although of course it seemed ages and ages--since he had fancied
+himself in love with her.  Only the previous fall--yes, even
+that very spring, he had asked her to pledge herself to him.
+Fortunately--oh, how very fortunately!--she had refused, and he had
+been left free.  Now he knew that his fancied love for her had been
+merely a passing whim, a delusion of the moment.  This--THIS which
+he was now experiencing was the grand passion of his life.  He
+wrote a poem with the title, "The Greater Love"--and sold it, too,
+to a sensational periodical which circulated largely among
+sentimental shopgirls.  It is but truthful to state that the editor
+of the magazine to which he first submitted it sent it back with
+the brief note--"This is a trifle too syrupy for our use.  Fear the
+pages might stick.  Why not send us another war verse?"  Albert
+treated the note and the editor with the contempt they deserved.
+He pitied the latter; poor soul, doubtless HE had never known the
+greater love.
+
+He and Madeline had agreed that they would tell no one--no one at
+all--of their betrothal.  It should be their own precious secret
+for the present.  So, under the circumstances, he could not write
+Helen the news.  But ought he to write her at all?  That question
+bothered him not a little.  He no longer loved her--in fact, he was
+now certain that he never had loved her--but he liked her, and he
+wanted her to keep on liking him.  And she wrote to him with
+regularity.  What ought he to do about writing her?
+
+He debated the question with himself and, at last, and with some
+trepidation, asked Madeline's opinion of his duty in the matter.
+Her opinion was decisive and promptly given.  Of course he must not
+write Helen again.  "How would you like it if I corresponded with
+another fellow?" she asked.  Candor forced him to admit that he
+should not like it at all.  "But I want to behave decently," he
+said.  "She is merely a friend of mine"--oh, how short is memory!--
+"but we have been friends for a long time and I wouldn't want to
+hurt her feelings."  "No, instead you prefer to hurt mine."  "Now,
+dearest, be reasonable."  It was their nearest approach to a
+quarrel and was a very, very sad affair.  The making-up was sweet,
+of course, but the question of further correspondence with Helen
+Kendall remained just where it was at the beginning.  And,
+meanwhile, the correspondence lapsed.
+
+September came far, far too soon--came and ended.  And with it
+ended also the stay of the Fosdicks in South Harniss.  Albert and
+Madeline said good-by at their rendezvous by the beach.  It was a
+sad, a tearful, but a very precious farewell.  They would write
+each other every day, they would think of each other every minute
+of every day, they would live through the winter somehow and look
+forward to the next spring and their next meeting.
+
+"You will write--oh, ever and ever so many poems, won't you, dear?"
+begged Madeline.  "You know how I love them.  And whenever I see
+one of your poems in print I shall be so proud of you--of MY poet."
+
+Albert promised to write ever and ever so many.  He felt that there
+would be no difficulty in writing reams of poems--inspired,
+glorious poems.  The difficulty would be in restraining himself
+from writing too many of them.  With Madeline Fosdick as an
+inspiration, poetizing became as natural as breathing.
+
+Then, which was unusual for them, they spoke of the future, the
+dim, vague, but so happy future, when Albert was to be the nation's
+poet laureate and Madeline, as Mrs. Laureate, would share his glory
+and wear, so to speak, his second-best laurels.  The disagreeable
+problems connected with the future they ignored, or casually
+dismissed with, "Never mind, dear, it will be all right by and by."
+Oh, it was a wonderful afternoon, a rosy, cloudy, happy, sorrowful,
+bitter-sweet afternoon.
+
+And the next morning Albert, peeping beneath Z. Snow and Co.'s
+office window shade, saw his heart's desire step aboard the train,
+saw that train puff out of the station, saw for just an instant a
+small hand waved behind the dingy glass of the car window.  His own
+hand waved in reply.  Then the raucous voice of Mr. Price broke the
+silence.
+
+"Who was you flappin' your flipper at?" inquired Issachar.  "Girl,
+I'll bet you!  Never saw such a critter as you be to chase after
+the girls.  Which one is it this time?"
+
+Albert made no reply.  Between embarrassment and sorrow he was
+incapable of speech.  Issachar, however, was not in that condition;
+at all times when awake, and sometimes when asleep, Mr. Price
+could, and usually did, speak.
+
+"Which one is it this time, Al?" demanded Issy.  "Eh?  Crimus, see
+him get red!  Haw, haw!  Labe," to Mr. Keeler, who came into the
+office from the inner room, "which girl do you cal'late Al here is
+wavin' by-bye to this mornin'?  Who's goin' away on the cars this
+mornin', Labe?"
+
+Laban, his hands full of the morning mail, absently replied that he
+didn't know.
+
+"Yes, you do, too," persisted Issy.  "You ain't listenin', that's
+all.  Who's leavin' town on the train just now?"
+
+"Eh?  Oh, I don't know.  The Small folks are goin' to Boston, I
+believe.  And George Bartlett's goin' to Ostable on court business,
+he told me.  Oh, yes, I believe Cap'n Lote said that Fosdick woman
+and her daughter were goin' back to New York.  Back to New York--
+yes--yes--yes."
+
+Mr. Price crowed triumphantly.  "Ah, ha!" he crowed.  "Ah, ha!
+That's the answer.  That's the one he's shakin' day-days to, that
+Fosdick girl.  I've seen you 'round with her at the post office and
+the ice cream s'loon.  I'm onto you, Al.  Haw, haw!  What's her
+name?  Adeline?  Dandelion?  Madeline?--that's it!  Say, how do you
+think Helen Kendall's goin' to like your throwin' kisses to the
+Madeline one, eh?"
+
+The assistant bookkeeper was still silent.  The crimson, however,
+was leaving his face and the said face was paling rapidly.  This
+was an ominous sign had Mr. Price but known it.  He did not know it
+and cackled merrily on,
+
+"Guess I'll have to tell Helen when she comes back home," he
+announced.  "Cal'late I'll put a flea in her ear.  'Helen,' I'll
+say, 'don't feel too bad now, don't cry and get your handkerchief
+all soakin', or nothin' like that.  I just feel it's my duty to
+tell ye that your little Albert is sparkin' up to somebody else.
+He's waitin' on a party by the name of Padeline--no, Madeline--
+Woodtick--no, Fosdick--and . . .'  Here! let go of me!  What are you
+doin'?"
+
+That last question was in the nature of a gurgle.  Albert, his face
+now very white indeed, had strode across the office, seized the
+speaker by the front of his flannel shirt and backed him against
+the wall.
+
+"Stop," commanded Albert, between his teeth.  "That's enough of
+that.  Don't you say any more!"
+
+"Eh?  Ugh!  Ur-gg!  Leggo of my shirt."
+
+Albert let go, but he did not step back.  He remained where he was,
+exactly in front of Mr. Price.
+
+"Don't you say any more about--about what you were saying," he
+repeated.
+
+"Eh?  Not say any more?  Why not?  Who's goin' to stop me, I'd like
+to know?"
+
+"I am."
+
+"I want to know!  What'll you do?"
+
+"I don't know.  If you weren't so old, I would--but I'll stop you,
+anyhow."
+
+Albert felt a hand on his arm and heard Mr. Keeler's voice at his
+ear.
+
+"Careful, Al, careful," it said.  "Don't hit him."
+
+"Of course I shan't hit him," indignantly.  "What do you think I
+am?  But he must promise not to mention--er--Miss Fosdick's name
+again."
+
+"Better promise, Is," suggested Laban.  Issachar's mouth opened,
+but no promise came forth.
+
+"Promise be darned!" he yelled furiously.  "Mention her name!  I'll
+mention any name I set out to, and no Italyun Portygee is goin' to
+stop me, neither."
+
+Albert glanced about the office.  By the wall stood two brimming
+pails of water, brought in by Mr. Price for floor-washing purposes.
+He lifted one of the pails.
+
+"If you don't promise I'll duck you," he declared.  "Let go of me,
+Keeler, I mean it."
+
+"Careful, Al, careful," said Mr. Keeler.  "Better promise, Is."
+
+"Promise nawthin'!  Fosdick!  What in time do I care for Fosdicks,
+Madelines or Padelines or Dandelions or--"
+
+His sentence stopped just there.  The remainder of it was washed
+back and down his throat by the deluge from the bucket.  Overcome
+by shock and surprise, Mr. Price leaned back against the wall and
+slid slowly down that wall until he reclined in a sitting posture,
+upon the floor.
+
+"Crimustee," he gasped, as soon as he could articulate, "I'm--awk--
+I'm drownded."
+
+Albert put down the empty bucket and picked up the full one.
+
+"Promise," he said again.
+
+Laban Keeler rubbed his chin.
+
+"I'd promise if I was you, Is," he said.  "You're some subject to
+rheumatism, you know."
+
+Issachar, sitting in a spreading puddle, looked damply upward at
+the remaining bucket.  "By crimustee--" he began.  Albert drew the
+bucket backward; the water dripped from its lower brim.
+
+"I--I--darn ye, I promise!" shouted Issachar.  Albert put down the
+bucket and walked back to his desk.  Laban watched him curiously,
+smiling just a little.  Then he turned to Mr. Price, who was
+scrambling to his feet.
+
+"Better get your mop and swab up here, Is," he said.  "Cap'n
+Lote'll be in 'most any minute."
+
+When Captain Zelotes did return to the office, Issachar was
+industriously sweeping out, Albert was hard at work at the books,
+and Laban was still rubbing his chin and smiling at nothing in
+particular.
+
+The next day Albert and Issachar made it up.  Albert apologized.
+
+"I'm sorry, Issy," he said.  "I shouldn't have done it, but you
+made me mad.  I have a--rather mean temper, I'm afraid.  Forgive
+me, will you?"
+
+He held out his hand, and Issachar, after a momentary hesitation,
+took it.
+
+"I forgive you this time, Al," he said solemnly, "but don't never
+do nothin' like it again, will ye?  When I went home for dinner
+yesterday noon I give you my word my clothes was kind of dampish
+even then.  If it hadn't been nice warm sunshine and I was out
+doors and dried off considerable I'd a had to change everything,
+underclothes and all, and 'tain't but the middle of the week yet."
+
+His ducking had an effect which Albert noticed with considerable
+satisfaction--he was never quite as flippantly personal in his
+comments concerning the assistant bookkeeper.  He treated the
+latter, if not with respect, at least with something distantly akin
+to it.
+
+After Madeline's departure the world was very lonely indeed.
+Albert wrote long, long letters and received replies which varied
+in length but never in devotion.  Miss Fosdick was obliged to be
+cautious in her correspondence with her lover.  "You will forgive
+me if this is not much more than a note, won't you, dear?" she
+wrote.  "Mother seems to be very curious of late about my letters
+and to whom I write and I had to just steal the opportunity this
+morning."  An older and more apprehensive person might have found
+Mrs. Fosdick's sudden interest in her daughter's correspondence
+suspicious and a trifle alarming, but Albert never dreamed of being
+alarmed.
+
+He wrote many poems, all dealing with love and lovers, and sold
+some of them.  He wrote no more letters to Helen.  She, too, had
+ceased to write him, doubtless because of the lack of reply to her
+last two or three letters.  His conscience still troubled him about
+Helen; he could not help feeling that his treatment of her had not
+been exactly honorable.  Yet what else under the circumstances
+could he do?  From Mr. Kendall he learned that she was coming home
+to spend Thanksgiving.  He would see her then.  She would ask him
+questions?  What should his answer be?  He faced the situation in
+anticipation many, many times, usually after he had gone to bed at
+night, and lay awake through long torturing hours in consequence.
+
+But when at last Helen and he did meet, the day before Thanksgiving,
+their meeting was not at all the dreadful ordeal he had feared.  Her
+greeting was as frank and cordial as it had always been, and there
+was no reproach in her tone or manner.  She did not even ask him why
+he had stopped writing.  It was he, himself, who referred to that
+subject, and he did so as they walked together down the main road.
+Just why he referred to it he could not probably have told.  He was
+aware only that he felt mean and contemptible and that he must offer
+some explanation.  His not having any to offer made the task rather
+difficult.
+
+But she saved him the trouble.  She interrupted one of his
+blundering, stumbling sentences in the middle.
+
+"Never mind, Albert," she said quietly.  "You needn't explain.  I
+think I understand."
+
+He stopped and stared at her.  "You understand?" he repeated.
+"Why--why, no, you don't.  You can't."
+
+"Yes, I can, or I think I can.  You have changed your mind, that is
+all."
+
+"Changed my mind?"
+
+"Yes.  Don't you remember I told you you would change your mind
+about--well, about me?  You were so sure you cared so very, very
+much for me, you know.  And I said you mustn't promise anything
+because I thought you would change your mind.  And you have.  That
+is it, isn't it?  You have found some one else."
+
+He gazed at her as if she were a witch who had performed a miracle.
+
+"Why--why--well, by George!" he exclaimed.  "Helen--how--how did
+you know?  Who told you?"
+
+"No one told me.  But I think I can even guess who it is you have
+found.  It is Madeline Fosdick, isn't it?"
+
+His amazement now was so open-mouthed as well as open-eyed that she
+could not help smiling.
+
+"Don't!  Don't stare at me like that," she whispered.  "Every one
+is looking at you.  There is old Captain Pease on the other side of
+the street; I'm sure he thinks you have had a stroke or something.
+Here!  Walk down our road a little way toward home with me.  We can
+talk as we walk.  I'm sure," she added, with just the least bit of
+change in her tone, "that your Madeline won't object to our being
+together to that extent."
+
+She led the way down the side street toward the parsonage and he
+followed her.  He was still speechless from surprise.
+
+"Well," she went on, after a moment, "aren't you going to say
+anything?"
+
+"But--but, Helen," he faltered, "how did you know?"
+
+She smiled again.  "Then it IS Madeline," she said.  "I thought it
+must be."
+
+"You--you thought--  What made you think so?"
+
+For an instant she seemed on the point of losing her patience.
+
+Then she turned and laid her hand on his arm.
+
+"Oh, Al," she said, "please don't think I am altogether an idiot.
+I surmised when your letters began to grow shorter and--well,
+different--that there was something or some one who was changing
+them, and I suspected it was some one.  When you stopped writing
+altogether, I KNEW there must be.  Then father wrote in his letters
+about you and about meeting you, and so often Madeline Fosdick was
+wherever he met you.  So I guessed--and, you see, I guessed right."
+
+He seized her hand.
+
+"Oh, Helen," he cried, "if you only knew how mean I have felt and
+how ashamed I am of the way I have treated you!  But, you see, I--I
+COULDN'T write you and tell you because we had agreed to keep it a
+secret.  I couldn't tell ANY ONE."
+
+"Oh, it is as serious as that!  Are you two really and truly
+engaged?"
+
+"Yes.  There!  I've told it, and I swore I would never tell."
+
+"No, no, you didn't tell.  I guessed.  Now tell me all about her.
+She is very lovely.  Is she as sweet as she looks?"
+
+He rhapsodized for five minutes.  Then all at once he realized what
+he was saying and to whom he was saying it.  He stopped, stammering,
+in the very middle of a glowing eulogium.
+
+"Go on," said Helen reassuringly.  But he could not go on, under
+the circumstances.  Instead he turned very red.  As usual, she
+divined his thought, noticed his confusion, and took pity on it.
+
+"She must be awfully nice," she said.  "I don't wonder you fell in
+love with her.  I wish I might know her better."
+
+"I wish you might.  By and by you must.  And she must know you.
+Helen, I--I feel so ashamed of--of--"
+
+"Hush, or I shall begin to think you are ashamed because you liked
+me--or thought you did."
+
+"But I do like you.  Next to Madeline there is no one I like so
+much.  But, but, you see, it is different."
+
+"Of course it is.  And it ought to be.  Does her mother--do her
+people know of the engagement?"
+
+He hesitated momentarily.  "No-o," he admitted, "they don't yet.
+She and I have decided to keep it a secret from any one for the
+present.  I want to get on a little further with my writing, you
+know.  She is like you in that, Helen--she's awfully fond of poetry
+and literature."
+
+"Especially yours, I'm sure.  Tell me about your writing.  How are
+you getting on?"
+
+So he told her and, until they stood together at the parsonage
+gate, Madeline's name was not again mentioned.  Then Helen put out
+her hand.
+
+"Good morning, Albert," she said.  "I'm glad we have had this talk,
+ever so glad."
+
+"By George, so am I!  You're a corking friend, Helen.  The chap who
+does marry you will be awfully lucky."
+
+She smiled slightly.  "Perhaps there won't be any such chap," she
+said.  "I shall always be a schoolmarm, I imagine."
+
+"Indeed you won't," indignantly.  "I have too high an opinion of
+men for that."
+
+She smiled again, seemed about to speak, and then to change her
+mind.  An instant later she said,
+
+"I must go in now.  But I shall hope to see you again before I go
+back to the city.  And, after your secret is out and the engagement
+is announced, I want to write Madeline, may I?"
+
+"Of course you may.  And she'll like you as much as I do."
+
+"Will she? . . .  Well, perhaps; we'll hope so."
+
+"Certainly she will.  And you won't let my treating you as--as I
+have make any difference in our friendship?"
+
+"No.  We shall always be friends, I hope.  Good-by."
+
+She went into the house.  He waited a moment, hoping she might turn
+again before entering, but she did not.  He walked home, pondering
+deeply, his thoughts a curious jumble of relief and dissatisfaction.
+He was glad Helen had seen her duty and given him over to Madeline,
+but he felt a trifle piqued to think she had done it with such
+apparent willingness.  If she had wept or scolded it would have been
+unpleasant but much more gratifying to his self-importance.
+
+He could not help realizing, however, that her attitude toward him
+was exceptionally fine.  He knew well that he, if in her place,
+would not have behaved as she had done.  No spite, no sarcasm, no
+taunts, no unpleasant reminders of things said only a few months
+before.  And with all her forgiveness and forbearance and
+understanding there had been always that sense of greater age and
+wisdom; she had treated him as she might have treated a boy,
+younger brother, perhaps.
+
+"She IS older than I am," he thought, "even if she really isn't.
+It's funny, but it's a fact."
+
+December came and Christmas, and then January and the new year, the
+year 1917.  In January, Z. Snow and Co. took its yearly account of
+stock, and Captain Lote and Laban and Albert and Issachar were
+truly busy during the days of stock-taking week and tired when
+evening came.  Laban worked the hardest of the quartette, but Issy
+made the most fuss about it.  Labe, who had chosen the holiday
+season to go on one of his periodical vacations, as rather white
+and shaky and even more silent than usual.  Mr. Price, however,
+talked with his customary fluency and continuity, so there was no
+lack of conversation.  Captain Zelotes was moved to comment.
+
+"Issy," he suggested gravely, looking up from a long column of
+figures, "did you ever play 'Door'?"
+
+Issachar stared at him.
+
+"Play 'Door'?" he repeated.  "What's that?"
+
+"It's a game.  Didn't you ever play it?"
+
+"No, don't know's I ever did."
+
+"Then you'd better begin right this minute.  The first thing to do
+is to shut up and the next is to stay that way.  You play 'Door'
+until I tell you to do somethin' else; d'you hear?"
+
+At home the week between Christmas and the New Year was rather
+dismal.  Mr. Keeler's holiday vacation had brought on one of his
+fiancee's "sympathetic attacks," and she tied up her head and hung
+crape upon her soul, as usual.  During these attacks the Snow
+household walked on tiptoe, as if the housekeeper were an invalid
+in reality.  Even consoling speeches from Albert, who with Laban
+when the latter was sober, enjoyed in her mind the distinction of
+being the reincarnation of "Robert Penfold," brought no relief to
+the suffering Rachel.  Nothing but the news brought by the milkman,
+that "Labe was taperin' off," and would probably return to his desk
+in a few days, eased her pain.
+
+One forenoon about the middle of the month Captain Zelotes himself
+stopped in at the post office for the morning mail.  When he
+returned to the lumber company's building he entered quietly and
+walked to his own desk with a preoccupied air.  For the half hour
+before dinner time he sat there, smoking his pipe, and speaking to
+no one unless spoken to.  The office force noticed his preoccupation
+and commented upon it.
+
+"What ails the old man, Al?" whispered Issachar, peering in around
+the corner of the door at the silent figure tilted back in the
+revolving chair, its feet upon the corner of the desk.  "Ain't said
+so much as 'Boo' for up'ards of twenty minutes, has he?  I was in
+there just now fillin' up his ink-stand and, by crimus, I let a
+great big gob of ink come down ker-souse right in the middle of the
+nice, clean blottin' paper in front of him.  I held my breath,
+cal'latin' to catch what Stephen Peter used to say he caught when
+he went fishin' Sundays.  Stevey said he generally caught cold when
+he went and always caught the Old Harry when he got back.  I
+cal'lated to catch the Old Harry part sure, 'cause Captain Lote is
+always neat and fussy 'bout his desk.  But no, the old man never
+said a word.  I don't believe he knew the ink was spilled at all.
+What's on his mind, Al; do you know?"
+
+Albert did not know, so he asked Laban.  Laban shook his head.
+
+"Give it up, Al," he whispered.  "Somethin's happened to bother
+him, that's sartin'.  When Cap'n Lote gets his feet propped up and
+his head tilted back that way I can 'most generally cal'late he's
+doin' some real thinkin'.  Real thinkin'--yes, sir-ee--um-hm--yes--
+yes.  When he h'ists his boots up to the masthead that way it's
+safe to figger his brains have got steam up.  Um-hm--yes indeed."
+
+"But what is he thinking about?  And why is he so quiet?"
+
+"I give up both riddles, Al.  He's the only one's got the answers
+and when he gets ready enough maybe he'll tell 'em.  Until then
+it'll pay us fo'mast hands to make believe we're busy, even if we
+ain't.  Hear that, do you, Is?"
+
+"Hear what?" demanded Issachar, who was gazing out of the window,
+his hands in his pockets.
+
+"I say it will pay us--you and Al and me--to make believe we're
+workin' even if we ain't."
+
+"'Workin'!" indignantly.  "By crimus, I AM workin'!  I don't have to
+make believe."
+
+"That so?  Well, then, I'd pick up that coal-hod and make believe
+play for a spell.  The fire's 'most out.  Almost--um-hm--pretty
+nigh--yes--yes."
+
+Albert and his grandfather walked home to dinner together, as was
+their custom, but still the captain remained silent.  During dinner
+he spoke not more than a dozen words and Albert several times
+caught Mrs. Snow regarding her husband intently and with a rather
+anxious look.  She did not question him, however, but Rachel was
+not so reticent.
+
+"Mercy on us, Cap'n Lote," she demanded, "what IS the matter?
+You're as dumb as a mouthful of mush.  I don't believe you've said
+ay, yes or no since we sat down to table.  Are you sick?"
+
+Her employer's calm was unruffled.
+
+"No-o," he answered, with deliberation.
+
+"That's a comfort.  What's the matter, then; don't you WANT to
+talk?"
+
+"No-o."
+
+"Oh," with a toss of the head, "well, I'm glad I know.  I was
+beginnin' to be afraid you'd forgotten how."
+
+The captain helped himself to another fried "tinker" mackerel.
+
+"No danger of that around here, Rachel," he said serenely.  "So
+long as my hearin's good I couldn't forget--not in this house."
+
+Olive detained her grandson as he was following Captain Zelotes
+from the dining room.
+
+"What's wrong with him, Albert?" she whispered.  "Do you know?"
+
+"No, I don't, Grandmother.  Do you think there is anything wrong?"
+
+"I know there's somethin' troublin' him.  I've lived with him too
+many years not to know the signs.  Oh, Albert--you haven't done
+anything to displease him, have you?"
+
+"No, indeed, Grandmother.  Whatever it is, it isn't that."
+
+When they reached the office, the captain spoke to Mr. Keeler.
+
+"Had your dinner, Labe?" he asked.
+
+"Yes--yes, indeed.  Don't take me long to eat--not at my boardin'
+house.  A feller'd have to have paralysis to make eatin' one of
+Lindy Dadgett's meals take more'n a half hour.  Um-hm--yes."
+
+Despite his preoccupation, Captain Zelotes could not help smiling.
+
+"To make it take an hour he'd have to be ossified, wouldn't he,
+like the feller in the circus sideshow?" he observed.
+
+Laban nodded.  "That--or dead," he replied.  "Yes--just about--just
+so, Cap'n."
+
+"Where's Issachar?"
+
+"He's eatin' yet, I cal'late.  He don't board at Lindy's."
+
+"When he gets back set him to pilin' that new carload of spruce
+under Number Three shed.  Keep him at it."
+
+"Yes, sir.  Um-hm.  All right."
+
+Captain Zelotes turned to his grandson.  "Come in here, Al," he
+said.  "I want to see you for a few minutes."
+
+Albert followed him into the inner office.  He wondered what in the
+world his grandfather wished to see him about, in this very private
+fashion.
+
+"Sit down, Al," said the captain, taking his own chair and pointing
+to another.  "Oh, wait a minute, though!  Maybe you'd better shut
+that hatch first."
+
+The "hatch" was the transom over the door between the offices.
+Albert, remembering how a previous interview between them had been
+overheard because of that open transom, glanced at his grandfather.
+The twinkle in the latter's eye showed that he too, remembered.
+Albert closed the "hatch."  When he came back to his seat the
+twinkle had disappeared; Captain Zelotes looked serious enough.
+
+"Well, Grandfather?" queried the young man, after waiting a moment.
+The captain adjusted his spectacles, reached into the inside pocket
+of his coat and produced an envelope.  It was a square envelope
+with either a trade-mark or a crest upon the back.  Captain Lote
+did not open the envelope, but instead tapped his desk with it and
+regarded his grandson in a meditative way.
+
+"Al," he said slowly, "has it seemed to you that your cruise aboard
+this craft of ours here had been a little smoother the last year or
+two than it used to be afore that?"
+
+Albert, by this time well accustomed to his grandfather's nautical
+phraseology, understood that the "cruise" referred to was his
+voyage as assistant bookkeeper with Z. Snow and Co.  He nodded.
+
+"I have tried to make it so," he answered.  "I mean I have tried to
+make it smoother for you."
+
+"Um-hm, I think you have tried.  I don't mind tellin' you that it
+has pleased me consid'ble to watch you try.  I don't mean by that,"
+he added, with a slight curve of the lip, "that you'd win first
+prize as a lightnin'-calculator even yet, but you're a whole lot
+better one than you used to be.  I've been considerable encouraged
+about you; I don't mind tellin' you that either. . . .  And," he
+added, after another interval during which he was, apparently,
+debating just how much of an admission it was safe to make, "so far
+as I can see, this poetry foolishness of yours hasn't interfered
+with your work any to speak of."
+
+Albert smiled.  "Thanks, Grandfather," he said.
+
+"You're welcome.  So much for that.  But there's another side to
+our relations together, yours and mine, that I haven't spoken of to
+you afore.  And I have kept still on purpose.  I've figgered that
+so long as you kept straight and didn't go off the course, didn't
+drink or gamble, or go wild or the like of that, what you did was
+pretty much your own business.  I've noticed you're considerable of
+a feller with the girls, but I kept an eye on the kind of girls and
+I will say that so far as I can see, you've picked the decent kind.
+I say so far as I can see.  Of course I ain't fool enough to
+believe I see all you do, or know all you do.  I've been young
+myself, and when I get to thinkin' how much I know about you I try
+to set down and remember how much my dad didn't know about me when
+I was your age.  That--er--helps some toward givin' me my correct
+position on the chart."
+
+He paused.  Albert's brain was vainly striving to guess what all
+this meant.  What was he driving at?  The captain crossed his legs
+and continued.
+
+"I did think for a spell," he said, "that you and Helen Kendall were
+gettin' to understand each other pretty well.  Well, Helen's a good
+girl and your grandma and I like her.  Course we didn't cal'late
+anything very serious was liable to come of the understandin', not
+for some time, anyhow, for with your salary and--well, sort of
+unsettled prospects, I gave you credit for not figgerin' on pickin'
+a wife right away. . . .  Haven't got much laid by to support a wife
+on, have you, Al?"
+
+Albert's expression had changed during the latter portion of the
+speech.  Now he was gazing intently at his grandfather and at the
+letter in the latter's hands.  He was beginning to guess, to dread,
+to be fearful.
+
+"Haven't got much to support a wife on, Al, have you?" repeated
+Captain Zelotes.
+
+"No, sir, not now."
+
+"Um. . . .  But you hope to have by and by, eh?  Well, I hope you
+will.  But UNTIL you have it would seem to older folks like me kind
+of risky navigatin' to--to . . .  Oh, there was a letter in the
+mail for you this mornin, Al."
+
+He put down the envelope he had hitherto held in his hand and,
+reaching into his pocket, produced another.  Even before he had
+taken it from his grandfather's hand Albert recognized the
+handwriting.  It was from Madeline.
+
+Captain Zelotes, regarding him keenly, leaned back again in his
+chair.  "Read it if you want to, Al," he said.  "Maybe you'd
+better.  I can wait."
+
+Albert hesitated a moment and then tore open the envelope.  The
+note within was short, evidently written in great haste and
+agitation and was spotted with tear stains.  He read it, his cheeks
+paling and his hand shaking as he did so.  Something dreadful had
+happened.  Mother--Mrs. Fosdick, of course--had discovered
+everything.  She had found all his--Albert's--letters and read
+them.  She was furious.  There had been the most terrible scene.
+Madeline was in her own room and was smuggling him this letter by
+Mary, her maid,
+
+
+who will do anything for me, and has promised to mail it.  Oh,
+dearest, they say I must give you up.  They say--  Oh, they say
+dreadful things about you!  Mother declares she will take me to
+Japan or some frightful place and keep me there until I forget you.
+I don't care if they take me to the ends of the earth, I shall
+NEVER forget you.  I will never--never--NEVER give you up.  And you
+mustn't give me up, will you, darling?  They say I must never write
+you again.  But you see I have--and I shall.  Oh, what SHALL we do?
+I was SO happy and now I am so miserable.  Write me the minute you
+get this, but oh, I KNOW they won't let me see your letters and
+then I shall die.  But write, write just the same, every day.  Oh
+what SHALL we do?
+
+Yours, always and always, no matter what everyone does or says,
+lovingly and devotedly,
+
+MADELINE.
+
+
+When the reading was finished Albert sat silently staring at the
+floor, seeing it through a wet mist.  Captain Zelotes watched him,
+his heavy brows drawn together and the smoke wreaths from his pipe
+curling slowly upward toward the office ceiling.  At length he
+said:
+
+"Well, Al, I had a letter, too.  I presume likely it came from the
+same port even if not from the same member of the family.  It's
+about you, and I think you'd better read it, maybe.  I'll read it
+to you, if you'd rather."
+
+Albert shook his head and held out his hand for the second letter.
+His grandfather gave it to him, saying as he did so:  "I'd like to
+have you understand, Al, that I don't necessarily believe all that
+she says about you in this thing."
+
+"Thanks, Grandfather," mechanically.
+
+"All right, boy."
+
+The second letter was, as he had surmised, from Mrs. Fosdick.  It
+had evidently been written at top speed and at a mental temperature
+well above the boiling point.  Mrs. Fosdick addressed Captain
+Zelotes Snow because she had been given to understand that he was
+the nearest relative, or guardian, or whatever it was, of the
+person concerning whom the letter was written and therefore, it was
+presumed, might be expected to have some measure of control over
+that person's actions.  The person was, of course, one Albert
+Speranza, and Mrs. Fosdick proceeded to set forth her version of
+his conduct in sentences which might almost have blistered the
+paper.  Taking advantage of her trust in her daughter's good sense
+and ability to take care of herself--which trust it appeared had
+been in a measure misplaced--he, the Speranza person, had
+sneakingly, underhandedly and in a despicably clandestine fashion--
+the lady's temper had rather gotten away from her here--succeeded
+in meeting her daughter in various places and by various
+disgraceful means and had furthermore succeeded in ensnaring her
+youthful affections, et cetera, et cetera.
+
+
+"The poor child actually believes herself in love with him," wrote
+the poor child's mother.  "She protests ridiculously that she is
+engaged to him and will marry him in spite of her father or myself
+or the protests of sensible people.  I write to you, therefore,
+assuming you likewise to be a sensible person, and requesting that
+you use your influence with the--to put the most charitable
+interpretation of his conduct--misguided and foolish young man and
+show him the preposterous folly of his pretended engagement to my
+daughter.  Of course the whole affair, CORRESPONDENCE INCLUDED,
+must cease and terminate AT ONCE."
+
+
+And so on for two more pages.  The color had returned to Albert's
+cheeks long before he finished reading.  When he had finished he
+rose to his feet and, throwing the letter upon his grandfather's
+desk, turned away.
+
+"Well, Al?" queried Captain Zelotes.
+
+Albert's face, when he turned back to answer, was whiter than ever,
+but his eyes flashed fire.
+
+"Do you believe that?" he demanded.
+
+"What?"
+
+"That--that stuff about my being a--a sneak and--and ensnaring her--
+and all the rest?  Do you?"
+
+The captain took his pipe from his mouth.
+
+"Steady, son, steady," he said.  "Didn't I tell you before you
+begun to read at all that I didn't necessarily believe it because
+that woman wrote it."
+
+"You--you or no one else had better believe it.  It's a lie."
+
+"All right, I'm glad to hear you say so.  But there's a little mite
+of truth here and there amongst the lies, I presume likely.  For
+instance, you and this Fosdick girl have been--er--keepin' company?"
+
+"Her name is Madeline--and we are engaged to be married."
+
+"Oh!  Hum--I see--I see.  And, bein' as the old lady--her mother,
+Mrs. Fosdick, I mean--hasn't suspected anything, or, at any rate,
+hasn't found out anything until now, yesterday, or whenever it was,
+I judge you have been meetin'--er--Madeline at places where there
+wasn't--well, too large a crowd.  Eh?"
+
+Albert hesitated and was, momentarily, a trifle embarrassed.  But
+he recovered at once.
+
+"I met her first at the drug store last summer," he said defiantly.
+"Then I met her after that at the post office and at the hotel
+dance last fall, and so on.  This year I met her--well, I met her
+first down by the beach, where I went to write.  She liked poetry
+and--and she helped me with mine.  After that she came--well, she
+came to help me again.  And after that--after that--"
+
+"After that it just moved along kind of natural, eh?  Um-hm, I
+see."
+
+"Look here, Grandfather, I want you to understand that she is--is--
+by George, she is the cleanest, finest, best girl in the world.
+Don't you get the idea that--that she isn't.  She came to meet me
+just because she was interested in my verse and wanted to help.  It
+wasn't until the very last that we--that we found out we cared for
+each other."
+
+"All right, boy, all right.  Go on, tell me the whole yarn, if you
+feel like it.  I don't want to pry too much into your affairs, but,
+after all, I AM interested in those affairs, Al.  Tell me as much
+as you can."
+
+"I'll tell you the whole.  There's nothing I can't tell, nothing
+I'm not proud to tell.  By George, I ought to be proud!  Why,
+Grandfather, she's wonderful!"
+
+"Sartin, son, sartin.  They always are.  I mean she is, of course.
+Heave ahead."
+
+So Albert told his love story.  When he had finished Captain
+Zelote's pipe was empty, and he put it down.
+
+"Albert," he said slowly, "I judge you mean this thing seriously.
+You mean to marry her some day."
+
+"Yes, indeed I do.  And I won't give her up, either.  Her mother--
+why, what right has her mother got to say--to treat her in this
+way?  Or to call me what she calls me in that letter?  Why, by
+George--"
+
+"Easy, son.  As I understand it, this Madeline of yours is the only
+child the Fosdicks have got and when our only child is in danger of
+bein' carried off by somebody else--why, well, their mothers and
+fathers are liable to be just a little upset, especially if it
+comes on 'em sudden. . . .  Nobody knows that better than I do," he
+added slowly.
+
+Albert recognized the allusion, but he was not in the mood to be
+affected by it.  He was not, just then, ready to make allowances
+for any one, particularly the parental Fosdicks.
+
+"They have no business to be upset--not like that, anyhow," he
+declared.  "What does that woman know about me?  What right has she
+to say that I ensnared Madeline's affection and all that rot?
+Madeline and I fell in love with each other, just as other people
+have, I suppose."
+
+"You suppose right," observed Captain Zelotes, dryly.  "Other
+people have--a good many of 'em since Adam's time."
+
+"Well, then!  And what right has she to give orders that I stop
+writing or seeing Madeline,--all that idiotic stuff about ceasing
+and terminating at once?  She--she--"  His agitation was making him
+incoherent--"She talks like Lord Somebody-or-other in an old-
+fashioned novel or play or something.  Those old fools were always
+rejecting undesirable suitors and ordering their daughters to do
+this and that, breaking their hearts, and so on.  But that sort of
+thing doesn't go nowadays.  Young people have their own ideas."
+
+"Um-hm, Al; so I've noticed."
+
+"Yes, indeed they have.  Now, if Madeline wants to marry me and I
+want to marry her, who will stop us?"
+
+The captain pulled at his beard.
+
+"Why, nobody, Al, as I know of," he said; "provided you both keep
+on wantin' to marry each other long enough."
+
+"Keep on wanting long enough?  What do you mean by that?"
+
+"Why, nothin' much, perhaps; only gettin' married isn't all just
+goin' to the parson.  After the ceremony the rent begins and the
+grocers' bills and the butchers' and the bakers' and a thousand or
+so more.  Somebody's got to pay 'em, and the money's got to come
+from somewhere.  Your wages here, Al, poetry counted in, ain't so
+very big yet.  Better wait a spell before you settle down to
+married life, hadn't you?"
+
+"Well--well, I--I didn't say we were to be married right away,
+Grandfather.  She and I aren't unreasonable.  I'm doing better and
+better with my writings.  Some day I'll make enough, and more.  Why
+not?"
+
+There was enough of the Speranza egotism in this confident
+assurance to bring the twinkle to the captain's eye.  He twisted
+his beard between his finger and thumb and regarded his grandson
+mildly.
+
+"Have you any idea how much 'enough' is liable to be, Al?" he
+inquired.  "I don't know the facts about 'em, of course, but from
+what I have heard I judge the Fosdicks have got plenty of cash.
+I've heard it estimated around town from one million to fifty
+millions.  Allowin' it's only one million, it seems likely that
+your--er--what's-her-name--Madeline has been used to havin' as much
+as fifty cents to spend whenever she wanted it.  Do you cal'late to
+be able to earn enough makin' up poetry to keep her the way her
+folks have been doin'?"
+
+"No, of course not--not at first."
+
+"Oh, but later on--when the market price of poetry has gone up--you
+can, eh?"
+
+"Look here, Grandfather, if you're making fun of me I tell you I
+won't stand it.  This is serious; I mean it.  Madeline and I are
+going to be married some time and no one can stop us."
+
+"All right, son, all right.  But it did seem to me that in the
+light of this letter from--er--your mother-in-law that's goin' to
+be, we ought to face the situation moderately square, anyhow.
+First comes marriage.  Well, that's easy; any fool can get married,
+lots of 'em do.  But then, as I said, comes supportin' yourself and
+wife--bills, bills, and more bills.  You'll say that you and she
+will economize and fight it out together.  Fine, first-rate, but
+later on there may be more of you, a child, children perhaps--"
+
+"Grandfather!"
+
+"It's possible, son.  Such things do happen, and they cost money.
+More mouths to feed.  Now I take it for granted that you aren't
+marryin' the Fosdick girl for her money--"
+
+The interruption was prompt and made with fiery indignation.
+
+"I never thought of her money," declared Albert.  "I don't even
+know that she has any.  If she has, I don't want it.  I wouldn't
+take it.  She is all I want."
+
+Captain Zelotes' lip twitched.
+
+"Judgin' from the tone of her ma's last letter to me," he observed,
+"she is all you would be liable to get.  It don't read as if many--
+er--weddin' presents from the bride's folks would come along with
+her.  But, there, there, Al don't get mad.  I know this is a long
+ways from bein' a joke to you and, in a way, it's no joke for me.
+Course I had realized that some day you'd be figgerin', maybe, on
+gettin' married, but I did hope the figgerin' wouldn't begin for
+some years yet.  And when you did, I rather hoped--well, I--I
+hoped. . . .  However, we won't stop to bother with that now.
+Let's stick to this letter of Mrs. Fosdick's here.  I must answer
+that, I suppose, whether I want to or not, to-day.  Well, Al, you
+tell me, I understand that there has been nothin' underhand in your
+acquaintance with her daughter.  Other than keepin' the engagement
+a secret, that is?"
+
+"Yes, I do."
+
+"And you mean to stick by your guns and. . . .  Well, what is it?
+Come in!"
+
+There had been a knock upon the office door.  In answer to his
+employer's summons, Mr. Keeler appeared.  He held a card in his
+hand.
+
+"Sorry to disturb you, Cap'n Lote," he said.  "Yes, I be, yes, sir.
+But I judged maybe 'twas somethin' important about the lumber for
+his house and he seemed anxious to see you, so I took the risk and
+knocked.  Um-hm--yes, yes, yes."
+
+Captain Zelotes looked at the card.  Then he adjusted his spectacles
+and looked again.
+
+"Humph!" he grunted.  "Humph! . . .  We-ell, Labe, I guess likely
+you might show him in here.  Wait just a minute before you do it,
+though.  I'll open the door when I want him to come."
+
+"All right, Cap'n Lote.  Yes, yes," observed Mr. Keeler and
+departed.  The captain looked thoughtfully at the card.
+
+"Al," he said, after a moment's reflection, "we'll have to cut this
+talk of ours short for a little spell.  You go back to your desk
+and wait there until I call you.  Hold on," as his grandson moved
+toward the door of the outer office.  "Don't go that way.  Go out
+through the side door into the yard and come in the front way.
+There's--er--there's a man waitin' to see me, and--er--perhaps he'd
+better not see you first."
+
+Albert stared at him uncomprehendingly.
+
+"Better not see ME?" he repeated.  "Why shouldn't he see me?"
+
+Captain Zelotes handed the card to Albert.
+
+"Better let me talk with him first, Al," he said.  "You can have
+your chance later on."
+
+The card bore the name of Mr. Fletcher Story Fosdick.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+
+Albert read the name on the card.  He was too astonished to speak.
+Her father!  He was here!  He--
+
+His grandfather spoke again, and his tone was brisk and businesslike.
+
+"Go on, Al," he ordered.  "Out through this side door and around to
+the front.  Lively, son, lively!"
+
+But the young man's wits were returning.  He scowled at the card.
+
+"No," he said stoutly, "I'm not going to run away.  I'm not afraid
+of him.  I haven't done anything to be ashamed of."
+
+The captain nodded.  "If you had, I should ASK you to run away," he
+said.  "As it is, I just ask you to step out and wait a little
+while, that's all."
+
+"But, Grandfather, I WANT to see him."
+
+"All right, I want you to--but not until he and I have talked
+first.  Come, boy, come!  I've lived a little longer than you have,
+and maybe I know about half as much about some things.  This is one
+of 'em.  You clear out and stand by.  I'll call you when I want
+you."
+
+Albert went, but reluctantly.  After he had gone his grandfather
+walked to the door of the outer office and opened it.
+
+"Step aboard, Mr. Fosdick," he said.  "Come in, sir."
+
+Mr. Fletcher Fosdick was a large man, portly, and with a head which
+was rapidly losing its thatch.  His smoot-shaven face was ruddy and
+his blue eye mild.  He entered the private office of Z. Snow and
+Co. and shook the hand which Captain Zelotes proffered.
+
+"How do you do, Captain Snow?" he asked pleasantly.  "You and I
+have had some business dealings, but we have never met before, I
+believe."
+
+The captain waved toward a chair.  "That's a fact, Mr. Fosdick," he
+said.  "I don't believe we ever have, but it's better late than by
+and by, as the feller said.  Sit down, sit down, Mr. Fosdick.
+Throw off your coat, won't you?  It's sort of warm in here compared
+to out door."
+
+The visitor admitted the difference in temperature between the
+interior and exterior of the building, and removed his overcoat.
+Also he sat down.  Captain Zelotes opened a drawer of his desk and
+produced a box of cigars.
+
+"Have a smoke, won't you?" he inquired.
+
+Mr. Fosdick glanced at the label on the box.
+
+"Why--why, I was rather hoping you would smoke one of mine," he
+said.  "I have a pocket full."
+
+"When I come callin' on you at your place in New York I will smoke
+yours.  Now it kind of looks to me as if you'd ought to smoke mine.
+Seems reasonable when you think it over, don't it?"
+
+Fosdick smiled.  "Perhaps you're right," he said.  He took one of
+the gaudily banded perfectos from his host's box and accepted a
+light from the match the captain held.  Both men blew a cloud of
+smoke and through those clouds each looked at the other.  The
+preliminaries were over, but neither seemed particularly anxious
+to begin the real conversation.  It was the visitor who, at last,
+began it.
+
+"Captain Snow," he said, "I presume your clerk told you I wished to
+see you on a matter of business."
+
+"Who?  Oh, Labe, you mean?  Yes, he told me."
+
+"I told him to tell you that.  It may surprise you, however, to
+learn that the business I wished to see you about--that I came on
+from New York to see you about--has nothing whatever to do with the
+house I'm building down here."
+
+Captain Zelotes removed his cigar from his lips and looked
+meditatively at its burning end.  "No-o," he said slowly, "that
+don't surprise me very much.  I cal'lated 'twasn't about the house
+you wished to see me."
+
+"Oh, I see! . . .  Humph!"  The Fosdick mild blue eye lost, for the
+moment, just a trifle of its mildness and became almost keen, as
+its owner flashed a glance at the big figure seated at the desk.
+"I see," said Mr. Fosdick.  "And have you--er--guessed what I did
+come to see you about?"
+
+"No-o.  I wouldn't call it guessin', exactly."
+
+"Wouldn't you?  What would you call it?"
+
+"We-ll, I don't know but I'd risk callin' it knowin'.  Yes, I think
+likely I would."
+
+"Oh, I see. . . .  Humph!  Have you had a letter--on the subject?"
+
+"Ye-es."
+
+"I see.  From Mrs. Fosdick, of course.  She said she was going to
+write--I'm not sure she didn't say she had written; but I had the
+impression it was to--well, to another member of your family,
+Captain Snow."
+
+"No, 'twas to me.  Come this mornin's mail."
+
+"I see.  My mistake.  Well, I'm obliged to her in a way.  If the
+news has been broken to you, I shan't have to break it and we can
+get down to brass tacks just so much sooner.  The surprise being
+over--I take it, it WAS a surprise, Captain?"
+
+"You take it right.  Just as much of a surprise to me as you."
+
+"Of course.  Well, the surprise being over for both of us, we can
+talk of the affair--calmly and coolly.  What do you think about it,
+Captain?"
+
+"Oh, I don't know as I know exactly what to think.  What do YOU
+think about it, Mr. Fosdick?"
+
+"I think--I imagine I think very much as you do."
+
+"I shouldn't he surprised.  And--er--what's your notion of what I
+think?"
+
+Captain Zelotes' gray eye twinkled as he asked the question, and
+the Fosdick blue eye twinkled in return.  Both men laughed.
+
+"We aren't getting very far this way, Captain," observed the
+visitor.  "There's no use dodging, I suppose.  I, for one, am not
+very well pleased.  Mrs. Fosdick, for another, isn't pleased at
+all; she is absolutely and entirely opposed to the whole affair.
+She won't hear of it, that's all, and she said so much that I
+thought perhaps I had better come down here at once, see you, and--
+and the young fellow with the queer name--"
+
+"My grandson."
+
+"Why yes.  He is your grandson, isn't he?  I beg your pardon."
+
+"That's all right.  I shan't fight with you because you don't like
+his name.  Go ahead.  You decided to come and see him--and me--?"
+
+"Yes, I did.  I decided to come because it has been my experience
+that a frank, straight talk is better, in cases like this, than a
+hundred letters.  And that the time to talk was now, before matters
+between the young foo--the young people went any further.  Don't
+you agree with me?"
+
+Captain Zelotes nodded.
+
+"That now is a good time to talk?  Yes, I do," he said.
+
+"Good!  Then suppose we talk."
+
+"All right."
+
+There was another interval of silence.  Then Fosdick broke it with
+a chuckle.  "And I'm the one to do the talking, eh?" he said.
+
+Captain Lote's eye twinkled.  "We-ll, you came all the way from New
+York on purpose, you know," he observed.  Then he added:  "But
+there, Mr. Fosdick, I don't want you to think I ain't polite or
+won't talk, myself.  I'll do my share when the time comes.  But it
+does seem to me that you ought to do yours first as it's your
+family so far that's done the objectin'. . . .  Your cigar's gone
+out.  Have another light, won't you?"
+
+The visitor shook his head.  "No, thank you, not now," he said
+hastily, placing the defunct cigar carefully on the captain's desk.
+"I won't smoke for the minute.  So you want me to begin the
+talking, do you?  It seems to me I have begun it.  I told you that
+I do not like the idea of my daughter's being engaged to--to say
+nothing of marrying--your grandson.  My wife likes it even less
+than I do.  That is enough of a statement to begin with, isn't it?"
+
+"Why, no, not exactly, if you'll excuse my sayin' so.  Your
+daughter herself--how does she feel about it?"
+
+"Oh, she is enthusiastic, naturally.  She appears to be suffering
+from temporary insanity on the subject."
+
+"She don't seem to think it's quite as--er--preposterous, and
+ridiculous and outrageous--and Lord knows what all--as your wife
+does, eh?"
+
+"No.  I say, Snow, I hope you're not too deeply offended by what
+my wife wrote you.  I judge you are quoting from her letter and
+apparently she piled it on red-hot.  You'll have to excuse her; she
+was almost wild all day yesterday.  I'll ask your pardon on her
+behalf."
+
+"Sho, sho!  No need, Mr. Fosdick, no need at all.  I know what
+women are, even the easy-goin' kind, when they've got steam up.
+I've got a wife--and I had a daughter.  But, gettin' back on the
+course again, you think your daughter's crazy because she wants to
+marry my grandson.  Is that it?"
+
+"Why, no, I wouldn't say that, exactly.  Of course, I wouldn't say
+that."
+
+"But, you see, you did say it.  However, we'll leave that to one
+side for a spell.  What objection--what real objection is there to
+those two marryin'--my grandson and your daughter--provided that
+they care for each other as they'd ought to?"
+
+Mr. Fosdick's expression changed slightly.  His tone, as he replied
+to the question, was colder and his manner less cordial.
+
+"I don't know that it is worth while answering that in detail," he
+said, after an instant's pause.  "Frankly, Captain Snow, I had
+rather hoped you would see, for yourself, the reasons why such a
+marriage wouldn't be desirable.  If you don't see them, if you are
+backing up your grandson in his business, why--well, there is no
+use in our discussing the matter any further, is there?  We should
+only lose our tempers and not gain much.  So we had better end it
+now, I think."
+
+He rose to his feet.  Captain Zelotes, leaning forward, held up a
+protesting hand.
+
+"Now--now, Mr. Fosdick," he said earnestly, "I don't want you to
+misunderstand me.  And I'm sorry if what I said has made you mad."
+
+Fosdick smiled.  "Oh, I'm not mad," he answered cheerfully.  "I
+make it a rule in all my business dealings not to get mad, or, more
+especially, not to let the other fellow know that I'm getting that
+way.  My temper hasn't a ruffle in it just now, and I am leaving
+merely because I want it to remain smooth.  I judge that you and I
+aren't going to agree.  All right, then we'll differ, but we'll
+differ without a fight, that's all.  Good afternoon, Captain."
+
+But Captain Lote's hand still remained uplifted.
+
+"Mr. Fosdick," he said.  "just a minute now--just a minute.  You
+never have met Albert, my grandson, have you?  Never even seen him,
+maybe?"
+
+"No, but I intend to meet him and talk with him before I leave
+South Harniss.  He was one of the two people I came here to meet."
+
+"And I was the other, eh?  Um-hm. . . .  I see.  You think you've
+found out where I stand and now you'll size him up.  Honest, Mr.
+Fosdick, I . . .  Humph!  Mind if I tell you a little story?
+'Twon't take long.  When I was a little shaver, me and my granddad,
+the first Cap'n Lote Snow--there's been two since--were great
+chums.  When he was home from sea he and I stuck together like hot
+pitch and oakum.  One day we were sittin' out in the front yard of
+his house--it's mine, now--watchin' a hoptoad catch flies.  You've
+seen a toad catch flies, haven't you, Mr. Fosdick?  Mr. Toad sits
+there, lookin' half asleep and as pious and demure as a pickpocket
+at camp-meetin', until a fly comes along and gets too near.  Then,
+Zip! out shoots about six inches of toad tongue and that fly's been
+asked in to dinner.  Well, granddad and I sat lookin' at our
+particular toad when along came a bumble-bee and lighted on a
+honeysuckle blossom right in front of the critter.  The toad didn't
+take time to think it over, all he saw was a square meal, and his
+tongue flashed out and nailed that bumble-bee and snapped it into
+the pantry.  In about a half second, though, there was a change.
+The pantry had been emptied, the bumble-bee was on his way again,
+and Mr. Toad was on his, hoppin' lively and huntin' for--well, for
+ice water or somethin' coolin', I guess likely.  Granddad tapped me
+on the shoulder.  'Sonny,' says he, 'there's a lesson for you.
+That hoptoad didn't wait to make sure that bumble-bee was good to
+eat; he took it for granted, and was sorry afterward.  It don't pay
+to jump at conclusions, son,' he says.  'Some conclusions are like
+that bumble-bee's, they have stings in 'em.'"
+
+Captain Lote, having finished his story, felt in his pocket for
+a match.  Fosdick, for an instant, appeared puzzled.  Then he
+laughed.
+
+"I see," he said.  "You think I made too quick a jump when I
+concluded you were backing your grandson in this affair.  All
+right, I'm glad to hear it.  What do you want me to do, sit down
+again and listen?"
+
+He resumed his seat as he asked the question.  Captain Zelotes
+nodded.
+
+"If you don't mind," he answered.  "You see, you misunderstood me,
+Mr. Fosdick.  I didn't mean any more than what I said when I asked
+you what real objection there was, in your opinion to Albert's
+marryin' your--er--Madeline, that's her name, I believe.  Seems to
+me the way for us to get to an understandin'--you and I--is to find
+out just how the situation looks to each of us.  When we've found
+out that, we'll know how nigh we come to agreein' or disagreein'
+and can act accordin'.  Sounds reasonable, don't it?"
+
+Fosdick nodded in his turn.  "Perfectly," he admitted.  "Well, ask
+your questions, and I'll answer them.  After that perhaps I'll ask
+some myself.  Go ahead."
+
+"I have gone ahead.  I've asked one already."
+
+"Yes, but it is such a general question.  There may be so many
+objections."
+
+"I see.  All right, then I'll ask some:  What do the lawyers call
+'em?--Atlantic?  Pacific?  I've got it--I'll ask some specific
+questions.  Here's one.  Do you object to Al personally?  To his
+character?"
+
+"Not at all.  We know nothing about his character.  Very likely he
+may be a young saint."
+
+"Well, he ain't, so we'll let that slide.  He's a good boy, though,
+so far as I've ever been able to find out.  Is it his looks?
+You've never seen him, but your wife has.  Don't she like his
+looks?"
+
+"She hasn't mentioned his looks to me."
+
+"Is it his money?  He hasn't got any of his own."
+
+"We-ell, of course that does count a little bit.  Madeline is our
+only child, and naturally we should prefer to have her pick out a
+husband with a dollar or so in reserve."
+
+"Um-hm.  Al's twenty-one, Mr. Fosdick.  When I was twenty-one I had
+some put by, but not much.  I presume likely 'twas different with
+you, maybe.  Probably you were pretty well fixed."
+
+Fosdick laughed aloud.  "You make a good cross-examiner, Snow," he
+observed.  "As a matter of fact, when I was twenty-one I was
+assistant bookkeeper in a New Haven broker's office.  I didn't have
+a cent except my salary, and I had that only for the first five
+days in the week."
+
+"However, you got married?"
+
+"Yes, I did.  More fool I!  If I had known anything, I should have
+waited five years at least.  I didn't have any one to tell me so.
+My father and mother were both dead."
+
+"Think you'd have listened to 'em if they had been alive and had
+told you?  However, however, that's all to one side.  Well,
+Albert's havin' no money to speak of is an objection--and a good
+honest one from your point of view.  His prospects here in this
+business of mine are fair, and he is doin' better at it than he
+was, so he may make a comf'table livin'--a comf'table South Harniss
+livin', that is--by and by."
+
+"Oh, he is with you, then?  Oh, yes, I remember my wife said he
+worked in your office.  But she said more about his being some sort
+of a--a poet, wasn't it?"
+
+For the first time since the interview began the captain looked ill
+at ease and embarrassed.
+
+"Thunderation!" he exclaimed testily, "you mustn't pay attention to
+that.  He does make up poetry' pieces--er--on the side, as you
+might say, but I keep hopin' all the time he'll grow out of it,
+give him time.  It 'ain't his regular job, you mustn't think 'tis."
+
+The visitor laughed again.  "I'm glad of that," he said, "both for
+your sake and mine.  I judge that you and I, Snow, are in complete
+agreement as far as our opinion of poetry and that sort of stuff is
+concerned.  Of course I'm not condemning all poetry, you understand.
+Longfellow and Tennyson and the regular poets are all right.  You
+understand what I'm getting at?"
+
+"Sartin.  I used to know 'Down went the R'yal George with all her
+crew complete,' and a lot more.  Used to say 'em over to myself
+when I first went to sea and stood watch alone nights.  But they
+were different, you know; they--they--"
+
+"Sure!  My wife--why, I give you my word that my own wife and her
+set go perfectly daffy over chaps who write stuff that rhymes and
+that the papers are printing columns about.  Snow, if this grandson
+of yours was a genuine press-touted, women's club poet instead of a
+would-be--well, I don't know what might happen.  In that case she
+might be as strong FOR this engagement as she is now against it."
+
+He paused, seeming a bit ashamed of his own heat.  Captain Zelotes,
+however, regarded him with more approval than he had yet shown.
+
+"It's been my observation that women are likely to get off the
+course chasin' false signals like that," he observed.  "When a man
+begins lettin' his hair and his mouth run wild together seems as if
+the combination had an attraction for a good many women folks.  Al
+keeps his hair cut, though, I'll say that for him," he added.  "It
+curls some, but it ain't long.  I wouldn't have him in the office
+if 'twas."
+
+"Well, Mr. Fosdick," he continued, "what other objections are they?
+Manners?  Family and relations?  Education?  Any objections along
+that line?"
+
+"No-o, no; I--well, I don't know; you see, I don't know much about
+the young fellow."
+
+"Perhaps I can help you out.  As to manners--well, you can judge
+them for yourself when you see him.  He seems to be in about every
+kind of social doin's there is down here, and he's as much or more
+popular with the summer folks than with the year-'rounders.
+Education?  Well, that's fair to middlin', as I see it.  He spent
+nine or ten years in a mighty expensive boardin' school up in New
+York State."
+
+"Did he?  What school?"
+
+The captain gave the name of the school.  Fosdick looked surprised.
+
+"Humph!  That IS a good school," he said.
+
+"Is it?  Depends on what you call good, I cal'late.  Al learned a
+good deal of this and that, a little bit of foreign language, some
+that they call dead and some that ought to be dead--and buried,
+'cordin' to my notion.  When he came to me he couldn't add up a
+column of ten figgers without makin' a mistake, and as for
+business--well, what he knew about business was about equal to what
+Noah knew about a gas engine."
+
+He paused to chuckle, and Fosdick chuckled with him.
+
+"As to family," went on Captain Lote, "he's a Snow on his mother's
+side, and there's been seven generations of Snow's in this part of
+the Cape since the first one landed here.  So far as I know,
+they've all managed to keep out of jail, which may have been more
+good luck than deservin' in some cases."
+
+"His father?" queried Fosdick.
+
+The captain's heavy brows drew together.  "His father was a
+Portygee--or Spaniard, I believe is right--and he was a play-actor,
+one of those--what do you call 'em?--opera singers."
+
+Fosdick seemed surprised and interested.  "Oh, indeed," he
+exclaimed, "an opera singer? . . .  Why, he wasn't Speranza, the
+baritone, was he?"
+
+"Maybe; I believe he was.  He married my daughter and--well, we
+won't talk about him, if you don't mind."
+
+"But Speranza was a--"
+
+"IF you don't mind, Mr. Fosdick."
+
+Captain Lote lapsed into silence, drumming the desk with his big
+fingers.  His visitor waited for a few moments.  At length he said:
+
+"Well, Captain Snow, I have answered your questions and you have
+answered mine.  Do you think we are any nearer an agreement now?"
+
+Captain Zelotes seemed to awake with a start.  "Eh?" he queried.
+"Agreement?  Oh, I don't know.  Did you find any--er--what you
+might call vital objections in the boy's record?"
+
+"No-o.  No, all that is all right.  His family and his education
+and all the rest are good enough, I'm sure.  But, nevertheless--"
+
+"You still object to the young folks gettin' married."
+
+"Yes, I do.  Hang it all, Snow, this isn't a thing one can reason
+out, exactly.  Madeline is our only child; she is our pet, our
+baby.  Naturally her mother and I have planned for her, hoped for
+her, figured that some day, when we had to give her up, it would
+be to--to--"
+
+"To somebody that wasn't Albert Speranza of South Harniss,
+Mass. . . .  Eh?"
+
+"Yes.  Not that your grandson isn't all right.  I have no doubt he
+is a tip-top young fellow.  But, you see--"
+
+Captain Lote suddenly leaned forward.  "Course I see, Mr. Fosdick,"
+he interrupted.  "Course I see.  You object, and the objection
+ain't a mite weaker on account of your not bein' able to say
+exactly what 'tis."
+
+"That's the idea.  Thank you, Captain."
+
+"You're welcome.  I can understand.  I know just how you feel,
+because I've been feelin' the same way myself."
+
+"Oh, you have?  Good!  Then you can sympathize with Mrs. Fosdick
+and with me.  You see--you understand why we had rather our
+daughter did not marry your grandson."
+
+"Sartin.  You see, I've had just the same sort of general kind of
+objection to Al's marryin' your daughter."
+
+Mr. Fletcher Fosdick leaned slowly backward in his chair.  His
+appearance was suggestive of one who has received an unexpected
+thump between the eyes.
+
+"Oh, you have!" he said again, but not with the same expression.
+
+"Um-hm," said Captain Zelotes gravely.  "I'm like you in one way;
+I've never met your Madeline any more than you have met Al.  I've
+seen her once or twice, and she is real pretty and nice-lookin'.
+But I don't know her at all.  Now I don't doubt for a minute but
+that she's a real nice girl and it might be that she'd make Al a
+fairly good wife."
+
+"Er--well,--thanks."
+
+"Oh, that's all right, I mean it.  It might be she would.  And I
+ain't got a thing against you or your folks."
+
+"Humph,--er--thanks again."
+
+"That's all right; you don't need to thank me.  But it's this way
+with me--I live in South Harniss all the year round.  I want to
+live here till I die, and--after I die I'd like first-rate to have
+Al take up the Z. Snow and Co. business and the Snow house and land
+and keep them goin' till HE dies.  Mind, I ain't at all sure that
+he'll do it, or be capable of doin' it, but that's what I'd like.
+Now you're in New York most of the year, and so's your wife and
+daughter.  New York is all right--I ain't sayin' a word against it--
+but New York and South Harniss are different."
+
+The Fosdick lip twitched.  "Somewhat different," he admitted.
+
+"Um-hm.  That sounds like a joke, I know; but I don't mean it so,
+not now.  What I mean is that I know South Harniss and South
+Harniss folks.  I don't know New York--not so very well, though
+I've been there plenty of times--and I don't know New York ways.
+But I do know South Harniss ways, and they suit me.  Would they
+suit your daughter--not just for summer, but as a reg'lar thing
+right straight along year in and out?  I doubt it, Mr. Fosdick, I
+doubt it consid'able.  Course I don't know your daughter--"
+
+"I do--and I share your doubts."
+
+"Um-hm.  But whether she liked it or not she'd have to come here if
+she married my grandson.  Either that or he'd have to go to New
+York.  And if he went to New York, how would he earn his livin'?
+Get a new bookkeepin' job and start all over again, or live on
+poetry?"
+
+Mr. Fosdick opened his mouth as if to speak, seemed to change his
+mind and closed it again, without speaking.  Captain Zelotes,
+looking keenly at him, seemed to guess his thoughts.
+
+"Of course," he said deliberately, but with a firmness which
+permitted no misunderstanding of his meaning, "of course you
+mustn't get it into your head for one minute that the boy is
+figgerin' on your daughter's bein' a rich girl.  He hasn't given
+that a thought.  You take my word for that, Mr. Fosdick.  He
+doesn't know how much money she or you have got and he doesn't
+care.  He doesn't care a continental darn."
+
+His visitor smiled slightly.  "Nevertheless," he began.  The
+captain interrupted him.
+
+"No, there ain't any nevertheless," he said.  "Albert has been with
+me enough years now so that I know a little about him.  And I know
+that all he wants is your daughter.  As to how much she's worth in
+money or how they're goin' to live after he's got her--I know that
+he hasn't given it one thought.  I don't imagine she has, either.
+For one reason," he added, with a smile, "he is too poor a business
+man to think of marriage as a business, bill-payin' contract, and
+for another,--for another--why, good Lord, Fosdick!" he exclaimed,
+leaning forward, "don't you know what this thing means to those two
+young folks?  It means just moonshine and mush and lookin' into
+each other's eyes, that's about all.  THEY haven't thought any
+practical thoughts about it.  Why, think what their ages are!
+Think of yourself at that age!  Can't you remember. . . .  Humph!
+Well, I'm talkin' fifty revolutions to the second.  I beg your
+pardon."
+
+"That's all right, Snow.  And I believe you have the situation
+sized up as it is.  Still--"
+
+"Excuse me, Mr. Fosdick, but don't you think it's about time you
+had a look at the boy himself?  I'm goin' to ask him to come in
+here and meet you."
+
+Fosdick looked troubled.  "Think it is good policy?" he asked
+doubtfully.  "I want to see him and speak with him, but I do hate a
+scene."
+
+"There won't be any scene.  You just meet him face to face and talk
+enough with him to get a little idea of what your first impression
+is.  Don't contradict or commit yourself or anything.  And I'll
+send him out at the end of two or three minutes."
+
+Without waiting for a reply, he rose, opened the door to the outer
+office and called, "Al, come in here!"  When Albert had obeyed the
+order he closed the door behind him and turning to the gentleman in
+the visitor's chair, said:  "Mr. Fosdick, this is my grandson,
+Albert Speranza.  Al, shake hands with Mr. Fosdick from New York."
+
+While awaiting the summons to meet the father of his adored, Albert
+had been rehearsing and re-rehearsing the speeches he intended
+making when that meeting took place.  Sitting at his desk, pen in
+hand and pretending to be busy with the bookkeeping of Z. Snow and
+Company, he had seen, not the ruled page of the day book, but the
+parental countenance of the Honorable Fletcher Fosdick.  And, to
+his mind's eye, that countenance was as rugged and stern as the
+rock-bound coast upon which the Pilgrims landed, and about as
+unyielding and impregnable as the door of the office safe.  So,
+when his grandfather called him, he descended from the tall desk
+stool and crossed the threshold of the inner room, a trifle pale, a
+little shaky at the knees, but with the set chin and erect head of
+one who, facing almost hopeless odds, intends fighting to the last
+gasp.
+
+To his astonishment the Fosdick countenance was not as his
+imagination had pictured it.  The blue eyes met his, not with a
+glare or a glower, but with a look of interest and inquiry.  The
+Fosdick hand shook his with politeness, and the Fosdick manner was,
+if not genial, at least quiet and matter of fact.  He was taken
+aback.  What did it mean?  Was it possible that Madeline's father
+was inclined to regard her engagement to him with favor?  A great
+throb of joy accompanied the thought.  Then he remembered the
+letter he had just read, the letter from Madeline's mother, and the
+hope subsided.
+
+"Albert," said Captain Zelotes, "Mr. Fosdick has come on here to
+talk with us; that is, with me and you, about your affairs.  He and
+I have talked up to the point where it seemed to me you ought to
+come in for a spell.  I've told him that the news that you and his
+daughter were--er--favorably disposed toward each other was as
+sudden and as big a surprise to me as 'twas to him.  Even your
+grandma don't know it yet.  Now I presume likely he'd like to ask
+you a few questions.  Heave ahead, Mr. Fosdick."
+
+He relit his cigar stump and leaned back in his chair.  Mr. Fosdick
+leaned forward in his.  Albert stood very straight, his shoulders
+braced for the encounter.  The quizzical twinkle shone in Captain
+Lote's eye as he regarded his grandson.  Fosdick also smiled
+momentarily as he caught the expression of the youth's face.
+
+"Well, Speranza," he began, in so cheerful a tone that Albert's
+astonishment grew even greater, "your grandfather has been kind
+enough to get us through the preliminaries, so we'll come at once
+to the essentials.  You and my daughter consider yourselves engaged
+to marry?"
+
+"Yes, sir.  We ARE engaged."
+
+"I see.  How long have you--um--been that way, so to speak?"
+
+"Since last August."
+
+"Why haven't you said anything about it to us--to Mrs. Fosdick or
+me or your people here?  You must excuse these personal questions.
+As I have just said to Captain Snow, Madeline is our only child,
+and her happiness and welfare mean about all there is in life to
+her mother and me.  So, naturally, the man she is going to marry is
+an important consideration.  You and I have never met before, so
+the quickest way of reaching an understanding between us is by the
+question route.  You get my meaning?"
+
+"Yes, sir, I guess I do."
+
+"Good!  Then we'll go ahead.  Why have you two kept it a secret so
+long?"
+
+"Because--well, because we knew we couldn't marry yet a while, so
+we thought we had better not announce it for the present."
+
+"Oh! . . .  And the idea that perhaps Mrs. Fosdick and I might be
+slightly interested didn't occur to you?"
+
+"Why, yes, sir, it did.  But,--but we thought it best not to tell
+you until later."
+
+"Perhaps the suspicion that we might not be overjoyed by the news
+had a little weight with you, eh?  Possibly that helped to delay
+the--er--announcement?"
+
+"No, sir, I--I don't think it did."
+
+"Oh, don't you!  Perhaps you thought we WOULD be overjoyed?"
+
+"No, sir.  We didn't think so very much about it.  Well, that's not
+quite true.  Madeline felt that her mother--and you, too, sir, I
+suppose, although she didn't speak as often of you in that way--she
+felt that her mother would disapprove at first, and so we had
+better wait."
+
+"Until when?"
+
+"Until--until by and by.  Until I had gone ahead further, you
+know."
+
+"I'm not sure that I do know.  Gone ahead how?  Until you had a
+better position, more salary?"
+
+"No, not exactly.  Until my writings were better known.  Until I
+was a little more successful."
+
+"Successful?  Until you wrote more poetry, do you mean?"
+
+"Yes, sir.  Poetry and other things, stories and plays, perhaps."
+
+"Do you mean--  Did you figure that you and Madeline were to live
+on what you made by writing poetry and the other stuff?"
+
+"Yes, sir, of course."
+
+Fosdick looked across at Captain Zelotes.  The Captain's face was
+worth looking at.
+
+"Here, here, hold on!" he exclaimed, jumping into the conversation.
+"Al, what are you talkin' about?  You're bookkeeper for me, ain't
+you; for this concern right here where you are?  What do you mean
+by talkin' as if your job was makin' up poetry pieces?  That's only
+what you do on the side, and you know it.  Eh, ain't that so?"
+
+Albert hesitated.  He had, momentarily, forgotten his grandfather
+and the latter's prejudices.  After all, what was the use of
+stirring up additional trouble.
+
+"Yes, Grandfather," he said.
+
+"Course it's so.  It's in this office that you draw your wages."
+
+"Yes, Grandfather."
+
+"All right.  Excuse me for nosin' in, Mr. Fosdick, but I knew the
+boy wasn't puttin' the thing as plain as it ought to be, and I
+didn't want you to get the wrong notion.  Heave ahead."
+
+Fosdick smiled slightly.  "All right, Captain," he said.  "I get
+it, I think.  Well, then," turning again to Albert, "your plan for
+supporting my daughter was to wait until your position here, plus
+the poetry, should bring in sufficient revenue.  It didn't occur to
+you that--well, that there might be a possibility of getting money--
+elsewhere?"
+
+Albert plainly did not understand, but it was just as plain that
+his grandfather did.  Captain Zelotes spoke sharply.
+
+"Mr. Fosdick," he said, "I just answered that question for you."
+
+"Yes, I know.  But if you were in my place you might like to have
+him answer it.  I don't mean to be offensive, but business is
+business, and, after all, this is a business talk.  So--"
+
+The Captain interrupted.  "So we'll talk it in a business way, eh?"
+he snapped.  "All right.  Al, what Mr. Fosdick means is had you
+cal'lated that, if you married his daughter, maybe her dad's money
+might help you and her to keep goin'?  To put it even plainer: had
+you planned some on her bein' a rich girl?"
+
+Fosdick looked annoyed.  "Oh, I say, Snow!" he cried.  "That's too
+strong, altogether."
+
+"Not a mite.  It's what you've had in the back of your head all
+along.  I'm just helpin' it to come out of the front.  Well, Al?"
+
+The red spots were burning in the Speranza cheeks.  He choked as he
+answered.
+
+"No," he cried fiercely.  "Of course I haven't planned on any such
+thing.  I don't know how rich she is.  I don't care.  I wish she
+was as poor as--as I am.  I want HER, that's all.  And she wants
+me.  We don't either of us care about money.  I wouldn't take a
+cent of your money, Mr. Fosdick.  But I--I want Madeline and--and--
+I shall have her."
+
+"In spite of her parents, eh?"
+
+"Yes. . . .  I'm sorry to speak so, Mr. Fosdick, but it is true.
+We--we love each other.  We--we've agreed to wait for each other,
+no matter--no matter if it is years and years.  And as for the
+money and all that, if you disinherit her, or--or whatever it is
+they do--we don't care.  I--I hope you will.  I--she--"
+
+Captain Zelotes' voice broke in upon the impassioned outburst.
+
+"Steady, Al; steady, son," he cautioned quietly.  "I cal'late
+you've said enough.  I don't think any more's necessary.  You'd
+better go back to your desk now."
+
+"But, Grandfather, I want him to understand--"
+
+"I guess likely he does.  I should say you'd made it real plain.
+Go now, Al."
+
+Albert turned, but, with a shaking hand upon the doorknob, turned
+back again.
+
+"I'm--I--I'm sorry, Mr. Fosdick," he faltered.  "I--I didn't mean
+to say anything to hurt your feelings.  But--but, you see,
+Madeline--she and I--we--"
+
+He could not go on.  Fosdick's nod and answer were not unkindly.
+"All right, Speranza," he said, "I'm not offended.  Hope I wasn't
+too blunt, myself.  Good-day."
+
+When the door had closed behind the young man he turned to Captain
+Lote.
+
+"Sorry if I offended you, Snow," he observed.  "I threw in that
+hint about marrying just to see what effect it would have, that's
+all."
+
+"Um-hm.  So I judged.  Well, you saw, didn't you?"
+
+"I did.  Say, Captain, except as a prospective son-in-law, and then
+only because I don't see him in that light--I rather like that
+grandson of yours.  He's a fine, upstanding young chap."
+
+The captain made no reply.  He merely pulled at his beard.
+However, he did not look displeased.
+
+"He's a handsome specimen, isn't he?" went on Fosdick.  "No wonder
+Madeline fell for his looks.  Those and the poetry together are a
+combination hard to resist--at her age.  And he's a gentleman.  He
+handled himself mighty well while I was stringing him just now."
+
+The beard tugging continued.  "Um-hm," observed Captain Zelotes
+dryly; "he does pretty well for a--South Harniss gentleman.  But
+we're kind of wastin' time, ain't we, Mr. Fosdick?  In spite of his
+looks and his manners and all the rest, now that you've seen him
+you still object to that engagement, I take it."
+
+"Why, yes, I do.  The boy is all right, I'm sure, but--"
+
+"Sartin, I understand.  I feel the same way about your girl.  She's
+all right, I'm sure, but--"
+
+"We're agreed on everything, includin' the 'but.'  And the 'but' is
+that New York is one place and South Harniss is another."
+
+"Exactly."
+
+"So we don't want 'em to marry.  Fine.  First rate!  Only now we
+come to the most important 'but' of all.  What are we going to do
+about it?  Suppose we say no and they say yes and keep on sayin'
+it?  Suppose they decide to get married no matter what we say.  How
+are we goin' to stop it?"
+
+His visitor regarded him for a moment and then broke into a hearty
+laugh.
+
+"Snow," he declared, "you're all right.  You surely have the
+faculty of putting your finger on the weak spots.  Of course we
+can't stop it.  If these two young idiots have a mind to marry and
+keep that mind, they WILL marry and we can't prevent it any more
+than we could prevent the tide coming in to-morrow morning.  _I_
+realized that this was a sort of fool's errand, my coming down
+here.  I know that this isn't the age when parents can forbid
+marriages and get away with it, as they used to on the stage in the
+old plays.  Boys and girls nowadays have a way of going their own
+gait in such matters.  But my wife doesn't see it in exactly that
+way, and she was so insistent on my coming down here to stop the
+thing if I could that--well, I came."
+
+"I'm glad you did, Mr. Fosdick, real glad.  And, although I agree
+with you that the very worst thing to do, if we want to stop this
+team from pullin' together, is to haul back on the bits and holler
+'Whoa,' still I'm kind of hopeful that, maybe . . . humph!  I
+declare, it looks as if I'd have to tell you another story.  I'm
+gettin' as bad as Cap'n Hannibal Doane used to be, and they used to
+call him 'The Rope Walk' 'cause he spun so many yarns."
+
+Fosdick laughed again.  "You may go as far as you like with your
+stories, Captain," he said.  "I can grow fat on them."
+
+"Thanks.  Well, this ain't a story exactly; it just kind of makes
+the point I'm tryin' to get at.  Calvin Bangs had a white mare one
+time and the critter had a habit of runnin' away.  Once his wife,
+Hannah J., was in the buggy all by herself, over to the Ostable
+Fair, Calvin havin' got out to buy some peanuts or somethin'.  The
+mare got scared of the noise and crowd and bolted.  As luck would
+have it, she went right through the fence and out onto the trottin'
+track.  And around that track she went, hell bent for election.
+All hands was runnin' alongside hollerin' 'Stop her!  Stop her!
+'but not Calvin--no SIR!  He waited till the mare was abreast of
+him, the mare on two legs and the buggy on two wheels and Hannah
+'most anywheres between the dasher and the next world, and then he
+sung out:  'Give her her head, Hannah!  Give her her head.  She'll
+stop when she runs down.'"
+
+He laughed and his visitor laughed with him.
+
+"I gather," observed the New Yorker, "that you believe it the
+better policy to give our young people their heads."
+
+"In reason--yes, I do.  It's my judgment that an affair like this
+will hurry more and more if you try too hard to stop it.  If you
+don't try at all so any one would notice it, it may run down and
+stop of itself, the way Calvin's mare did."
+
+Fosdick nodded reflectively.  "I'm inclined to agree with you," he
+said.  "But does that mean that they're to correspond, write love
+letters, and all that?"
+
+"Why, in reason, maybe.  If we say no to that, they'll write
+anyhow, won't they?"
+
+"Of course. . . .  How would it do to get them to promise to write
+nothing that their parents might not see?  Of course I don't mean
+for your grandson to show you his letters before he sends them to
+Madeline.  He's too old for that, and he would refuse.  But suppose
+you asked him to agree to write nothing that Madeline would not be
+willing to show her mother--or me.  Do you think he would?"
+
+"Maybe.  I'll ask him. . . .  Yes, I guess likely he'd do that."
+
+"My reason for suggesting it is, frankly, not so much on account of
+the young people as to pacify my wife.  I am not afraid--not very
+much afraid of this love affair.  They are young, both of them.
+Give them time, and--as you say, Snow, the thing may run down,
+peter out."
+
+"I'm in hopes 'twill.  It's calf love, as I see it, and I believe
+'twill pay to give the calves rope enough."
+
+"So do I.  No, I'm not much troubled about the young people.  But
+Mrs. Fosdick--well, my trouble will be with her.  She'll want to
+have your boy shot or jailed or hanged or something."
+
+"I presume likely.  I guess you'll have to handle her the way
+another feller who used to live here in South Harniss said he
+handled his wife.  'We don't never have any trouble at all,' says
+he.  'Whenever she says yes or no, I say the same thing.  Later on,
+when it comes to doin', I do what I feel like.' . . .  Eh?  You're
+not goin', are you, Mr. Fosdick?"
+
+His visitor had risen and was reaching for his coat.  Captain
+Zelotes also rose.
+
+"Don't hurry, don't hurry," he begged.
+
+"Sorry, but I must.  I want to be back in New York tomorrow
+morning."
+
+"But you can't, can you?  To do that you'll have to get up to
+Boston or Fall River, and the afternoon train's gone.  You'd better
+stay and have supper along with my wife and me, stay at our house
+over night, and take the early train after breakfast to-morrow."
+
+"I wish I could; I'd like nothing better.  But I can't."
+
+"Sure?"  Then, with a smile, he added:  "Al needn't eat with us,
+you know, if his bein' there makes either of you feel nervous."
+
+Fosdick laughed again.  "I think I should be willing to risk the
+nervousness," he replied.  "But I must go, really.  I've hired a
+chap at the garage here to drive me to Boston in his car and I'll
+take the midnight train over."
+
+"Humph!  Well, if you must, you must.  Hope you have a comf'table
+trip, Mr. Fosdick.  Better wrap up warm; it's pretty nigh a five-
+hour run to Boston and there's some cool wind over the Ostable
+marshes this time of year.  Good-by, sir.  Glad to have had this
+talk with you."
+
+His visitor held out his hand.  "So am I, Snow," he said heartily.
+"Mighty glad."
+
+"I hope I wasn't too short and brisk at the beginnin'.  You see,
+I'd just read your wife's letter, and--er--well, of course, I
+didn't know--just--you see, you and I had never met, and so--"
+
+"Certainly, certainly.  I quite understand.  And, fool's errand or
+not, I'm very glad I came here.  If you'll pardon my saying so, it
+was worth the trip to get acquainted with you.  I hope, whatever
+comes of the other thing, that our acquaintanceship will continue."
+
+"Same here, same here.  Go right out the side door, Mr. Fosdick,
+saves goin' through the office.  Good day, sir."
+
+He watched the bulky figure of the New York banker tramping across
+the yard between the piles of lumber.  A moment later he entered
+the outer office.  Albert and Keeler were at their desks.  Captain
+Zelotes approached the little bookkeeper.
+
+"Labe," he queried, "there isn't anything particular you want me to
+talk about just now, is there?"
+
+Lahan looked up in surprise from his figuring.
+
+"Why--why, no, Cap'n Lote, don't know's there is," he said.  "Don't
+know's there is, not now, no, no, no."
+
+His employer nodded.  "Good!" he exclaimed.  "Then I'm goin' back
+inside there and sit down and rest my chin for an hour, anyhow.
+I've talked so much to-day that my jaws squeak.  Don't disturb me
+for anything short of a fire or a mutiny."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+
+He was not disturbed and that evening, after supper was over, he
+was ready to talk again.  He and Albert sat together in the sitting
+room--Mrs. Snow and Rachel were in the kitchen washing dishes--and
+Captain Zelotes told his grandson as much as he thought advisable
+to tell of his conversation with the Honorable Fletcher Fosdick.
+At first Albert was inclined to rebel at the idea of permitting his
+letters to Madeline to be read by the latter's parents, but at
+length he agreed.
+
+"I'll do it because it may make it easier for her," he said.
+"She'll have a dreadful time, I suppose, with that unreasonable
+mother of hers.  But, by George, Grandfather," he exclaimed, "isn't
+she splendid, though!"
+
+"Who?  Mrs. Fosdick?"
+
+"No, of course not," indignantly.  "Madeline.  Isn't she splendid
+and fine and loyal!  I want you to know her, Grandfather, you and
+Grandmother."
+
+"Um-hm.  Well, we'll hope to, some day.  Now, son, I'm goin' to ask
+for another promise.  It may seem a hard one to make, but I'm
+askin' you to make it.  I want you to give me your word that, no
+matter what happens or how long you have to wait, you and Madeline
+won't get married without tellin' her folks and yours beforehand.
+You won't run away and marry.  Will you promise me that?"
+
+Albert looked at him.  This WAS a hard promise to make.  In their
+talks beneath the rainbows, whenever he and Madeline had referred
+to the future and its doubts, they had always pushed those doubts
+aside with vague hints of an elopement.  If the unreasonableness of
+parents and grandparents should crowd them too far, they had always
+as a last resort, the solution of their problem by way of a runaway
+marriage.  And now Captain Zelotes was asking him to give up this
+last resort.
+
+The captain, watching him keenly, divined what was in his
+grandson's mind.
+
+"Think it over, Al," he said kindly.  "Don't answer me now, but
+think it over, and to-morrow mornin' tell me how you feel about
+it."  He hesitated a moment and then added:  "You know your
+grandmother and I, we--well, we have maybe cause to be a little
+mite prejudiced against this elopin' business."
+
+So Albert thought, and the next morning, as the pair were walking
+together to the office, he spoke his thought.  Captain Zelotes had
+not mentioned the subject.
+
+"Grandfather," said Albert, with some embarrassment, "I'm going to
+give you that promise."
+
+His grandfather, who had been striding along, his heavy brows drawn
+together and his glance fixed upon the frozen ground beneath his
+feet, looked up.
+
+"Eh?" he queried, uncomprehendingly.
+
+"You asked me last night to promise you something, you know. . . .
+You asked me to think it over.  I have, and I'm going to promise
+you that--Madeline and I won't marry without first telling you."
+
+Captain Zelotes stopped in his stride; then he walked on again.
+
+"Thank you, Al," he said quietly.  "I hoped you'd see it that way."
+
+"Yes--yes, I--I do.  I don't want to bring any more--trouble of
+that kind to you and Grandmother. . . .  It seems to me that you--
+that you have had too much already."
+
+"Thank you, son. . . .  Much obliged."
+
+The captain's tone was almost gruff and that was his only reference
+to the subject of the promise; but somehow Albert felt that at that
+moment he and his grandfather were closer together, were nearer to
+a mutual understanding and mutual appreciation than they had ever
+been before.
+
+To promise, however, is one thing, to fulfill the obligation
+another.  As the days passed Albert found his promise concerning
+letter-writing very, very hard to keep.  When, each evening he sat
+down at the table in his room to pour out his soul upon paper it
+was a most unsatisfactory outpouring.  The constantly enforced
+recollection that whatever he wrote would be subject to the
+chilling glance of the eye of Fosdick mater was of itself a check
+upon the flow.  To write a love letter to Madeline had hitherto
+been a joy, a rapture, to fill pages and pages a delight.  Now,
+somehow, these pages were hard to fill.  Omitting the very things
+you were dying to say, the precious, the intimate things--what was
+there left?  He and she had, at their meetings and in their former
+correspondence, invented many delightful little pet names for each
+other.  Now those names were taboo; or, at any rate, they might as
+well be.  The thought of Mrs. Fosdick's sniff of indignant disgust
+at finding her daughter referred to as some one's ownest little
+rosebud withered that bud before it reached the paper.
+
+And Madeline's letters to him were quite as unsatisfactory.  They
+were lengthy, but oh, so matter of fact!  Saharas of fact without
+one oasis of sentiment.  She was well and she had done this and
+that and had been to see such and such plays and operas.  Father
+was well and very busy.  Mother, too, was well, so was Googoo--but
+these last two bits of news failed to comfort him as they perhaps
+should.  He could only try to glean between the lines, and as Mrs.
+Fosdick had raked between those lines before him, the gleaning was
+scant picking indeed.
+
+He found himself growing disconsolate and despondent.  Summer
+seemed ages away.  And when at last it should come--what would
+happen then?  He could see her only when properly chaperoned, only
+when Mother, and probably Googoo, were present.  He flew for
+consolation to the Muse and the Muse refused to console.  The poems
+he wrote were "blue" and despairing likewise.  Consequently they
+did not sell.  He was growing desperate, ready for anything.  And
+something came.  Germany delivered to our Government its arrogant
+mandate concerning unlimited submarine warfare.  A long-suffering
+President threw patience overboard and answered that mandate in
+unmistakable terms.  Congress stood at his back and behind them a
+united and indignant people.  The United States declared war upon
+the Hun.
+
+South Harniss, like every other community, became wildly excited.
+Captain Zelotes Snow's gray eyes flashed fiery satisfaction.  The
+flags at the Snow place and at the lumber yard flew high night and
+day.  He bought newspapers galore and read from them aloud at
+meals, in the evenings, and before breakfast.  Issachar, as usual,
+talked much and said little.  Laban Keeler's comments were pithy
+and dryly pointed.  Albert was very quiet.
+
+But one forenoon he spoke.  Captain Lote was in the inner office,
+the morning newspaper in his hand, when his grandson entered and
+closed the door behind him.  The captain looked up.
+
+"Well, Al, what is it?" he asked.
+
+Albert came over and stood beside the desk.  The captain, after a
+moment's scrutiny of the young man's face, put down his newspaper.
+
+"Well, Al?" he said, again.
+
+Albert seemed to find it hard to speak.
+
+"Grandfather," he began, "I--I--Grandfather, I have come to ask a
+favor of you."
+
+The captain nodded, slowly, his gaze fixed upon his grandson's
+face.
+
+"All right; heave ahead," he said quietly.
+
+"Grandfather, you and I have had a four years' agreement to work
+together in this office.  It isn't up yet, but--but I want to break
+it.  I want you to let me off."
+
+"Humph! . . .  Let you off, eh? . . .  What for?"
+
+"That's what I came here to tell you.  Grandfather, I can't stay
+here--now.  I want to enlist."
+
+Captain Zelotes did not answer.  His hand moved upward and pulled
+at his beard.
+
+"I want to enlist," repeated Albert.  "I can't stand it another
+minute.  I must.  If it hadn't been for you and our promise and--
+and Madeline, I think I should have joined the Canadian Army a year
+or more ago.  But now that we have gone into the war, I CAN'T stay
+out.  Grandfather, you don't want me to, do you?  Of course you
+don't."
+
+His grandfather appeared to ponder.
+
+"If you can wait a spell," he said slowly, "I might be able to fix
+it so's you can get a chance for an officer's commission.  I'd
+ought to have some pull somewheres, seems so."
+
+Albert sniffed impatient disgust.  "I don't want to get a
+commission--in that way," he declared.
+
+"Humph!  You'll find there's plenty that do, I shouldn't wonder."
+
+"Perhaps, but I'm not one of them.  And I don't care so much for a
+commission, unless I can earn it.  And I don't want to stay here
+and study for it.  I want to go now.  I want to get into the thing.
+I don't want to wait."
+
+Captain Lote leaned forward.  His gray eyes snapped.
+
+"Want to fight, do you?" he queried.
+
+"You bet I do!"
+
+"All right, my boy, then go--and fight.  I'd be ashamed of myself
+if I held you back a minute.  Go and fight--and fight hard.  I only
+wish to God I was young enough to go with you."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+
+And so, in this unexpected fashion, came prematurely the end of the
+four year trial agreement between Albert Speranza and Z. Snow and
+Co.  Of course neither Captain Zelotes nor Albert admitted that it
+had ended.  Each professed to regard the break as merely temporary.
+
+"You'll be back at that desk in a little while, Al," said the
+captain, "addin' up figgers and tormentin' Issy."  And Albert's
+reply was invariably, "Why, of course, Grandfather."
+
+He had dreaded his grandmother's reception of the news of his
+intended enlistment.  Olive worshiped her daughter's boy and,
+although an ardent patriot, was by no means as fiercely belligerent
+as her husband.  She prayed each night for the defeat of the Hun,
+whereas Captain Lote was for licking him first and praying
+afterwards.  Albert feared a scene; he feared that she might be
+prostrated when she learned that he was to go to war.  But she bore
+it wonderfully well, and as for the dreaded "scene," there was
+none.
+
+"Zelotes says he thinks it's the right thing for you to do, Albert,"
+she said, "so I suppose I ought to think so, too.  But, oh, my dear,
+DO you really feel that you must?  I--it don't seem as I could bear
+to . . . but there, I mustn't talk so.  It ain't a mite harder for
+me than it is for thousands of women all over this world. . . .  And
+perhaps the government folks won't take you, anyway.  Rachel said
+she read in the Item about some young man over in Bayport who was
+rejected because he had fat feet.  She meant flat feet, I suppose,
+poor thing.  Oh, dear me, I'm laughin', and it seems wicked to laugh
+a time like this.  And when I think of you goin', Albert, I--I . . .
+but there, I promised Zelotes I wouldn't. . . .  And they MAY not
+take you. . . .  But oh, of course they will, of course they
+will! . . .  I'm goin' to make you a chicken pie for dinner to-day;
+I know how you like it. . . .  If only they MIGHT reject you! . . .
+But there, I said I wouldn't and I won't."
+
+Rachel Ellis's opinion on the subject and her way of expressing
+that opinion were distinctly her own.  Albert arose early in the
+morning following the announcement of his decision to enter the
+service.  He had not slept well; his mind was too busy with
+problems and speculations to resign itself to sleep.  He had tossed
+about until dawn and had then risen and sat down at the table in
+his bedroom to write Madeline of the step he had determined to
+take.  He had not written her while he was considering that step.
+He felt, somehow, that he alone with no pressure from without
+should make the decision.  Now that it was made, and irrevocably
+made, she must of course be told.  Telling her, however, was not an
+easy task.  He was sure she would agree that he had done the right
+thing, the only thing, but--
+
+"It is going to be very hard for you, dear," he wrote, heedless of
+the fact that Mrs. Fosdick's censorious eye would see and condemn
+the "dear."  "It is going to be hard for both of us.  But I am sure
+you will feel as I do that I COULDN'T do anything else.  I am young
+and strong and fit and I am an American.  I MUST go.  You see it,
+don't you, Madeline.  I can hardly wait until your letter comes
+telling me that you feel I did just the thing you would wish me to
+do."
+
+He hesitated and then, even more regardless of the censor, added
+the quotation which countless young lovers were finding so apt just
+then:
+
+
+     "I could not love thee, dear, so much,
+        Loved I not honor more."
+
+
+So when, fresh from the intimacy of this communication with his
+adored and with the letter in his hand, he entered the sitting-room
+at that early hour he was not overjoyed to find the housekeeper
+there ahead of him.  And her first sentence showed that she had
+been awaiting his coming.
+
+"Good mornin', Albert," she said.  "I heard you stirrin' 'round up
+in your room and I came down here so's you and I could talk
+together for a minute without anybody's disturbin' us. . . .
+Humph!  I guess likely you didn't sleep any too well last night,
+did you?"
+
+Albert shook his head.  "Not too well, Rachel," he replied.
+
+"I shouldn't wonder.  Well, I doubt if there was too much sleep
+anywheres in this house last night.  So you're really goin' to war,
+are you, Albert?"
+
+"Yes.  If the war will let me I certainly am."
+
+"Dear, dear! . . .  Well, I--I think it's what Robert Penfold would
+have done if he was in your place.  I've been goin' over it and
+goin' over it half the night, myself, and I've come to that
+conclusion.  It's goin' to be awful hard on your grandma and
+grandfather and me and Labe, all us folks here at home, but I guess
+it's the thing you'd ought to do, the Penfold kind of thing."
+
+Albert smiled.  "I'm glad you think so, Rachel," he said.
+
+"Well, I do, and if I'm goin' to tell the truth I might as well say
+I tried terrible hard to find some good reasons for thinkin'
+'twan't.  I did SO!  But the only good reasons I could scare up for
+makin' you stay to home was because home was safe and comf'table
+and where you was goin' wan't.  And that kind of reasonin' might do
+fust-rate for a passel of clams out on the flats, but it wouldn't
+be much credit to decent, self-respectin' humans.  When General
+Rolleson came to that island and found his daughter and Robert
+Penfold livin' there in that house made out of pearls he'd built
+for her--  Wan't that him all over!  Another man, the common run
+of man, would have been satisfied to build her a house out of wood
+and lucky to get that, but no, nothin' would do him but pearls,
+and if they'd have been di'monds he'd have been better satisfied.
+Well. . . .  Where was I? . . .  Oh yes!  When General Rolleson came
+there and says to his daughter, 'Helen, you come home along of me,'
+and she says, 'No, I shan't leave him,' meanin' Robert Penfold, you
+understand--  When she says that did Robert Penfold say, 'That's the
+talk!  Put that in your pipe, old man, and smoke it?'  No, SIR, he
+didn't!  He says, 'Helen, you go straight home along with your pa
+and work like fury till you find out who forged that note and laid
+it onto me.  You find that out,' he says, 'and then you can come
+fetch me and not afore.'  That's the kind of man HE was!  And they
+sailed off and left him behind."
+
+Albert shook his head.  He had heard only about half of the
+housekeeper's story.  "Pretty rough on him, I should say," he
+commented, absently.
+
+"I GUESS 'twas rough on him, poor thing!  But 'twas his duty and so
+he done it.  It was rough on Helen, havin' to go and leave him, but
+'twas rougher still on him.  It's always roughest, seems to me,"
+she added, "on the ones that's left behind.  Those that go have
+somethin' to take up their minds and keep 'em from thinkin' too
+much.  The ones that stay to home don't have much to do EXCEPT
+think.  I hope you don't get the notion that I feel your part of it
+is easy, Al.  Only a poor, crazy idiot could read the papers these
+days and feel that any part of this war was EASY!  It's awful, but--
+but it WILL keep you too busy to think, maybe."
+
+"I shouldn't wonder, Rachel.  I understand what you mean."
+
+"We're all goin' to miss you, Albert.  This house is goin' to be
+a pretty lonesome place, I cal'late.  Your grandma'll miss you
+dreadful and so will I, but--but I have a notion that your
+grandpa's goin' to miss you more'n anybody else."
+
+He shook his head.  "Oh, not as much as all that, Rachel," he said.
+"He and I have been getting on much better than we used to and we
+have come to understand each other better, but he is still
+disappointed in me.  I'm afraid I don't count for much as a
+business man, you see; and, besides, Grandfather can never quite
+forget that I am the son of what he calls a Portygee play actor."
+
+Mrs. Ellis looked at him earnestly.  "He's forgettin' it better
+every day, Albert," she said.  "I do declare I never believed
+Capt'n Lote Snow could forget it the way he's doin'.  And you--
+well, you've forgot a whole lot, too.  Memory's a good thing, the
+land knows," she added, sagely, "but a nice healthy forgetery is
+worth consider'ble--some times and in some cases."
+
+Issachar Price's comments on his fellow employee's decision to
+become a soldier were pointed.  Issy was disgusted.
+
+"For thunder sakes, Al," he demanded, "'tain't true that you've
+enlisted to go to war and fight them Germans, is it?"
+
+Albert smiled.  "I guess it is, Issy," he replied.
+
+"Well, by crimus!"
+
+"Somebody had to go, you see, Is."
+
+"Well, by crimustee!"
+
+"What's the matter, Issy?  Don't you approve?"
+
+"Approve!  No, by crimus, I don't approve!  I think it's a divil of
+a note, that's what I think."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"WHY?  Who's goin' to do the work in this office while you're gone?
+Labe and me, that's who; and I'll do the heft of it.  Slavin'
+myself half to death as 'tis and now--  Oh, by crimustee!  This war
+is a darned nuisance.  It hadn't ought to be allowed.  There'd
+ought to be a law against it."
+
+But of all the interviews which followed Albert's decision the most
+surprising and that which he was the least likely to forget was his
+interview with Laban Keeler.  It took place on the evening of the
+third day following the announcement of his intention to enlist.
+All that day, and indeed for several days, Albert had noted in the
+little bookkeeper certain symptoms, familiar symptoms they were and
+from experience the young man knew what they portended.  Laban was
+very nervous, his fingers twitched as he wrote, occasionally he
+rose from his chair and walked up and down the room, he ran his
+hand through his scanty hair, he was inclined to be irritable--that
+is, irritable for him.  Albert had noted the symptoms and was
+sorry.  Captain Zelotes noted them and frowned and pulled his
+beard.
+
+"Al," he said to his grandson, "if you can put off goin' up to
+enlist for a little spell, a few days, I wish you would.  Labe's
+gettin' ready to go on one of his vacations."
+
+Albert nodded.  "I'm afraid he is," he said.
+
+"Oh, it's as sartin as two and two makes four.  I've lived with him
+too many years not to know the signs.  And I did hope," he added,
+regretfully, "that maybe he was tryin' to break off.  It's been a
+good long spell, an extry long spell, since he had his last spree.
+Ah hum! it's a pity a good man should have that weak spot in him,
+ain't it?  But if you could hang around a few more days, while the
+vacation's goin' on, I'd appreciate it, Al.  I kind of hate to be
+left here alone with nobody but Issachar to lean on.  Issy's a good
+deal like a post in some ways, especially in the makeup of his
+head, but he's too ricketty to lean on for any length of time."
+
+That evening Albert went to the post-office for the mail.  On his
+way back as he passed the dark corner by the now closed and
+shuttered moving-picture theater he was hailed in a whisper.
+
+"Al," said a voice, "Al."
+
+Albert turned and peered into the deep shadow of the theater
+doorway.  In the summer this doorway was a blaze of light and
+gaiety; now it was cold and bleak and black enough.  From the
+shadow a small figure emerged on tiptoe.
+
+"Al," whispered Mr. Keeler.  "That's you, ain't it?  Yes, yes--yes,
+yes, yes--I thought 'twas, I thought so."
+
+Albert was surprised.  For one thing it was most unusual to see the
+little bookkeeper abroad after nine-thirty.  His usual evening
+procedure, when not on a vacation, was to call upon Rachel Ellis at
+the Snow place for an hour or so and then to return to his room
+over Simond's shoe store, which room he had occupied ever since the
+building was erected.
+
+There he read, so people said, until eleven sharp, when his lamp was
+extinguished.  During or at the beginning of the vacation periods he
+usually departed for some unknown destination, destinations which,
+apparently, varied.  He had been seen, hopelessly intoxicated, in
+Bayport, in Ostable, in Boston, once in Providence.  When he
+returned he never seemed to remember exactly where he had been.
+And, as most people were fond of and pitied him, few questions were
+asked.
+
+"Why, Labe!" exclaimed Albert.  "Is that you?  What's the matter?"
+
+"Busy, are you, Al?" queried Laban.  "In a hurry, eh?  Are you?  In
+a hurry, Al, eh?"
+
+"Why no, not especially."
+
+"Could you--could you spare me two or three minutes?  Two or three
+minutes--yes, yes?  Come up to my room, could you--could you, Al?"
+
+"Yes indeed.  But what is it, Labe?"
+
+"I want to talk.  Want to talk, I do.  Yes, yes, yes.  Saw you go
+by and I've been waitin' for you.  Waitin'--yes, I have--yes."
+
+He seized his assistant by the arm and led him across the road
+toward the shoe store.  Albert felt the hand on his arm tremble
+violently.
+
+"Are you cold, Labe?" he asked.  "What makes you shiver so?"
+
+"Eh?  Cold?  No, I ain't cold--no, no, no.  Come, Al, come."
+
+Albert sniffed suspiciously, but no odor of alcohol rewarded the
+sniff.  Neither was there any perfume of peppermint, Mr. Keeler's
+transparent camouflage at a vacation's beginning.  And Laban was
+not humming the refrain glorifying his "darling hanky-panky."
+Apparently he had not yet embarked upon the spree which Captain
+Lote had pronounced imminent.  But why did he behave so queerly?
+
+"I ain't the way you think, Al," declared the little man, divining
+his thought.  "I'm just kind of shaky and nervous, that's all.
+That's all, that's all, that's all.  Yes, yes.  Come, come!  COME!"
+
+The last "come" burst from him in an agony of impatience.  Albert
+hastened up the narrow stairs, Laban leading the way.  The latter
+fumbled with a key, his companion heard it rattling against the
+keyhole plate.  Then the door opened.  There was a lamp, its wick
+turned low, burning upon the table in the room.  Mr. Keeler turned
+it up, making a trembly job of the turning.  Albert looked about
+him; he had never been in that room before.
+
+It was a small room and there was not much furniture in it.  And it
+was a neat room, for the room of an old bachelor who was his own
+chambermaid.  Most things seemed to have places where they belonged
+and most of them appeared to be in those places.  What impressed
+Albert even more was the number of books.  There were books
+everywhere, in the cheap bookcase, on the pine shelf between the
+windows, piled in the corners, heaped on the table beside the lamp.
+They were worn and shabby volumes for the most part, some with but
+half a cover remaining, some with none.  He picked up one of the
+latter.  It was Locke on The Human Understanding; and next it, to
+his astonishment, was Alice's Adventures in Wonderland.
+
+Mr. Keeler looked over his shoulder and, for an instant, the
+whimsical smile which was characteristic of him curved his lip.
+
+"Philosophy, Al," he observed.  "If Locke don't suit you try the
+'mad hatter' feller.  I get consider'ble comfort out of the hatter,
+myself.  Do you remember when the mouse was tellin' the story about
+the three sisters that lived in the well?  He said they lived on
+everything that began with M.  Alice says 'Why with an M?'  And the
+hatter, or the March hare, I forget which 'twas, says prompt, 'Why
+not?' . . .  Yes, yes, why not? that's what he said. . . .  There's
+some philosophy in that, Al.  Why does a hen go across the road?
+Why not?  Why is Labe Keeler a disgrace to all his friends and the
+town he lives in?  Why not? . . .  Eh? . . .  Yes, yes.  That's it--
+why not?"
+
+He smiled again, but there was bitterness and not humor in the
+smile.  Albert put a hand on his shoulder.
+
+"Why, Labe," he asked, in concern, "what is it?"
+
+Laban turned away.
+
+"Don't mind, me, Al," he said, hurriedly.  "I mean don't mind if I
+act funny.  I'm--I'm kind of--of--  Oh, good Lord A'mighty, DON'T
+look at me like that! . . .  I beg your pardon, Al.  I didn't mean
+to bark like a dog at you.  No, I didn't--no, no.  Forgive me, will
+you?  Will you, Al, eh?"
+
+"Of course I will.  But what is the matter, Labe?  Sit down and
+tell me about it."
+
+Instead of sitting the little bookkeeper began to walk up and down.
+
+"Don't mind me, Al," he said, hurriedly.  "Don't mind me.  Let me
+go my own gait.  My own gait--yes, yes.  You see, Al, I--I'm tryin'
+to enlist, same as you're goin' to do, and--and MY fight's begun
+already.  Yes indeed--yes, yes--it has so."
+
+Albert was more astonished than ever.  There was no smell of
+alcohol, and Keeler had declared that he had not been drinking;
+but--
+
+"You're going to ENLIST?" repeated Albert.  "YOU?  Why, Labe, what--"
+
+Laban laughed nervously.  "Not to kill the Kaiser," he replied.
+"No, no, not that--not exactly.  I'd like to, only I wouldn't be
+much help that way.  But--but Al, I--I want to do somethin'.  I--
+I'd like to try to show--I'd like to be an American, a decent
+American, and the best way to begin, seems to me, is to try and be
+a man, a decent man.  Eh?  You understand, I--I--  Oh, Lord, what a
+mess I am makin' of this!  I--I--  Al," turning and desperately
+waving his hands, "I'm goin' to try to swear off.  Will you help
+me?"
+
+Albert's answer was enthusiastic.  "You bet I will!" he exclaimed.
+Keeler smiled pathetically.
+
+"It's goin' to be some job, I cal'late," he said.  "Some job, yes,
+yes.  But I'm goin' to try it, Al.  I read in the papers 'tother
+day that America needed every man.  Then you enlisted, Al,--or
+you're goin' to enlist.  It set me to thinkin' I'd try to enlist,
+too.  For the duration of the war, eh?  Yes, yes."
+
+"Good for you, Labe!  Bully!"
+
+Laban held up a protesting hand.  "Don't hurrah yet, Al," he said.
+"This ain't the first time I've tried it.  I've swore off a dozen
+times in the last fifteen years.  I've promised Rachel and broke
+the promise over and over again.  Broke my promise to her, the best
+woman in the world.  Shows what I am, what sort I am, don't it, Al?
+Yes, it does,--yes, yes.  And she's stuck by me, too, Lord knows
+why.  Last time I broke it I said I'd never promise her again.  Bad
+enough to be a common drunk without bein' a liar--yes, yes.  But
+this is a little different.  Seems to me--seems so."
+
+He began his pacing up and down again.
+
+"Seems different, somehow," he went on.  "Seems like a new chance.
+I want to do somethin' for Uncle Sam.  I--I'd like to try and
+enlist for the duration of the war--swear off for that long,
+anyhow.  Then, maybe, I'd be able to keep on for life, you know--
+duration of Labe Keeler, eh?  Yes, yes, yes.  But I could begin for
+just the war, couldn't I?  Maybe, 'twould fool me into thinkin'
+that was easier."
+
+"Of course, Labe.  It's a good idea."
+
+"Maybe; and maybe it's a fool one.  But I'm goin' to try it.  I AM
+tryin' it, have been all day."
+
+He paused, drew a shaking hand across his forehead and then asked,
+"Al, will you help me?  I asked you up here hopin' you would.  Will
+you, Al, eh?  Will you?"
+
+Albert could not understand how he could possibly help another man
+keep the pledge, but his promise was eagerly given.
+
+"Certainly, Labe," he said.
+
+"Thanks . . . thank you, Al. . . .  And now will you do something
+for me--a favor?"
+
+"Gladly.  What is it?"
+
+Laban did not answer at once.  He appeared to be on the point of
+doing so, but to be struggling either to find words or to overcome
+a tremendous reluctance.  When he did speak the words came in a
+burst.
+
+"Go down stairs," he cried.  "Down those stairs you came up.  At
+the foot of 'em, in a kind of cupboard place, under 'em, there's--
+there probably is a jug, a full jug.  It was due to come by express
+to-day and I cal'late it did, cal'late Jim Young fetched it down
+this afternoon.  I--I could have looked for myself and seen if
+'twas there," he added, after a momentary hesitation, "but--but I
+didn't dare to.  I was afraid I'd--I'd--"
+
+"All right, Labe.  I understand.  What do you want me to do with it
+if it is there?"
+
+"I want you--I want you to--to--"  The little bookkeeper seemed to
+be fighting another internal battle between inclination and
+resolution.  The latter won, for he finished with, "I want you to
+take it out back of the buildin' and--and empty it.  That's what I
+want you to do, empty it, Al, every drop. . . .  And, for the
+Almighty's sake, go quick," he ordered, desperately, "or I'll tell
+you not to before you start.  Go!"
+
+Albert went.  He fumbled in the cupboard under the stairs, found
+the jug--a large one and heavy--and hastened out into the night
+with it in his hands.  Behind the shoe store, amid a heap of old
+packing boxes and other rubbish, he emptied it.  The process was
+rather lengthy and decidedly fragrant.  As a finish he smashed the
+jug with a stone.  Then he climbed the stairs again.
+
+Laban was waiting for him, drops of perspiration upon his forehead.
+
+"Was--was it there?" he demanded.
+
+Albert nodded.
+
+"Yes, yes.  'Twas there, eh?  And did you--did you--?"
+
+"Yes, I did, jug and all."
+
+"Thank you, Al . . . thank you . . .  I--I've been trying to muster
+up spunk enough to do it myself, but--but I swan I couldn't.  I
+didn't dast to go nigh it . . .  I'm a fine specimen, ain't I,
+now?" he added, with a twisted smile.  "Some coward, eh?  Yes, yes.
+Some coward."
+
+Albert, realizing a little of the fight the man was making, was
+affected by it.  "You're a brick, Labe," he declared, heartily.
+"And as for being a coward--  Well, if I am half as brave when my
+turn comes I shall be satisfied."
+
+Laban shook his head.  "I don't know how scared I'd be of a German
+bombshell," he said, "but I'm everlastin' sure I wouldn't run from
+it for fear of runnin' towards it, and that's how I felt about that
+jug. . . .  Yes, yes, yes.  I did so . . .  I'm much obliged to
+you, Al.  I shan't forget it--no, no.  I cal'late you can trot
+along home now, if you want to.  I'm pretty safe--for to-night,
+anyhow.  Guess likely the new recruit won't desert afore morning."
+
+But Albert, watching him intently, refused to go.
+
+"I'm going to stay for a while, Labe," he said.  "I'm not a bit
+sleepy, really.  Let's have a smoke and talk together.  That is, of
+course, unless you want to go to bed."
+
+Mr. Keeler smiled his twisted smile.  "I ain't crazy to," he said.
+"The way I feel now I'd get to sleep about week after next.  But I
+hadn't ought to keep you up, Al."
+
+"Rubbish! I'm not sleepy, I tell you.  Sit down.  Have a cigar.
+Now what shall we talk about?  How would books do?  What have you
+been reading lately, Labe?"
+
+They smoked and talked books until nearly two.  Then Laban insisted
+upon his guest departing.  "I'm all right, Al" he declared,
+earnestly.  "I am honest--yes, yes, I am.  I'll go to sleep like a
+lamb, yes indeed."
+
+"You'll be at the office in the morning, won't you, Labe?"
+
+The little bookkeeper nodded.  "I'll be there," he said.  "Got to
+answer roll call the first mornin' after enlistment.  Yes, yes.
+I'll be there, Al."
+
+He was there, but he did not look as if his indulgence in the lamb-
+like sleep had been excessive.  He was so pale and haggard that his
+assistant was alarmed.
+
+"You're not sick, are you, Labe?" he asked, anxiously.  Laban shook
+his head.
+
+"No," he said.  "No, I ain't sick.  Been doin' picket duty up and
+down the room since half past three, that's all.  Um-hm, that's
+all.  Say, Al, if General what's-his-name--er--von Hindenburg--is
+any harder scrapper than old Field Marshal Barleycorn he's a pretty
+tough one.  Say, Al, you didn't say anything about--about my--er--
+enlistin' to Cap'n Lote, did you?  I meant to ask you not to."
+
+"I didn't, Labe.  I thought you might want it kept a secret."
+
+"Um-hm.  Better keep it in the ranks until we know how this first--
+er--skirmish is comin' out.  Yes, yes.  Better keep it that way.
+Um-hm."
+
+All day he stuck manfully at his task and that evening, immediately
+after supper, Albert went to the room over the shoe store, found
+him there and insisted upon his coming over to call upon Rachel.
+He had not intended doing so.
+
+"You see, Al," he explained, "I'm--I'm kind of--er--shaky and
+Rachel will be worried, I'm afraid.  She knows me pretty well and
+she'll cal'late I'm just gettin' ready to--to bust loose again."
+
+Albert interrupted.  "No, she won't, Laban," he said.  "We'll show
+her that you're not."
+
+"You won't say anything to her about my--er--enlistin', Al?  Don't.
+No, no.  I've promised her too many times--and broke the promises.
+If anything should come of this fight of mine I'd rather she'd find
+it out for herself.  Better to surprise her than to disapp'int her.
+Yes, yes, lots better."
+
+Albert promised not to tell Rachel and so Laban made his call.
+When it was over the young man walked home with him and the pair
+sat and talked until after midnight, just as on the previous night.
+The following evening it was much the same, except that, as Mr.
+Keeler pronounced himself more than usually "shaky" and expressed a
+desire to "keep movin'," they walked half way to Orham and back
+before parting.  By the end of the week Laban declared the fight
+won--for the time.
+
+"You've pulled me through the fust tussle, Al," he said.  "I shan't
+desert now, not till the next break-out, anyhow.  I cal'late it'll
+get me harder than ever then.  Harder than ever--yes, yes.  And you
+won't be here to help me, neither."
+
+"Never mind; I shall be thinking of you, Labe.  And I know you're
+going to win.  I feel it in my bones."
+
+"Um-hm. . . .  Yes, yes, yes. . .  In your bones, eh?  Well, MY
+bones don't seem to feel much, except rheumatics once in a while.
+I hope yours are better prophets, but I wouldn't want to bet too
+high on it.  No, I wouldn't--no, no.  However, we'll do our best,
+and they say angels can't do any more--though they'd probably do it
+in a different way . . . some different. . . .  Um-hm. . . .  Yes,
+indeed."
+
+Two letters came to Albert before that week ended.  The first was
+from Madeline.  He had written her of his intention to enlist and
+this was her reply.  The letter had evidently been smuggled past
+the censor, for it contained much which Mrs. Fosdick would have
+blue-penciled.  Its contents were a blend of praise and blame, of
+exaltation and depression.  He was a hero, and so brave, and she
+was so proud of him.  It was wonderful his daring to go, and just
+what she would have expected of her hero.  If only she might see
+him in his uniform.  So many of the fellows she knew had enlisted.
+They were wonderfully brave, too, although of course nothing like
+as wonderful as her own etcetera, etcetera.  She had seen some of
+THEM in their uniforms and they were PERFECTLY SPLENDID.  But they
+were officers, or they were going to be.  Why wasn't he going to be
+an officer?  It was so much nicer to be an officer.  And if he were
+one he might not have to go away to fight nearly so soon.  Officers
+stayed here longer and studied, you know.  Mother had said
+something about "a common private," and she did not like it.  But
+never mind, she would be just as proud no matter what he was.  And
+she should dream of him and think of him always and always.  And
+perhaps he might be so brave and wonderful that he would be given
+one of those war crosses, the Croix de Guerre or something.  She
+was sure he would.  But oh, no matter what happened, he must not go
+where it was TOO dangerous.  Suppose he should be wounded.  Oh,
+suppose, SUPPOSE he should be killed.  What would she do then?
+What would become of her?  MUST he go, after all?  Couldn't he stay
+at home and study or something, for a while, you know?  She should
+be so lonely after he was gone.  And so frightened and so anxious.
+And he wouldn't forget her, would he, no matter where he went?
+Because she never, never, never would forget him for a moment.  And
+he must write every day.  And--
+
+The letter was fourteen pages long.
+
+The other letter was a surprise.  It was from Helen.  The Reverend
+Mr. Kendall had been told of Albert's intended enlistment and had
+written his daughter.
+
+
+So you are going into the war, Albert (she wrote).  I am not
+surprised because I expected you would do just that.  It is what
+all of us would like to do, I'm sure, and you were always anxious
+to go, even before the United States came in.  So I am writing this
+merely to congratulate you and to wish you the very best of good
+luck.  Father says you are not going to try for a commission but
+intend enlisting as a private.  I suppose that is because you think
+you may get to the actual fighting sooner.  I think I understand
+and appreciate that feeling too, but are you sure it is the best
+plan?  You want to be of the greatest service to the country and
+with your education and brains--  This ISN'T flattery, because it
+is true--don't you think you might help more if you were in command
+of men?  Of course I don't know, being only a girl, but I have been
+wondering.  No doubt you know best and probably it is settled
+before this; at any rate, please don't think that I intend butting
+in.  "Butting in" is not at all a proper expression for a
+schoolmarm to use but it is a relief to be human occasionally.
+Whatever you do I am sure will be the right thing and I know all
+your friends are going to be very, very proud of you.  I shall hear
+of you through the people at home, I know, and I shall be anxious
+to hear.  I don't know what I shall do to help the cause, but I
+hope to do something.  A musket is prohibitive to females but the
+knitting needle is ours and I CAN handle that, if I do say it.  And
+I MAY go in for Red Cross work altogether.  But I don't count much,
+and you men do, and this is your day.  Please, for the sake of your
+grandparents and all your friends, don't take unnecessary chances.
+I can see your face as you read that and think that I am a silly
+idiot.  I'm not and I mean what I say.  You see I know YOU and I
+know you will not be content to do the ordinary thing.  We want you
+to distinguish yourself, but also we want you to come back whole
+and sound, if it is possible.  We shall think of you a great deal.
+And please, in the midst of the excitement of the BIG work you are
+doing, don't forget us home folk, including your friend,
+
+HELEN KENDALL.
+
+
+Albert's feelings when he read this letter were divided.  He
+enjoyed hearing from Helen.  The letter was just like herself,
+sensible and good-humored and friendly.  There were no hysterics in
+it and no heroics but he knew that no one except his grandparents
+and Rachel and Laban--and, of course, his own Madeline--would think
+of him oftener or be more anxious for his safety and welfare than
+Helen.  He was glad she was his friend, very glad.  But he almost
+wished she had not written.  He felt a bit guilty at having
+received the letter.  He was pretty sure that Madeline would not
+like the idea.  He was tempted to say nothing concerning it in his
+next letter to his affianced, but that seemed underhanded and
+cowardly, so he told her.  And in her next letter to him Madeline
+made no reference at all to Helen or her epistle, so he knew she
+was displeased.  And he was miserable in consequence.
+
+But his misery did not last long.  The happenings which followed
+crowded it from his mind, and from Madeline's also, for that
+matter.  One morning, having told no one except his grandfather
+of his intention, he took the morning train to Boston.  When he
+returned the next day he was Uncle Sam's man, sworn in and
+accepted.  He had passed the physical examination with flying
+colors and the recruiting officers expressed themselves as being
+glad to get him.  He was home for but one day leave, then he must
+go to stay.  He had debated the question of going in for a
+commission, but those were the early days of our participation in
+the war and a Plattsburg training or at least some sort of military
+education was almost an essential.  He did not want to wait; as he
+had told his grandfather, he wanted to fight.  So he enlisted as a
+private.
+
+And when the brief leave was over he took the train for Boston,
+no longer Alberto Miguel Carlos Speranza, South Harniss's Beau
+Brummel, poet and Portygee, but Private Speranza, U.S.A.  The
+farewells were brief and no one cried--much.  His grandmother
+hugged and kissed him, Rachel looked very much as if she wanted to.
+Laban and Issachar shook hands with him.
+
+"Good luck to you, boy," said Mr. Keeler.  "All the luck there is."
+
+"Same to you, old man," replied Albert.  Then, in a lower tone, he
+added, "We'll fight it out together, eh?"
+
+"We'll try.  Yes, yes.  We'll try.  So long, Al."
+
+Issachar struck the reassuring note.  "Don't fret about things in
+the office," he said.  "I'll look out for 'em long's I keep my
+health."
+
+"Be sure and keep that, Issy."
+
+"You bet you!  Only thing that's liable to break it down is over-
+work."
+
+Captain Zelotes said very little.  "Write us when you can, Al," he
+said.  "And come home whenever you get leave."
+
+"You may be sure of that, Grandfather.  And after I get to camp
+perhaps you can come and see me."
+
+"Maybe so.  Will if I can. . . .  Well, Al, I . . . I. . . .  Good
+luck to you, son."
+
+"Thank you, Grandfather."
+
+They shook hands.  Each looked as if there was more he would have
+liked to say but found the saying hard.  Then the engine bell rang
+and the hands fell apart.  The little group on the station platform
+watched the train disappear.  Mrs. Snow and Rachel wiped their eyes
+with their handkerchiefs.  Captain Zelotes gently patted his wife's
+shoulder.
+
+"The team's waitin', Mother," he said.  "Labe'll drive you and
+Rachel home."
+
+"But--but ain't you comin', too, Zelotes?" faltered Olive.  Her
+husband shook his head.
+
+"Not now, Mother," he answered.  "Got to go back to the office."
+
+He stood for an instant looking at the faint smear of smoke above
+the curve in the track.  Then, without another word, he strode off
+in the direction of Z. Snow and Co.'s buildings.  Issachar Price
+sniffed.
+
+"Crimus," he whispered to Laban, as the latter passed him on the
+way to where Jessamine, the Snow horse, was tied, "the old man
+takes it cool, don't he!  I kind of imagined he'd be sort of shook
+up by Al's goin' off to war, but he don't seem to feel it a mite."
+
+Keeler looked at him in wonder.  Then he drew a long breath.
+
+"Is," he said, slowly, "it is a mighty good thing for the Seven
+Wise Men of Greece that they ain't alive now."
+
+It was Issachar's turn to stare.  "Eh?" he queried.  "The Seven
+Wise Men of Which?  Good thing for 'em they ain't alive?  What kind
+of talk's that?  Why is it a good thing?"
+
+Laban spoke over his shoulder.  "Because," he drawled, "if they was
+alive now they'd be so jealous of you they'd commit suicide.  Yes,
+they would. . . .  Yes, yes."
+
+With which enigmatical remark he left Mr. Price and turned his
+attention to the tethered Jessamine.
+
+And then began a new period, a new life at the Snow place and in
+the office of Z. Snow and Co.  Or, rather, life in the old house
+and at the lumber and hardware office slumped back into the groove
+in which it had run before the opera singer's son was summoned
+from the New York school to the home and into the lives of his
+grandparents.  Three people instead of four sat down at the breakfast
+table and at dinner and at supper.  Captain Zelotes walked alone to
+and from the office.  Olive Snow no longer baked and iced large
+chocolate layer cakes because a certain inmate of her household was
+so fond of them.  Rachel Ellis discussed Foul Play and Robert
+Penfold with no one.  The house was emptier, more old-fashioned and
+behind the times, more lonely--surprisingly empty and behind the
+times and lonely.
+
+The daily mails became matters of intense interest and expectation.
+Albert wrote regularly and of course well and entertainingly.  He
+described the life at the camp where he and the other recruits were
+training, a camp vastly different from the enormous military towns
+built later on for housing and training the drafted men.  He liked
+the life pretty well, he wrote, although it was hard and a fellow
+had precious little opportunity to be lazy.  Mistakes, too, were
+unprofitable for the maker.  Captain Lote's eye twinkled when he
+read that.
+
+Later on he wrote that he had been made a corporal and his
+grandmother, to whom a major general and a corporal were of equal
+rank, rejoiced much both at home and in church after meeting was
+over and friends came to hear the news.  Mrs. Ellis declared
+herself not surprised.  It was the Robert Penfold in him coming
+out, so she said.
+
+A month or two later one of Albert's letters contained an
+interesting item of news.  In the little spare time which military
+life afforded him he continued to write verse and stories.  Now a
+New York publisher, not one of the most prominent but a reputable
+and enterprising one, had written him suggesting the collecting of
+his poems and their publication in book form.  The poet himself
+was, naturally, elated.
+
+"Isn't it splendid!" he wrote.  "The best part of it, of course, is
+that he asked to publish, I did not ask him.  Please send me my
+scrapbook and all loose manuscript.  When the book will come out
+I'm sure I don't know.  In fact it may never come out, we have not
+gotten as far as terms and contracts yet, but I feel we shall.
+Send the scrapbook and manuscript right away, PLEASE."
+
+They were sent.  In his next letter Albert was still enthusiastic.
+
+"I have been looking over my stuff," he wrote, "and some of it is
+pretty good, if you don't mind my saying so.  Tell Grandfather that
+when this book of mine is out and selling I may be able to show him
+that poetry making isn't a pauper's job, after all.  Of course I
+don't know how much it will sell--perhaps not more than five or ten
+thousand at first--but even at ten thousand at, say, twenty-five
+cents royalty each, would be twenty-five hundred dollars, and
+that's something.  Why, Ben Hur, the novel, you know, has sold a
+million, I believe."
+
+Mrs. Snow and Rachel were duly impressed by this prophecy of
+affluence, but Captain Zelotes still played the skeptic.
+
+"A million at twenty-five cents a piece!" exclaimed Olive.  "Why,
+Zelotes, that's--that's an awful sight of money."
+
+Mental arithmetic failing her, she set to work with a pencil and
+paper and after a strenuous struggle triumphantly announced that it
+came to two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.
+
+"My soul and body!" she cried.  "Two hundred and fifty thousand
+DOLLARS!  My SOUL, Zelotes!  Suppose--only suppose Albert's book
+brought him in as much as that!"
+
+Her husband shook his head.  "I can't, Olive," he said, without
+looking up from his newspaper.  "My supposer wouldn't stand the
+strain."
+
+"But it might, Zelotes, it MIGHT.  Suppose it did, what would you
+say then?"
+
+The captain regarded her over the top of the Transcript.  "I
+shouldn't say a word, Olive," he answered, solemnly.  "I should be
+down sick by the time it got up as far as a thousand, and anything
+past two thousand you could use to buy my tombstone with. . . .
+There, there, Mother," he added, noticing the hurt look on her
+face, "don't feel bad.  I'm only jokin'.  One of these days Al's
+goin' to make a nice, comf'table livin' sellin' lumber and hardware
+right here in South Harniss.  I can SEE that money in the offin'.
+All this million or two that's comin' from poetry and such is out
+of sight in the fog.  It may be there but--humph! well, I KNOW
+where Z. Snow and Co. is located."
+
+Olive was not entirely placated.  "I must say I think you're awful
+discouragin' to the poor boy, Zelotes," she said.  Her husband put
+down his paper.
+
+"No, no, I ain't, Mother," he replied, earnestly.  "At least I
+don't mean to be.  Way I look at it, this poetry-makin' and writin'
+yarns and that sort of stuff is just part of the youngster's--er--
+growin' up, as you might say.  Give him time he'll grow out of it,
+same as I cal'late he will out of this girl business, this--er--
+Madel--humph--er--ahem. . . .  Looks like a good day to-morrow,
+don't it."
+
+He pulled up suddenly, and with considerable confusion.  He had
+kept the news of his grandson's infatuation and engagement even
+from his wife.  No one in South Harniss knew of it, no one except
+the captain.  Helen Kendall knew, but she was in Boston.
+
+Rachel Ellis picked up the half knitted Red Cross mitten in her
+lap.  "Well, I don't know whether he's right or you are, Cap'n
+Lote," she said, with a sigh, "but this I do know--I wish this
+awful war was over and he was back home again."
+
+That remark ended the conversation.  Olive resumed her own knitting,
+seeing it but indistinctly.  Her husband did not continue his
+newspaper reading.  Instead he rose and, saying something about
+cal'latin' he would go for a little walk before turning in, went out
+into the yard.
+
+But the war did not end, it went on; so too did the enlisting and
+training.  In the early summer Albert came home for a two days'
+leave.  He was broader and straighter and browner.  His uniform
+became him and, more than ever, the eyes of South Harniss's
+youthful femininity, native or imported, followed him as he walked
+the village streets.  But the glances were not returned, not in
+kind, that is.  The new Fosdick home, although completed, was not
+occupied.  Mrs. Fosdick had, that summer, decided that her duties
+as mover in goodness knows how many war work activities prevented
+her taking her "usual summer rest."  Instead she and Madeline
+occupied a rented villa at Greenwich, Connecticut, coming into town
+for meetings of all sorts.  Captain Zelotes had his own suspicions
+as to whether war work alone was the cause of the Fosdicks'
+shunning of what was to have been their summer home, but he kept
+those suspicions to himself.  Albert may have suspected also, but
+he, too, said nothing.  The censored correspondence between
+Greenwich and the training camp traveled regularly, and South
+Harniss damsels looked and longed in vain.  He saw them, he bowed
+to them, he even addressed them pleasantly and charmingly, but to
+him they were merely incidents in his walks to and from the post-
+office.  In his mind's eye he saw but one, and she, alas, was not
+present in the flesh.
+
+Then he returned to the camp where, later on, Captain Zelotes and
+Olive visited him.  As they came away the captain and his grandson
+exchanged a few significant words.
+
+"It is likely to be almost any time, Grandfather," said Albert,
+quietly.  "They are beginning to send them now, as you know by the
+papers, and we have had the tip that our turn will be soon.  So--"
+
+Captain Lote grasped the significance of the uncompleted sentence.
+
+"I see, Al," he answered, "I see.  Well, boy, I--I--  Good luck."
+
+"Good luck, Grandfather."
+
+That was all, that and one more handclasp.  Our Anglo-Saxon
+inheritance descends upon us in times like these.  The captain was
+silent for most of the ride to the railroad station.
+
+Then followed a long, significant interval during which there were
+no letters from the young soldier.  After this a short reassuring
+cablegram from "Somewhere in France."  "Safe.  Well," it read and
+Olive Snow carried it about with her, in the bosom of her gown, all
+that afternoon and put it upon retiring on her bureau top so that
+she might see it the first thing in the morning.
+
+Another long interval, then letters, the reassuring but so
+tantalizingly unsatisfactory letters we American families were,
+just at that time, beginning to receive.  Reading the newspapers
+now had a personal interest, a terrifying, dreadful interest.  Then
+the packing and sending of holiday boxes, over the contents of
+which Olive and Rachel spent much careful planning and anxious
+preparation.  Then another interval of more letters, letters which
+hinted vaguely at big things just ahead.
+
+Then no letter for more than a month.
+
+And then, one noon, as Captain Zelotes returned to his desk after
+the walk from home and dinner, Laban Keeler came in and stood
+beside that desk.
+
+The captain, looking up, saw the little bookkeeper's face.  "What
+is it, Labe?" he asked, sharply.
+
+Laban held a yellow envelope in his hand.
+
+"It came while you were gone to dinner, Cap'n," he said.  "Ben
+Kelley fetched it from the telegraph office himself.  He--he said
+he didn't hardly want to take it to the house.  He cal'lated you'd
+better have it here, to read to yourself, fust.  That's what he
+said--yes, yes--that's what 'twas, Cap'n."
+
+Slowly Captain Zelotes extended his hand for the envelope.  He did
+not take his eyes from the bookkeeper's face.
+
+"Ben--Ben, he told me what was in it, Cap'n Lote," faltered Laban.
+"I--I don't know what to say to you, I don't--no, no."
+
+Without a word the captain took the envelope from Keeler's fingers,
+and tore it open.  He read the words upon the form within.
+
+Laban leaned forward.
+
+"For the Lord sakes, Lote Snow," he cried, in a burst of agony,
+"why couldn't it have been some darn good-for-nothin' like me
+instead--instead of him?  Oh, my God A'mighty, what a world this
+is!  WHAT a world!"
+
+Still Captain Zelotes said nothing.  His eyes were fixed upon the
+yellow sheet of paper on the desk before him.  After a long minute
+he spoke.
+
+"Well," he said, very slowly, "well, Labe, there goes--there goes
+Z. Snow and Company."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+
+The telegram from the War Department was brief, as all such
+telegrams were perforce obliged to be.  The Secretary of War,
+through his representative, regretted to inform Captain Zelotes
+Snow that Sergeant Albert Speranza had been killed in action upon a
+certain day.  It was enough, however--for the time quite enough.
+It was not until later that the little group of South Harniss
+recovered sufficiently from the stunning effect of those few words
+to think of seeking particulars.  Albert was dead; what did it
+matter, then, to know how he died?
+
+Olive bore the shock surprisingly well.  Her husband's fears for
+her seemed quite unnecessary.  The Captain, knowing how she had
+idolized her daughter's boy, had dreaded the effect which the news
+might have upon her.  She was broken down by it, it is true, but
+she was quiet and brave--astonishingly, wonderfully quiet and
+brave.  And it was she, rather than her husband, who played the
+part of the comforter in those black hours.
+
+"He's gone, Zelotes," she said.  "It don't seem possible, I know,
+but he's gone.  And he died doin' his duty, same as he would have
+wanted to die if he'd known 'twas comin', poor boy.  So--so we must
+do ours, I suppose, and bear up under it the very best we can.  It
+won't be very long, Zelotes," she added.  "We're both gettin' old."
+
+Captain Lote made no reply.  He was standing by the window of the
+sitting-room looking out into the wet backyard across which the
+wind-driven rain was beating in stormy gusts.
+
+"We must be brave, Zelotes," whispered Olive, tremulously.  "He'd
+want us to be and we MUST be."
+
+He put his arm about her in a sudden heat of admiration.  "I'd be
+ashamed not to be after seein' you, Mother," he exclaimed.
+
+He went out to the barn a few moments later and Rachel, entering
+the sitting-room, found Olive crumpled down in the big rocker in an
+agony of grief.
+
+"Oh, don't, Mrs. Snow, don't," she begged, the tears streaming down
+her own cheeks.  "You mustn't give way to it like this; you mustn't."
+
+Olive nodded.
+
+"I know it, I know it," she admitted, chokingly, wiping her eyes
+with a soaked handkerchief.  "I shan't, Rachel, only this once, I
+promise you.  You see I can't.  I just can't on Zelotes's account.
+I've got to bear up for his sake."
+
+The housekeeper was surprised and a little indignant.
+
+"For his sake!" she repeated.  "For mercy sakes why for his sake?
+Is it any worse for him than 'tis for you."
+
+"Oh, yes, yes, lots worse.  He won't say much, of course, bein'
+Zelotes Snow, but you and I know how he's planned, especially these
+last years, and how he's begun to count on--on Albert. . . .  No,
+no, I ain't goin' to cry, Rachel, I ain't--I WON'T--but sayin' his
+name, you know, kind of--"
+
+"I know, I know.  Land sakes, DON'T I know!  Ain't I doin' it
+myself?"
+
+"Course you are, Rachel.  But we mustn't when Zelotes is around.
+We women, we--well, times like these women HAVE to keep up.  What
+would become of the men if we didn't?"
+
+So she and Rachel "kept up" in public and when the captain was
+present, and he for his part made no show of grief nor asked for
+pity.  He was silent, talked little and to the callers who came
+either at the house or office was uncomplaining.
+
+"He died like a man," he told the Reverend Mr. Kendall when the
+latter called.  "He took his chance, knowin' what that meant--"
+
+"He was glad to take it," interrupted the minister.  "Proud and
+glad to take it."
+
+"Sartin.  Why not?  Wouldn't you or I have been glad to take ours,
+if we could?"
+
+"Well, Captain Snow, I am glad to find you so resigned."
+
+Captain Zelotes looked at him.  "Resigned?" he repeated.  "What do
+you mean by resigned?  Not to sit around and whimper is one thing--
+any decent man or woman ought to be able to do that in these days;
+but if by bein' resigned you mean I'm contented to have it so--
+well, you're mistaken, that's all."
+
+Only on one occasion, and then to Laban Keeler, did he open his
+shell sufficiently to give a glimpse of what was inside.  Laban
+entered the inner office that morning to find his employer sitting
+in the desk chair, both hands jammed in his trousers' pockets and
+his gaze fixed, apparently, upon the row of pigeon-holes.  When the
+bookkeeper spoke to him he seemed to wake from a dream, for he
+started and looked up.
+
+"Cap'n Lote," began Keeler, "I'm sorry to bother you, but that last
+carload of pine was--"
+
+Captain Zelotes waved his hand, brushing the carload of pine out of
+the conversation.
+
+"Labe," he said, slowly, "did it seem to you that I was too hard on
+him?"
+
+Laban did not understand.  "Hard on him?" he repeated.  "I don't
+know's I just get--"
+
+"Hard on Al.  Did it seem to you as if I was a little too much of
+the bucko mate to the boy?  Did I drive him too hard?  Was I
+unreasonable?"
+
+The answer was prompt.  "No, Cap'n Lote," replied Keeler.
+
+"You mean that? . . .  Um-hm. . . .  Well, sometimes seems as if I
+might have been.  You see, Labe, when he first come I--  Well, I
+cal'late I was consider'ble prejudiced against him.  Account of his
+father, you understand."
+
+"Sartin.  Sure.  I understand."
+
+"It took me a good while to get reconciled to the Portygee streak
+in him.  It chafed me consider'ble to think there was a foreign
+streak in our family.  The Snows have been straight Yankee for a
+good long while. . . .  Fact is, I--I never got really reconciled
+to it.  I kept bein' fearful all the time that that streak, his
+father's streak, would break out in him.  It never did, except of
+course in his poetry and that sort of foolishness, but I was always
+scared 'twould, you see.  And now--now that this has happened I--I
+kind of fret for fear that I may have let my notions get ahead of
+my fair play.  You think I did give the boy a square deal, Labe?"
+
+"Sure thing, Cap'n."
+
+"I'm glad of that. . . .  And--and you cal'late he wasn't--wasn't
+too prejudiced against me?  I don't mean along at first, I mean
+this last year or two."
+
+Laban hesitated.  He wished his answer to be not an overstatement,
+but the exact truth.
+
+"I think," he said, with emphasis, "that Al was comin' to understand
+you better every day he lived, Cap'n.  Yes, and to think more and
+more of you, too.  He was gettin' older, for one thing--older, more
+of a man--yes, yes."
+
+Captain Zelotes smiled sadly.  "He was more boy than man by a good
+deal yet," he observed.  "Well, Labe, he's gone and I'm just
+beginnin' to realize how much of life for me has gone along with
+him.  He'd been doin' better here in the office for the last two or
+three years, seemed to be catchin' on to business better.  Didn't
+you think so, Labe?"
+
+"Sartin.  Yes indeed.  Fust-rate, fust-rate."
+
+"No, not first-rate.  He was a long ways from a business man yet,
+but I did think he was doin' a lot better.  I could begin to see
+him pilotin' this craft after I was called ashore.  Now he's gone
+and . . . well, I don't see much use in my fightin' to keep it
+afloat.  I'm gettin' along in years--and what's the use?"
+
+It was the first time Laban had ever heard Captain Zelotes refer to
+himself as an old man.  It shocked him into sharp expostulation.
+
+"Nonsense!" he exclaimed.  "You ain't old enough for the scrap heap
+by a big stretch.  And besides, he made his fight, didn't he?  He
+didn't quit, Al didn't, and he wouldn't want us to.  No sir-ee, he
+wouldn't!  No, sir, no! . . .  I--I hope you'll excuse me, Cap'n
+Lote.  I--declare it must seem to you as if I was talkin' pretty
+fresh.  I swan I'm sorry.  I am so . . . sorry; yes, yes, I be."
+
+The captain was not offended.  He waved the apologies aside.
+
+"So you think it's worth while my fightin' it out, do you, Labe?"
+he asked, reflectively.
+
+"I--I think it's what you ought to do anyhow, whether it's worth
+while or not.  The whole world's fightin'.  Uncle Sam's fightin'.
+Al was fightin'.  You're fightin'.  I'm fightin'.  It's a darn
+sight easier to quit, a darn sight, but--but Al didn't quit.  And--
+and we mustn't--not if we can help it," he added, drawing a hand
+across his forehead.
+
+His agitation seemed to surprise Captain Zelotes.  "So all hands
+are fightin', are they, Labe," he observed.  "Well, I presume
+likely there's some truth in that.  What's your particular fight,
+for instance?"
+
+The little bookkeeper looked at him for an instant before replying.
+The captain's question was kindly asked, but there was, or so Laban
+imagined, the faintest trace of sarcasm in its tone.  That trace
+decided him.  He leaned across the desk.
+
+"My particular fight?" he repeated.  "You--you want to know what
+'tis, Cap'n Lote?  All right, all right, I'll tell you."
+
+And without waiting for further questioning and with, for him,
+surprisingly few repetitions, he told of his "enlistment" to fight
+John Barleycorn for the duration of the war.  Captain Zelotes
+listened to the very end in silence.  Laban mopped his forehead
+with a hand which shook much as it had done during the interview
+with Albert in the room above the shoe store.
+
+"There--there," he declared, in conclusion, "that's my fight, Cap'n
+Lote.  Al and I, we--we kind of went into it together, as you might
+say, though his enlistin' was consider'ble more heroic than mine--
+yes indeed, I should say so . . . yes, yes, yes.  But I'm fightin'
+too . . . er . . . I'm fightin' too."
+
+Captain Zelotes pulled his beard.
+
+"How's the fight goin', Labe?" he asked, quietly.
+
+"Well--well, it's kind of--kind of spotty, as you might say.
+There's spots when I get along fairly smooth and others when--well,
+when it's pretty rough goin'.  I've had four hard spots since Al
+went away, but there's two that was the hardest.  One was along
+Christmas and New Year time; you know I 'most generally had one of
+my--er--spells along about then.  And t'other is just now; I mean
+since we got word about--about Al.  I don't suppose likely you
+surmised it, Cap'n, but--but I'd come to think a lot of that boy--
+yes, I had.  Seems funny to you, I don't doubt, but it's so.  And
+since the word come, you know--I--I--well, I've had some fight,
+some fight.  I--I don't cal'late I've slept more'n four hours in
+the last four nights--not more'n that, no.  Walkin' helps me most,
+seems so.  Last night I walked to West Orham."
+
+"To West Orham!  You WALKED there?  Last NIGHT?"
+
+"Um-hm.  Long's I can keep walkin' I--I seem to part way forget--to
+forget the stuff, you know.  When I'm alone in my room I go 'most
+crazy--pretty nigh loony. . . .  But there!  I don't know why I got
+to talkin' like this to you, Cap'n Lote.  You've got your troubles
+and--"
+
+"Hold on, Labe.  Does Rachel know about your fight?"
+
+"No.  No, no.  Course she must notice how long I've been--been
+straight, but I haven't told her.  I want to be sure I'm goin' to
+win before I tell her.  She's been disappointed times enough
+before, poor woman. . . .  There, Cap'n Lote, don't let's talk
+about it any more.  Please don't get the notion that I'm askin' for
+pity or anything like that.  And don't think I'm comparin' what I
+call my fight to the real one like Al's.  There's nothin' much
+heroic about me, eh?  No, no, I guess not.  Tell that to look at
+me, eh?"
+
+Captain Zelotes rose and laid his big hand on his bookkeeper's
+shoulder.
+
+"Don't you believe it, Labe," he said.  "I'm proud of you. . . .
+And, I declare, I'm ashamed of myself. . . .  Humph! . . .  Well,
+to-night you come home with me and have supper at the house."
+
+"Now, now, Cap'n Lote--"
+
+"You do as I tell you.  After supper, if there's any walkin' to be
+done--if you take a notion to frog it to Orham or San Francisco or
+somewheres--maybe I'll go with you.  Walkin' may be good for my
+fight, too; you can't tell till you try. . . .  There, don't argue,
+Labe.  I'm skipper of this craft yet and you'll obey my orders;
+d'you hear?"
+
+The day following the receipt of the fateful telegram the captain
+wrote a brief note to Fletcher Fosdick.  A day or two later he
+received a reply.  Fosdick's letter was kindly and deeply
+sympathetic.  He had been greatly shocked and grieved by the news.
+
+
+Young Speranza seemed to me, (he wrote) in my one short interview
+with him, to be a fine young fellow.  Madeline, poor girl, is
+almost frantic.  She will recover by and by, recovery is easier at
+her age, but it will be very, very hard for you and Mrs. Snow.  You
+and I little thought when we discussed the problem of our young
+people that it would be solved in this way.  To you and your wife
+my sincerest sympathy.  When you hear particulars concerning your
+grandson's death, please write me.  Madeline is anxious to know and
+keeps asking for them.  Mrs. Fosdick is too much concerned with her
+daughter's health to write just now, but she joins me in sympathetic
+regards.
+
+
+Captain Zelotes took Mrs. Fosdick's sympathy with a grain of salt.
+When he showed this letter to his wife he, for the first time, told
+her of the engagement, explaining that his previous silence had
+been due to Albert's request that the affair be kept a secret for
+the present.  Olive, even in the depth of her sorrow, was greatly
+impressed by the grandeur of the alliance.
+
+"Just think, Zelotes," she exclaimed, "the Fosdick girl--and our
+Albert engaged to marry her!  Why, the Fosdicks are awful rich,
+everybody says so.  Mrs. Fosdick is head of I don't know how many
+societies and clubs and things in New York; her name is in the
+paper almost every day, so another New York woman told me at Red
+Cross meetin' last summer.  And Mr. Fosdick has been in politics,
+way up in politics."
+
+"Um-hm.  Well, he's reformed lately, I understand, so we mustn't
+hold that against him."
+
+"Why, Zelotes, what DO you mean?  How can you talk so?  Just think
+what it would have meant to have our Albert marry a girl like
+Madeline Fosdick."
+
+The captain put his arm about her and gently patted her shoulder.
+
+"There, there, Mother," he said, gently, "don't let that part of it
+fret you."
+
+"But, Zelotes," tearfully, "I don't understand.  It would have been
+such a great thing for Albert."
+
+"Would it?  Well, maybe.  Anyhow, there's no use worryin' about it
+now.  It's done with--ended and done with . . . same as a good many
+other plans that's been made in the world."
+
+"Zelotes, don't speak like that, dear, so discouraged.  It makes me
+feel worse than ever to hear you.  And--and he wouldn't want you
+to, I'm sure."
+
+"Wouldn't he?  No, I cal'late you're right, Mother.  We'll try not
+to."
+
+Other letters came, including one from Helen.  It was not long.
+Mrs. Snow was a little inclined to feel hurt at its brevity.  Her
+husband, however, did not share this feeling.
+
+"Have you read it carefully, Mother?" he asked.
+
+"Of course I have, Zelotes.  What do you mean?"
+
+"I mean--well, I tell you, Mother, I've read it three time.  The
+first time I was like you; seemed to me as good a friend of Al and
+of us as Helen Kendall ought to have written more than that.  The
+second time I read it I begun to wonder if--if--"
+
+"If what, Zelotes?"
+
+"Oh, nothin', Mother, nothin'.  She says she's comin' to see us
+just as soon as she can get away for a day or two.  She'll come,
+and when she does I cal'late both you and I are goin' to be
+satisfied."
+
+"But why didn't she WRITE more, Zelotes?  That's what I can't
+understand."
+
+Captain Zelotes tugged at his beard reflectively.  "When I wrote
+Fosdick the other day," he said, "I couldn't write more than a
+couple of pages.  I was too upset to do it.  I couldn't, that's
+all."
+
+"Yes, but you are Albert's grandfather."
+
+"I know.  And Helen's always . . .  But there, Mother, don't you
+worry about Helen Kendall.  I've known her since she was born,
+pretty nigh, and _I_ tell you she's all RIGHT."
+
+Fosdick, in his letter, had asked for particulars concerning
+Albert's death.  Those particulars were slow in coming.  Captain
+Zelotes wrote at once to the War Department, but received little
+satisfaction.  The Department would inform him as soon as it
+obtained the information.  The name of Sergeant Albert Speranza had
+been cabled as one of a list of fatalities, that was all.
+
+"And to think," as Rachel Ellis put it, "that we never knew that
+he'd been made a sergeant until after he was gone.  He never had
+time to write it, I expect likely, poor boy."
+
+The first bit of additional information was furnished by the press.
+A correspondent of one of the Boston dailies sent a brief dispatch
+to his paper describing the fighting at a certain point on the
+Allied front.  A small detachment of American troops had taken
+part, with the French, in an attack on a village held by the enemy.
+The enthusiastic reporter declared it to be one of the smartest
+little actions in which our soldiers had so far taken part and was
+eloquent concerning the bravery and dash of his fellow countrymen.
+"They proved themselves," he went on, "and French officers with
+whom I have talked are enthusiastic.  Our losses, considering the
+number engaged, are said to be heavy.  Among those reported as
+killed is Sergeant Albert Speranza, a Massachusetts boy whom
+American readers will remember as a writer of poetry and magazine
+fiction.  Sergeant Speranza is said to have led his company in the
+capture of the village and to have acted with distinguished
+bravery."  The editor of the Boston paper who first read this
+dispatch turned to his associate at the next desk.
+
+"Speranza? . . . Speranza?" he said aloud.  "Say, Jim, wasn't it
+Albert Speranza who wrote that corking poem we published after the
+Lusitania was sunk?"
+
+Jim looked up.  "Yes," he said.  "He has written a lot of pretty
+good stuff since, too.  Why?"
+
+"He's just been killed in action over there, so Conway says in this
+dispatch."
+
+"So? . . .  Humph! . . .  Any particulars?"
+
+"Not yet.  'Distinguished bravery,' according to Conway.  Couldn't
+we have something done in the way of a Sunday special?  He was a
+Massachusetts fellow."
+
+"We might.  We haven't a photograph, have we?  If we haven't,
+perhaps we can get one."
+
+The photograph was obtained--bribery and corruption of the Orham
+photographer--and, accompanied by a reprint of the Lusitania poem,
+appeared in the "Magazine Section" of the Sunday newspaper.  With
+these also appeared a short notice of the young poet's death in the
+service of his country.
+
+That was the beginning.  At the middle of that week Conway sent
+another dispatch.  The editor who received it took it into the
+office of the Sunday editor.
+
+"Say," he said, "here are more particulars about that young chap
+Speranza, the one we printed the special about last Sunday.  He
+must have been a corker.  When his lieutenant was put out of
+business by a shrapnel this Speranza chap rallied the men and
+jammed 'em through the Huns like a hot knife through butter.
+Killed the German officer and took three prisoners all by himself.
+Carried his wounded lieutenant to the rear on his shoulders, too.
+Then he went back into the ruins to get another wounded man and was
+blown to slivers by a hand grenade.  He's been cited in orders and
+will probably be decorated by the French--that is, his memory will
+be.  Pretty good for a poet, I'd say.  No 'lilies and languors'
+about that, eh?"
+
+The Sunday editor nodded approval.
+
+"Great stuff!" he exclaimed.  "Let me have that dispatch, will you,
+when you've finished.  I've just discovered that this young
+Speranza's father was Speranza, the opera baritone.  You remember
+him?  And his mother was the daughter of a Cape Cod sea captain.
+How's that?  Spain, Cape Cod, opera, poetry and the Croix de
+Guerre.  And have you looked at the young fellow's photograph?
+Combination of Adonis and 'Romeo, where art thou.'  I've had no
+less than twenty letters about him and his poetry already.  Next
+Sunday we'll have a special "as is."  Where can I get hold of a lot
+of his poems?"
+
+The "special as was" occupied an entire page.  A reporter had
+visited South Harniss and had taken photographs of the Snow place
+and some of its occupants.  Captain Zelotes had refused to pose,
+but there was a view of the building and yards of "Z. Snow and Co."
+with the picturesque figure of Mr. Issachar Price tastefully draped
+against a pile of boards in the right foreground.  Issy had been a
+find for the reporter; he supplied the latter with every fact
+concerning Albert which he could remember and some that he invented
+on the spur of the moment.  According to Issy, Albert was "a fine,
+fust-class young feller.  Him and me was like brothers, as you
+might say.  When he got into trouble, or was undecided or anything,
+he'd come to me for advice and I always gave it to him.  Land, yes!
+I always give to Albert.  No matter how busy I was I always stopped
+work to help HIM out."  The reporter added that Mr. Price stopped
+work even while speaking of it.
+
+The special attracted the notice of other newspaper editors.  This
+skirmish in which Albert had taken so gallant part was among the
+first in which our soldiers had participated.  So the story was
+copied and recopied.  The tale of the death of the young poet, the
+"happy warrior," as some writer called him, was spread from the
+Atlantic to the Pacific and from Canada to the Gulf.  And just at
+this psychological moment the New York publisher brought out the
+long deferred volume.  The Lances of Dawn, Being the Collected
+Poems of Albert M. C. Speranza, such was its title.
+
+Meanwhile, or, rather, within the week when the Lances of Dawn
+flashed upon the public, Captain Zelotes received a letter from the
+captain of Albert's regiment in France.  It was not a long letter,
+for the captain was a busy man, but it was the kindly, sympathetic
+letter of one who was, literally, that well-advertised combination,
+an officer and a gentleman.  It told of Albert's promotion to the
+rank of sergeant, "a promotion which, had the boy been spared,
+would, I am sure, have been the forerunner of others."  It told of
+that last fight, the struggle for the village, of Sergeant
+Speranza's coolness and daring and of his rush back into the throat
+of death to save a wounded comrade.
+
+
+The men tell me they tried to stop him (wrote the captain).  He was
+himself slightly wounded, he had just brought Lieutenant Stacey
+back to safety and the enemy at that moment was again advancing
+through the village.  But he insisted upon going.  The man he was
+trying to rescue was a private in his company and the pair were
+great friends.  So he started back alone, although several followed
+him a moment later.  They saw him enter the ruined cottage where
+his friend lay.  Then a party of the enemy appeared at the corner
+and flung grenades.  The entire side of the cottage which he had
+just entered was blown in and the Germans passed on over it,
+causing our men to fall back temporarily.  We retook the place
+within half an hour.  Private Kelly's body--it was Private Kelly
+whom Sergeant Speranza was attempting to rescue--was found and
+another, badly disfigured, which was at first supposed to be that
+of your grandson.  But this body was subsequently identified as
+that of a private named Hamlin who was killed when the enemy first
+charged.  Sergeant Speranza's body is still missing, but is thought
+to be buried beneath the ruins of the cottage.  These ruins were
+subsequently blown into further chaos by a high explosive shell.
+
+
+Then followed more expressions of regret and sympathy and
+confirmation of the report concerning citation and the war cross.
+Captain Lote read the letter at first alone in his private office.
+Then he brought it home and gave it to his wife to read.  Afterward
+he read it aloud to Mrs. Ellis and to Laban, who was making his
+usual call in the Snow kitchen.
+
+When the reading was ended Labe was the first to speak.  His eyes
+were shining.
+
+"Godfreys!" he exclaimed.  Godfreys, Cap'n Lote!"
+
+The captain seemed to understand.
+
+"You're right, Labe," he said.  "The boy's made us proud of
+him. . . .  Prouder than some of us are of ourselves, I cal'late,"
+he added, rising and moving toward the door.
+
+"Sho, sho, Cap'n, you mustn't feel that way.  No, no."
+
+"Humph! . . .  Labe, I presume likely if I was a pious man, one of
+the old-fashioned kind of pious, and believed the Almighty went out
+of his way to get square with any human bein' that made a mistake
+or didn't do the right thing--if I believed that I might figger all
+this was a sort of special judgment on me for my prejudices, eh?"
+
+Mr. Keeler was much disturbed.
+
+"Nonsense, nonsense, Cap'n Lote!" he protested.  "You ain't fair to
+yourself.  You never treated Al anyhow but just honest and fair and
+square.  If he was here now instead of layin' dead over there in
+France, poor feller, he'd say so, too.  Yes, he would.  Course he
+would."
+
+The captain made no reply, but walked from the room.  Laban turned
+to Mrs. Ellis.
+
+"The old man broods over that," he said.  "I wish. . . .  Eh?
+What's the matter, Rachel?  What are you lookin' at me like that
+for?"
+
+The housekeeper was leaning forward in her chair, her cheeks
+flushed and her hands clenched.
+
+"How do you know he's dead?" she asked, in a mysterious whisper.
+
+"Eh?  How do I know who's dead?"
+
+"Albert.  How do you know he's dead?"
+
+Laban stared at her.
+
+"How do I know he's DEAD!" he repeated.  "How do I know--"
+
+"Yes, yes, yes," impatiently; "that's what I said.  Don't run it
+over three or four times more.  How do you know Albert's dead?"
+
+"Why, Rachel, what kind of talk's that?  I know he's dead because
+the newspapers say so, and the War Department folks say so, and
+this cap'n man in France that was right there at the time, HE says
+so.  All hands say so--yes, yes.  So don't--"
+
+"Sh!  I don't care if they all say so ten times over.  How do they
+KNOW?  They ain't found him dead, have they?  The report from the
+War Department folks was sent when they thought that other body was
+Albert's.  Now they know that wasn't him.  Where is he?"
+
+"Why, under the ruins of that cottage.  'Twas all blown to pieces
+and most likely--"
+
+"Um-hm.  There you are!  'Most likely!'  Well, I ain't satisfied
+with most likelys.  I want to KNOW."
+
+"But--but--"
+
+"Laban Keeler, until they find his body I shan't believe Albert's
+dead."
+
+"But, Rachel, you mustn't try to deceive yourself that way.  Don't
+you see--"
+
+"No, I don't see.  Labe, when Robert Penfold was lost and gone for
+all them months all hands thought he was dead, didn't they?  But he
+wasn't; he was on that island lost in the middle of all creation.
+What's to hinder Albert bein' took prisoner by those Germans?  They
+came back to that cottage place after Albert was left there, the
+cap'n says so in that letter Cap'n Lote just read.  What's to
+hinder their carryin' Al off with 'em?  Eh?  What's to hinder?"
+
+"Why--why, nothin', I suppose, in one way.  But nine chances out of
+ten--"
+
+"That leaves one chance, don't it.  I ain't goin' to give up that
+chance for--for my boy.  I--I--  Oh, Labe, I did think SO much of
+him."
+
+"I know, Rachel, I know.  Don't cry any more than you can help.
+And if it helps you any to make believe--I mean to keep on hopin'
+he's alive somewheres--why, do it.  It won't do any harm, I
+suppose.  Only I wouldn't hint such a thing to Cap'n Lote or
+Olive."
+
+"Of course not," indignantly.  "I ain't quite a fool, I hope. . . .
+And I presume likely you're right, Laban.  The poor boy is dead,
+probably.  But I--I'm goin' to hope he isn't, anyhow, just to get
+what comfort I can from it.  And Robert Penfold did come back, you
+know."
+
+For some time Laban found himself, against all reason, asking the
+very question Rachel had asked:  Did they actually KNOW that Albert
+was dead?  But as the months passed and no news came he ceased to
+ask it.  Whenever he mentioned the subject to the housekeeper her
+invariable reply was:  "But they haven't found his body, have
+they?"  She would not give up that tenth chance.  As she seemed to
+find some comfort in it he did not attempt to convince her of its
+futility.
+
+And, meanwhile The Lances of Dawn, Being the Collected Poems of
+Albert M. C. Speranza was making a mild sensation.  The critics
+were surprisingly kind to it.  The story of the young author's
+recent and romantic death, of his gallantry, his handsome features
+displayed in newspapers everywhere, all these helped toward the
+generous welcome accorded the little volume.  If the verses were
+not inspired--why, they were at least entertaining and pleasant.
+And youth, high-hearted youth sang on every page.  So the reviewers
+were kind and forbearing to the poems themselves, and, for the sake
+of the dead soldier-poet, were often enthusiastic.  The book sold,
+for a volume of poems it sold very well indeed.
+
+At the Snow place in South Harniss pride and tears mingled.  Olive
+read the verses over and over again, and wept as she read.  Rachel
+Ellis learned many of them by heart, but she, too, wept as she
+recited them to herself or to Laban.  In the little bookkeeper's
+room above Simond's shoe store The Lances of Dawn lay under the
+lamp upon the center table as before a shrine.  Captain Zelotes
+read the verses.  Also he read all the newspaper notices which,
+sent to the family by Helen Kendall, were promptly held before his
+eyes by Olive and Rachel.  He read the publisher's advertisements,
+he read the reviews.  And the more he read the more puzzled and
+bewildered he became.
+
+"I can't understand it, Laban," he confided in deep distress to Mr.
+Keeler.  "I give in I don't know anything at all about this.  I'm
+clean off soundin's.  If all this newspaper stuff is so Albert was
+right all the time and I was plumb wrong.  Here's this feller,"
+picking up a clipping from the desk, "callin' him a genius and 'a
+gifted youth' and the land knows what.  And every day or so I get a
+letter from somebody I never heard of tellin' me what a comfort to
+'em those poetry pieces of his are.  I don't understand it, Labe.
+It worries me.  If all this is true then--then I was all wrong.  I
+tried to keep him from makin' up poetry, Labe--TRIED to, I did.  If
+what these folks say is so somethin' ought to be done to me.  I--I--
+by thunder, I don't know's I hadn't ought to be hung! . . .  And
+yet--and yet, I did what I thought was right and did it for the
+boy's sake . . .  And--and even now I--I ain't sartin I was wrong.
+But if I wasn't wrong then this is . . .  Oh, I don't know, I don't
+know!"
+
+And not only in South Harniss were there changes of heart.  In New
+York City and at Greenwich where Mrs. Fosdick was more than ever
+busy with war work, there were changes.  When the newspaper
+accounts of young Speranza's heroic death were first published the
+lady paid little attention to them.  Her daughter needed all her
+care just then--all the care, that is, which she could spare from
+her duties as president of this society and corresponding secretary
+of that.  If her feelings upon hearing the news could have been
+analyzed it is probable that their larger proportion would have
+been a huge sense of relief.  THAT problem was solved, at all
+events.  She was sorry for poor Madeline, of course, but the dear
+child was but a child and would recover.
+
+But as with more and more intensity the limelight of publicity was
+turned upon Albert Speranza's life and death and writing, the wife
+of the Honorable Fletcher Fosdick could not but be impressed.  As
+head of several so-called literary societies, societies rather
+neglected since the outbreak of hostilities, she had made it her
+business to hunt literary lions.  Recently it was true that
+military lions--Major Vermicelli of the Roumanian light cavalry,
+or Private Drinkwater of the Tank Corps--were more in demand than
+Tagores, but, as Mrs. Fosdick read of Sergeant Speranza's perils
+and poems, it could not help occurring to her that here was a lion
+both literary and martial.  Decidedly she had not approved of her
+daughter's engagement to that lion, but now the said lion was dead,
+which rendered him a perfectly harmless yet not the less fascinating
+animal.  And then appeared The Lances of Dawn and Mrs. Fosdick's
+friends among the elect began to read and talk about it.
+
+It was then that the change came.  Those friends, one by one,
+individuals judiciously chosen, were told in strict confidence of
+poor Madeline's romantic love affair and its tragic ending.  These
+individuals, chosen judiciously as has been stated, whispered, also
+in strict confidence, the tale to other friends and acquaintances.
+Mrs. Fosdick began to receive condolences on her daughter's account
+and on her own.  Soon she began to speak publicly of "My poor, dear
+daughter's dead fiance.  Such a loss to American literature.  Sheer
+genius.  Have you read the article in the Timepiece?  Madeline,
+poor girl, is heartbroken, naturally, but very proud, even in the
+midst of her grief.  So are we all, I assure you."
+
+She quoted liberally from The Lances of Dawn.  A copy specially
+bound, lay upon her library table.  Albert's photograph in uniform,
+obtained from the Snows by Mr. Fosdick, who wrote for it at his
+wife's request, stood beside it.  To callers and sister war workers
+Mrs. Fosdick gave details of the hero's genius, his bravery, his
+devotion to her daughter.  It was all so romantic and pleasantly
+self-advertising--and perfectly safe.
+
+Summer came again, the summer of 1918.  The newspapers now were
+gravely personal reading to millions of Americans.  Our new army
+was trying its metal on the French front and with the British
+against the vaunted Hindenburg Line.  The transports were carrying
+thousands on every trip to join those already "over there."  In
+South Harniss and in Greenwich and New York, as in every town and
+city, the ordinary summer vacations and playtime occupations were
+forgotten or neglected and war charities and war labors took their
+place.  Other soldiers than Sergeant Speranza were the newspaper
+heroes now, other books than The Lances of Dawn talked about.
+
+As on the previous summer the new Fosdick cottage was not occupied
+by its owners.  Mrs. Fosdick was absorbed by her multitudinous war
+duties and her husband was at Washington giving his counsel and
+labor to the cause.  Captain Zelotes bought to his last spare
+dollar of each successive issue of Liberty Bonds, and gave that
+dollar to the Red Cross or the Y. M. C. A.; Laban and Rachel did
+likewise.  Even Issachar Price bought Thrift Stamps and exhibited
+them to anyone who would stop long enough to look.
+
+"By crimus," declared Issy, "I'm makin' myself poor helpin' out the
+gov'ment, but let 'er go and darn the Kaiser, that's my motto.  But
+they ain't all like me.  I was down to the drug store yesterday and
+old man Burgess had the cheek to tell me I owed him for some cigars
+I bought--er--last fall, seems to me 'twas.  I turned right around
+and looked at him--'I've got my opinion,' says I, 'of a man that
+thinks of cigars and such luxuries when the country needs every
+cent.  What have you got that gov'ment poster stuck up on your wall
+for?' says I.  'Read it,' I says.  'It says' '"Save!  Save!
+Save!"' don't it?  All right.  That's what I'M doin'.  I AM
+savin'.'  Then when he was thinkin' of somethin' to answer back I
+walked right out and left him.  Yes sir, by crimustee, I left him
+right where he stood!"
+
+August came; September--the Hindenburg Line was broken.  Each day
+the triumphant headlines in the papers were big and black and also,
+alas, the casualty lists on the inside pages long and longer.  Then
+October.  The armistice was signed.  It was the end.  The Allied
+world went wild, cheered, danced, celebrated.  Then it sat back,
+thinking, thanking God, solemnly trying to realize that the killing
+days, the frightful days of waiting and awful anxiety, were over.
+
+And early in November another telegram came to the office of Z.
+Snow and Co.  This time it came, not from the War Department
+direct, but from the Boston headquarters of the American Red Cross.
+
+And this time, just as on the day when the other fateful telegram
+came, Laban Keeler was the first of the office regulars to learn
+its contents.  Ben Kelley himself brought this message, just as he
+had brought that telling of Albert Speranza's death.  And the
+usually stolid Ben was greatly excited.  He strode straight from
+the door to the bookkeeper's desk.
+
+"Is the old man in, Labe?" he whispered, jerking his head toward
+the private office, the door of which happened to be shut.
+
+Laban looked at him over his spectacles.  "Cap'n Lote, you mean?"
+he asked.  "Yes, he's in.  But he don't want to be disturbed--no,
+no.  Goin' to write a couple of important letters, he said.
+Important ones. . . .  Um-hm.  What is it, Ben?  Anything I can do
+for you?"
+
+Kelley did not answer that question.  Instead he took a telegram
+from his pocket.
+
+"Read it, Labe," he whispered.  "Read it.  It's the darndest news--
+the--the darnedest good news ever you heard in your life.  It don't
+seem as if it could he, but, by time, I guess 'tis.  Anyhow, it's
+from the Red Cross folks and they'd ought to know."
+
+Laban stared at the telegram.  It was not in the usual envelope;
+Kelley had been too anxious to bring it to its destination to
+bother with an envelope.
+
+"Read it," commanded the operator again.  "See if you think Cap'n
+Lote ought to have it broke easy to him or--or what?  Read it, I
+tell you.  Lord sakes, it's no secret!  I hollered it right out
+loud when it come in over the wire and the gang at the depot heard
+it.  They know it and it'll be all over town in ten minutes.  READ
+IT."
+
+Keeler read the telegram.  His florid cheeks turned pale.
+
+"Good Lord above!" he exclaimed, under his breath.
+
+"Eh?  I bet you!  Shall I take it to the cap'n?  Eh?  What do you
+think?"
+
+"Wait. . . .  Wait . . .  I--I--  My soul!  My soul!  Why . . .
+It's--it's true. . . .  And Rachel always said . . .  Why, she was
+right . . . I . . ."
+
+From without came the sound of running feet and a series of yells.
+
+"Labe!  Labe!" shrieked Issy.  "Oh, my crimus! . . .  Labe!"
+
+He burst into the office, his eyes and mouth wide open and his
+hands waving wildly.
+
+"Labe!  Labe!" he shouted again.  "Have you heard it?  Have you?
+It's true, too.  He's alive!  He's alive!  He's alive!"
+
+Laban sprang from his stool.  "Shut up, Is!" he commanded.  "Shut
+up!  Hold on!  Don't--"
+
+"But he's alive, I tell you!  He ain't dead!  He ain't never been
+dead!  Oh, my crimus! . . .  Hey, Cap'n Lote!  HE'S ALIVE!"
+
+Captain Zelotes was standing in the doorway of the private office.
+The noise had aroused him from his letter writing.
+
+"Who's alive?  What's the matter with you this time, Is?" he
+demanded.
+
+"Shut up, Issy," ordered Laban, seizing the frantic Mr. Price by
+the collar.  "Be still!  Wait a minute."
+
+"Be still?  What do I want to be still for?  I cal'late Cap'n
+Lote'll holler some, too, when he hears.  He's alive, Cap'n Lote, I
+tell ye.  Let go of me, Labe Keeler!  He's alive!"
+
+"Who's alive?  What is it?  Labe, YOU answer me.  Who's alive?"
+
+Laban's thoughts were still in a whirl.  He was still shaking from
+the news the telegraph operator had brought.  Rachel Ellis was at
+that moment in his mind and he answered as she might have done.
+
+"Er--er--Robert Penfold," he said.
+
+"Robert PENFOLD!  What--"
+
+Issachar could hold in no longer.
+
+"Robert Penfold nawthin'!" he shouted.  "Who in thunder's he?
+'Tain't Robert Penfold nor Robert Penholder neither.  It's Al
+Speranza, that's who 'tis.  He ain't killed, Cap'n Lote.  He's
+alive and he's been alive all the time."
+
+Kelley stepped forward.
+
+"Looks as if 'twas so, Cap'n Snow," he said.  "Here's the telegram
+from the Red Cross."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+
+There was nothing miraculous about it.  That is to say, it was no
+more of a miracle than hundreds of similar cases in the World War.
+The papers of those years were constantly printing stories of men
+over whose supposed graves funeral sermons had been preached, to
+whose heirs insurance payments had been made, in whose memory
+grateful communities had made speeches and delivered eulogiums--
+the papers were telling of instance after instance of those men
+being discovered alive and in the flesh, as casuals in some French
+hospital or as inmates of German prison camps.
+
+Rachel Ellis had asked what was to hinder Albert's having been
+taken prisoner by the Germans and carried off by them.  As a matter
+of fact nothing had hindered and that was exactly what had
+happened.  Sergeant Speranza, wounded by machine gun fire and again
+by the explosion of the grenade, was found in the ruins of the
+cottage when the detachment of the enemy captured it.  He was
+conscious and able to speak, so instead of being bayonetted was
+carried to the rear where he might be questioned concerning the
+American forces.  The questioning was most unsatisfactory to the
+Prussian officers who conducted it.  Albert fainted, recovered
+consciousness and fainted again.  So at last the Yankee swine was
+left to die or get well and his Prussian interrogators went about
+other business, the business of escaping capture themselves.  But
+when they retreated the few prisoners, mostly wounded men, were
+taken with them.
+
+Albert's recollections of the next few days were hazy and very
+doubtful.  Pain, pain and more pain.  Hours and hours--they seemed
+like years--of jolting over rough roads.  Pawing-over by a fat,
+bearded surgeon, who may not have been intentionally brutal, but
+quite as likely may.  A great desire to die, punctuated by
+occasional feeble spurts of wishing to live.  Then more surgical
+man-handling, more jolting--in freight cars this time--a slow,
+miserable recovery, nurses who hated their patients and treated
+them as if they did, then, a prison camp, a German prison camp.
+Then horrors and starvation and brutality lasting many months.
+Then fever.
+
+He was wandering in that misty land between this world and the next
+when, the armistice having been signed, an American Red Cross
+representative found him.  In the interval between fits of delirium
+he told this man his name and regiment and, later, the name of his
+grandparents.  When it seemed sure that he was to recover the Red
+Cross representative cabled the facts to this country.  And, still
+later, those facts, or the all-important fact that Sergeant Albert
+M. C. Speranza was not dead but alive, came by telegraph to Captain
+Zelotes Snow of South Harniss.  And, two months after that, Captain
+Zelotes himself, standing on the wharf in Boston and peering up at
+a crowded deck above him, saw the face of his grandson, that face
+which he had never expected to see again, looking eagerly down upon
+him.
+
+A few more weeks and it was over.  The brief interval of camp life
+and the mustering out were things of the past.  Captain Lote and
+Albert, seated in the train, were on their way down the Cape, bound
+home.  Home!  The word had a significance now which it never had
+before.  Home!
+
+Albert drew a long breath.  "By George!" he exclaimed.  "By George,
+Grandfather, this looks good to me!"
+
+It might not have looked as good to another person.  It was
+raining, the long stretches of salt marsh were windswept and brown
+and bleak.  In the distance Cape Cod Bay showed gray and white
+against a leaden sky.  The drops ran down the dingy car windows.
+
+Captain Zelotes understood, however.  He nodded.
+
+"It used to look good to me when I was bound home after a v'yage,"
+he observed.  "Well, son, I cal'late your grandma and Rachel are up
+to the depot by this time waitin' for you.  We ain't due for pretty
+nigh an hour yet, but I'd be willin' to bet they're there."
+
+Albert smiled.  "My, I do want to see them!" he said.
+
+"Shouldn't wonder a mite if they wanted to see you, boy.  Well, I'm
+kind of glad I shooed that reception committee out of the way.  I
+presumed likely you'd rather have your first day home to yourself--
+and us."
+
+"I should say so!  Newspaper reporters are a lot of mighty good
+fellows, but I hope I never see another one. . . .  That's rather
+ungrateful, I know," he added, with a smile, "but I mean it--just
+now."
+
+He had some excuse for meaning it.  The death of Albert Speranza,
+poet and warrior, had made a newspaper sensation.  His resurrection
+and return furnished material for another.  Captain Zelotes was not
+the only person to meet the transport at the pier; a delegation of
+reporters was there also.  Photographs of Sergeant Speranza
+appeared once more in print.  This time, however, they were
+snapshots showing him in uniform, likenesses of a still handsome,
+but less boyish young man, thinner, a scar upon his right cheek,
+and the look in his eyes more serious, and infinitely older, the
+look of one who had borne much and seen more.  The reporters found
+it difficult to get a story from the returned hero.  He seemed to
+shun the limelight and to be almost unduly modest and retiring,
+which was of itself, had they but known it, a transformation
+sufficiently marvelous to have warranted a special "Sunday
+special."
+
+"Will not talk about himself," so one writer headed his article.
+Gertie Kendrick, with a brand-new ring upon her engagement finger,
+sniffed as she read that headline to Sam Thatcher, who had
+purchased the ring.  "Al Speranza won't talk about himself!"
+exclaimed Gertie.  "Well, it's the FIRST time, then.  No wonder
+they put it in the paper."
+
+But Albert would not talk, claiming that he had done nothing worth
+talking about, except to get himself taken prisoner in almost his
+first engagement.  "Go and ask some of the other fellows aboard
+here," he urged.  "They have been all through it."  As he would not
+talk the newspaper men were obliged to talk for him, which they did
+by describing his appearance and his manner, and by rehashing the
+story of the fight in the French village.  Also, of course, they
+republished some of his verses.  The Lances of Dawn appeared in a
+special edition in honor of its author's reappearance on this
+earth.
+
+"Yes sir," continued Captain Zelotes, "the reception committee was
+consider'ble disappointed.  They'd have met you with the Orham band
+if they'd had their way.  I told 'em you'd heard all the band music
+you wanted in camp, I guessed likely, and you'd rather come home
+quiet.  There was goin' to be some speeches, too, but I had them
+put off."
+
+"Thanks, Grandfather."
+
+"Um-hm.  I had a notion you wouldn't hanker for speeches.  If you
+do Issy'll make one for you 'most any time.  Ever since you got
+into the papers Issy's been swellin' up like a hot pop-over with
+pride because you and he was what he calls chummies.  All last
+summer Issachar spent his evenin's hangin' around the hotel waitin'
+for the next boarder to mention your name.  Sure as one did Is was
+ready for him.  'Know him?' he'd sing out.  'Did I know Al
+Speranza?  ME?  Well, now say!--'  And so on, long as the feller
+would listen.  I asked him once if he ever told any of 'em how you
+ducked him with the bucket of water.  He didn't think I knew about
+that and it kind of surprised him, I judged."
+
+Albert smiled.  "Laban told you about it, I suppose," he said.
+"What a kid trick that was, wasn't it?"
+
+The captain turned his head and regarded him for an instant.  The
+old twinkle was in his eye when he spoke.
+
+"Wouldn't do a thing like that now, Al, I presume likely?" he said.
+"Feel a good deal older now, eh?"
+
+Albert's answer was seriously given.
+
+"Sometimes I feel at least a hundred and fifty," he replied.
+
+"Humph! . . .  Well, I wouldn't feel like that.  If you're a
+hundred and fifty I must be a little older than Methuselah was in
+his last years.  I'm feelin' younger to-day, younger than I have
+for quite a spell.  Yes, for quite a spell."
+
+His grandson put a hand on his knee.  "Good for you, Grandfather,"
+he said.  "Now tell me more about Labe.  Do you know I think the
+old chap's sticking by his pledge is the bulliest thing I've heard
+since I've been home."
+
+So they talked of Laban and of Rachel and of South Harniss
+happenings until the train drew up at the platform of that station.
+And upon that platform stepped Albert to feel his grandmother's
+arms about him and her voice, tremulous with happiness, at his ear.
+And behind her loomed Mrs. Ellis, her ample face a combination of
+smiles and tears, "all sunshine and fair weather down below but
+rainin' steady up aloft," as Captain Lote described it afterwards.
+And behind her, like a foothill in the shadow of a mountain, was
+Laban.  And behind Laban--  No, that is a mistake--in front of
+Laban and beside Laban and in front of and beside everyone else
+when opportunity presented was Issachar.  And Issachar's expression
+and bearings were wonderful to see.  A stranger, and there were
+several strangers amid the group at the station, might have gained
+the impression that Mr. Price, with of course a very little help
+from the Almighty, was responsible for everything.
+
+"Why, Issy!" exclaimed Albert, when they shook hands.  "You're
+here, too, eh?"
+
+Mr. Price's already protuberant chest swelled still further.  His
+reply had the calmness of finality.
+
+"Yes, sir," said Issy, "I'm here.  'Who's goin' to look out for Z.
+Snow and Co. if all hands walks out and leaves 'em?' Labe says.  'I
+don't know,' says I, 'and I don't care.  I'm goin' to that depot to
+meet Al Speranzy and if Z. Snow and Co. goes to pot while I'm gone
+I can't help it.  I have sacrificed,' I says, 'and I stand ready to
+sacrifice pretty nigh everything for my business, but there's
+limits and this is one of 'em.  I'm goin' acrost to that depot to
+meet him,' says I, 'and don't you try to stop me, Labe Keeler.'"
+
+"Great stuff, Is!" said Albert, with a laugh.  "What did Labe say
+to that?"
+
+"What was there for him to say?  He could see I meant it.  Course
+he hove out some of his cheap talk, but it didn't amount to
+nothin'.  Asked if I wan't goin' to put up a sign sayin' when I'd
+be back, so's to ease the customers' minds.  'I don't know when
+I'll be back,' I says.  'All right,' says he, 'put that on the
+sign.  That'll ease 'em still more.'  Just cheap talk 'twas.  He
+thinks he's funny, but I don't pay no attention to him."
+
+Others came to shake hands and voice a welcome.  The formal
+reception, that with the band, had been called off at Captain
+Zelotes's request, but the informal one was, in spite of the rain,
+which was now much less heavy, quite a sizable gathering.
+
+The Reverend Mr. Kendall held his hand for a long time and talked
+much, it seemed to Albert that he had aged greatly since they last
+met.  He wandered a bit in his remarks and repeated himself several
+times.
+
+"The poor old gentleman's failin' a good deal, Albert," said Mrs.
+Snow, as they drove home together, he and his grandparents, three
+on the seat of the buggy behind Jessamine.  "His sermons are pretty
+tiresome nowadays, but we put up with 'em because he's been with us
+so long. . . .  Ain't you squeezed 'most to death, Albert?  You two
+big men and me all mashed together on this narrow seat.  It's lucky
+I'm small.  Zelotes ought to get a two-seated carriage, but he
+won't."
+
+"Next thing I get, Mother," observed the captain, "will be an
+automobile.  I'll stick to the old mare here as long as she's able
+to navigate, but when she has to be hauled out of commission I'm
+goin' to buy a car.  I believe I'm pretty nigh the last man in this
+county to drive a horse, as 'tis.  Makes me feel like what Sol
+Dadgett calls a cracked teapot--a 'genuine antique.'  One of these
+city women will be collectin' me some of these days.  Better look
+out, mother."
+
+Olive sighed happily.  "It does me good to hear you joke again,
+Zelotes," she said.  "He didn't joke much, Albert, while--when we
+thought you--you--"
+
+Albert interrupted in time to prevent the threatened shower.
+
+"So Mr. Kendall is not well," he said.  "I'm very sorry to hear
+it."
+
+"Of course you would be.  You and he used to be so friendly when
+Helen was home.  Oh, speakin' of Helen, she IS comin' home in a
+fortni't or three weeks, so I hear.  She's goin' to give up her
+teachin' and come back to be company for her father.  I suppose she
+realizes he needs her, but it must be a big sacrifice for her,
+givin' up the good position she's got now.  She's such a smart girl
+and such a nice one.  Why, she came to see us after the news came--
+the bad news--and she was so kind and so good.  I don't know what
+we should have done without her.  Zelotes says so too, don't you,
+Zelotes?"
+
+Her husband did not answer.  Instead he said:  "Well, there's home,
+Al.  Rachel's there ahead of us and dinner's on the way, judgin' by
+the smoke from the kitchen chimney.  How does the old place look to
+you, boy?"
+
+Albert merely shook his head and drew a long breath, but his
+grandparents seemed to be quite satisfied.
+
+There were letters and telegrams awaiting him on the table in the
+sitting-room.  Two of the letters were postmarked from a town on
+the Florida coast.  The telegram also was from that same town.
+
+"_I_ had one of those things," observed Captain Zelotes, alluding
+to the telegram.  "Fosdick sent me one of those long ones, night-
+letters I believe they call 'em.  He wants me to tell you that Mrs.
+Fosdick is better and that they cal'late to be in New York before
+very long and shall expect you there.  Of course you knew that, Al,
+but I presume likely the main idea of the telegram was to help say,
+'Welcome home' to you, that's all."
+
+Albert nodded.  Madeline and her mother had been in Florida all
+winter.  Mrs. Fosdick's health was not good.  She declared that her
+nerves had given way under her frightful responsibilities during
+the war.  There was, although it seems almost sacrilege to make
+such a statement, a certain similarity between Mrs. Fletcher
+Fosdick and Issachar Price.  The telegram was, as his grandfather
+surmised, an expression of welcome and of regret that the senders
+could not be there to share in the reception.  The two letters
+which accompanied it he put in his pocket to read later on, when
+alone.  Somehow he felt that the first hours in the old house
+belonged exclusively to his grandparents.  Everything else, even
+Madeline's letters, must take second place for that period.
+
+Dinner was, to say the least, an ample meal.  Rachel and Olive had,
+as Captain Lote said, "laid themselves out" on that dinner.  It
+began well and continued well and ended best of all, for the
+dessert was one of which Albert was especially fond.  They kept
+pressing him to eat until Laban, who was an invited guest, was
+moved to comment.
+
+"Humph!" observed Mr. Keeler.  "I knew 'twas the reg'lar program to
+kill the fatted calf when the prodigal got home, but I see now it's
+the proper caper to fat up the prodigal to take the critter's place.
+No, no, Rachel, I'd like fust-rate to eat another bushel or so to
+please you, but somethin'--that still, small voice we're always
+readin' about, or somethin'--seems to tell me 'twouldn't be good
+jedgment. . . .  Um-hm. . . .  'Twouldn't be good jedgment. . . .
+Cal'late it's right, too. . . .  Yes, yes, yes."
+
+"Now, Cap'n Lote," he added, as they rose from the table, "you stay
+right to home here for the rest of the day.  I'll hustle back to
+the office and see if Issy's importance has bust his b'iler for
+him.  So-long, Al.  See you pretty soon.  Got some things to talk
+about, you and I have. . . .  Yes, yes."
+
+Later, when Rachel was in the kitchen with the dishes, Olive left
+the sitting room and reappeared with triumph written large upon her
+face.  In one hand she held a mysterious envelope and in the other
+a book.  Albert recognized that book.  It was his own, The Lances
+of Dawn.  It was no novelty to him.  When first the outside world
+and he had reopened communication, copies of that book had been
+sent him.  His publisher had sent them, Madeline had sent them, his
+grandparents had sent them, comrades had sent them, nurses and
+doctors and newspaper men had brought them.  No, The Lances of Dawn
+was not a novelty to its author.  But he wondered what was in the
+envelope.
+
+Mrs. Snow enlightened him.  "You sit right down now, Albert," she
+said.  "Sit right down and listen because I've got somethin' to
+tell you.  Yes, and somethin' to show you, too.  Here!  Stop now,
+Zelotes!  You can't run away.  You've got to sit down and look on
+and listen, too."
+
+Captain Zelotes smiled resignedly.  There was, or so it seemed to
+his grandson, an odd expression on his face.  He looked pleased,
+but not altogether pleased.  However, he obeyed his wife's orders
+and sat.
+
+"Stop, look and listen," he observed.  "Mother, you sound like a
+railroad crossin'.  All right, here I am.  Al, the society of 'What
+did I tell you' is goin' to have a meetin'."
+
+His wife nodded.  "Well," she said, triumphantly, "what DID I tell
+you?  Wasn't I right?"
+
+The captain pulled his beard and nodded.
+
+"Right as right could be, Mother," he admitted.  "Your figgers was
+a few hundred thousand out of the way, maybe, but barrin' that you
+was perfectly right."
+
+"Well, I'm glad to hear you say so for once in your life.  Albert,"
+holding up the envelope, "do you know what this is?"
+
+Albert, much puzzled, admitted that he did not.  His grandmother
+put down the book, opened the envelope and took from it a slip of
+paper.
+
+"And can you guess what THIS is?" she asked.  Albert could not
+guess.
+
+"It's a check, that's what it is.  It's the first six months'
+royalties, that's what they call 'em, on that beautiful book of
+yours.  And how much do you suppose 'tis?"
+
+Albert shook his head.  "Twenty-five dollars?" he suggested
+jokingly.
+
+"Twenty-five dollars!  It's over twenty-five HUNDRED dollars.  It's
+twenty-eight hundred and forty-three dollars and sixty-five cents,
+that's what it is.  Think of it!  Almost three thousand dollars!
+And Zelotes prophesied that 'twouldn't be more than--"
+
+Her husband held up his hand.  "Sh-sh!  Sh-sh, Mother," he said.
+"Don't get started on what I prophesied or we won't be through till
+doomsday.  I'll give in right off that I'm the worst prophet since
+the feller that h'isted the 'Fair and Dry' signal the day afore
+Noah's flood begun.  You see," he explained, turning to Albert,
+"your grandma figgered out that you'd probably clear about half a
+million on that book of poetry, Al.  I cal'lated 'twan't likely to
+be much more'n a couple of hundred thousand, so--"
+
+"Why, Zelotes Snow!  You said--"
+
+"Yes, yes.  So I did, Mother, so I did.  You was right and I was
+wrong.  Twenty-eight hundred ain't exactly a million, Al, but it's
+a darn sight more than I ever cal'lated you'd make from that book.
+Or 'most anybody else ever made from any book, fur's that goes," he
+added, with a shake of the head.  "I declare, I--I don't understand
+it yet.  And a poetry book, too!  Who in time BUYS 'em all?  Eh?"
+
+Albert was looking at the check and the royalty statement.
+
+"So this is why I couldn't get any satisfaction from the publisher,"
+he observed.  "I wrote him two or three times about my royalties,
+and he put me off each time.  I began to think there weren't any."
+
+Captain Zelotes smiled.  "That's your grandma's doin's," he
+observed.  "The check came to us a good while ago, when we thought
+you was--was--well, when we thought--"
+
+"Yes.  Surely, I understand," put in Albert, to help him out.
+
+"Yes.  That's when 'twas.  And Mother, she was so proud of it,
+because you'd earned it, Al, that she kept it and kept it, showin'
+it to all hands and--and so on.  And then when we found out you
+wasn't--that you'd be home some time or other--why, then she
+wouldn't let me put it in the bank for you because she wanted to
+give it to you herself.  That's what she said was the reason.  I
+presume likely the real one was that she wanted to flap it in my
+face every time she crowed over my bad prophesyin', which was about
+three times a day and four on Sundays."
+
+"Zelotes Snow, the idea!"
+
+"All right, Mother, all right.  Anyhow, she got me to write your
+publisher man and ask him not to give you any satisfaction about
+those royalties, so's she could be the fust one to paralyze you
+with 'em.  And," with a frank outburst, "if you ain't paralyzed,
+Al, I own up that _I_ am.  Three thousand poetry profits beats me.
+_I_ don't understand it."
+
+His wife sniffed.  "Of course you don't," she declared.  "But
+Albert does.  And so do I, only I think it ought to have been ever
+and ever so much more.  Don't you, yourself, Albert?"
+
+The author of The Lances of Dawn was still looking at the statement
+of its earnings.
+
+"Approximately eighteen thousand sold at fifteen cents royalty," he
+observed.  "Humph!  Well, I'll be hanged!"
+
+"But you said it would be twenty-five cents, not fifteen,"
+protested Olive.  "In your letter when the book was first talked
+about you said so."
+
+Albert smiled.  "Did I?" he observed.  "Well, I said a good many
+things in those days, I'm afraid.  Fifteen cents for a first book,
+especially a book of verse, is fair enough, I guess.  But eighteen
+thousand SOLD!  That is what gets me."
+
+"You mean you think it ought to be a lot more.  So do I, Albert,
+and so does Rachel.  Why, we like it a lot better than we do David
+Harum.  That was a nice book, but it wasn't lovely poetry like
+yours.  And David Harum sold a million.  Why shouldn't yours sell
+as many?  Only eighteen thousand--why are you lookin' at me so
+funny?"
+
+Her grandson rose to his feet.  "Let's let well enough alone,
+Grandmother," he said.  "Eighteen thousand will do, thank you.
+I'm like Grandfather, I'm wondering who on earth bought them."
+
+Mrs. Snow was surprised and a little troubled.
+
+"Why, Albert," she said, "you act kind of--kind of queer, seems to
+me.  You talk as if your poetry wasn't beautiful.  You know it is.
+You used to say it was, yourself."
+
+He interrupted her.  "Did I, Grandmother?" he said.  "All right,
+then, probably I did.  Let's walk about the old place a little.  I
+want to see it all.  By George, I've been dreaming about it long
+enough!"
+
+There were callers that afternoon, friends among the townsfolk, and
+more still after supper.  It was late--late for South Harniss, that
+is--when Albert, standing in the doorway of the bedroom he nor they
+had ever expected he would occupy again, bade his grandparents good
+night.  Olive kissed him again and again and, speech failing her,
+hastened away down the hall.  Captain Zelotes shook his hand,
+opened his mouth to speak, shut it again, repeated both operations,
+and at last with a brief, "Well, good night, Al," hurried after his
+wife.  Albert closed the door, put his lamp upon the bureau, and
+sat down in the big rocker.
+
+In a way the night was similar to that upon which he had first
+entered that room.  It had ceased raining, but the wind, as on that
+first night, was howling and whining about the eaves, the shutters
+rattled and the old house creaked and groaned rheumatically.  It
+was not as cold as on that occasion, though by no means warm.  He
+remembered how bare and comfortless he had thought the room.  Now
+it looked almost luxurious.  And he had been homesick, or fancied
+himself in that condition.  Compared to the homesickness he had
+known during the past eighteen months that youthful seizure seemed
+contemptible and quite without excuse.  He looked about the room
+again, looked long and lovingly.  Then, with a sigh of content,
+drew from his pocket the two letters which had lain upon the
+sitting-room table when he arrived, opened them and began to read.
+
+Madeline wrote, as always, vivaciously and at length.  The maternal
+censorship having been removed, she wrote exactly as she felt.  She
+could scarcely believe he was really going to be at home when he
+received this, at home in dear, quaint, queer old South Harniss.
+Just think, she had not seen the place for ever and ever so long,
+not for over two years.  How were all the funny, odd people who
+lived there all the time?  Did he remember how he and she used to
+go to church every Sunday and sit through those dreadful, DREADFUL
+sermons by that prosy old minister just as an excuse for meeting
+each other afterward?  She was SO sorry she could not have been
+there to welcome her hero when he stepped from the train.  If it
+hadn't been for Mother's poor nerves she surely would have been.
+He knew it, didn't he?  Of course he did.  But she should see him
+soon "because Mother is planning already to come back to New York
+in a few weeks and then you are to run over immediately and make us
+a LONG visit.  And I shall be so PROUD of you.  There are lots of
+Army fellows down here now, officers for the most part.  So we
+dance and are very gay--that is, the other girls are; I, being an
+engaged young lady, am very circumspect and demure, of course.
+Mother carries The Lances about with her wherever she goes, to teas
+and such things, and reads aloud from it often.  Captain Blanchard,
+he is one of the family's officer friends, is crazy about your
+poetry, dear.  He thinks it WONDERFUL.  You know what _I_ think of
+it, don't you, and when I think that _I_ actually helped you, or
+played at helping you write some of it!
+
+"And I am WILD to see your war cross.  Some of the officers here
+have them--the crosses, I mean--but not many.  Captain Blanchard
+has the military medal, and he is almost as modest about it as you
+are about your decoration.  I don't see how you CAN be so modest.
+If _I_ had a Croix de Guerre I should want EVERY ONE to know about
+it.  At the tea dance the other afternoon there was a British major
+who--"
+
+And so on.  The second letter was really a continuation of the
+first.  Albert read them both and, after the reading was finished,
+sat for some time in the rocking chair, quite regardless of the
+time and the cold, thinking.  He took from his pocketbook a
+photograph, one which Madeline had sent him months before, which
+had reached him while he lay in the French hospital after his
+removal from the German camp.  He looked at the pretty face in the
+photograph.  She looked just as he remembered her, almost exactly
+as she had looked more than two years before, smiling, charming,
+carefree.  She had not, apparently, grown older, those age-long
+months had not changed her.  He rose and regarded his own
+reflection in the mirror of the bureau.  He was surprised, as he
+was constantly being surprised, to see that he, too, had not
+changed greatly in personal appearance.
+
+He walked about the room.  His grandmother had told him that his
+room was just as he had left it.  "I wouldn't change it, Albert,"
+she said, "even when we thought you--you wasn't comin' back.  I
+couldn't touch it, somehow.  I kept thinkin', 'Some day I will.
+Pretty soon I MUST.'  But I never did, and now I'm so glad."
+
+He wandered back to the bureau and pulled open the upper drawers.
+In those drawers were so many things, things which he had kept
+there, either deliberately or because he was too indolent to
+destroy them.  Old dance cards, invitations, and a bundle of
+photographs, snapshots.  He removed the rubber band from the bundle
+and stood looking them over.  Photographs of school fellows, of
+picnic groups, of girls.  Sam Thatcher, Gertie Kendrick--and Helen
+Kendall.  There were at least a dozen of Helen.
+
+One in particular was very good.  From that photograph the face of
+Helen as he had known it four years before looked straight up into
+his--clear-eyed, honest, a hint of humor and understanding and
+common-sense in the gaze and at the corners of the lips.  He looked
+at the photograph, and the photograph looked up at him.  He had not
+seen her for so long a time.  He wondered if the war had changed
+her as it had changed him.  Somehow he hoped it had not.  Change
+did not seem necessary in her case.
+
+There had been no correspondence between them since her letter
+written when she heard of his enlistment.  He had not replied to
+that because he knew Madeline would not wish him to do so.  He
+wondered if she ever thought of him now, if she remembered their
+adventure at High Point light.  He had thought of her often enough.
+In those days and nights of horror in the prison camp and hospital
+he had found a little relief, a little solace in lying with closed
+eyes and summoning back from memory the things of home and the
+faces of home.  And her face had been one of these.  Her face and
+those of his grandparents and Rachel and Laban, and visions of the
+old house and the rooms--they were the substantial things to cling
+to and he had clung to them.  They WERE home.  Madeline--ah! yes,
+he had longed for her and dreamed of her, God knew, but Madeline,
+of course, was different.
+
+He snapped the rubber band once more about the bundle of photographs,
+closed the drawer and prepared for bed.
+
+For the two weeks following his return home he had a thoroughly
+good time.  It was a tremendous comfort to get up when he pleased,
+to eat the things he liked, to do much or little or nothing at his
+own sweet will.  He walked a good deal, tramping along the beach in
+the blustering wind and chilly sunshine and enjoying every breath
+of the clean salt air.  He thought much during those solitary
+walks, and at times, at home in the evenings, he would fall to
+musing and sit silent for long periods.  His grandmother was
+troubled.
+
+"Don't it seem to you, Zelotes," she asked her husband, "as if
+Albert was kind of discontented or unsatisfied these days?  He's
+so--so sort of fidgety.  Talks like the very mischief for ten
+minutes and then don't speak for half an hour.  Sits still for a
+long stretch and then jumps up and starts off walkin' as if he was
+crazy.  What makes him act so?  He's kind of changed from what he
+used to be.  Don't you think so?"
+
+The captain patted her shoulder.  "Don't worry, Mother," he said.
+"Al's older than he was and what he's been through has made him
+older still.  As for the fidgety part of it, the settin' down and
+jumpin' up and all that, that's the way they all act, so far as I
+can learn.  Elisha Warren, over to South Denboro, tells me his
+nephew has been that way ever since he got back.  Don't fret,
+Mother, Al will come round all right."
+
+"I didn't know but he might be anxious to see--to see her, you
+know."
+
+"Her?  Oh, you mean the Fosdick girl.  Well, he'll be goin' to see
+her pretty soon, I presume likely.  They're due back in New York
+'most any time now, I believe. . . .  Oh, hum!  Why in time
+couldn't he--"
+
+"Couldn't he what, Zelotes?"
+
+"Oh, nothin', nothin'."
+
+The summons came only a day after this conversation.  It came in
+the form of another letter from Madeline and one from Mrs. Fosdick.
+They were, so the latter wrote, back once more in their city home,
+her nerves, thank Heaven, were quite strong again, and they were
+expecting him, Albert, to come on at once.  "We are all dying to
+see you," wrote Mrs. Fosdick.  "And poor, dear Madeline, of course,
+is counting the moments."
+
+"Stay as long as you feel like, Al," said the captain, when told of
+the proposed visit.  "It's the dull season at the office, anyhow,
+and Labe and I can get along first-rate, with Issy to superintend.
+Stay as long as you want to, only--"
+
+"Only what, Grandfather?"
+
+"Only don't want to stay too long.  That is, don't fall in love
+with New York so hard that you forget there is such a place as
+South Harniss."
+
+Albert smiled.  "I've been in places farther away than New York,"
+he said, "and I never forgot South Harniss."
+
+"Um-hm. . . .  Well, I shouldn't be surprised if that was so.  But
+you'll have better company in New York than you did in some of
+those places.  Give my regards to Fosdick.  So-long, Al."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+
+The Fosdick car was at the Grand Central Station when the
+Knickerbocker Limited pulled in.  And Madeline, a wonderfully
+furred and veiled and hatted Madeline, was waiting there behind the
+rail as he came up the runway from the train.  It was amazing the
+fact that it was really she.  It was more amazing still to kiss her
+there in public, to hold her hand without fear that some one might
+see.  To--
+
+"Shall I take your bags, sir?"
+
+It was the Fosdick footman who asked it.  Albert started guiltily.
+Then he laughed, realizing that the hand-holding and the rest were
+no longer criminal offenses.  He surrendered his luggage to the
+man.  A few minutes later he and Madeline were in the limousine,
+which was moving rapidly up the Avenue.  And Madeline was asking
+questions and he was answering and--and still it was all a dream.
+It COULDN'T be real.
+
+It was even more like a dream when the limousine drew up before the
+door of the Fosdick home and they entered that home together.  For
+there was Mrs. Fosdick, as ever majestic, commanding, awe-inspiring,
+the same Mrs. Fosdick who had, in her letter to his grandfather,
+written him down a despicable, underhanded sneak, here was that same
+Mrs. Fosdick--but not at all the same.  For this lady was smiling
+and gracious, welcoming him to her home, addressing him by his
+Christian name, treating him kindly, with almost motherly tenderness.
+Madeline's letters and Mrs. Fosdick's own letters received during
+his convalescence abroad had prepared him, or so he had thought, for
+some such change.  Now he realized that he had not been prepared at
+all.  The reality was so much more revolutionary than the
+anticipation that he simply could not believe it.
+
+But it was not so very wonderful if he had known all the facts and
+had been in a frame of mind to calmly analyze them.  Mrs. Fletcher
+Fosdick was a seasoned veteran, a general who had planned and
+fought many hard campaigns upon the political battlegrounds of
+women's clubs and societies of various sorts.  From the majority of
+those campaigns she had emerged victorious, but her experiences in
+defeat had taught her that the next best thing to winning is to
+lose gracefully, because by so doing much which appears to be lost
+may be regained.  For Albert Speranza, bookkeeper and would-be poet
+of South Harniss, Cape Cod, she had had no use whatever as a
+prospective son-in-law.  Even toward a living Albert Speranza, hero
+and newspaper-made genius, she might have been cold.  But when that
+hero and genius was, as she and every one else supposed, safely and
+satisfactorily dead and out of the way, she had seized the
+opportunity to bask in the radiance of his memory.  She had talked
+Albert Speranza and read Albert Speranza and boasted of Albert
+Speranza's engagement to her daughter before the world.  Now that
+the said Albert Speranza had been inconsiderate enough to "come
+alive again," there was but one thing for her to do--that is, to
+make the best of it.  And when Mrs. Fletcher Fosdick made the best
+of anything she made the very best.
+
+"It doesn't make any difference," she told her husband, "whether he
+really is a genius or whether he isn't.  We have said he is and now
+we must keep on saying it.  And if he can't earn his salt by his
+writings--which he probably can't--then you must fix it in some way
+so that he can make-believe earn it by something else.  He is
+engaged to Madeline, and we have told every one that he is, so he
+will have to marry her; at least, I see no way to prevent it."
+
+"Humph!" grunted Fosdick.  "And after that I'll have to support
+them, I suppose."
+
+"Probably--unless you want your only child to starve."
+
+"Well, I must say, Henrietta--"
+
+"You needn't, for there is nothing more TO say.  We're in it and,
+whether we like it or not, we must make the best of it.  To do
+anything now except appear joyful about it would be to make
+ourselves perfectly ridiculous.  We can't do that, and you know
+it."
+
+Her husband still looked everything but contented.
+
+"So far as the young fellow himself goes," he said, "I like him,
+rather.  I've talked with him only once, of course, and then he and
+I weren't agreeing exactly.  But I liked him, nevertheless.  If he
+were anything but a fool poet I should be more reconciled."
+
+He was snubbed immediately.  "THAT," declared Mrs. Fosdick, with
+decision, "is the only thing that makes him possible."
+
+So Mrs. Fosdick's welcome was whole-handed if not whole-hearted.
+And her husband's also was cordial and intimate.  The only member
+of the Fosdick household who did not regard the guest with favor
+was Googoo.  That aristocratic bull-pup was still irreconcilably
+hostile.  When Albert attempted to pet him he appeared to be
+planning to devour the caressing hand, and when rebuked by his
+mistress retired beneath a davenport, growling ominously.  Even
+when ignominiously expelled from the room he growled and cast
+longing backward glances at the Speranza ankles.  No, Googoo did
+not dissemble; Albert was perfectly sure of his standing in
+Googoo's estimation.
+
+Dinner that evening was a trifle more formal than he had expected,
+and he was obliged to apologize for the limitations of his
+wardrobe.  His dress suit of former days he had found much too
+dilapidated for use.  Besides, he had outgrown it.
+
+"I thought I was thinner," he said, "and I think I am.  But I must
+have broadened a bit.  At any rate, all the coats I left behind
+won't do at all.  I shall have to do what Captain Snow, my
+grandfather, calls 'refit' here in New York.  In a day or two I
+hope to be more presentable."
+
+Mrs. Fosdick assured him that it was quite all right, really.
+Madeline asked why he didn't wear his uniform.  "I was dying to see
+you in it," she said.  "Just think, I never have."
+
+Albert laughed.  "You have been spared," he told her.  "Mine was
+not a triumph, so far as fit was concerned.  Of course, I had a
+complete new rig when I came out of the hospital, but even that was
+not beautiful.  It puckered where it should have bulged and bulged
+where it should have been smooth."
+
+Madeline professed not to believe him.
+
+"Nonsense!" she declared.  "I don't believe it.  Why, almost all
+the fellows I know have been in uniform for the past two years and
+theirs fitted beautifully."
+
+"But they were officers, weren't they, and their uniforms were
+custom made."
+
+"Why, I suppose so.  Aren't all uniforms custom made?"
+
+Her father laughed.  "Scarcely, Maddie," he said.  "The privates
+have their custom-made by the mile and cut off in chunks for the
+individual.  That was about it, wasn't it, Speranza?"
+
+"Just about, sir."
+
+Mrs. Fosdick evidently thought that the conversation was taking a
+rather low tone.  She elevated it by asking what his thoughts were
+when taken prisoner by the Germans.  He looked puzzled.
+
+"Thoughts, Mrs. Fosdick?" he repeated.  "I don't know that I
+understand, exactly.  I was only partly conscious and in a good
+deal of pain and my thoughts were rather incoherent, I'm afraid."
+
+"But when you regained consciousness, you know.  What were your
+thoughts then?  Did you realize that you had made the great
+sacrifice for your country?  Risked your life and forfeited your
+liberty and all that for the cause?  Wasn't it a great satisfaction
+to feel that you had done that?"
+
+Albert's laugh was hearty and unaffected.  "Why, no," he said.  "I
+think what I was realizing most just then was that I had made a
+miserable mess of the whole business.  Failed in doing what I set
+out to do and been taken prisoner besides.  I remember thinking,
+when I was clear-headed enough to think anything, 'You fool, you
+spent months getting into this war, and then got yourself out of it
+in fifteen minutes.'  And it WAS a silly trick, too."
+
+Madeline was horrified.
+
+"What DO you mean?" she cried.  "Your going back there to rescue
+your comrade a silly trick!  The very thing that won you your Croix
+de Guerre?"
+
+"Why, yes, in a way.  I didn't save Mike, poor fellow--"
+
+"Mike!  Was his name Mike?"
+
+"Yes; Michael Francis Xavier Kelly.  A South Boston Mick he was,
+and one of the finest, squarest boys that ever drew breath.  Well,
+poor Mike was dead when I got to him, so my trip had been for
+nothing, and if he had been alive I could not have prevented his
+being taken.  As it was, he was dead and I was a prisoner.  So
+nothing was gained and, for me, personally, a good deal was lost.
+It wasn't a brilliant thing to do.  But," he added apologetically,
+"a chap doesn't have time to think collectively in such a scrape.
+And it was my first real scrap and I was frightened half to death,
+besides."
+
+"Frightened!  Why, I never heard anything so ridiculous!  What--"
+
+"One moment, Madeline."  It was Mrs. Fosdick who interrupted.  "I
+want to ask--er--Albert a question.  I want to ask him if during
+his long imprisonment he composed--wrote, you know.  I should have
+thought the sights and experiences would have forced one to express
+one's self--that is, one to whom the gift of expression was so
+generously granted," she added, with a gracious nod.
+
+Albert hesitated.
+
+"Why, at first I did," he said.  "When I first was well enough to
+think, I used to try to write--verses.  I wrote a good many.
+Afterwards I tore them up."
+
+"Tore them up!"  Both Mrs. and Miss Fosdick uttered this exclamation.
+
+"Why, yes.  You see, they were such rot.  The things I wanted to
+write about, the things _I_ had seen and was seeing, the--the
+fellows like Mike and their pluck and all that--well, it was all
+too big for me to tackle.  My jingles sounded, when I read them
+over, like tunes on a street piano. _I_ couldn't do it.  A genius
+might have been equal to the job, but I wasn't."
+
+Mrs. Fosdick glanced at her husband.  There was something of
+alarmed apprehension in the glance.  Madeline's next remark covered
+the situation.  It expressed the absolute truth, so much more of
+the truth than even the young lady herself realized at the time.
+
+"Why, Albert Speranza," she exclaimed, "I never heard you speak of
+yourself and your work in that way before.  Always--ALWAYS you have
+had such complete, such splendid confidence in yourself.  You were
+never afraid to attempt ANYTHING.  You MUST not talk so.  Don't you
+intend to write any more?"
+
+Albert looked at her.  "Oh, yes, indeed," he said simply.  "That is
+just what I do intend to do--or try to do."
+
+That evening, alone in the library, he and Madeline had their first
+long, intimate talk, the first since those days--to him they seemed
+as far away as the last century--when they walked the South Harniss
+beach together, walked beneath the rainbows and dreamed.  And now
+here was their dream coming true.
+
+Madeline, he was realizing it as he looked at her, was prettier
+than ever.  She had grown a little older, of course, a little more
+mature, but surprisingly little.  She was still a girl, a very,
+very pretty girl and a charming girl.  And he--
+
+"What are you thinking about?" she demanded suddenly.
+
+He came to himself.  "I was thinking about you," he said.  "You are
+just as you used to be, just as charming and just as sweet.  You
+haven't changed."
+
+She smiled and then pouted.
+
+"I don't know whether to like that or not," she said.  "Did you
+expect to find me less--charming and the rest?"
+
+"Why, no, of course not.  That was clumsy on my part.  What I meant
+was that--well, it seems ages, centuries, since we were together
+there on the Cape--and yet you have not changed."
+
+She regarded him reflectively.
+
+"You have," she said.
+
+"Have what?"
+
+"Changed.  You have changed a good deal.  I don't know whether I
+like it or not.  Perhaps I shall be more certain by and by.  Now
+show me your war cross.  At least you have brought that, even if
+you haven't brought your uniform."
+
+He had the cross in his pocket-book and he showed it to her.  She
+enthused over it, of course, and wished he might wear it even when
+in citizen's clothes.  She didn't see why he couldn't.  And it was
+SUCH a pity he could not be in uniform.  Captain Blanchard had
+called the evening before, to see Mother about some war charities
+she was interested in, and he was still in uniform and wearing his
+decorations, too.  Albert suggested that probably Blanchard was
+still in service.  Yes, she believed he was, but she could not see
+why that should make the difference.  Albert had BEEN in service.
+
+He laughed at this and attempted to explain.  She seemed to resent
+the attempt or the tone.
+
+"I do wish," she said almost pettishly, "that you wouldn't be so
+superior."
+
+He was surprised.  "Superior!" he repeated.  "Superior!  I?
+Superiority is the very least of my feelings.  I--superior!  That's
+a joke."
+
+And, oddly enough, she resented that even more.  "Why is it a
+joke?" she demanded.  "I should think you had the right to feel
+superior to almost any one.  A hero--and a genius!  You ARE
+superior."
+
+However, the little flurry was but momentary, and she was all
+sweetness and smiles when she kissed him good night.  He was shown
+to his room by a servant and amid its array of comforts--to him,
+fresh from France and the camp and his old room at South Harniss,
+it was luxuriously magnificent--he sat for some time thinking.  His
+thoughts should have been happy ones, yet they were not entirely
+so.  This is a curiously unsatisfactory world, sometimes.
+
+The next day he went shopping.  Fosdick had given him a card to his
+own tailor and Madeline had given him the names of several shops
+where, so she declared, he could buy the right sort of ties and
+things.  From the tailor's Albert emerged looking a trifle dazed;
+after a visit to two of the shops the dazed expression was even
+more pronounced.  His next visits were at establishments farther
+downtown and not as exclusive.  He returned to the Fosdick home
+feeling fairly well satisfied with the results achieved.  Madeline,
+however, did not share his satisfaction.
+
+"But Dad sent you to his tailor," she said.  "Why in the world
+didn't you order your evening clothes there?  And Brett has the
+most stunning ties.  Every one says so.  Instead you buy yours at a
+department store.  Now why?"
+
+He smiled.  "My dear girl," he said, "your father's tailor
+estimated that he might make me a very passable dress suit for one
+hundred and seventy-five dollars.  Brett's ties were stunning, just
+as you say, but the prices ranged from five to eight dollars, which
+was more stunning still.  For a young person from the country out
+of a job, which is my condition at present, such things may be
+looked at but not handled.  I can't afford them."
+
+She tossed her head.  "What nonsense!" she exclaimed.  "You're not
+out of a job, as you call it.  You are a writer and a famous
+writer.  You have written one book and you are going to write more.
+Besides, you must have made heaps of money from The Lances.  Every
+one has been reading it."
+
+When he told her the amount of his royalty check she expressed the
+opinion that the publisher must have cheated.  It ought to have
+been ever and ever so much more than that.  Such wonderful poems!
+
+The next day she went to Brett's and purchased a half dozen of the
+most expensive ties, which she presented to him forthwith.
+
+"There!" she demanded.  "Aren't those nicer than the ones you
+bought at that old department store?  Well, then!"
+
+"But, Madeline, I must not let you buy my ties."
+
+"Why not?  It isn't such an unheard-of thing for an engaged girl to
+give her fiance a necktie."
+
+"That isn't the idea.  I should have bought ties like those myself,
+but I couldn't afford them.  Now for you to--"
+
+"Nonsense!  You talk as if you were a beggar.  Don't be so silly."
+
+"But, Madeline--"
+
+"Stop!  I don't want to hear it."
+
+She rose and went out of the room.  She looked as if she were on
+the verge of tears.  He felt obliged to accept the gift, but he
+disliked the principle of the things as much as ever.  When she
+returned she was very talkative and gay and chatted all through
+luncheon.  The subject of the ties was not mentioned again by
+either of them.  He was glad he had not told her that his new dress
+suit was ready-made.
+
+While in France, awaiting his return home, he had purchased a ring
+and sent it to her.  She was wearing it, of course.  Compared with
+other articles of jewelry which she wore from time to time, his
+ring made an extremely modest showing.  She seemed quite unaware of
+the discrepancy, but he was aware of it.
+
+On an evening later in the week Mrs. Fosdick gave a reception.
+"Quite an informal affair," she said, in announcing her intention.
+"Just a few intimate friends to meet Mr. Speranza, that is all.
+Mostly lovers of literature--discerning people, if I may say so."
+
+The quite informal affair looked quite formidably formal to Albert.
+The few intimate friends were many, so it seemed to him.  There was
+still enough of the former Albert Speranza left in his make-up to
+prevent his appearing in the least distressed or ill at ease.  He
+was, as he had always been when in the public eye, even as far back
+as the school dancing-classes with the Misses Bradshaw's young
+ladies, perfectly self-possessed, charmingly polite, absolutely
+self-assured.  And his good looks had not suffered during his years
+of imprisonment and suffering.  He was no longer a handsome boy,
+but he was an extraordinarily attractive and distinguished man.
+
+Mrs. Fosdick marked his manner and appearance and breathed a sigh
+of satisfaction.  Madeline noted them.  Her young friends of the
+sex noted them and whispered and looked approval.  What the young
+men thought does not matter so much, perhaps.  One of these was the
+Captain Blanchard, of whom Madeline had written and spoken.  He was
+a tall, athletic chap, who looked well in his uniform, and whose
+face was that of a healthy, clean-living and clean-thinking young
+American.  He and Albert shook hands and looked each other over.
+Albert decided he should like Blanchard if he knew him better.  The
+captain was not talkative; in fact, he seemed rather taciturn.
+Maids and matrons gushed when presented to the lion of the evening.
+It scarcely seemed possible that they were actually meeting the
+author of The Lances of Dawn.  That wonderful book!  Those wonderful
+poems!  "How CAN you write them, Mr. Speranza?"  "When do your best
+inspirations come, Mr. Speranza?"  "Oh, if I could write as you do I
+should walk on air."  The matron who breathed the last-quoted
+ecstasy was distinctly weighty; the mental picture of her pedestrian
+trip through the atmosphere was interesting.  Albert's hand was
+patted by the elderly spinsters, young women's eyes lifted soulful
+glances to his.
+
+It was the sort of thing he would have revelled in three or four
+years earlier.  Exactly the sort of thing he had dreamed of when
+the majority of the poems they gushed over were written.  It was
+much the same thing he remembered having seen his father undergo
+in the days when he and the opera singer were together.  And his
+father had, apparently, rather enjoyed it.  He realized all this--
+and he realized, too, with a queer feeling that it should be so,
+that he did not like it at all.  It was silly.  Nothing he had
+written warranted such extravagances.  Hadn't these people any
+sense of proportion?  They bored him to desperation.  The sole
+relief was the behavior of the men, particularly the middle-aged or
+elderly men, obviously present through feminine compulsion.  They
+seized his hand, moved it up and down with a pumping motion,
+uttered some stereotyped prevarications about their pleasure at
+meeting him and their having enjoyed his poems very much, and then
+slid on in the direction of the refreshment room.
+
+And Albert, as he shook hands, bowed and smiled and was charmingly
+affable, found his thoughts wandering until they settled upon
+Private Mike Kelly and the picturesque language of the latter when
+he, as sergeant, routed him out for guard duty.  Mike had not
+gushed over him nor called him a genius.  He had called him many
+things, but not that.
+
+He was glad indeed when he could slip away for a dance with
+Madeline.  He found her chatting gaily with Captain Blanchard, who
+had been her most recent partner.  He claimed her from the captain
+and as he led her out to the dance floor she whispered that she was
+very proud of him.  "But I DO wish YOU could wear your war cross,"
+she added.
+
+The quite informal affair was the first of many quite as informally
+formal.  Also Mrs. Fosdick's satellites and friends of the literary
+clubs and the war work societies seized the opportunity to make
+much of the heroic author of The Lances of Dawn.  His society was
+requested at teas, at afternoon as well as evening gatherings.  He
+would have refused most of these invitations, but Madeline and her
+mother seemed to take his acceptance for granted; in fact, they
+accepted for him.  A ghastly habit developed of asking him to read
+a few of his own poems on these occasions.  "PLEASE, Mr. Speranza.
+It will be such a treat, and such an HONOR."  Usually a particular
+request was made that he read "The Greater Love."  Now "The Greater
+Love" was the poem which, written in those rapturous days when he
+and Madeline first became aware of their mutual adoration, was
+refused by one editor as a "trifle too syrupy."  To read that
+sticky effusion over and over again became a torment.  There were
+occasions when if a man had referred to "The Greater Love," its
+author might have howled profanely and offered bodily violence.
+But no men ever did refer to "The Greater Love."
+
+On one occasion when a sentimental matron and her gushing daughter
+had begged to know if he did not himself adore that poem, if he did
+not consider it the best he had ever written, he had answered
+frankly.  He was satiated with cake and tea and compliments that
+evening and recklessly truthful.  "You really wish to know my
+opinion of that poem?" he asked.  Indeed and indeed they really
+wished to knew just that thing.  "Well, then, I think it's rot," he
+declared.  "I loathe it."
+
+Of course mother and daughter were indignant.  Their comments
+reached Madeline's ear.  She took him to task.
+
+"But why did you say it?" she demanded.  "You know you don't mean
+it."
+
+"Yes, I do mean it.  It IS rot.  Lots of the stuff in that book of
+mine is rot.  I did not think so once, but I do now.  If I had the
+book to make over again, that sort wouldn't be included."
+
+She looked at him for a moment as if studying a problem.
+
+"I don't understand you sometimes," she said slowly.  "You are
+different.  And I think what you said to Mrs. Bacon and Marian was
+very rude."
+
+Later when he went to look for her he found her seated with Captain
+Blanchard in a corner.  They were eating ices and, apparently,
+enjoying themselves.  He did not disturb them.  Instead he hunted
+up the offended Bacons and apologized for his outbreak.  The
+apology, although graciously accepted, had rather wearisome
+consequences.  Mrs. Bacon declared she knew that he had not really
+meant what he said.
+
+"I realize how it must be," she declared.  "You people of
+temperament, of genius, of aspirations, are never quite satisfied,
+you cannot be.  You are always trying, always seeking the higher
+attainment.  Achievements of the past, though to the rest of us
+wonderful and sublime, are to you--as you say, 'rot.'  That is it,
+is it not?"  Albert said he guessed it was, and wandered away,
+seeking seclusion and solitude.  When the affair broke up he found
+Madeline and Blanchard still enjoying each other's society.  Both
+were surprised when told the hour.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+
+So the first three weeks of his proposed month's visit passed and
+the fourth began.  And more and more his feelings of dissatisfaction
+and uneasiness increased.  The reasons for those feelings he found
+hard to define.  The Fosdicks were most certainly doing their best
+to make him comfortable and happy.  They were kind--yes, more than
+kind.  Mr. Fosdick he really began to like.  Mrs. Fosdick's manner
+had a trace of condescension in it, but as the lady treated all
+creation with much the same measure of condescension, he was more
+amused than resentful.  And Madeline--Madeline was sweet and
+charming and beautiful.  There was in her manner toward him, or so
+he fancied, a slight change, perhaps a change a trifle more marked
+since the evening when his expressed opinion of "The Greater Love"
+had offended her and the Bacons.  It seemed to him that she was more
+impatient, more capricious, sometimes almost overwhelming him with
+attention and tenderness and then appearing to forget him entirely
+and to be quite indifferent to his thoughts and opinions.  Her moods
+varied greatly and there were occasions when he found it almost
+impossible to please her.  At these times she took offense when no
+offense was intended and he found himself apologizing when, to say
+the least, the fault, if there was any, was not more than half his.
+But she always followed those moods with others of contrition and
+penitence and then he was petted and fondled and his forgiveness
+implored.
+
+These slight changes in her he noticed, but they troubled him
+little, principally because he was coming to realize the great
+change in himself.  More and more that change was forcing itself
+upon him.  The stories and novels he had read during the first
+years of the war, the stories by English writers in which young
+men, frivolous and inconsequential, had enlisted and fought and
+emerged from the ordeal strong, purposeful and "made-over"--those
+stories recurred to him now.  He had paid little attention to the
+"making-over" idea when he read those tales, but now he was forced
+to believe there might be something in it.  Certainly something,
+the three years or the discipline and training and suffering, or
+all combined, had changed him.  He was not as he used to be.
+Things he liked very much he no longer liked at all.  And where,
+oh where, was the serene self-satisfaction which once was his?
+
+The change must be quite individual, he decided.  All soldiers were
+not so affected.  Take Blanchard, for instance.  Blanchard had seen
+service, more and quite as hard fighting as he had seen, but
+Blanchard was, to all appearances, as light-hearted and serene and
+confident as ever.  Blanchard was like Madeline; he was much the
+same now as he had been before the war.  Blanchard could dance and
+talk small talk and laugh and enjoy himself.  Well, so could he, on
+occasions, for that matter, if that had been all.  But it was not
+all, or if it was why was he at other times so discontented and
+uncomfortable?  What was the matter with him, anyway?
+
+He drew more and more into his shell and became more quiet and less
+talkative.  Madeline, in one of her moods, reproached him for it.
+
+"I do wish you wouldn't be grumpy," she said.
+
+They had been sitting in the library and he had lapsed into a fit
+of musing, answering her questions with absentminded monosyllables.
+Now he looked up.
+
+"Grumpy?" he repeated.  "Was I grumpy?  I beg your pardon."
+
+"You should.  You answered every word I spoke to you with a grunt
+or a growl.  I might as well have been talking to a bear."
+
+"I'm awfully sorry, dear.  I didn't feel grumpy.  I was thinking, I
+suppose."
+
+"Thinking!  You are always thinking.  Why think, pray? . . .  If I
+permitted myself to think, I should go insane."
+
+"Madeline, what do you mean?"
+
+"Oh, nothing.  I'm partially insane now, perhaps.  Come, let's go
+to the piano.  I feel like playing.  You don't mind, do you?"
+
+That evening Mrs. Fosdick made a suggestion to her husband.
+
+"Fletcher," she said, "I am inclined to think it is time you and
+Albert had a talk concerning the future.  A business talk, I mean.
+I am a little uneasy about him.  From some things he has said to me
+recently I gather that he is planning to earn his living with his
+pen."
+
+"Well, how else did you expect him to earn it; as bookkeeper for
+the South Harniss lumber concern?"
+
+"Don't be absurd.  What I mean is that he is thinking of devoting
+himself to literature exclusively.  Don't interrupt me, please.
+That is very beautiful and very idealistic, and I honor him for it,
+but I cannot see Madeline as an attic poet's wife, can you?"
+
+"I can't, and I told you so in the beginning."
+
+"No.  Therefore I should take him to one side and tell him of the
+opening in your firm.  With that as a means of keeping his feet on
+the ground his brain may soar as it likes, the higher the better."
+
+Mr. Fosdick, as usual, obeyed orders and that afternoon Albert and
+he had the "business talk."  Conversation at dinner was somewhat
+strained.  Mr. Fosdick was quietly observant and seemed rather
+amused about something.  His wife was dignified and her manner
+toward her guest was inclined to be abrupt.  Albert's appetite was
+poor.  As for Madeline, she did not come down to dinner, having a
+headache.
+
+She came down later, however.  Albert, alone in the library, was
+sitting, a book upon his knees and his eyes fixed upon nothing in
+particular, when she came in.
+
+"You are thinking again, I see," she said.
+
+He had not heard her enter.  Now he rose, the book falling to the
+floor.
+
+"Why--why, yes," he stammered.  "How are you feeling?  How is your
+head?"
+
+"It is no worse.  And no better.  I have been thinking, too, which
+perhaps explains it.  Sit down, Albert, please.  I want to talk
+with you.  That is what I have been thinking about, that you and I
+must talk."
+
+She seated herself upon the davenport and he pulled forward a chair
+and sat facing her.  For a moment she was silent.  When she did
+speak, however, her question was very much to the point.
+
+"Why did you say 'No' to Father's offer?" she asked.  He had been
+expecting this very question, or one leading up to it.  Nevertheless,
+he found answering difficult.  He hesitated, and she watched him,
+her impatience growing.
+
+"Well?" she asked.
+
+He sighed.  "Madeline," he said, "I am afraid you think me very
+unreasonable, certainly very ungrateful."
+
+"I don't know what to think about you.  That is why I feel we must
+have this talk.  Tell me, please, just what Father said to you this
+afternoon."
+
+"He said--well, the substance of what he said was to offer me a
+position in his office, in his firm."
+
+"What sort of a position?"
+
+"Well, I--I scarcely know.  I was to have a desk there and--and be
+generally--ornamental, I suppose.  It was not very definite, the
+details of the position, but--"
+
+"The salary was good, wasn't it?"
+
+"Yes; more than good.  Much too good for the return I could make
+for it, so it seemed to me."
+
+"And your prospects for the future?  Wasn't the offer what people
+call a good opportunity?"
+
+"Why, yes, I suppose it was.  For the right sort of man it would
+have been a wonderful opportunity.  Your father was most kind, most
+generous, Madeline.  Please don't think I am not appreciative.  I
+am, but--"
+
+"Don't.  I want to understand it all.  He offered you this
+opportunity, this partnership in his firm, and you would not
+accept it?  Why?  Don't you like my father?"
+
+"Yes, I like him very much."
+
+"Didn't you," with the slightest possible curl of the lip, "think
+the offer worthy of you? . . .  Oh, I don't mean that!  Please
+forgive me.  I am trying not to be disagreeable.  I--I just want to
+understand, Albert, that's all."
+
+He nodded.  "I know, Madeline," he said.  "You have the right to
+ask.  It wasn't so much a question of the offer being worthy of me
+as of my being worthy the offer.  Oh, Madeline, why should you and
+I pretend?  You know why Mr. Fosdick made me that offer.  It wasn't
+because I was likely to be worth ten dollars a year to his firm.
+In Heaven's name, what use would I be in a stockbroker's office,
+with my make-up, with my lack of business ability?  He would be
+making a place for me there and paying me a high salary for one
+reason only, and you know what that is.  Now don't you?"
+
+She hesitated now, but only for an instant.  She colored a little,
+but she answered bravely.
+
+"I suppose I do," she said, "but what of it?  It is not unheard of,
+is it, the taking one's prospective son-in-law into partnership?"
+
+"No, but--  We're dodging the issue again, Madeline.  If I were
+likely to be of any help to your father's business, instead of a
+hindrance, I might perhaps see it differently.  As it is, I
+couldn't accept unless I were willing to be an object of charity."
+
+"Did you tell Father that?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"What did he say?"
+
+"He said a good deal.  He was frank enough to say that he did not
+expect me to be of great assistance to the firm.  But I might be of
+SOME use--he didn't put it as baldly as that, of course--and at all
+times I could keep on with my writing, with my poetry, you know.
+The brokerage business should not interfere with my poetry, he
+said; your mother would scalp him if it did that."
+
+She smiled faintly.  "That sounds like dad," she commented.
+
+"Yes.  Well, we talked and argued for some time on the subject.
+He asked me what, supposing I did not accept this offer of his,
+my plans for the future might be.  I told him they were pretty
+unsettled as yet.  I meant to write, of course.  Not poetry
+altogether.  I realized, I told him, that I was not a great poet, a
+poet of genius."
+
+Madeline interrupted.  Her eyes flashed.
+
+"Why do you say that?" she demanded.  "I have heard you say it
+before.  That is, recently.  In the old days you were as sure as
+I that you were a real poet, or should be some day.  You never
+doubted it.  You used to tell me so and I loved to hear you."
+
+Albert shook his head.  "I was sure of so many things then," he
+said.  "I must have been an insufferable kid."
+
+She stamped her foot.  "It was less than three years ago that you
+said it," she declared.  "You are not so frightfully ancient
+now. . . .  Well, go on, go on.  How did it end, the talk with
+Father, I mean?"
+
+"I told him," he continued, "that I meant to write and to earn my
+living by writing.  I meant to try magazine work--stories, you
+know--and, soon, a novel.  He asked if earning enough to support a
+wife on would not be a long job at that time.  I said I was afraid
+it might, but that that seemed to me my particular game,
+nevertheless."
+
+She interrupted again.  "Did it occur to you to question whether or
+not that determination of yours was quite fair to me?" she asked.
+
+"Why--why, yes, it did.  And I don't know that it IS exactly fair
+to you.  I--"
+
+"Never mind.  Go on.  Tell me the rest.  How did it end?"
+
+"Well, it ended in a sort of flare-up.  Mr. Fosdick was just a
+little bit sarcastic, and I expressed my feelings rather freely--
+too freely, I'm afraid."
+
+"Never mind.  I want to know what you said."
+
+"To be absolutely truthful, then, this is what I said:  I said that
+I appreciated his kindness and was grateful for the offer.  But my
+mind was made up.  I would not live upon his charity and draw a
+large salary for doing nothing except be a little, damned tame
+house-poet led around in leash and exhibited at his wife's club
+meetings. . . .  That was about all, I think.  We shook hands at
+the end.  He didn't seem to like me any the less for . . .  Why,
+Madeline, have I offended you?  My language was pretty strong, I
+know, but--"
+
+She had bowed her head upon her arms amid the sofa cushions and was
+crying.  He sprang to his feet and bent over her.
+
+"Why, Madeline," he said again, "I beg your pardon.  I'm sorry--"
+
+"Oh, it isn't that," she sobbed.  "It isn't that.  I don't care
+what you said."
+
+"What is it, then?"
+
+She raised her head and looked at him.
+
+"It is you," she cried.  "It is myself.  It is everything.  It is
+all wrong.  I--I was so happy and--and now I am miserable.  Oh--oh,
+I wish I were dead!"
+
+She threw herself upon the cushions again and wept hysterically.
+He stood above her, stroking her hair, trying to soothe her, to
+comfort her, and all the time he felt like a brute, a heartless
+beast.  At last she ceased crying, sat up and wiped her eyes with
+her handkerchief.
+
+"There!" she exclaimed.  "I will not be silly any longer.  I won't
+be!  I WON'T! . . .  Now tell me:  Why have you changed so?"
+
+He looked down at her and shook his head.  He was conscience-
+stricken and fully as miserable as she professed to be.
+
+"I don't know," he said.  "I am older and--and--and I DON'T see
+things as I used to.  If that book of mine had appeared three years
+ago I have no doubt I should have believed it to be the greatest
+thing ever printed.  Now, when people tell me it is and I read what
+the reviewers said and all that, I--I DON'T believe, I KNOW it
+isn't great--that is, the most of it isn't.  There is some pretty
+good stuff, of course, but--  You see, I think it wasn't the poems
+themselves that made it sell; I think it was all the fool tommyrot
+the papers printed about me, about my being a hero and all that
+rubbish, when they thought I was dead, you know.  That--"
+
+She interrupted.  "Oh, don't!" she cried.  "Don't!  I don't care
+about the old book.  I'm not thinking about that.  I'm thinking
+about you.  YOU aren't the same--the same toward me."
+
+"Toward you, Madeline?  I don't understand what you mean."
+
+"Yes, you do.  Of course you do.  If you were the same as you used
+to be, you would let Father help you.  We used to talk about that
+very thing and--and you didn't resent it then."
+
+"Didn't I?  Well, perhaps I didn't.  But I think I remember our
+speaking sometimes of sacrificing everything for each other.  We
+were to live in poverty, if necessary, and I was to write, you
+know, and--"
+
+"Stop!  All that was nonsense, nonsense! you know it."
+
+"Yes, I'm afraid it was."
+
+"You know it was.  And if you were as you used to be, if you--"
+
+"Madeline!"
+
+"What?  Why did you interrupt me?"
+
+"Because I wanted to ask you a question.  Do you think YOU are
+exactly the same--as you used to be?"
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Haven't YOU changed a little?  Are you as sure as you were then--
+as sure of your feeling toward me?"
+
+She gazed at him, wide-eyed.  "WHAT do you mean?"
+
+"I mean ARE you sure?  It has seemed to me that perhaps--I was out
+of your life for a long time, you know, and during a good deal of
+that time it seemed certain that I had gone forever.  I am not
+blaming you, goodness knows, but--Madeline, isn't there--  Well, if
+I hadn't come back, mightn't there have been some one--else?"
+
+She turned pale.
+
+"What do--" she stammered, inarticulate.  "Why, why--"
+
+"It was Captain Blanchard, wasn't it?"
+
+The color came back to her cheeks with a rush.  She blushed
+furiously and sprang to her feet.
+
+"How--how can you say such things!" she cried.  "What do you mean?
+How DARE you say Captain Blanchard took advantage of--  How--how
+DARE you say I was not loyal to you?  It is not true.  It is not
+true.  I was.  I am.  There hasn't been a word--a word between us
+since--since the news came that you were--  I told him--I said--
+And he has been splendid!  Splendid!  And now you say--  Oh, what
+AM I saying?  What SHALL I do?"
+
+She collapsed once more among the cushions.  He leaned forward.
+
+"My dear girl--" he began, but she broke in.
+
+"I HAVEN'T been disloyal," she cried.  "I have tried--  Oh, I have
+tried so hard--"
+
+"Hush, Madeline, hush.  I understand.  I understand perfectly.  It
+is all right, really it is."
+
+"And I should have kept on trying always--always."
+
+"Yes, dear, yes.  But do you think a married life with so much
+trying in it likely to be a happy one?  It is better to know it
+now, isn't it, a great deal better for both of us?  Madeline, I am
+going to my room.  I want you to think, to think over all this, and
+then we will talk again.  I don't blame you.  I don't, dear,
+really.  I think I realize everything--all of it.  Good night,
+dear."
+
+He stooped and kissed her.  She sobbed, but that was all.  The next
+morning a servant came to his room with a parcel and a letter.  The
+parcel was a tiny one.  It was the ring he had given her, in its
+case.  The letter was short and much blotted.  It read:
+
+
+Dear Albert:
+
+I have thought and thought, as you told me to, and I have concluded
+that you were right.  It IS best to know it now.  Forgive me,
+please, PLEASE.  I feel wicked and horrid and I HATE myself, but I
+think this is best.  Oh, do forgive me.  Good-by.
+
+MADELINE.
+
+
+His reply was longer.  At its end he wrote:
+
+
+Of course I forgive you.  In the first place there is nothing to
+forgive.  The unforgivable thing would have been the sacrifice of
+your happiness and your future to a dream and a memory.  I hope you
+will be very happy.  I am sure you will be, for Blanchard is, I
+know, a fine fellow.  The best of fortune to you both.
+
+
+The next forenoon he sat once more in the car of the morning train
+for Cape Cod, looking out of the window.  He had made the journey
+from New York by the night boat and had boarded the Cape train at
+Middleboro.  All the previous day, and in the evening as he tramped
+the cold wind-swept deck of the steamer, he had been trying to
+collect his thoughts, to readjust them to the new situation, to
+comprehend in its entirety the great change that had come in his
+life.  The vague plans, the happy indefinite dreams, all the
+rainbows and roses had gone, shivered to bits like the reflection
+in a broken mirror.  Madeline, his Madeline, was his no longer.
+Nor was he hers.  In a way it seemed impossible.
+
+He tried to analyze his feelings.  It seemed as if he should have
+been crushed, grief-stricken, broken.  He was inclined to reproach
+himself because he was not.  Of course there was a sadness about
+it, a regret that the wonder of those days of love and youth had
+passed.  But the sorrow was not bitter, the regret was but a
+wistful longing, the sweet, lingering fragrance of a memory, that
+was all.  Toward her, Madeline, he felt--and it surprised him, too,
+to find that he felt--not the slightest trace of resentment.  And
+more surprising still he felt none toward Blanchard.  He had meant
+what he said in his letter, he wished for them both the greatest
+happiness.
+
+And--there was no use attempting to shun the fact--his chief
+feeling, as he sat there by the car window looking out at the
+familiar landscape, was a great relief, a consciousness of escape
+from what might have been a miserable, crushing mistake for him and
+for her.  And with this a growing sense of freedom, of buoyancy.
+It seemed wicked to feel like that.  Then it came to him, the
+thought that Madeline, doubtless, was experiencing the same
+feeling.  And he did not mind a bit; he hoped she was, bless her!
+
+A youthful cigar "drummer," on his first Down-East trip, sat down
+beside him.
+
+"Kind of a flat, bare country, ain't it?" observed the drummer,
+with a jerk of his head toward the window.  "Looks bleak enough to
+me.  Know anything about this neck of the woods, do you?"
+
+Albert turned to look at him.
+
+"Meaning the Cape?" he asked.
+
+"Sure."
+
+"Indeed I do.  I know all about it."
+
+"That so!  Say, you sound as if you liked it."
+
+Albert turned back to the window again.
+
+"Like it!" he repeated.  "I love it."  Then he sighed, a sigh of
+satisfaction, and added:  "You see, I BELONG here."
+
+His grandparents and Rachel were surprised when he walked into the
+house that noon and announced that he hoped dinner was ready,
+because he was hungry.  But their surprise was more than balanced
+by their joy.  Captain Zelotes demanded to know how long he was
+going to stay.
+
+"As long as you'll have me, Grandfather," was the answer.
+
+"Eh?  Well, that would be a consider'ble spell, if you left it to
+us, but I cal'late that girl in New York will have somethin' to say
+as to time limit, won't she?"
+
+Albert smiled.  "I'll tell you about that by and by," he said.
+
+He did not tell them until that evening after supper.  It was
+Friday evening and Olive was going to prayer-meeting, but she
+delayed "putting on her things" to hear the tale.  The news that
+the engagement was off and that her grandson was not, after all, to
+wed the daughter of the Honorable Fletcher Fosdick, shocked and
+grieved her not a little.
+
+"Oh, dear!" she sighed.  "I suppose you know what's best, Albert,
+and maybe, as you say, you wouldn't have been happy, but I DID feel
+sort of proud to think my boy was goin' to marry a millionaire's
+daughter."
+
+Captain Zelotes made no comment--then.  He asked to be told more
+particulars.  Albert described the life at the Fosdick home, the
+receptions, his enforced exhibitions and readings.  At length the
+recital reached the point of the interview in Fosdick's office.
+
+"So he offered you to take you into the firm--eh, son?" he
+observed.
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Humph!  Fosdick, Williamson and Hendricks are one of the biggest
+brokerage houses goin', so a good many New Yorkers have told me."
+
+"No doubt.  But, Grandfather, you've had some experience with me
+as a business man; how do you think I would fit into a firm of
+stockbrokers?"
+
+Captain Lote's eye twinkled, but he did not answer the question.
+Instead he asked:
+
+"Just what did you give Fosdick as your reason for not sayin' yes?"
+
+Albert laughed.  "Well, Grandfather," he said, "I'll tell you.  I
+said that I appreciated his kindness and all that, but that I would
+not draw a big salary for doing nothing except to be a little,
+damned tame house-poet led around in leash and shown off at his
+wife's club meetings."
+
+Mrs. Snow uttered a faint scream.  "Oh, Albert!" she exclaimed.
+She might have said more, but a shout from her husband prevented
+her doing so.
+
+Captain Zelotes had risen and his mighty hand descended with a
+stinging slap upon his grandson's shoulder.
+
+"Bully for you, boy!" he cried.  Then, turning to Olive, he added,
+"Mother, I've always kind of cal'lated that you had one man around
+this house.  Now, by the Lord A'Mighty, I know you've got TWO!"
+
+Olive rose.  "Well," she declared emphatically, "that may be; but
+if both those men are goin' to start in swearin' right here in the
+sittin' room, I think it's high time SOMEBODY in that family went
+to church."
+
+So to prayer meeting she went, with Mrs. Ellis as escort, and her
+husband and grandson, seated in armchairs before the sitting room
+stove, both smoking, talked and talked, of the past and of the
+future--not as man to boy, nor as grandparent to grandson, but for
+the first time as equals, without reservations, as man to man.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+
+The next morning Albert met old Mr. Kendall.  After breakfast
+Captain Zelotes had gone, as usual, directly to the office.  His
+grandson, however, had not accompanied him.
+
+"What are you cal'latin' to do this mornin', Al?" inquired the
+captain.
+
+"Oh, I don't know exactly, Grandfather.  I'm going to look about
+the place a bit, write a letter to my publishers, and take a walk,
+I think.  You will probably see me at the office pretty soon.  I'll
+look in there by and by."
+
+"Ain't goin' to write one or two of those five hundred dollar
+stories before dinner time, are you?"
+
+"I guess not, sir.  I'm afraid they won't be written as quickly as
+all that."
+
+Captain Lote shook his head.  "Godfreys!" he exclaimed; "it ain't
+the writin' of 'em I'd worry about so much as the gettin' paid for
+'em.  You're sure that editor man ain't crazy, you say?"
+
+"I hope he isn't.  He seemed sane enough when I saw him."
+
+"Well, I don't know.  It's live and learn, I suppose, but if
+anybody but you had told me that magazine folks paid as much as
+five hundred dollars a piece for yarns made up out of a feller's
+head without a word of truth in 'em, I'd--well, I should have told
+the feller that told me to go to a doctor right off and have HIS
+head examined.  But--well, as 'tis I cal'late I'd better have my
+own looked at.  So long, Al.  Come in to the office if you get a
+chance."
+
+He hurried out.  Albert walked to the window and watched the sturdy
+figure swinging out of the yard.  He wondered if, should he live to
+his grandfather's age, his step would be as firm and his shoulders
+as square.
+
+Olive laid a hand on his arm.
+
+"You don't mind his talkin' that way about your writin' those
+stories, do you, Albert?" she asked, a trace of anxiety in her
+tone.  "He don't mean it, you know.  He don't understand it--says
+he don't himself--but he's awful proud of you, just the same.  Why,
+last night, after you and he had finished talkin' and he came up to
+bed--and the land knows what time of night or mornin' THAT was--he
+woke me out of a sound sleep to tell me about that New York
+magazine man givin' you a written order to write six stories for
+his magazine at five hundred dollars a piece.  Zelotes couldn't
+seem to get over it.  'Think of it, Mother,' he kept sayin'.
+'Think of it!  Pretty nigh twice what I pay as good a man as Labe
+Keeler for keepin' books a whole year.  And Al says he ought to do
+a story every forni't.  I used to jaw his head off, tellin' him he
+was on the road to starvation and all that.  Tut, tut, tut!
+Mother, I've waited a long time to say it, but it looks as if you
+married a fool.' . . .  That's the way he talked, but he's a long
+ways from bein' a fool, your grandfather is, Albert."
+
+Albert nodded.  "No one knows that better than I," he said, with
+emphasis.
+
+"There's one thing," she went on, "that kind of troubled me.  He
+said you was goin' to insist on payin' board here at home.  Now you
+know this house is yours.  And we love to--"
+
+He put his arm about her.  "I know it, Grandmother," he broke in,
+quickly.  "But that is all settled.  I am going to try to make my
+own living in my own way.  I am going to write and see what I am
+really worth.  I have my royalty money, you know, most of it, and I
+have this order for the series of stories.  I can afford to pay for
+my keep and I shall.  You see, as I told Grandfather last night, I
+don't propose to live on his charity any more than on Mr. Fosdick's."
+
+She sighed.
+
+"So Zelotes said," she admitted.  "He told me no less than three
+times that you said it.  It seemed to tickle him most to death, for
+some reason, and that's queer, too, for he's anything but stingy.
+But there, I suppose you can pay board if you want to, though who
+you'll pay it to is another thing.  _I_ shan't take a cent from the
+only grandson I've got in the world."
+
+It was while on his stroll down to the village that Albert met Mr.
+Kendall.  The reverend gentleman was plodding along carrying a
+market basket from the end of which, beneath a fragment of
+newspaper, the tail and rear third of a huge codfish drooped.  The
+basket and its contents must have weighed at least twelve pounds
+and the old minister was, as Captain Zelotes would have said,
+making heavy weather of it.  Albert went to his assistance.
+
+"How do you do, Mr. Kendall," he said; "I'm afraid that basket is
+rather heavy, isn't it.  Mayn't I help you with it?"  Then, seeing
+that the old gentleman did not recognize him, he added, "I am
+Albert Speranza."
+
+Down went the basket and the codfish and Mr. Kendall seized him by
+both hands.
+
+"Why, of course, of course," he cried.  "Of course, of course.
+It's our young hero, isn't it.  Our poet, our happy warrior.  Yes,--
+yes, of course.  So glad to see you, Albert. . . .  Er . . . er . . .
+How is your mother?"
+
+"You mean my grandmother?  She is very well, thank you."
+
+"Yes--er--yes, your grandmother, of course. . . .  Er . . . er. . . .
+Did you see my codfish?  Isn't it a magnificent one.  I am very
+fond of codfish and we almost never have it at home.  So just now,
+I happened to be passing Jonathan Howes'--he is the--er--fishdealer,
+you know, and . . . Jonathan is a very regular attendant at my
+Sunday morning services.  He is--is. . . .  Dear me. . . .  What
+was I about to say?"
+
+Being switched back to the main track by Albert he explained that
+he had seen a number of cod in Mr. Howes' possession and had bought
+this specimen.  Howes had lent him the basket.
+
+"And the newspaper," he explained; adding, with triumph, "I shall
+dine on codfish to-day, I am happy to say."  Judging by appearances
+he might dine and sup and breakfast on codfish and still have a
+supply remaining.  Albert insisted on carrying the spoil to the
+parsonage.  He was doing nothing in particular and it would be a
+pleasure, he said.  Mr. Kendall protested for the first minute or
+so but then forgot just what the protest was all about and rambled
+garrulously on about affairs in the parish.  He had failed in other
+faculties, but his flow of language was still unimpeded.  They
+entered the gate of the parsonage.  Albert put the basket on the
+upper step.
+
+"There," he said; "now I must go.  Good morning, Mr. Kendall."
+
+"Oh, but you aren't going?  You must come in a moment.  I want to
+give you the manuscript of that sermon of mine on the casting down
+of Baal, that is the one in which I liken the military power of
+Germany to the brazen idol which. . . .  Just a moment, Albert.
+The manuscript is in my desk and. . . .  Oh, dear me, the door is
+locked. . . .  Helen, Helen!"
+
+He was shaking the door and shouting his daughter's name.  Albert
+was surprised and not a little disturbed.  It had not occurred to
+him that Helen could be at home.  It is true that before he left
+for New York his grandmother had said that she was planning to
+return home to be with her father, but since then he had heard
+nothing more concerning her.  Neither of his grandparents had
+mentioned her name in their letters, nor since his arrival the day
+before had they mentioned it.  And Mr. Kendall had not spoken of
+her during their walk together.  Albert was troubled and taken
+aback.  In one way he would have liked to meet Helen very much
+indeed.  They had not met since before the war.  But he did not,
+somehow, wish to meet her just then.  He did not wish to meet
+anyone who would speak of Madeline, or ask embarrassing questions.
+He turned to go.
+
+"Another time, Mr. Kendall," he said.  "Good morning."
+
+But he had gone only a few yards when the reverend gentleman was
+calling to him to return.
+
+"Albert!  Albert!" called Mr. Kendall.
+
+He was obliged to turn back, he could do nothing else, and as he
+did so the door opened.  It was Helen who opened it and she stood
+there upon the threshold and looked down at him.  For a moment, a
+barely perceptible interval, she looked, then he heard her catch
+her breath quickly and saw her put one hand upon the door jamb as
+if for support.  The next, and she was running down the steps, her
+hands outstretched and the light of welcome in her eyes.
+
+"Why, Albert Speranza!" she cried.  "Why, ALBERT!"
+
+He seized her hands.  "Helen!" he cried, and added involuntarily,
+"My, but it's good to see you again!"
+
+She laughed and so did he.  All his embarrassment was gone.  They
+were like two children, like the boy and girl who had known each
+other in the old days.
+
+"And when did you get here?" she asked.  "And what do you mean by
+surprising us like this?  I saw your grandfather yesterday morning
+and he didn't say a word about your coming."
+
+"He didn't know I was coming.  I didn't know it myself until the
+day before.  And when did you come?  Your father didn't tell me you
+were here.  I didn't know until I heard him call your name."
+
+He was calling it again.  Calling it and demanding attention for
+his precious codfish.
+
+"Yes, Father, yes, in a minute, " she said.  Then to Albert, "Come
+in.  Oh, of course you'll come in."
+
+"Why, yes, if I won't be interfering with the housekeeping."
+
+"You won't.  Yes, Father, yes, I'm coming.  Mercy, where did you
+get such a wonderful fish?  Come in, Albert.  As soon as I get
+Father's treasure safe in the hands of Maria I'll be back.  Father
+will keep you company.  No, pardon me, I am afraid he won't, he's
+gone to the kitchen already.  And I shall have to go, too, for just
+a minute.  I'll hurry."
+
+She hastened to the kitchen, whither Mr. Kendall, tugging the fish
+basket, had preceded her.  Albert entered the little sitting-room
+and sat down in a chair by the window.  The room looked just as it
+used to look, just as neat, just as homelike, just as well kept.
+And when she came back and they began to talk, it seemed to him
+that she, too, was just as she used to be.  She was a trifle less
+girlish, more womanly perhaps, but she was just as good to look at,
+just as bright and cheerful and in her conversation she had the
+same quietly certain way of dealing directly with the common-sense
+realities and not the fuss and feathers.  It seemed to him that she
+had not changed at all, that she herself was one of the realities,
+the wholesome home realities, like Captain Zelotes and Olive and
+the old house they lived in.  He told her so.  She laughed.
+
+"You make me feel as ancient as the pyramids," she said.
+
+He shook his head.  "I am the ancient," he declared.  "This war
+hasn't changed you a particle, Helen, but it has handed me an awful
+jolt.  At times I feel as if I must have sailed with Noah.  And as
+if I had wasted most of the time since."
+
+She smiled.  "Just what do you mean by that?" she asked.
+
+"I mean--well, I don't know exactly what I do mean, I guess.  I
+seem to have an unsettled feeling.  I'm not satisfied with myself.
+And as I remember myself," he added, with a shrug, "that condition
+of mind was not usual with me."
+
+She regarded him for a moment without speaking, with the appraising
+look in her eyes which he remembered so well, which had always
+reminded him of the look in his grandfather's eyes, and which when
+a boy he resented so strongly.
+
+"Yes," she said slowly, "I think you have changed.  Not because
+you say you feel so much older or because you are uneasy and
+dissatisfied.  So many of the men I talked with at the camp
+hospital, the men who had been over there and had been wounded, as
+you were, said they felt the same way.  That doesn't mean anything,
+I think, except that it is dreadfully hard to get readjusted again
+and settle down to everyday things.  But it seems to me that you
+have changed in other ways.  You are a little thinner, but broader,
+too, aren't you?  And you do look older, especially about the eyes.
+And, of course--well, of course I think I do miss a little of the
+Albert Speranza I used to know, the young chap with the chip on his
+shoulder for all creation to knock off."
+
+"Young jackass!"
+
+"Oh, no indeed.  He had his good points.  But there! we're wasting
+time and we have so much to talk about.  You--why, what am I
+thinking of!  I have neglected the most important thing in the
+world.  And you have just returned from New York, too.  Tell me,
+how is Madeline Fosdick?"
+
+"She is well.  But tell me about yourself.  You have been in all
+sorts of war work, haven't you.  Tell me about it."
+
+"Oh, my work didn't amount to much.  At first I 'Red Crossed' in
+Boston, then I went to Devens and spent a long time in the camp
+hospital there."
+
+"Pretty trying, wasn't it?"
+
+"Why--yes, some of it was.  When the 'flu' epidemic was raging and
+the poor fellows were having such a dreadful time it was bad
+enough.  After that I was sent to Eastview.  In the hospital there
+I met the boys who had been wounded on the other side and who
+talked about old age and dissatisfaction and uneasiness, just as
+you do.  But MY work doesn't count.  You are the person to be
+talked about.  Since I have seen you you have become a famous poet
+and a hero and--"
+
+"Don't!"
+
+She had been smiling; now she was very serious.
+
+"Forgive me, Albert," she said.  "We have been joking, you and I,
+but there was a time when we--when your friends did not joke.  Oh,
+Albert, if you could have seen the Snow place as I saw it then.  It
+was as if all the hope and joy and everything worth while had been
+crushed out of it.  Your grandmother, poor little woman, was brave
+and quiet, but we all knew she was trying to keep up for Captain
+Zelotes' sake.  And he--Albert, you can scarcely imagine how the
+news of your death changed him. . . .  Ah! well, it was a hard
+time, a dreadful time for--for every one."
+
+She paused and he, turning to look at her, saw that there were
+tears in her eyes.  He knew of her affection for his grandparents
+and theirs for her.  Before he could speak she was smiling again.
+
+"But now that is all over, isn't it?" she said.  "And the Snows are
+the happiest people in the country, I do believe.  AND the proudest,
+of course.  So now you must tell me all about it, about your
+experiences, and about your war cross, and about your literary
+work--oh, about everything."
+
+The all-inclusive narrative was not destined to get very far.  Old
+Mr. Kendall came hurrying in, the sermon on the casting down of
+Baal in his hand.  Thereafter he led, guided, and to a large extent
+monopolized the conversation.  His discourse had proceeded perhaps
+as far as "Thirdly" when Albert, looking at his watch, was
+surprised to find it almost dinner time.  Mr. Kendall, still
+talking, departed to his study to hunt for another sermon.  The
+young people said good-by in his absence.
+
+"It has been awfully good to see you again, Helen," declared
+Albert.  "But I told you that in the beginning, didn't I?  You
+seem like--well, like a part of home, you know.  And home means
+something to me nowadays."
+
+"I'm glad to hear you speak of South Harniss as home.  Of course I
+know you don't mean to make it a permanent home--I imagine Madeline
+would have something to say about that--but it is nice to have you
+speak as if the old town meant something to you."
+
+He looked about him.
+
+"I love the place," he said simply.
+
+"I am glad.  So do I; but then I have lived here all my life.  The
+next time we talk I want to know more about your plans for the
+future--yours and Madeline's, I mean.  How proud she must be of
+you."
+
+He looked up at her; she was standing upon the upper step and he on
+the walk below.
+
+"Madeline and I--" he began.  Then he stopped.  What was the use?
+He did not want to talk about it.  He waved his hand and turned
+away.
+
+After dinner he went out into the kitchen to talk to Mrs. Ellis,
+who was washing dishes.  She was doing it as she did all her share
+of the housework, with an energy and capability which would have
+delighted the soul of a "scientific management" expert.  Except
+when under the spell of a sympathetic attack Rachel was ever
+distinctly on the job.
+
+And of course she was, as always, glad to see her protege, her
+Robert Penfold.  The proprietary interest which she had always felt
+in him was more than ever hers now.  Had not she been the sole
+person to hint at the possibility of his being alive, when every
+one else had given him up for dead?  Had not she been the only one
+to suggest that he might have been taken prisoner?  Had SHE ever
+despaired of seeing him again--on this earth and in the flesh?
+Indeed, she had not; at least, she had never admitted it, if she
+had.  So then, hadn't she a RIGHT to feel that she owned a share in
+him?  No one ventured to dispute that right.
+
+She turned and smiled over one ample shoulder when he entered the
+kitchen.
+
+"Hello," she hailed cheerfully.  "Come callin', have you, Robert--
+Albert, I mean?  It would have been a great help to me if you'd
+been christened Robert.  I call you that so much to myself it comes
+almost more natural than the other.  On account of you bein' so
+just like Robert Penfold in the book, you know," she added.
+
+"Yes, yes, of course, Rachel, I understand," put in Albert hastily.
+He was not in the mood to listen to a dissertation on a text taken
+from Foul Play.  He looked about the room and sighed happily.
+
+"There isn't a speck anywhere, is there?" he observed.  "It is just
+as it used to be, just as I used to think of it when I was laid up
+over there.  When I wanted to try and eat a bit, so as to keep what
+strength I had, I would think about this kitchen of yours, Rachel.
+It didn't do to think of the places where the prison stuff was
+cooked.  They were not--appetizing."
+
+Mrs. Ellis nodded.  "I presume likely not," she observed.  "Well,
+don't tell me about 'em.  I've just scrubbed this kitchen from stem
+to stern.  If I heard about those prison places, I'd feel like
+startin' right in and scrubbin' it all over again, I know I
+should. . . .  Dirty pigs!  I wish I had the scourin' of some of
+those Germans!  I'd--I don't know as I wouldn't skin 'em alive."
+
+Albert laughed.  "Some of them pretty nearly deserved it," he said.
+
+Rachel smiled grimly.  "Well, let's talk about nice things," she
+said.  "Oh, Issy Price was here this forenoon; Cap'n Lote sent him
+over from the office on an errand, and he said he saw you and Mr.
+Kendall goin' down street together just as he was comin' along.  He
+hollered at you, but you didn't hear him.  'Cordin' to Issachar's
+tell, you was luggin' a basket with Jonah's whale in it, or
+somethin' like that."
+
+Albert described his encounter with the minister.  Rachel was much
+interested.
+
+"Oh, so you saw Helen," she said.  "Well, I guess she was surprised
+to see you."
+
+"Not more than I was to see her.  I didn't know she was in town.
+Not a soul had mentioned it--you nor Grandfather nor Grandmother."
+
+The housekeeper answered without turning her head.  "Guess we had
+so many things to talk about we forgot it," she said.  "Yes, she's
+been here over a week now.  High time, from what I hear.  The poor
+old parson has failed consider'ble and Maria Price's housekeepin'
+and cookin' is enough to make a well man sick--or wish he was.  But
+he'll be looked after now.  Helen will look after him.  She's the
+most capable girl there is in Ostable County.  Did she tell you
+about what she done in the Red Cross and the hospitals?"
+
+"She said something about it, not very much."
+
+"Um-hm.  She wouldn't, bein' Helen Kendall.  But the Red Cross
+folks said enough, and they're sayin' it yet.  Why--"
+
+She went on to tell of Helen's work in the Red Cross depots and in
+the camp, and hospitals.  It was an inspiring story.
+
+"There they was," said Rachel, "the poor things, just boys most of
+'em, dyin' of that dreadful influenza like rats, as you might say.
+And, of course it's dreadful catchin', and a good many was more
+afraid of it than they would have been of bullets, enough sight.
+But Helen Kendall wa'n't afraid--no, siree!  Why--"
+
+And so on.  Albert listened, hearing most of it, but losing some as
+his thoughts wandered back to the Helen he had known as a boy and
+the Helen he had met that forenoon.  Her face, as she had welcomed
+him at the parsonage door--it was surprising how clearly it showed
+before his mind's eye.  He had thought at first that she had not
+changed in appearance.  That was not quite true--she had changed a
+little, but it was merely the fulfillment of a promise, that was
+all.  Her eyes, her smile above a hospital bed--he could imagine
+what they must have seemed like to a lonely, homesick boy wrestling
+with the "flu."
+
+"And, don't talk!" he heard the housekeeper say, as he drifted out
+of his reverie, "if she wa'n't popular around that hospital, around
+both hospitals, fur's that goes!  The patients idolized her, and
+the other nurses they loved her, and the doctors--"
+
+"Did they love her, too?" Albert asked, with a smile, as she
+hesitated.
+
+She laughed.  "Some of 'em did, I cal'late," she answered.  "You
+see, I got most of my news about it all from Bessie Ryder,
+Cornelius Ryder's niece, lives up on the road to the Center; you
+used to know her, Albert.  Bessie was nursin' in that same
+hospital, the one Helen was at first.  'Cordin' to her, there was
+some doctor or officer tryin' to shine up to Helen most of the
+time.  When she was at Eastview, so Bessie heard, there was a real
+big-bug in the Army, a sort of Admiral or Commodore amongst the
+doctors he was, and HE was trottin' after her, or would have been
+if she'd let him.  'Course you have to make some allowances for
+Bessie--she wouldn't be a Ryder if she didn't take so many words to
+say so little that the truth gets stretched pretty thin afore she
+finished--but there must have been SOMETHIN' in it.  And all about
+her bein' such a wonderful nurse and doin' so much for the Red
+Cross I KNOW is true. . . .  Eh?  Did you say anything, Albert?"
+
+Albert shook his head.  "No, Rachel," he replied.  "I didn't
+speak."
+
+"I thought I heard you or somebody say somethin'.  I--  Why, Laban
+Keeler, what are you doin' away from your desk this time in the
+afternoon?"
+
+Laban grinned as he entered the kitchen.
+
+"Did I hear you say you thought you heard somebody sayin' somethin',
+Rachel?" he inquired.  "That's queer, ain't it?  Seemed to me _I_
+heard somebody sayin' somethin' as I come up the path just now.
+Seemed as if they was sayin' it right here in the kitchen, too.
+'Twasn't your voice, Albert, and it couldn't have been Rachel's,
+'cause she NEVER talks--'specially to you.  It's too bad, the
+prejudice she's got against you, Albert," he added, with a wink.
+"Um-hm, too bad--yes, 'tis--yes, yes."
+
+Mrs. Ellis sniffed.
+
+"And that's what the newspapers in war time used to call--er--er--
+oh, dear, what was it?--camel--seems's if 'twas somethin' about a
+camel--"
+
+"Camouflage?" suggested Albert.
+
+"That's it.  All that talk about me is just camouflage to save him
+answerin' my question.  But he's goin' to answer it.  What are you
+doin' away from the office this time in the afternoon, I want to
+know?"
+
+Mr. Keeler perched his small figure on the corner of the kitchen
+table.
+
+"Well, to tell you the truth, Rachel," he said solemnly.  "I'm here
+to do what the folks in books call demand an explanation.  You and
+I, Rachel, are just as good as engaged to be married, ain't we?
+I've been keepin' company with you for the last twenty, forty or
+sixty years, some such spell as that.  Now, just as I'm gettin'
+used to it and beginnin' to consider it a settled arrangement, as
+you may say, I come into this house and find you shut up in the
+kitchen with another man.  Now, what--"
+
+The housekeeper advanced toward him with the dripping dishcloth.
+
+"Laban Keeler," she threatened, "if you don't stop your foolishness
+and answer my question, I declare I'll--"
+
+Laban slid from his perch and retired behind the table.
+
+"Another man," he repeated.  "And SOME folks--not many, of course,
+but some--might be crazy enough to say he was a better-lookin' man
+than I am.  Now, bein' ragin' jealous,--  All right, Rachel, all
+right, I surrender.  Don't hit me with all those soapsuds.  I don't
+want to go back to the office foamin' at the mouth.  The reason I'm
+here is that I had to go down street to see about the sheathin' for
+the Red Men's lodge room.  Issy took the order, but he wasn't real
+sure whether 'twas sheathin' or scantlin' they wanted, so I told
+Cap'n Lote I'd run down myself and straighten it out.  On the way
+back I saw you two through the window and I thought I'd drop in and
+worry you.  So here I am."
+
+Mrs. Ellis nodded.  "Yes," she sniffed.  "And all that camel--
+camel--  Oh, DEAR, what DOES ail me?  All that camel--  No use,
+I've forgot it again."
+
+"Never mind, Rachel," said Mr. Keeler consolingly.  "All the--er--
+menagerie was just that and nothin' more.  Oh, by the way, Al," he
+added, "speakin' of camels--don't you think I've done pretty well
+to go so long without any--er--liquid nourishment?  Not a drop
+since you and I enlisted together. . . .  Oh, she knows about it
+now," he added, with a jerk of his head in the housekeeper's
+direction.  "I felt 'twas fairly safe and settled, so I told her.
+I told her.  Yes, yes, yes.  Um-hm, so I did."
+
+Albert turned to the lady.
+
+"You should be very proud of him, Rachel," he said seriously.  "I
+think I realize a little something of the fight he has made, and it
+is bully.  You should be proud of him."
+
+Rachel looked down at the little man.
+
+"I am," she said quietly.  "I guess likely he knows it."
+
+Laban smiled.  "The folks in Washington are doin' their best to
+help me out," he said.  "They're goin' to take the stuff away from
+everybody so's to make sure _I_ don't get any more.  They'll
+probably put up a monument to me for startin' the thing; don't you
+think they will, Al?  Eh?  Don't you, now?"
+
+Albert and he walked up the road together.  Laban told a little
+more of his battle with John Barleycorn.
+
+"I had half a dozen spells when I had to set my teeth, those I've
+got left, and hang on," he said.  "And the hangin'-on wa'n't as
+easy as stickin' to fly-paper, neither.  Honest, though, I think
+the hardest was when the news came that you was alive, Al.  I--I
+just wanted to start in and celebrate.  Wanted to whoop her up, I
+did."  He paused a moment and then added, "I tried whoopin' on
+sass'parilla and vanilla sody, but 'twa'n't satisfactory.  Couldn't
+seem to raise a real loud whisper, let alone a whoop.  No, I
+couldn't--no, no."
+
+Albert laughed and laid a hand on his shoulder.  "You're all right,
+Labe," he declared.  "I know you, and I say so."
+
+Laban slowly shook his head.  His smile, as he answered, was rather
+pathetic.
+
+"I'm a long, long ways from bein' all right, Al," he said.  "A long
+ways from that, I am.  If I'd made my fight thirty year ago, I
+might have been nigher to amountin' to somethin'. . . .  Oh, well,
+for Rachel's sake I'm glad I've made it now.  She's stuck to me
+when everybody would have praised her for chuckin' me to Tophet.  I
+was readin' one of Thackeray's books t'other night--Henry Esmond,
+'twas; you've read it, Al, of course; I was readin' it t'other
+night for the ninety-ninth time or thereabouts, and I run across
+the place where it says it's strange what a man can do and a woman
+still keep thinkin' he's an angel.  That's true, too, Al.  Not,"
+with the return of the slight smile, "that Rachel ever went so far
+as to call me an angel.  No, no.  There's limits where you can't
+stretch her common-sense any farther.  Callin' me an angel would be
+just past the limit.  Yes, yes, yes.  I guess SO."
+
+They spoke of Captain Zelotes and Olive and of their grief and
+discouragement when the news of Albert's supposed death reached
+them.
+
+"Do you know," said Labe, "I believe Helen Kendall's comin' there
+for a week did 'em more good than anything else.  She got away from
+her soldier nursin' somehow--must have been able to pull the
+strings consider'ble harder'n the average to do it--and just came
+down to the Snow place and sort of took charge along with Rachel.
+Course she didn't live there, her father thought she was visitin'
+him, I guess likely, but she was with Cap'n Lote and Olive most of
+the time.  Rachel says she never made a fuss, you understand, just
+was there and helped and was quiet and soft-spoken and capable and--
+and comfortin', that's about the word, I guess.  Rachel always
+thought a sight of Helen afore that, but since then she swears by
+her."
+
+That evening--or, rather, that night, for they did not leave the
+sitting room until after twelve--Mrs. Snow heard her grandson
+walking the floor of his room, and called to ask if he was sick.
+
+"I'm all right, Grandmother," he called in reply.  "Just taking a
+little exercise before turning in, that's all.  Sorry if I
+disturbed you."
+
+The exercise was, as a matter of fact, almost entirely mental, the
+pacing up and down merely an unconscious physical accompaniment.
+Albert Speranza was indulging in introspection.  He was reviewing
+and assorting his thoughts and his impulses and trying to determine
+just what they were and why they were and whither they were
+tending.  It was a mental and spiritual picking to pieces and the
+result was humiliating and in its turn resulted in a brand-new
+determination.
+
+Ever since his meeting with Helen, a meeting which had been quite
+unpremeditated, he had thought of but little except her.  During
+his talk with her in the parsonage sitting room he had been--there
+was no use pretending to himself that it was otherwise--more
+contented with the world, more optimistic, happier, than he had
+been for months, it seemed to him for years.  Even while he was
+speaking to her of his uneasiness and dissatisfaction he was dimly
+conscious that at that moment he was less uneasy and less
+dissatisfied, conscious that the solid ground was beneath his feet
+at last, that here was the haven after the storm, here was--
+
+He pulled up sharply.  This line of thought was silly, dangerous,
+wicked.  What did it mean?  Three days before, only three days, he
+had left Madeline Fosdick, the girl whom he had worshiped, adored,
+and who had loved him.  Yes, there was no use pretending there,
+either; he and Madeline HAD loved each other.  Of course he
+realized now that their love had nothing permanently substantial
+about it.  It was the romance of youth, a dream which they had
+shared together and from which, fortunately for both, they had
+awakened in time.  And of course he realized, too, that the
+awakening had begun long, long before the actual parting took
+place.  But nevertheless only three days had elapsed since that
+parting, and now--  What sort of a man was he?
+
+Was he like his father?  Was it what Captain Zelotes used to call
+the "Portygee streak" which was now cropping out?  The opera singer
+had been of the butterfly type--in his later years a middle-aged
+butterfly whose wings creaked somewhat--but decidedly a flitter
+from flower to flower.  As a boy, Albert had been aware, in an
+uncertain fashion, of his father's fondness for the sex.  Now,
+older, his judgment of his parent was not as lenient, was clearer,
+more discerning.  He understood now.  Was his own "Portygee
+streak," his inherited temperament, responsible for his leaving one
+girl on a Tuesday and on Friday finding his thoughts concerned so
+deeply with another?
+
+Well, no matter, no matter.  One thing was certain--Helen should
+never know of that feeling.  He would crush it down, he would use
+his common-sense.  He would be a decent man and not a blackguard.
+For he had had his chance and had tossed it away.  What would she
+think of him now if he came to her after Madeline had thrown him
+over--that is what Mrs. Fosdick would say, would take pains that
+every one else should say, that Madeline had thrown him over--what
+would Helen think of him if he came to her with a second-hand love
+like that?
+
+And of course she would not think of him as a lover at all.  Why
+should she?  In the boy and girl days she had refused to let him
+speak of such a thing.  She was his friend, a glorious, a wonderful
+friend, but that was all, all she ever dreamed of being.
+
+Well, that was right; that was as it should be.  He should be
+thankful for such a friend.  He was, of course.  And he would
+concentrate all his energies upon his work, upon his writing.
+That was it, that was it.  Good, it was settled!
+
+So he went to bed and, eventually, to sleep.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+
+While dressing in the cold light of dawn his perturbations of the
+previous night appeared in retrospect as rather boyish and
+unnecessary.  His sudden and unexpected meeting with Helen and
+their talk together had tended to make him over-sentimental, that
+was all.  He and she were to be friends, of course, but there was
+no real danger of his allowing himself to think of her except as a
+friend.  No, indeed.  He opened the bureau drawer in search of a
+tie, and there was the package of "snapshots" just where he had
+tossed them that night when he first returned home after muster-
+out.  Helen's photograph was the uppermost.  He looked at it--
+looked at it for several minutes.  Then he closed the drawer again
+and hurriedly finished his dressing.  A part, at least, of his
+resolve of the night before had been sound common-sense.  His brain
+was suffering from lack of exercise.  Work was what he needed, hard
+work.
+
+So to work he went without delay.  A place to work in was the first
+consideration.  He suggested the garret, but his grandmother and
+Rachel held up their hands and lifted their voices in protest.
+
+"No, INDEED," declared Olive.  "Zelotes has always talked about
+writin' folks and poets starvin' in garrets.  If you went up attic
+to work he'd be teasin' me from mornin' to night.  Besides, you'd
+freeze up there, if the smell of moth-balls didn't choke you first.
+No, you wait; I've got a notion.  There's that old table desk of
+Zelotes' in the settin' room.  He don't hardly ever use it
+nowadays.  You take it upstairs to your own room and work in there.
+You can have the oil-heater to keep you warm."
+
+So that was the arrangement made, and in his own room Albert sat
+down at the battered old desk, which had been not only his
+grandfather's but his great-grandfather's property, to concentrate
+upon the first of the series of stories ordered by the New York
+magazine.  He had already decided upon the general scheme for the
+series.  A boy, ragamuffin son of immigrant parents, rising, after
+a wrong start, by sheer grit and natural shrewdness and ability,
+step by step to competence and success, winning a place in and the
+respect of a community.  There was nothing new in the idea itself.
+Some things his soldier chum Mike Kelley had told him concerning an
+uncle of his--Mike's--suggested it.  The novelty he hoped might
+come from the incidents, the various problems faced by his hero,
+the solution of each being a step upward in the latter's career and
+in the formation of his character.  He wanted to write, if he
+could, the story of the building of one more worth-while American,
+for Albert Speranza, like so many others set to thinking by the war
+and the war experiences, was realizing strongly that the gabbling
+of a formula and the swearing of an oath of naturalization did not
+necessarily make an American.  There were too many eager to take
+that oath with tongue in cheek and knife in sleeve.  Too many, for
+the first time in their lives breathing and speaking as free men,
+thanks to the protection of Columbia's arm, yet planning to stab
+their protectress in the back.
+
+So Albert's hero was to be an American, an American to whom the
+term meant the highest and the best.  If he had hunted a lifetime
+for something to please and interest his grandfather he could not
+have hit the mark nearer the center.  Cap'n Lote, of course,
+pretended a certain measure of indifference, but that was for Olive
+and Rachel's benefit.  It would never do for the scoffer to become
+a convert openly and at once.  The feminine members of the household
+clamored each evening to have the author read aloud his day's
+installment.  The captain sniffed.
+
+"Oh, dear, dear," with a groan, "now I've got to hear all that
+made-up stuff that happened to a parcel of made-up folks that never
+lived and never will.  Waste of time, waste of time.  Where's my
+Transcript?"
+
+But it was noticed--and commented upon, you may be sure--by his
+wife and housekeeper that the Transcript was likely to be, before
+the reading had progressed far, either in the captain's lap or on
+the floor.  And when the discussion following the reading was under
+way Captain Zelotes' opinions were expressed quite as freely as any
+one's else.  Laban Keeler got into the habit of dropping in to
+listen.
+
+One fateful evening the reading was interrupted by the arrival of
+Mr. Kendall.  The reverend gentleman had come to make a pastoral
+call.  Albert's hero was in the middle of a situation.  The old
+clergyman insisted upon the continuation of the reading.  It was
+continued and so was the discussion following it; in fact, the
+discussion seemed likely to go on indefinitely, for the visitor
+showed no inclination of leaving.  At ten-thirty his daughter
+appeared to inquire about him and to escort him home.  Then he
+went, but under protest.  Albert walked to the parsonage with them.
+
+"Now we've started somethin'," groaned the captain, as the door
+closed.  "That old critter'll be cruisin' over here six nights out
+of five from now on to tell Al just how to spin those yarns of his.
+And he'll talk--and talk--and talk.  Ain't it astonishin' how such
+a feeble-lookin' craft as he is can keep blowin' off steam that way
+and still be able to navigate."
+
+His wife took him to task.  "The idea," she protested, "of your
+callin' your own minister a 'critter'!  I should think you'd be
+ashamed. . . .  But, oh, dear, I'm afraid he WILL be over here an
+awful lot."
+
+Her fears were realized.  Mr. Kendall, although not on hand "six
+nights out of five," as the captain prophesied, was a frequent
+visitor at the Snow place.  As Albert's story-writing progressed
+the discussions concerning the growth and development of the hero's
+character became more and more involved and spirited.  They were
+for the most part confined, when the minister was present, to him
+and Mrs. Snow and Rachel.  Laban, if he happened to be there, sat
+well back in the corner, saying little except when appealed to, and
+then answering with one of his dry, characteristic observations.
+Captain Lote, in the rocker, his legs crossed, his hand stroking
+his beard, and with the twinkle in his eyes, listened, and spoke
+but seldom.  Occasionally, when he and his grandson exchanged
+glances, the captain winked, indicating appreciation of the
+situation.
+
+"Say, Al," he said, one evening, after the old clergyman had
+departed, "it must be kind of restful to have your work all laid
+out for you this way.  Take it to-night, for instance; I don't see
+but what everything's planned for this young feller you're writin'
+about so you nor he won't have to think for yourselves for a
+hundred year or such matter.  Course there's some little difference
+in the plans.  Rachel wants him to get wrecked on an island or be
+put in jail, and Mother, she wants him to be a soldier and a poet,
+and Mr. Kendall thinks it's high time he joined the church or
+signed the pledge or stopped swearin' or chewin' gum."
+
+"Zelotes, how ridiculous you do talk!"
+
+"All right, Mother, all right.  What strikes me, Al, is they don't
+any of 'em stop to ask you what YOU mean to have him do.  Course I
+know 'tain't any of your business, but still--seems 's if you might
+be a little mite interested in the boy yourself."
+
+Albert laughed.  "Don't worry, Grandfather," he said.  "I'm
+enjoying it all very much.  And some of the suggestions may be just
+what I'm looking for."
+
+"Well, son, we'll hope so.  Say, Labe, I've got a notion for
+keepin' the minister from doin' all the talkin.'  We'll ask Issy
+Price to drop in; eh?"
+
+Laban shook his head.  "I don't know, Cap'n Lote," he observed.
+"Sounds to me a good deal like lettin' in a hurricane to blow out a
+match with. . . .  Um-hm.  Seems so to me.  Yes, yes."
+
+Mr. Kendall's calls would have been more frequent still had Helen
+not interfered.  Very often, when he came she herself dropped in a
+little later and insisted upon his making an early start for home.
+Occasionally she came with him.  She, too, seemed much interested
+in the progress of the stories, but she offered few suggestions.
+When directly appealed to, she expressed her views, and they were
+worth while.
+
+Albert was resolutely adhering to his determination not to permit
+himself to think of her except as a friend.  That is, he hoped he
+was; thoughts are hard to control at times.  He saw her often.
+They met on the street, at church on Sunday--his grandmother was
+so delighted when he accompanied her to "meeting" that he did so
+rather more frequently, perhaps, than he otherwise would--at the
+homes of acquaintances, and, of course, at the Snow place.  When
+she walked home with her father after a "story evening" he usually
+went with them as additional escort.
+
+She had not questioned him concerning Madeline since their first
+meeting that morning at the parsonage.  He knew, therefore, that
+some one--his grandmother, probably--had told her of the broken
+engagement.  When they were alone together they talked of many
+things, casual things, the generalities of which, so he told
+himself, a conversation between mere friends was composed.  But
+occasionally, after doing escort duty, after Mr. Kendall had gone
+into the house to take his "throat medicine"--a medicine which
+Captain Zelotes declared would have to be double-strength pretty
+soon to offset the wear and tear of the story evenings--they talked
+of matters more specific and which more directly concerned
+themselves.  She spoke of her hospital work, of her teaching before
+the war, and of her plans for the future.  The latter, of course,
+were very indefinite now.
+
+"Father needs me," she said, "and I shall not leave him while he
+lives."
+
+They spoke of Albert's work and plans most of all.  He began to ask
+for advice concerning the former.  When those stories were written,
+what then?  She hoped he would try the novel he had hinted at.
+
+"I'm sure you can do it," she said.  "And you mustn't give up the
+poems altogether.  It was the poetry, you know, which was the
+beginning."
+
+"YOU were the beginning," he said impulsively.  "Perhaps I should
+never have written at all if you hadn't urged me, shamed me out of
+my laziness."
+
+"I was a presuming young person, I'm afraid," she said.  "I wonder
+you didn't tell me to mind my own business.  I believe you did, but
+I wouldn't mind."
+
+June brought the summer weather and the summer boarders to South
+Harniss.  One of the news sensations which came at the same time
+was that the new Fosdick cottage had been sold.  The people who had
+occupied it the previous season had bought it.  Mrs. Fosdick, so
+rumor said, was not strong and her doctors had decided that the sea
+air did not agree with her.
+
+"Crimustee!" exclaimed Issachar, as he imparted the news to Mr.
+Keeler, "if that ain't the worst.  Spend your money, and a pile of
+money, too, buyin' ground, layin' of it out to build a house on to
+live in, then buildin' that house and then, by crimus, sellin' it
+to somebody else for THEM to live in.  That beats any foolishness
+ever come MY way."
+
+"And there's some consider'ble come your way at that, ain't they,
+Is?" observed Laban, busy with his bookkeeping.
+
+Issachar nodded.  "You're right there has," he said complacently.
+"I . . .  What do you mean by that?  Tryin' to be funny again,
+ain't you?"
+
+Albert heard the news with a distinct feeling of relief.  While the
+feeling on his part toward Madeline was of the kindliest, and
+Madeline's was, he felt sure, the same toward him, nevertheless to
+meet her day after day, as people must meet in a village no bigger
+than South Harniss, would be awkward for both.  And to meet Mrs.
+Fosdick might be more awkward still.  He smiled as he surmised that
+the realization by the lady of that very awkwardness was probably
+responsible for the discovery that sea air was not beneficial.
+
+The story-writing and the story evenings continued.  Over the
+fourth story in the series discussion was warm, for there were
+marked differences of opinion among the listeners.  One of the
+experiences through which Albert had brought his hero was that of
+working as general assistant to a sharp, unscrupulous and smooth-
+tongued rascal who was proprietor of a circus sideshow and fake
+museum.  He was a kind-hearted swindler, but one who never let a
+question of honesty interfere with the getting of a dollar.  In
+this fourth story, to the town where the hero, now a man of twenty-
+five, had established himself in business, came this cheat of other
+days, but now he came as a duly ordained clergyman in answer to the
+call of the local church.  The hero learned that he had not told
+the governing body of that church of his former career.  Had he
+done so, they most certainly would not have called him.  The
+leading man in that church body was the hero's patron and kindest
+friend.  The question:  What was the hero's duty in the matter?
+
+Of course the first question asked was whether or not the ex-
+sideshow proprietor was sincerely repentant and honestly trying to
+walk the straight path and lead others along it.  Albert replied
+that his hero had interviewed him and was satisfied that he was;
+he had been "converted" at a revival and was now a religious
+enthusiast whose one idea was to save sinners.
+
+That was enough for Captain Zelotes.
+
+"Let him alone, then," said the captain.  "He's tryin' to be a
+decent man.  What do you want to do?  Tell on him and have him
+chucked overboard from one church after another until he gets
+discouraged and takes to swindlin' again?"
+
+Rachel Ellis could not see it that way.
+
+"If he was a saved sinner," she declared, "and repentant of his
+sins, then he'd ought to repent 'em out loud.  Hidin' 'em ain't
+repentin'.  And, besides, there's Donald's (Donald was the hero's
+name) there's Donald's duty to the man that's been so good to him.
+Is it fair to that man to keep still and let him hire a minister
+that, like as not, will steal the collection, box and all, afore he
+gets through?  No, sir, Donald ought to tell THAT man, anyhow."
+
+Olive was pretty dubious about the whole scheme.  She doubted if
+anybody connected with a circus COULD ever become a minister.
+
+"The whole--er--er--trade is so different," she said.
+
+Mr. Kendall was not there that evening, his attendance being
+required at a meeting of the Sunday School teachers.  Helen,
+however, was not at that meeting and Captain Zelotes declared his
+intention of asking her opinion by telephone.
+
+"She'll say same as I do--you see if she don't," he declared.  When
+he called the parsonage, however, Maria Price answered the phone
+and informed him that Helen was spending the evening with old Mrs.
+Crowell, who lived but a little way from the Snow place.  The
+captain promptly called up the Crowell house.
+
+"She's there and she'll stop in here on her way along," he said
+triumphantly.  "And she'll back me up--you see."
+
+But she did not.  She did not "back up" any one.  She merely smiled
+and declared the problem too complicated to answer offhand.
+
+"Why don't you ask Albert?" she inquired.  "After all, he is the
+one who must settle it eventually."
+
+"He won't tell," said Olive.  "He's real provokin', isn't he?  And
+now you won't tell, either, Helen."
+
+"Oh, I don't know--yet.  But I think he does."
+
+Albert, as usual, walked home with her.
+
+"How are you going to answer your hero's riddle?" she asked.
+
+"Before I tell you, suppose you tell me what your answer would be."
+
+She reflected.  "Well," she said, "it seems to me that, all things
+being as they are, he should do this:  He should go to the sideshow
+man--the minister now--and have a very frank talk with him.  He
+should tell him that he had decided to say nothing about the old
+life and to help him in every way, to be his friend--provided that
+he keep straight, that is all.  Of course more than that would be
+meant, the alternative would be there and understood, but he need
+not say it.  I think that course of action would be fair to himself
+and to everybody.  That is my answer.  What is yours?"
+
+He laughed quietly.  "Just that, of course," he said.  "You would
+see it, I knew.  You always see down to the heart of things, Helen.
+You have the gift."
+
+She shook her head.  "It didn't really need a gift, this particular
+problem, did it?" she said.  "It is not--excuse me--it isn't
+exactly a new one."
+
+"No, it isn't.  It is as old as the hills, but there are always new
+twists to it."
+
+"As there are to all our old problems."
+
+"Yes.  By the way, your advice about the ending of my third story
+was exactly what I needed.  The editor wrote me he should never
+have forgiven me if it had ended in any other way.  It probably
+WOULD have ended in another way if it hadn't been for you.  Thank
+you, Helen."
+
+"Oh, you know there was really nothing to thank me for.  It was all
+you, as usual.  Have you planned the next story, the fifth, yet?"
+
+"Not entirely.  I have some vague ideas.  Do you want to hear
+them?"
+
+"Of course."
+
+So they discussed those ideas as they walked along the sidewalk of
+the street leading down to the parsonage.  It was a warm evening, a
+light mist, which was not substantial enough to be a fog, hanging
+low over everything, wrapping them and the trees and the little
+front yards and low houses of the old village in a sort of cozy,
+velvety, confidential quiet.  The scent of lilacs was heavy in the
+air.
+
+They both were silent.  Just when they had ceased speaking neither
+could have told.  They walked on arm in arm and suddenly Albert
+became aware that this silence was dangerous for him; that in it
+all his resolves and brave determinations were melting into mist
+like that about him; that he must talk and talk at once and upon a
+subject which was not personal, which--
+
+And then Helen spoke.
+
+"Do you know what this reminds me of?" she said.  "All this talk of
+ours?  It reminds me of how we used to talk over those first poems
+of yours.  You have gone a long way since then."
+
+"I have gone to Kaiserville and back."
+
+"You know what I mean.  I mean your work has improved wonderfully.
+You write with a sure hand now, it seems to me.  And your view is
+so much broader."
+
+"I hope I'm not the narrow, conceited little rooster I used to be.
+I told you, Helen, that the war handed me an awful jolt.  Well, it
+did.  I think it, or my sickness or the whole business together,
+knocked most of that self-confidence of mine galley-west.  For so
+much I'm thankful."
+
+"I don't know that I am, altogether.  I don't want you to lose
+confidence in yourself.  You should be confident now because you
+deserve to be.  And you write with confidence, or it reads as if
+you did.  Don't you feel that you do, yourself?  Truly, don't you?"
+
+"Well, perhaps, a little.  I have been at it for some time now.  I
+ought to show some progress.  Perhaps I don't make as many mistakes."
+
+"I can't see that you have made any."
+
+"I have made one . . . a damnable one."
+
+"Why, what do you mean?"
+
+"Oh, nothing.  I didn't mean to say that. . . .  Helen, do you know
+it is awfully good of you to take all this interest in me--in my
+work, I mean.  Why do you do it?"
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Yes, why?"
+
+"Why, because--  Why shouldn't I?  Haven't we always talked about
+your writings together, almost since we first knew each other?
+Aren't we old friends?"
+
+There it was again--friends.  It was like a splash of cold water in
+the face, at once awakening and chilling.  Albert walked on in
+silence for a few moments and then began speaking of some trivial
+subject entirely disconnected with himself or his work or her.
+When they reached the parsonage door he said good night at once and
+strode off toward home.
+
+Back in his room, however, he gave himself another mental picking
+to pieces.  He was realizing most distinctly that this sort of
+thing would not do.  It was easy to say that his attitude toward
+Helen Kendall was to be that of a friend and nothing more, but it
+was growing harder and harder to maintain that attitude.  He had
+come within a breath that very night of saying what was in his
+heart.
+
+Well, if he had said it, if he did say it--what then?  After all,
+was there any real reason why he should not say it?  It was true
+that he had loved, or fancied that he loved, Madeline, that he had
+been betrothed to her--but again, what of it?  Broken engagements
+were common enough, and there was nothing disgraceful in this one.
+Why not go to Helen and tell her that his fancied love for Madeline
+had been the damnable mistake he had confessed making.  Why not
+tell her that since the moment when he saw her standing in the
+doorway of the parsonage on the morning following his return from
+New York he had known that she was the only woman in the world for
+him, that it was her image he had seen in his dreams, in the
+delirium of fever, that it was she, and not that other, who--
+
+But there, all this was foolishness, and he knew it.  He did not
+dare say it.  Not for one instant had she, by speech or look or
+action, given him the slightest encouragement to think her feeling
+for him was anything but friendship.  And that friendship was far
+too precious to risk.  He must not risk it.  He must keep still, he
+must hide his thoughts, she must never guess.  Some day, perhaps,
+after a year or two, after his position in his profession was more
+assured, then he might speak.  But even then there would be that
+risk.  And the idea of waiting was not pleasant.  What had Rachel
+told him concerning the hosts of doctors and officers and generals
+who had been "shining up" to her.  Some risk there, also.
+
+Well, never mind.  He would try to keep on as he had been going for
+the present.  He would try not to see her as frequently.  If the
+strain became unbearable he might go away somewhere--for a time.
+
+He did not go away, but he made it a point not to see her as
+frequently.  However, they met often even as it was.  And he was
+conscious always that the ice beneath his feet was very, very thin.
+
+One wonderful August evening he was in his room upstairs.  He was
+not writing.  He had come up there early because he wished to think,
+to consider.  A proposition had been made to him that afternoon, a
+surprising proposition--to him it had come as a complete surprise--
+and before mentioning it even to his grandparents he wished to
+think it over very carefully.
+
+About ten o'clock his grandfather called to him from the foot of
+the stairs and asked him to come down.
+
+"Mr. Kendall's on the phone," said Captain Zelotes.  "He's worried
+about Helen.  She's up to West Harniss sittin' up along of Lurany
+Howes, who's been sick so long.  She ain't come home, and the old
+gentleman's frettin' about her walkin' down from there alone so
+late.  I told him I cal'lated you'd just as soon harness Jess and
+drive up and get her.  You talk with him yourself, Al."
+
+Albert did and, after assuring the nervous clergyman that he would
+see that his daughter reached home safely, put on his hat and went
+out to the barn.  Jessamine was asleep in her stall.  As he was
+about to lead her out he suddenly remembered that one of the traces
+had broken that morning and Captain Zelotes had left it at the
+harness-maker's to be mended.  It was there yet.  The captain had
+forgotten the fact, and so had he.  That settled the idea of using
+Jessamine and the buggy.  Never mind, it was a beautiful night and
+the walk was but little over a mile.
+
+When he reached the tiny story-and-a-half Howes cottage, sitting
+back from the road upon the knoll amid the tangle of silverleaf
+sprouts, it was Helen herself who opened the door.  She was
+surprised to see him, and when he explained his errand she was a
+little vexed.
+
+"The idea of Father's worrying," she said.  "Such a wonderful night
+as this, bright moonlight, and in South Harniss, too.  Nothing ever
+happens to people in South Harniss.  I will be ready in a minute or
+two.  Mrs. Howes' niece is here now and will stay with her until
+to-morrow.  Then her sister is coming to stay a month.  As soon as
+I get her medicine ready we can go."
+
+The door of the tiny bedroom adjoining the sitting room was open,
+and Albert, sitting upon the lounge with the faded likeness of a
+pink dog printed on the plush cover, could hear the querulous voice
+of the invalid within.  The widow Howes was deaf and, as Laban
+Keeler described it, "always hollered loud enough to make herself
+hear" when she spoke.  Helen was moving quietly about the sick room
+and speaking in a low tone.  Albert could not hear what she said,
+but he could hear Lurania.
+
+"You're a wonder, that's what you be," declared the latter, "and I
+told your pa so last time he was here.  'She's a saint,' says I,
+'if ever there was one on this earth.  She's the nicest, smartest,
+best-lookin' girl in THIS town and . . .' eh?"
+
+There had been a murmur, presumably of remonstrance, from Helen.
+
+"Eh?"
+
+Another murmur.
+
+"EH?  WHO'D you say was there?"
+
+A third murmur.
+
+"WHO? . . .  Oh, that Speranzy one?  Lote Snow's grandson?  The one
+they used to call the Portygee? . . .  Eh?  Well, all right, I
+don't care if he did hear me.  If he don't know you're nice and
+smart and good-lookin', it's high time he did."
+
+Helen, a trifle embarrassed but laughing, emerged a moment later,
+and when she had put on her hat she and Albert left the Howes
+cottage and began their walk home.  It was one of those nights such
+as Cape Codders, year-rounders or visitors, experience three or
+four times during a summer and boast of the remainder of the year.
+A sky clear, deep, stretched cloudless from horizon to horizon.
+Every light at sea or on shore, in cottage window or at masthead or
+in lighthouse or on lightship a twinkling diamond point.  A moon,
+apparently as big as a barrel-head, hung up in the east and below
+it a carpet of cold fire, of dancing, spangled silver spread upon
+the ocean.  The sound of the surf, distant, soothing; and for the
+rest quiet and the fragrance of the summer woods and fields.
+
+They walked rather fast at first and the conversation was brisk,
+but as the night began to work its spell upon them their progress
+was slower and there were intervals of silence of which neither was
+aware.  They came to the little hill where the narrow road from
+West Harniss comes to join the broader highway leading to the
+Center.  There were trees here, a pine grove, on the landward side,
+and toward the sea nothing to break the glorious view.
+
+Helen caught her breath.  "Oh, it is beautiful, beautiful!" she
+said.
+
+Albert did not answer.  "Why don't you talk?" she asked.  "What are
+you thinking about?"
+
+He did not tell her what he was thinking about.  Instead, having
+caught himself just in time, he began telling her of what he had
+been thinking when his grandfather called him to the telephone.
+
+"Helen," he said, "I want to ask your advice.  I had an astonishing
+proposal made to me this afternoon.  I must make a decision, I must
+say yes or no, and I'm not sure which to say."
+
+She looked up at him inquiringly.
+
+"This afternoon," he went on, "Doctor Parker called me into his
+office.  There was a group of men there, prominent men in politics
+from about the country; Judge Baxter from Ostable was there, and
+Captain Warren from South Denboro, and others like them.  What do
+you suppose they want me to do?"
+
+"I can't imagine."
+
+"They offer me the party nomination for Congress from this section.
+That is, of course, they want me to permit my name to stand and
+they seem sure my nomination will be confirmed by the voters.  The
+nomination, they say, is equivalent to election.  They seem certain
+of it. . . .  And they were insistent that I accept."
+
+"Oh--oh, Albert!"
+
+"Yes.  They said a good many flattering things, things I should
+like to believe.  They said my war record and my writing and all
+that had made me a prominent man in the county--  Please don't
+think I take any stock in that--"
+
+"But _I_ do.  Go on."
+
+"Well, that is all.  They seemed confident that I would make a good
+congressman.  I am not so sure.  Of course the thing . . . well, it
+does tempt me, I confess.  I could keep on with my writing, of
+course.  I should have to leave the home people for a part of the
+year, but I could be with them or near them the rest.  And . . .
+well, Helen, I--I think I should like the job.  Just now, when
+America needs Americans and the thing that isn't American must be
+fought, I should like--if I were sure I was capable of it--"
+
+"Oh, but you are--you ARE."
+
+"Do you really think so?  Would you like to have me try?"
+
+He felt her arm tremble upon his.  She drew a long breath.
+
+"Oh, I should be so PROUD!" she breathed.
+
+There was a quiver in her voice, almost a sob.  He bent toward her.
+She was looking off toward the sea, the moonlight upon her face was
+like a glory, her eyes were shining--and there were tears in them.
+His heart throbbed wildly.
+
+"Helen!" he cried.  "Helen!"
+
+She turned and looked up into his face.  The next moment her own
+face was hidden against his breast, his arms were about her,
+and . . . and the risk, the risk he had feared to take, was taken.
+
+They walked home after a time, but it was a slow, a very slow walk
+with many interruptions.
+
+"Oh, Helen," he kept saying, "I don't see how you can.  How can
+you?  In spite of it all.  I--I treated you so badly.  I was SUCH
+an idiot.  And you really care?  You really do?"
+
+She laughed happily.  "I really do . . . and . . . and I really
+have, all the time."
+
+"Always?"
+
+"Always."
+
+"Well--well, by George!  And . . . Helen, do you know I think--
+I think I did too--always--only I was such a young fool I didn't
+realize it.  WHAT a young fool I was!"
+
+"Don't say that, dear, don't. . . .  You are going to be a great
+man.  You are a famous one already; you are going to be great.
+Don't you know that?"
+
+He stooped and kissed her.
+
+"I think I shall have to be," he said, "if I am going to be worthy
+of you."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+
+Albert, sitting in the private office of Z. Snow and Co., dropped
+his newspaper and looked up with a smile as his grandfather came
+in.  Captain Zelotes' florid face was redder even than usual, for
+it was a cloudy day in October and blowing a gale.
+
+"Whew!" puffed the captain, pulling off his overcoat and striding
+over to warm his hands at the stove; "it's raw as January comin'
+over the tops of those Trumet hills, and blowin' hard enough to
+part your back hair, besides.  One time there I didn't know but
+I'd have to reef, cal'late I would if I'd known how to reef an
+automobile."
+
+"Is the car running as well as ever?" asked Albert.
+
+"You bet you!  Took all but two of those hills on full steam and
+never slowed down a mite.  Think of goin' to Trumet and back in a
+forenoon, and havin' time enough to do the talkin' I went to do
+besides.  Why, Jess would have needed the whole day to make the
+down cruise, to say nothin' of the return trip.  Well, the old
+gal's havin' a good rest now, nothin' much to do but eat and sleep.
+She deserves it; she's been a good horse for your grandma and me."
+
+He rubbed his hands before the stove and chuckled.
+
+"Olive's still scared to death for fear I'll get run into, or run
+over somebody or somethin'," he observed.  "I tell her I can
+navigate that car now the way I used to navigate the old President
+Hayes, and I could do that walkin' in my sleep.  There's a little
+exaggeration there," he added, with a grin.  "It takes about all my
+gumption when I'm wide awake to turn the flivver around in a narrow
+road, but I manage to do it. . . .  Well, what are you doin' in
+here, Al?" he added.  "Readin' the Item's prophesy about how big
+your majority's goin' to be?"
+
+Albert smiled.  "I dropped in here to wait for you, Grandfather,"
+he replied.  "The novel-writing mill wasn't working particularly
+well, so I gave it up and took a walk."
+
+"To the parsonage, I presume likely?"
+
+"Well, I did stop there for a minute or two."
+
+"You don't say!  I'm surprised to hear it.  How is Helen this
+mornin'?  Did she think you'd changed much since you saw her last
+night?"
+
+"I don't know.  She didn't say so if she did.  She sent her love to
+you and Grandmother--"
+
+"What she had left over, you mean."
+
+"And said to tell you not to tire yourself out electioneering for
+me.  That was good advice, too.  Grandfather, don't you know that
+you shouldn't motor all the way to Trumet and back a morning like
+this?  I'd rather--much rather go without the votes than have you
+do such things."
+
+Captain Zelotes seated himself in his desk chair.
+
+"But you ain't goin' to do without 'em," he chuckled.  Obed Nye--
+he's chairman of the Trumet committee--figgers you'll have a five-
+to-one majority.  He told me to practice callin' you 'the
+Honorable' because that's what you'd be by Tuesday night of week
+after next.  And next winter Mother and I will be takin' a trip to
+Washin'ton so as to set in the gallery and listen to you makin'
+speeches.  We'll be some consider'ble proud of you, too, boy," he
+added, with a nod.
+
+His grandson looked away, out of the window, over the bleak yard
+with its piles of lumber.  The voice of Issacher raised in
+expostulation with the driver of Cahoon's "truck-wagon" could be
+faintly heard.
+
+"I shall hate to leave you and Grandmother and the old place," he
+said.  "If I am elected--"
+
+"WHEN you're elected; there isn't any 'if.'"
+
+"Well, all right.  I shall hate to leave South Harniss.  Every
+person I really care for will be here.  Helen--and you people at
+home."
+
+"It's too bad you and Helen can't be married and go to Washin'ton
+together.  Not to stay permanent," he added quickly, "but just
+while Congress is in session.  Your grandma says then she'd feel as
+if you had somebody to look after you.  She always figgers, you
+know, that a man ain't capable of lookin' out for himself.  There'd
+ought to be at least one woman to take care of him, see that he
+don't get his feet wet and goes to meetin' reg'lar and so on; if
+there could be two, so much the better.  Mother would have made a
+pretty good Mormon, in some ways."
+
+Albert laughed.  "Helen feels she must stay with her father for the
+present," he said.  "Of course she is right.  Perhaps by and by we
+can find some good capable housekeeper to share the responsibility,
+but not this winter.  IF I am sent to Washington I shall come back
+often, you may be sure."
+
+"When ARE you cal'latin' to be married, if that ain't a secret?"
+
+"Perhaps next spring.  Certainly next fall.  It will depend upon
+Mr. Kendall's health.  But, Grandfather, I do feel rather like a
+deserter, going off and leaving you here--"
+
+"Good Lord!  You don't cal'late I'M breakin' down, runnin' strong
+to talk and weakenin' everywhere else, like old Minister Kendall,
+do you?"
+
+"Well, hardly.  But . . . well, you see, I have felt a little
+ungrateful ever since I came back from the war.  In a way I am
+sorry that I feel I must give myself entirely to my writing--and my
+political work.  I wish I might have gone on here in this office,
+accepted that partnership you would have given me--"
+
+"You can have it yet, you know.  Might take it and just keep it to
+fall back on in case that story-mill of yours busts altogether or
+all hands in Ostable County go crazy and vote the wrong ticket.
+Just take it and wait.  Always well to have an anchor ready to let
+go, you know."
+
+"Thanks, but that wouldn't be fair.  I wish I MIGHT have taken it--
+for your sake.  I wish for your sake I were so constituted as to be
+good for something at it.  Of course I don't mean by that that I
+should be willing to give up my writing--but--well, you see,
+Grandfather, I owe you an awful lot in this world . . . and I know
+you had set your heart on my being your partner in Z. Snow and Co.
+I know you're disappointed."
+
+Captain Lote did not answer instantly.  He seemed to be thinking.
+Then he opened a drawer in his desk and took out a box of cigars
+similar to those he had offered the Honorable Fletcher Fosdick on
+the occasion of their memorable interview.
+
+"Smoke, Al?" he asked.  Albert declined because of the nearness to
+dinner time, but the captain, who never permitted meals or anything
+else to interfere with his smoking, lighted one of the cigars and
+leaned back in his chair, puffing steadily.
+
+"We-ll, Al," he said slowly, "I'll tell you about that.  There was
+a time--I'll own up that there was a time when the idea you wasn't
+goin' to turn out a business man and the partner who would take
+over this concern after I got my clearance papers was a notion I
+wouldn't let myself think of for a minute.  I wouldn't THINK of it,
+that's all.  But I've changed my mind about that, as I have about
+some other things."  He paused, tugged at his beard, and then
+added, "And I guess likely I might as well own up to the whole
+truth while I'm about it:  I didn't change it because I wanted to,
+but because I couldn't help it--'twas changed for me."
+
+He made this statement more as if he were thinking aloud than as if
+he expected a reply.  A moment later he continued.
+
+"Yes, sir," he said, "'twas changed for me.  And," with a shrug,
+"I'd rather prided myself that when my mind was made up it stayed
+that way.  But--but, well, consarn it, I've about come to the
+conclusion that I was a pig-headed old fool, Al, in some ways."
+
+"Nonsense, Grandfather.  You are the last man to--"
+
+"Oh, I don't mean a candidate for the feeble-minded school.  There
+ain't been any Snows put there that I can remember, not our branch
+of 'em, anyhow.  But, consarn it, I--I--" he was plainly finding
+it hard to express his thought, "I--well, I used to think I knew
+consider'ble, had what I liked to think was good, hard sense.
+'Twas hard enough, I cal'late--pretty nigh petrified in spots."
+
+Albert laid a hand on his knee.
+
+"Don't talk like that," he replied impulsively.  "I don't like to
+hear you."
+
+"Don't you?  Then I won't.  But, you see, Al, it bothers me.  Look
+how I used to talk about makin' up poetry and writin' yarns and all
+that.  Used to call it silliness and a waste of time, I did--worse
+names than that, generally.  And look what you're makin' at it in
+money, to say nothin' of its shovin' you into Congress, and keepin'
+the newspapers busy printin' stuff about you. . . .  Well, well,"
+with a sigh of resignation, "I don't understand it yet, but know
+it's so, and if I'd had my pig-headed way 'twouldn't have been so.
+It's a dreadful belittlin' feelin' to a man at my time of life, a
+man that's commanded ten-thousand-ton steamers and handled crews
+and bossed a business like this.  It makes him wonder how many
+other fool things he's done. . . .  Why, do you know, Al," he
+added, in a sudden burst of confidence, "I was consider'ble
+prejudiced against you when you first came here."
+
+He made the statement as if he expected it to come as a stunning
+surprise.  Albert would not have laughed for the world, nor in one
+way did he feel like it, but it was funny.
+
+"Well, perhaps you were, a little," he said gravely.  "I don't
+wonder."
+
+"Oh, I don't mean just because you was your father's son.  I mean
+on your own account, in a way.  Somehow, you see, I couldn't
+believe--eh?  Oh, come in, Labe!  It's all right.  Al and I are
+just talkin' about nothin' in particular and all creation in
+general."
+
+Mr. Keeler entered with a paper in his hand.
+
+"Sorry to bother you, Cap'n Lote," he said, "but this bill of Colby
+and Sons for that last lot of hardware ain't accordin' to agreement.
+The prices on those butts ain't right, and neither's those half-inch
+screws.  Better send it back to em, eh?"
+
+Captain Zelotes inspected the bill.
+
+"Humph!" he grunted.  "You're right, Labe.  You generally are, I
+notice.  Yes, send it back and tell 'em--anything you want to."
+
+Laban smiled.  "I want to, all right," he said.  "This is the third
+time they've sent wrong bills inside of two months.  Well, Al,"
+turning toward him, "I cal'late this makes you kind of homesick,
+don't it, this talk about bills and screws and bolts and such?
+Wa'n't teasin' for your old job back again, was you, Al?  Cal'late
+he could have it, couldn't he, Cap'n?  We'll need somebody to heave
+a bucket of water on Issy pretty soon; he's gettin' kind of pert
+and uppish again.  Pretty much so.  Yes, yes, yes."
+
+He departed, chuckling.  Captain Zelotes looked after him.  He
+tugged at his beard.
+
+"Al," he said, "do you know what I've about made up my mind to do?"
+
+Albert shook his head.
+
+"I've about made up my mind to take Labe Keeler into the firm of
+Z. Snow and Co.  YOU won't come in, and," with a twinkle, "I need
+somebody to keep my name from gettin' lonesome on the sign."
+
+Albert was delighted.
+
+"Bully for you, Grandfather!" he exclaimed.  "You couldn't do a
+better thing for Labe or for the firm.  And he deserves it, too."
+
+"Ye-es, I think he does.  Labe's a mighty faithful, capable feller,
+and now that he's sworn off on those vacations of his he can be
+trusted anywheres.  Yes, I've as good as made up my mind to take
+him in.  Of course," with the twinkle in evidence once more,
+"Issachar'll be a little mite jealous, but we'll have to bear up
+under that as best we can."
+
+"I wonder what Labe will say when you tell him?"
+
+"He'll say yes.  I'll tell Rachel first and she'll tell him to say
+it.  And then I'll tell 'em both I won't do it unless they agree to
+get married.  I've always said I didn't want to die till I'd been
+to that weddin'.  I want to hear Rachel tell the minister she'll
+'obey' Labe.  Ho, ho!"
+
+"Do you suppose they ever will be married?"
+
+"Why, yes, I kind of think so.  I shouldn't wonder if they would be
+right off now if it wasn't that Rachel wouldn't think of givin' up
+keepin' house for your grandmother.  She wouldn't do that and Labe
+wouldn't want her to.  I've got to fix that somehow.  Perhaps they
+could live along with us.  Land knows there's room enough.  They're
+all right, those two.  Kind of funny to look at, and they match up
+in size like a rubber boot and a slipper, but I declare I don't
+know which has got the most common-sense or the biggest heart.  And
+'twould be hard to tell which thinks the most of you, Al. . . .
+Eh?  Why, it's after half-past twelve o'clock!  Olive'll be for
+combin' our topknots with a belayin' pin if we keep her dinner
+waitin' like this."
+
+As they were putting on their coats the captain spoke again.
+
+"I hadn't finished what I was sayin' to you when Labe came in," he
+observed.  "'Twasn't much account; just a sort of confession, and
+they say that's good for the soul.  I was just goin' to say that
+when you first came here I was prejudiced against you, not only
+because your father and I didn't agree, but because he was what he
+was.  Because he was--was--"
+
+Albert finished the sentence for him.
+
+"A Portygee," he said.
+
+"Why, yes, that's what I called him.  That's what I used to call
+about everybody that wasn't born right down here in Yankeeland.  I
+used to be prejudiced against you because you was what I called a
+half-breed.  I'm sorry, Al.  I'm ashamed.  See what you've turned
+out to be.  I declare, I--"
+
+"Shh! shh!  Don't, Grandfather.  When I came here I was a little
+snob, a conceited, insufferable little--"
+
+"Here, here!  Hold on!  No, you wa'n't, neither.  Or if you was,
+you was only a boy.  I was a man, and I ought to--"
+
+"No, I'm going to finish.  Whatever I am now, or whatever I may be.
+I owe to you, and to Grandmother, and Rachel and Laban--and Helen.
+You made me over between you.  I know that now."
+
+They walked home instead of riding in the new car.  Captain Zelotes
+declared he had hung on to that steering wheel all the forenoon and
+he was afraid if he took it again his fingers would grow fast to
+the rim.  As they emerged from the office into the open air, he
+said:
+
+"Al, regardin' that makin'-over business, I shouldn't be surprised
+if it was a kind of--er--mutual thing between you and me.  We both
+had some prejudices to get rid of, eh?"
+
+"Perhaps so.  I'm sure I did."
+
+"And I'm sartin sure I did.  And the war and all that came with it
+put the finishin' touches to the job.  When I think of what the
+thousands and thousands of men did over there in those hell-holes
+of trenches, men with names that run all the way from Jones and
+Kelly to--er--"
+
+"Speranza."
+
+"Yes, and Whiskervitch and the land knows what more.  When I think
+of that I'm ready to take off my hat to 'em and swear I'll never be
+so narrow again as to look down on a feller because he don't happen
+to be born in Ostable County.  There's only one thing I ask of 'em,
+and that is that when they come here to live--to stay--under our
+laws and takin' advantage of the privileges we offer 'em--they'll
+stop bein' Portygees or Russians or Polacks or whatever they used
+to be or their folks were, and just be Americans--like you, Al."
+
+"That's what we must work for now, Grandfather.  It's a big job,
+but it must be done."
+
+They walked on in silence for a time.  Then the captain said:
+
+"It's a pretty fine country, after all, ain't it, Albert?"
+
+Albert looked about him over the rolling hills, the roofs of the
+little town, the sea, the dunes, the pine groves, the scene which
+had grown so familiar to him and which had become in his eyes so
+precious.
+
+"It is MY country," he declared, with emphasis.
+
+His grandfather caught his meaning.
+
+"I'm glad you feel that way, son," he said, "but 'twasn't just
+South Harniss I meant then.  I meant all of it, the whole United
+States.  It's got its faults, of course, lots of 'em.  And if I was
+an Englishman or a Frenchman I'd probably say it wasn't as good as
+England or France, whichever it happened to be.  That's all right;
+I ain't findin' any fault with 'em for that--that's the way they'd
+ought to feel.  But you and I, Al, we're Americans.  So the rest of
+the world must excuse us if we say that, take it by and large, it's
+a mighty good country.  We've planned for it, and worked for it,
+and fought for it, and we know.  Eh?"
+
+"Yes.  We know."
+
+"Yes.  And no howlin', wild-eyed bunch from somewhere else that
+haven't done any of these things are goin' to come here and run it
+their way if we can help it--we Americans; eh?"
+
+Alberto Miguel Carlos Speranza, American, drew a long breath.
+
+"No!" he said, with emphasis.
+
+"You bet!  Well, unless I'm mistaken, I smell salt fish and potatoes,
+which, accordin' to Cape Cod notion, is a good American dinner.
+I don't know how you feel, Al, but I'm hungry."
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg Etext of The Portygee by Joseph C. Lincoln
+
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