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diff --git a/40648-8.txt b/40648-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 1ee1da3..0000000 --- a/40648-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5895 +0,0 @@ -Project Gutenberg's On the Lightship, by Herman Knickerbocker Vielé - -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/license - - -Title: On the Lightship - -Author: Herman Knickerbocker Vielé - -Release Date: September 2, 2012 [EBook #40648] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ON THE LIGHTSHIP *** - - - - -Produced by Robert Cicconetti, Martin Pettit and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - - - - - -On the Lightship - -BY - -Herman Knickerbocker Vielé - -AUTHOR OF "THE INN OF THE SILVER MOON," "MYRA OF -THE PINES," "THE LAST OF THE KNICKERBOCKERS," -"HEARTBREAK HILL," ETC. - -Introduction by -THOMAS A. JANVIER - -[Illustration: Logo] - -NEW YORK -DUFFIELD & COMPANY -1909 - - -COPYRIGHT, 1909, BY -DUFFIELD & COMPANY - -_Published September, 1909_ - -THE PREMIER PRESS -NEW YORK - - - - -CONTENTS - - - PAGE -INTRODUCTION 9 - -THE STORY OF IGNATIUS, THE ALMONER 19 - -THE DEAD MAN'S CHEST 41 - -THE CARHART MYSTERY 83 - -THE MONSTROSITY 107 - -THE PRIESTESS OF AMEN RA 135 - -THE GIRL FROM MERCURY 167 - -THE UNEXPECTED LETTER 213 - -THE MONEY METER 233 - -THE GUEST OF HONOR 263 - -THE MAN WITHOUT A PENSION 287 - - - - -INTRODUCTION - - -"On Board the Light-Ship" is the title--retained in loving deference to -his intention--that would have been given to this collection of stories -by their author. Had Vielé lived but a little while longer, he would -have justified it by placing them in a setting characteristically -fantastic and characteristically original. - -He had planned to frame them in an encircling story describing, and duly -accounting for, the chance assemblage aboard a vessel of that unusual -type of a heterogeneous company; and--having in his own fanciful way -convincingly disposed of conditions not precisely in line with the -strictest probability--so to dovetail the several stories into their -encirclement that the telling of them, in turn, would have come easily -and naturally from those upcasts of the sea. - -It was a project wholly after his own heart. I can imagine the pleasure -that he would have found in working his machinery--always out of sight, -and always running with a silent smoothness--for getting together in -that queer place his company of story-tellers. He would have used, of -course, the Light-ship and the light-keepers as his firmly real -ground-work. Ship and crew would have been presented in a matter-of-fact -way, in keeping with their recognized matter-of-fact existence, that -subtly would have instilled the habit of belief into the minds of his -readers: and so would have led them onward softly, being in a way -hypnotized, to an equal belief--as he slipped lightly along, with -seemingly the same simplicity and the same ingenuousness--in what -assuredly would not have been matter-of-fact explanations of how those -story-tellers happened to be at large upon the ocean before they were -taken on board! - -That far I can follow him: but the play of fancy that he would have put -into his explanations--as he accounted in all manner of quite probable -impossible ways for such flotsam being adrift, and for its salvage -aboard the Light-ship--would have been so wholly the play of his own -alert individual fancy that it is beyond my ken. All that I can be sure -of--and be very sure of--is that his explanations of that marine -phenomenon, and of the coming of its several members up out of the sea -and over the ship's rail, would have been very delightfully and very -speciously satisfying. That the explanations might have been less -convincing when critically analyzed is a negligible detail: the only -essential requirement of a fantastic tale being that it shall be -convincing as it goes along. - -Even my bald outline of this story--that now never will be told--shows -how harmoniously in keeping it is with Vielé's literary method. He -delighted in creating delicately fantastic conditions lightly bordering -upon the impossible; and, having created them, in so re-solving their -elements into the seemingly commonplace and the apparently probable that -the fine art with which he worked his transmutations was veiled by the -very perfection of its accomplishment. - -Such was the method that he employed in the making of what I cherish as -his master-piece: "The Inn of the Silver Moon"--a story told so simply -and so directly, and with such a color of engaging frankness, that each -turn in its series of airily-adjusted impossible situations is accepted -with an unquestioning pleasure; and that leaves upon the mind of the -reader--even when released from the spell that compels belief throughout -the reading of it--a lasting impression of verity. It was the method, -precisely, of an exquisite form of literary art that has not flowered -more perfectly, I hold with submission, since the time of the so-called -Romantic School in Germany: when de la Motte Fouqué created "Undine," -and Eichendorff created the "Good-for-Nothing," and all the world went -at a gay quick-step to bright soft music that had been silent for nearly -three hundred years. - -Beyond recognizing the fact that it is of the same genre, to class "The -Inn of the Silver Moon" with "Undine" is to belittle it by an -over-claim; but to class it with "Aus dem Leben eines Tongenichts" is to -make a comparison in its favor: since Eichendorff's happy ending is a -little forced and a little tawdry; while Vielé's happy ending is as -inevitable as it is gracious--a result flowing smoothly from all the -precedent conditions, and so deftly revealed at the crisic culminating -moment that a perfecting finish is given to the delightingly perfect -logic of its surprise. - -The manner of the making of the two stories is identical; and so is -their peculiar charm. In his preface to his translation of the -"Good-for-Nothing," forty years and more ago, Charles Godfrey Leland -wrote: "Like a bird, the youthful hero flits along with his music over -Austria and Italy--as semi-mysterious in his unpremeditated course, fed -by chance, and as pleasing in his artless character"; which is close to -being--if for artless we read sophisticated artlessness--an accurate -description of the joint journeying of _Monsieur Vifour_ and -_Mademoiselle de Belle Isle_. And Leland added: "It is strikingly -characteristic of the whole book that it abounds in adroitly-hidden -touches of art which produce an effect without betraying effort on the -part of the writer. We are willing to declare that we never read a story -so light and airy, or one betraying so little labor; but critical study -soon tells us _quant' é difficile questa facilità_! All this ease is the -grace of a true genius, who makes no false steps and has carefully -estimated his own powers." That description fits "The Inn of the Silver -Moon" to a hair! - -In part, it applies only a little less closely to "Myra of the -Pines"--in which is much the same gay irresponsibility of motive and of -action; the same light touch, so sure that each delicate point is made -with a firm clearness; and the same play--save for the jarring note -struck by the "pig-man"--of a gently keen and a very subtle humour: that -maintains farce on the plane of high comedy by hiding artful contrivance -under a seeming artlessness; and that sparklingly crystallizes into -turns of phrase so seemingly spontaneous in their accurate appositeness -that the look of accident is given to them by their carefully perfected -felicity. - -"The Last of the Knickerbockers" has this same humour and this same -happiness of phrasing; and in its serious midst is set the fantastic -episode of "The Yellow Sleigh"--that needs only to be amplified to -become another "Inn of the Silver Moon." But there its resemblance to -Vielé's other stories ends. Least of all has "The Inn of the Silver -Moon" anything in common with it. That delectable thistle-down romance -goes trippingly over sunbeams in a straightaway course that has no -intricacies: with all the interest constantly focussed upon a heroine -and a hero to whom all the other characters are minor and accessory; and -with never a break in the light-hearted note that is struck at the -start. "The Last of the Knickerbockers," a blend of comedy and -semi-tragedy, is far away from all this--both in spirit and in form. It -is the most largely and the most seriously conceived of Vielé's works: -not a romance, but a novel with a substantial plot carefully developed -in intricate action; and while the main interest is centred--as properly -it should be--upon a wholly charming heroine and a wholly satisfying -hero, these pleasing young people are made to know, and to keep, their -place in a crowd of strong characters strongly drawn. - -It is a good story to read simply as a story; but it is more than that, -it is a document: an ambered preservation of a phase of New York society -that already almost has vanished, and that soon will have vanished -absolutely--when the last Mrs. and Mr. Bella Ruggles shall have closed -to decayed aristocracy the last shabbily pretentious boarding house in -the last dingy Kenilworth Place; and when decayed aristocracy, so -evicted, shall be forced to dwell in apartment-houses of the -bell-and-speaking-tube type, and to dine (as _Alida_ prophetically put -it) "at Italian tables-d'hôte--like the Café Chianti, in grandfather's -old house, where they have music and charge only fifty cents, including -wine"! - -So true a presentment as this story is of New York's old-time strait -faiths and straiter social customs will outlive long, I am confident, -the great mass of the fiction of Vielé's day. It will be actively alive -while even a faint memory of those faiths and customs is cherished by -living people; and when all of such ancients shall have retired (with -the final befitting dignity attendant upon a special license) to their -family homes beneath the shadows of St. Mark's and Trinity, carrying -their memories with them, it will become, as I have said, a document: -preserving the traditions which otherwise would have been buried with -them; and so linking permanently--as they linked temporarily--New York's -ever-increasingly ardent present with its ever-paling less strenuous -past. - -As to "The Inn of the Silver Moon," I can see no end to the lastingness -of it: since in the very essence of it is that which holds humanity with -an enduringly binding spell. The luring charm of a happy -love-story--charged with gay fantasy and epigrammatic grace and gently -pungent humour--is a charm perpetual and irresistible: that must hold -and bind while ever the world goes happily in ever-fresh sunshine, and -happily has in it ever-fresh young hearts. - - -THOMAS A. JANVIER. - -NEW YORK, -_June 20, 1909_. - - - - -THE STORY OF IGNATIUS, THE ALMONER - - -Though this happened at the Butler Penfields' garden party, the results -concern Miss Mabel Dunbar more than any one else, except, perhaps, one -other. Mabel had been invited, as she was invited everywhere, partly -because she was a very pretty girl, and helped to make things go, and -partly through public policy. - -"So long as the dear child remains unmarried," Mrs. Fessenden had said, -"we must continue to buy our tea from her." - -For Mabel owed her amber draperies to the tea she sold and everybody -bought because her grandmother had lived on Washington Square. In -society, to speak of tea was to speak of Mabel Dunbar; to look in -Mabel's deep brown eyes was to think of tea, and, incidentally, of cream -and sugar. - -"I used to consider her clever," Mrs. Fessenden remarked, "until she -became so popular with clever men.... It is really most discouraging.... -See, there is Lena Livingston, who has read Dante, pretending to talk to -her own brother-in-law, while Mabel, who is not even married, walks off -with Archer Ferris and Horace Hopworthy, one on each side." - -"I do wonder what she talks to them about," speculated Mrs. Penfield, -and Mrs. Fessenden replied: - -"My dear, you may depend, they do not let her talk." - -Mrs. Penfield reflected, while three backs, two broad and one slender -and sinuous as a tea-plant, receded toward the shrubbery. - -"I wonder which one Mabel will come back with?" she said. - -"If Jack were here, he would give odds on Mr. Hopworthy," replied Jack's -wife. - -"Of course, Mr. Hopworthy is the coming man," observed Mrs. Penfield. -"But Mr. Ferris has 'arrived.'" - -"Yes," assented Mrs. Fessenden, "as Jack says, he has arrived and taken -all the rooms.... But, then, I have great faith in Mr. Hopworthy. You -know Jack's aunt discovered him." - -"Yes," said Mrs. Penfield, "I remember, but, Clara, it was you that -introduced him." - -"Oh, that was nothing," murmured Clara. "We were very glad----" - -"My two best men!" sighed Mrs. Penfield, her eyes upon the shrubbery, -where nothing now was to be seen. - -"Yes," acquiesced her friend, "but think how badly that last Ceylon -turned out." - -Meanwhile, the three had found a cool retreat, an arbour sheltered from -the sun and open to the air, wherein a rustic garden seat, a table and a -chair extended cordial invitations. - -"Ah, this is just the place!" cried Archer Ferris. "By shoving this seat -along a trifle, and putting this chair here, we can be very -comfortable." - -It was noticeable that Mr. Ferris retained possession of the chair. As -for the vacant place beside her on the bench, Mabel's parasol lay upon -it. Mr. Ferris beamed as only the arrived can beam. - -"With your permission, I will take the table," said Mr. Hopworthy, -looking to Miss Dunbar, who smiled. Mr. Ferris became overcast. - -"I fear our conversation may not interest you," he told the other man. -"You know, you do not write short stories." - -And this was not the first time in the last half hour that Mr. Ferris -had offered Mr. Hopworthy an opportunity to withdraw. The latter smiled, -a broad, expansive smile. - -"Oh, but I read them," he persisted, perching on the table. "That is," -he added, "when there is plot enough to keep one awake." - -Here Mr. Ferris smiled, or, rather, pouted, for his mouth, contrasted -with that of Mr. Hopworthy, seemed child-like, not to say cherubic. - -"Plots," he observed, "are quite Victorian. We are, at least, decadent, -are we not, Miss Mabel?" - -Mabel smoothed her amber skirt, and tried to look intelligent. - -"Oh, yes, indeed," she said. - -"Now, there was a story in last week's _Bee_ called 'Ralph Ratcliffe's -Reincarnation,'" continued the gentleman on the table. "Did you read it, -Miss Dunbar?" - -"I laid it aside to read," she answered, with evasion. - -"Pray don't. It's in my weakest vein," remonstrated Mr. Ferris. "One -writes _down_ for the _Bee_, you know." - -"Pardon me," said Mr. Hopworthy, "I did not recognize the author's name -as one of yours." - -"No one with fewer than twelve names should call himself in literature," -the other said, a little vauntingly. - -Mr. Hopworthy embraced his knee. - -"The plot of that story----" he had begun to say, when Mr. Ferris -interrupted. - -"There are but seven plots," he explained, "and thirty situations. To -one that knows his trade, the outcome of a story should be from the very -beginning as obvious as a properly opened game of chess." - -"How interesting it must be to write," put in Miss Dunbar -appreciatively. Perhaps, in her simple way, she speculated as to where -the present situation came among the thirty, and whether the sunbeam she -was conscious of upon her hair had any literary value. - -"Do you ever see the _Stylus_?" inquired Mr. Hopworthy, from whose -position the sunbeam could be observed to best advantage. - -"Sir," said Mr. Ferris, through his Boucher lips, "I may say I _am_ the -_Stylus_." - -"Really!" cried the lady, though she could not have been greatly -surprised. - -In truth, her exclamation veiled the tendency to yawn often induced in -the young by objective conversation. If clever people only knew a -little more, they would not so often talk of stupid things. - -"Ah, then it is to you we owe that spirited little _fabliau_ called 'The -Story of Ignatius, the Almoner'?" remarked Mr. Hopworthy, almost -indifferently. - -"A trifle," said the other; "what we scribblers call 'hack.'" - -Mr. Hopworthy's broad mouth contracted, and he might have been observed -to suffer from some suppressed emotion. - -"But you wrote it, did you not?" he asked, beneath his breath. - -"I dashed it off in twenty minutes," said the other. - -"But it was yours?" insisted Mr. Hopworthy. - -"When I wrote that little story----" said Mr. Archer Ferris. - -"'The Story of Ignatius, the Almoner?'" prompted Mr. Hopworthy, with -unnecessary insistence. - -"'The Story of Ignatius, the Almoner,'" repeated Mr. Ferris, flushing -slightly, while Mr. Hopworthy seemed to clutch the table to keep himself -from bounding upward. - -"I was convinced of it!" he cried. "No other hand could have penned it. -The pith, the pathos, passion, power, and purpose of the tale were -masterly, and yet it was so simple and sincere, so logical, so -convincing, so inevitable, so----" - -"Spare me," protested Mr. Ferris, not at all displeased. "But it had a -sort of rudimentary force, I own." - -"And have you read it, Miss Dunbar?" inquired Mr. Hopworthy, almost -letting slip one anchor. - -"No," she replied, "but I have laid it aside to read. I shall do so now -with added pleasure." - -"Unless the author would consent to tell it to us in his own inspired -words----" said Mr. Hopworthy, regarding his boot toe with interest. -Miss Dunbar caught at the suggestion. - -"Oh, do!" she pleaded. "I should so love to hear a story told by the -author." - -"An experience to remember," murmured Mr. Hopworthy. - -"I am afraid it would be rather too long to tell this afternoon," -demurred the author, with a glance of apprehension toward the sky. - -"But you dashed it off in twenty minutes," the other man reminded him. - -"That is another reason," said the writer. "Work done with such rapidity -is apt to leave but a slight impression on the memory." - -"Perhaps a little turn about the grounds----" suggested Mr. Hopworthy. - -Miss Dunbar had put up her amber parasol, and the lace about it fell -just across her eyes. This left the seat beside her free. - -"Perhaps a little turn----" urged Mr. Hopworthy again. Mr. Ferris -regarded him defiantly. - -"As you have read my story, sir," he said, "I can scarcely hope to -include you in my audience." - -"But it is not at all the sort of thing one is satisfied to hear but -once," Mr. Hopworthy declared, in a tone distinctly flattering. Mr. -Ferris moved uneasily. - -"I really forget how it began," he asserted. "Perhaps another time----" - -"If I might presume to jog your memory----" said Mr. Hopworthy, with -deference. - -"Oh, that would be delightful!" exclaimed Miss Dunbar. "With two such -story-tellers, I feel just like Lalla Rookh." - -Mr. Ferris was upon his feet at once. - -"I suggest we adjourn to the striped tent," he said; "they have all -sorts of ices there." - -"Oh, but I mean the Princess, not frozen punch," declared Mabel, -settling herself more securely in the corner of the garden seat. "Please -sit down, and begin by telling me exactly what an almoner is." - -Mr. Ferris hesitated, cast one glance toward the open lawn beyond the -shrubbery, another to the amber parasol, and sat down in the other -corner. Mr. Hopworthy slipped from the table to the vacant chair. - -"An almoner," explained the _Stylus_, in as nearly an undertone as the -letter of courtesy permitted, "is a sort of treasurer, you know.... In a -monastery, you understand.... The monk who distributes alms and that -sort of thing." - -"Oh, then it is a mediæval story!" cried Mabel. "How delightful!" - -"No, modern," corrected Mr. Hopworthy. - -"Modern in setting, though mediæval in spirit," said Mr. Ferris, taking -off his hat. - -"Ah, that, indeed!" breathed Mr. Hopworthy. "I shall not soon forget -your opening description; that picture of the old cathedral, lighted -only by the far, faint flicker of an occasional taper, burning before -some shrined saint. I can see him now, _Ignatius_, the young monk, as he -moves in silence from one to another of the alms-boxes, gathering into -his leathern bag the offerings that have been deposited by the -faithful." - -"I think he had a light," suggested the author of short stories, who -was listening, critically. - -"Of course; a flaming torch." - -"How sweet of him!" Mabel murmured, and Mr. Hopworthy went on. - -"There were twelve boxes--were there not?--upon as many pillars, and in -each box, in addition to the customary handful of copper _sous_, there -lay, as I recall it, a silver coin----" - -"You will perceive the symbolism," the author whispered. - -"It is perfect," sighed Mabel. - -"Never had such a thing occurred before," continued Mr. Hopworthy, who -appeared to know the story very well, "and in the solitude of his cell, -_Ignatius_ sat for hours contemplating the riches that had so strangely -come into his hand. His first thought was of the poor, to whom, of -right, the alms belonged; but, when he recalled the avarice of _The -Abbot_, his heart misgave him----" - -"Rather a striking situation, I thought," remarked the writer. "Go on a -little further, please." - -"I wish I could," said Mr. Hopworthy, "but this is where your keen -analysis comes in, your irresistible logic. I confess you went a shade -beyond my radius of thought." - -"Perhaps," admitted the other. "Very likely." But he had now caught the -spirit of his own production, and, turning to his neighbor, he went on -to explain: - -"My purpose was to present a problem, to suggest a conflict of emotions, -quite in the manner of Huysmans. Should _The Abbot_, who is but the type -of sordid wisdom, be consulted, or should _The Almoner_, symbolizing -self, obey the higher call of elementary impulse?" - -"And which did _Ignatius_ do?" Mabel asked. - -"I fear you fail to catch my meaning," said the author. "It is the -soul-struggle we are analyzing----" - -"But he must have come to some conclusion?" - -"Not necessarily," said Mr. Ferris, gravely. "A soul-struggle is -continuous, it goes on----" Mr. Ferris waved his white hand toward -infinity. - -"But did not _Ignatius_ decide to put the money where it would do the -most good?" inquired Mr. Hopworthy. - -"The phrase is yours," responded Mr. Ferris, "but it conveys my meaning -dimly." - -"As I recall the story," the other went on, "he resolved to sacrifice -his own prejudices to the service of his fellow-creatures. But, when he -thought of all who stood in need--the peasants tilling the fields, the -sailors on the sea, the soldiers in the camp--he decided that it would -be better to confine the benefit to one deserving object." - -"A very sensible decision," Mabel opined, and Mr. Ferris muttered: - -"Yes, that was my idea." - -As the voices of the garden came to them on the summer breeze, he made a -movement to consult his watch. - -"You see my little problem," he observed. "The rest is immaterial." - -"But I so liked the part where the young monk, filled with his noble -purpose, stole from the monastery by night," said Mr. Hopworthy. "Ah, -there was a touch of realism." - -"I'm glad you fancied it," replied the author, relapsing into silence. - -Mabel tapped the gravel with her foot; it is strange how audible a -trifling sound becomes at times. - -"Please tell me what he did," she begged. "I never heard a story in -which so little happened." - -The writer of short stories bit his full red lip, and sat erect. - -"The young monk waited till the house was wrapped in sleep," he said, -almost defiantly, it seemed. "Then, drawing the great bolt, he went out -into the night. The harvest moon was in the sky, and----" - -"It rained, I think," suggested Mr. Hopworthy. - -"No matter if it did," rejoined the other. "Unmindful of the elements, -he wound his cowl about him, and pressed on, fearlessly, into the -forest, hearing nothing, seeing nothing. Mile after mile he strode--and -strode--and strode--until--until--it was time to return----" - -"You forget the peasant festival," prompted Mr. Hopworthy. - -"Festival?" said Mr. Ferris. "Ah, that was a mere episode, intended to -give a sense of contrast." - -"Of course," Mr. Hopworthy assented. "How frivolous beside his own -austere life appeared these rustic revels. How calm, by contrast, was -the quiet of the cloister----" - -"Yes," Mr. Ferris took up the screed, "and, as from a distance he -watched their clumsy merriment, he--he--he----" - -"He determined to have just one dance for luck," assisted Mr. Hopworthy. - -Perhaps the author, thus hearing the story from another, detected here -some flaw of logic, for he did not proceed at once, although Miss -Dunbar waited with the most encouraging interest. The momentary pause -was put to flight by Mr. Hopworthy. - -"Ah, Zola never did anything more daring," he declared. "Even Zola might -have hesitated to make _Ignatius_ change clothes with the intoxicated -soldier, and leaping into the middle of the ballroom, shout that every -glass must be filled to the brim." - -"Hold on!" gasped Mr. Ferris. "There must be some mistake. I swear I -never wrote anything like that in my life." - -"But you have admitted it!" the other cried. "You cannot conceal it from -us now. You are grand. You are sublime!" - -"I deny it absolutely," returned Mr. Ferris. - -"Please stop discussing, and let me hear the rest," Mabel pouted. "Do go -on, Mr. Ferris." - -"I can't," said Mr. Ferris, sadly. "My story has been garbled by the -printer." - -"But the waltz," urged Mr. Hopworthy. "Surely, that waltz was yours." - -Perhaps once more the irresistible logic of events became apparent, -for, with an effort, Mr. Ferris said: - -"Oh, yes, that waltz was mine. Enraptured by its strains, and giddy with -the fumes of wine, _The Almoner_ floated in a dream of sensuous delight -till suddenly he recalled--suddenly he recalled----" - -"If you will pardon another interruption," put in Mr. Hopworthy, "he did -nothing of the sort. Suddenly, as you must remember, word was brought -that _The Abbot_ was dead, and that _Ignatius_ had been elected in his -place." - -"You spoil my climax, sir," the author cried. "Dashing the wine cup from -his lips, _Ignatius_ then rushed into the night----" - -"But he could not find the soldier anywhere," Mr. Hopworthy interposed. - -"Why should he want to find the confounded soldier?" demanded the -narrator, fiercely. - -"Why, to get his cowl, of course." - -"Splendid!" exclaimed Mabel, clapping her hands. - -"He--he----" the author stammered, and again the other lent a friendly -tongue to say: - -"_Ignatius_ returned to the monastery at once. And what should he -discover there but _The Soldier_, seated in the chair of office, -presiding at the council. But, see here, old chap, perhaps you had -better finish your own story yourself?" - -"Sir!" cried the author, springing to his feet. "I detect your perfidy, -and I call this about the shabbiest trick one gentleman ever attempted -to play upon another. I shall not hesitate to denounce you far and wide -as one capable of the smallest meanness!" - -"That is what _The Almoner_ told _The Soldier_," Mr. Hopworthy explained -to Mabel, in a whisper, but the other, becoming almost violent, went on: - -"You are unfit, sir, to associate with people of refinement, and, when I -meet you alone, it will give me a lively satisfaction to repeat the -observation!" - -"That is what _The Soldier_ replied to _The Almoner_," Mr. Hopworthy -again explained. But the other gentleman had lifted his hat, and was -moving rapidly toward the striped tent, where ices were to be had. - -"I shall never forgive him for leaving the story unfinished," announced -the lady of the bench. "And, don't you think his manner toward the end -was rather strange?" - -Mr. Hopworthy sighed, and shook his head. - -"Those magazine men are all a trifle odd," he said. "Does not that -parasol fatigue your hand?" - -"Yes, you may hold it, if you like," she answered. "I am glad everybody -does not tell stories." - - - - -THE DEAD MAN'S CHEST - - -One May morning in the brave year 1594, Mistress Betty Hodges, from the -threshold of the narrowest house in the narrowest of the narrow streets -in the ancient parish of St. Helen's, Bishopsgate, observed with more -than passing interest the movements of a gentleman in black. - -"Whist, neighbor!" she called out to Mistress Judd, whose portly person -well-nigh filled a kindred doorway just across the street. "Yonder -stranger should be by every sign in quest of lodgings, and by my -horoscope this is a day most favorable for affairs of business. I pray -thee, get thy knitting, lest he take us for no better than a pair of -idle gossips." - -"In faith," retorted Mistress Judd, folding her arms complacently after -a side glance in the loiterer's direction, "an he should ever lodge -with thee let us hope his shillings prove more nimble than his feet." - -The gentleman indeed advanced with much deliberation, pausing from time -to time to look about him as a man who balances advantages and -disadvantages one against the other. It was a quaint old-mannered -thoroughfare he moved in; a crooked street of overhanging eaves and -jutting gable ends which nearly met against the sky; a shadowy, sunless, -damp, ill-savored street, paved with round pebbles and divided in the -middle by a trickling stream of unattractive water. For London, still in -happy, dirty infancy, had yet to learn her lessons at the hands of those -grim teachers, plague and fire. - -"A proper man enough!" Mistress Judd added, "though I'll warrant -over-cautious and of no great quality. To me he looks a traveling -leech." - -"Better a country student of divinity," suggested Mistress Hodges. - -"Or better, a minor cleric, or at best some writing-master," Mistress -Judd opined. - -"Please God, then he can read," rejoined her neighbor, already debating -within herself a small advance of rent. "Mayhap he might acquaint me -whether those rolls of paper left by Master Christopher in his oaken -chest be worth the ten shillings he died owing me." - -"An they would fetch as many pence," sniffed Mistress Judd, "our master -poet had long ago resolved them into Malmsey." - -"Nay, speak not harshly of the dead," protested Mistress Hodges, -conveying furtively a corner of her apron to one eye. - -"Marry, if Master Kit did sometimes sing o' nights 'twas but to keep the -watch awake. I'd wipe my shutter clean and willingly to hear his merry -catch again. Ah, he was ever free with money when he had it. And 'twas a -pleasure to see him with his bottle. In faith, he'd speak to it and kiss -it as a woman would her child." - -"And kiss it he did once too often, to my thinking," murmured Mistress -Judd unsympathetically, "the night he got to brawling in the street and -met his death." - -"Marry, he was no brawler," Mistress Hodges protested warmly, "but ever -cheerfullest when most in drink. They were thieving knaves who set upon -him, and, God be good to sinners, ran him through the heart before the -poor young man could so much as recite a couplet to prove himself a -poet." - -"How thinkst thou poetry would save him?" Mistress Judd demanded curtly. - -"Marry, come up! What thief would kill a poet for his purse?" cried -Mistress Hodges. "Quick, neighbor, get thy knitting!" she added -hurriedly, and catching up a pewter plate began to polish with her apron -as the stranger, attracted by their chatter, quickened his pace. - -He was a slight man, apparently of thirty or thereabout, with deep-set, -penetrating eyes and a lean face ending in the short, sharp, pointed -beard in fashion at the time. - -"Give you good-morrow, dames," he said, when within speaking distance; -"can you direct me to some proper lodging here-about?" - -Mistress Hodges dropped a deeper courtesy to draw attention to herself -as the person of most importance. - -"In truth an't please you, sir," she said, "'tis my good fortune to have -this moment ready for your worship the fairest chambers to be had in all -the town at four and six the week. Gentility itself could ask no better, -for doth not the Lord Mayor live around the corner in his newly -purchased Crosby Hall, the tallest house in London, and near at hand do -not the gardens of Sir John Gresham stretch from Bishopsgate to Broad -Street like a park? And if one would seek recreation, 'tis not five -minutes to Cornhill, which is amusing as a fair o' pleasant evenings, -with the jugglers and peddlers and goldsmiths and----" - -"Ah, by my faith," the stranger interrupted gravely, "I should seek -elsewhere, for I am not a man born under Sol, that loveth honor, nor -under Jupiter, that loveth business, for the contemplative planet -carrieth me away wholly." - -"An you be disposed toward contemplation," interposed Mistress Hodges, -quickly, "there can be found no purer place in London for such diversion -than is my second story back. From thence one may contemplate at will -either the almshouse gardens and the woodland beyond Houndsditch, or the -turrets of the Tower itself, in winter when the leaves are gone." - -"Please Heaven the leaves are thick at present!" said the stranger with -a grim half smile. "Nevertheless, I have a mind to look from your back -windows. The almshouse gardens may at least teach one resignation." - -"Enter an't please you, sir," replied the landlady with a low obeisance. - -The stranger made a close inspection of the chamber, peering into -cupboards, testing the bed and stools and chairs, and finally pausing -before a small oak box secluded in a corner. - -"'Tis but a chest of papers left by my last lodger, one Master -Christopher," Mistress Hodges explained, adding, "A poet, sir, an't -please you, who was slain by highwaymen, and I know not if his lines be -fitted for honest ears to hear, though, an one might believe it, they -have been spoken in the public play-house. Think you," she added, -raising the lid of the chest to disclose a dozen manuscripts or more, -bound together with bits of broken doublet lacing, "the lot would bring -as much as ten shillings at the rag fair?" - -The stranger laughed and shook his head. - -"'Tis a great price for any dead man's thoughts," he said, taking up a -package at random and hastily turning over the leaves, while Mistress -Hodges regarded him anxiously. His interest deepened as he read, and -presently his eyes devoured page after page, oblivious of the other's -presence. - -"In truth," he said at length, "there be lines not wholly without -merit." - -"And pray you, sir, what is the matter they set forth?" the landlady -ventured to inquire. - -"This seems the story of a ghost returned to earth to make discovery of -his murder--" the stranger was beginning to explain, but Mistress Hodges -checked him. - -"Marry!" she cried, "such things be profanations and heresy against the -Protestant religion, which Heaven defend. Marry, 'twould go ill with the -poor woman who should offer such idolatries for sale." - -More protestations followed, prompted, no doubt, by fear lest disloyalty -to the dominant party be charged against her; to prove her detestation -of the documents she declared her purpose to burn the last of them -unread. - -"Still better, shift responsibility to me," suggested the stranger, -smiling grimly at her zeal. "Sell me the lot for two shillings and -sixpence, and my word for it the transaction shall be kept a secret. -The reading of these idle fancies will serve as a relaxation from my own -employment." - -"Marry, they shall be yours and willingly," cried the woman, glad to be -rid of dangerous property on such generous terms. And it was thus that -the stranger became possessor of the chest of manuscripts. His -bargaining for the lodgings proved him a man of thrift to the point of -meanness, a quality not to be despised in lodgers, for, as Mistress -Hodges often said to Mistress Judd, "Gentlemen are ever most liberal who -least mean to pay." In answer to reasonable inquiries he would say no -more than, "My predecessor was known as Master Christopher; let me be, -therefore, Master Francis, a poor scholar who promises only to take -himself off before his purse is empty." - -The new lodger entered into possession of his chamber on the afternoon -of the day on which he saw it first. His luggage, brought thither by two -porters on a single barrow, and consisting chiefly of books and -manuscripts, proved him to be the humble student he had represented -himself, and in a week his neighbors were agreed in rating him a rather -commonplace recluse. His days were spent in reverie by the open window -or in writing at the parchment-littered table. If he stirred abroad at -all it was but for an hour in the long twilight after supper, and his -candle rarely burned later than ten o'clock. It was not until a -fortnight had gone by that Mistress Hodges had the satisfaction of -announcing a visitor. - -"Come in!" cried Master Francis, responding to her knock at his chamber -door, and not a little surprised by a summons so unusual, for the -remnants of his supper had been removed, and he was himself preparing -for his evening stroll. - -"A gentleman attends below, an't please you, sir," she announced, -entering hurriedly. - -"Impossible!" her lodger protested, "for how should a visitor inquire -for one who has no name?" - -"By your description, an't please you, sir," replied the woman. "He -drew you to the life. By my faith, there could be no mistake, and when -he said you might be known as Master Francis how could I but admit him? -Grand gentleman that he is, with a servant at his heels and half a score -of varlets waiting within call!" - -Master Francis bit his lip and moved impatiently about the room. - -"Go tell this grand gentleman that you were wrong," he said. "Tell him I -was requested out to supper at half an hour before seven. Tell him what -falsehood slips most easily from your tongue, and as you are a woman, -tell it truthfully." - -"'Twould not avail, for even now your visitor, grown impatient, mounts -the stair," replied the hostess, while a heavy footfall coming every -moment nearer testified to the truth of her assertion. - -"Then off with you and let us be alone," commanded Master Francis, -stopping resolutely in his walk, while Mistress Hodges in the doorway -found herself thrust unceremoniously aside to give place to a dignified -man in middle life. The visitor's dress was black, relieved only by a -broad white ruff, yet of so rich a quality that the appointments of the -room descended in the scale from homeliness to shabbiness by contrast. -But apparently he concerned himself no more with the apartment than with -Mistress Hodges. - -"How now, nephew?" he began at once. "What means this hiding like a -hedgehog in a hole?" - -Master Francis bowed with almost servile deference and clasped his -hands, making at the same time a gesture with his foot intended to -convey to Mistress Hodges an intimation that she was free to go. - -"My uncle, this is far too great an honor that you pay me," he said, -when the landlady had closed the door behind her. - -"Odsblood! For once, I hear the truth from you. Why have you left your -chambers in Gray's Inn for this?" the other answered with a movement of -the nostrils as though the whole environment was comprehended in a -whiff of Mistress Hodges' mutton broth. - -"In truth, most gracious kinsman," the younger man rejoined, "since my -exclusion from the Court some certain greasy bailiffs have favored me -with their company a trifle over often, nor had I otherwhere to go while -waiting for a fitting opportunity to recall myself to your lordship's -memory." - -"And pray you, to what end?" the other asked impatiently. - -"You are not ignorant, uncle, of the state of my poor fortune," said the -scholar. - -"No," was the answer, "nor can you be forgetful, nephew, of my efforts -in the past to mend that fortune." - -"For all of which believe me truly grateful," responded Master Francis -with a touch of irony. "'Tis to your gracious favor that I owe my -appointment to the reversion of the Clerkship of the Star Chamber, worth -sixteen hundred pounds a year, provided that I, a weak man, survive in -poverty a strong affluence. 'Tis like another man's ground buttaling -upon his house, which may mend his prospect but does not fill his barn." - -The other, crossing to the open window, half seated himself upon the -sill, folding his arms while fixing disapproving eyes on his nephew's -face. - -"This attitude becomes you not at all," he said. "Through me you were -returned to Parliament, and through me you might have been advanced to -profitable office had you not seen fit to antagonize the Ministry, -opposing, for the sake of paltry public favour, that four years' subsidy -of which the Treasury stood in dire need to meet the Popish plots." - -"I sought to shield the Ministry and Crown from public disapproval," -replied Master Francis. "The country in my judgment was not able to -endure the tax." - -"'Twas most presumptuous to set up your judgment against that of your -betters," said the other. "Your part is plain. This act of yours must -be forgotten. It must be known that you have once for all abandoned -public life for study. Publish some learned disquisition upon what you -will. Absent yourself from town, and in a twelvemonth, perhaps, or less -if things go well----" - -"A twelvemonth!" cried Master Francis. "Unless my pockets be replenished -I shall have starved to death by early summer." - -The gentleman upon the window-sill remained for a space silent with -knitted brows. Presently he said: - -"I shall arrange to pay you an allowance, small, but sufficient for your -needs, upon condition that you go at once to France, where you already -have acquaintances." - -"It may be you are right, my lord," responded Master Francis, "but it -suits my humor not at all to exile myself, and before accepting your -offer grant me permission to speak to the Earl of Essex. He has the -favor of the Queen." - -The other laughed a scornful laugh, and rising deliberately drew on a -glove he had been holding in one hand. - -"Enough!" he said. "Depend on Essex's favor with the Queen and follow -him to the Tower in good time." - -"But, uncle, give me your kind permission at least to speak with him." - -"My kind permission and my blessing!" the uncle answered suavely, moving -toward the door. With his hand upon the latch he stood to add, across -his shoulder, "You are behind the times in news, nephew. Three days ago -my Lord of Essex departed somewhat suddenly for his estates--upon a -hunting expedition, it is said, though beldame Rumor will insist that -our most gracious Queen hath turned the icy eye at last upon his -fawning." - -"A morning frost!" cried Master Francis with a gesture. "A frost that -the recurring sun of pity turns full soon to tender dew. But 'tis a -chill of which to take advantage. Let me but follow my peevish lord to -his retirement, lock in my humble cause with his, and in due season -claim the meet reward of faithful service." - -His manner had grown so earnest that the other turned to listen, albeit -with a smile of contempt. - -"Look you, uncle," the younger man went on, "were I to start at once, -travelling in modest state, yet as befitting the nephew of the Lord -Treasurer of England, well mounted and attended by a single man-servant, -the whole adventure might be managed for a matter of one hundred -pounds." - -"Good!" cried the other with suspiciously ready acquiescence. "Thou art -in verity a diplomat. By all means put your fortunes to the test, and -when you have, acquaint me with the issue." - -He turned and once more laid a hand upon the latch. - -"But," protested Master Francis, "I have still to find the hundred -pounds----" - -"A riddle for diplomacy to solve!" replied the Lord Treasurer of -England, laughing sardonically. "I can tell you no more than that you -shall not find it in my purse!" And so saying, he strode from the room, -leaving the door wide open. - -For many minutes Master Francis paced the floor, muttering to himself, -now angry imprecations at his own folly, now curses on the relentless -arrogance of the Lord Treasurer. As the long twilight of the season fell -he caught up his wide-brimmed hat and hurried from the house. - -He took his way through narrow winding streets, and after several -turnings came at length to one much wider, a thoroughfare lined with -little shops, whose owners when not occupied with customers stood on -their thresholds soliciting the patronage of passers-by. - -"What do you lack?" they cried; "hats, shoes, or hosiery; gloves, ruffs, -or farthingales?" each setting forth the value of his wares in frantic -effort to outshout competitors. Along the pavement worthy citizens -sauntered with wives and sweethearts, or stood in interested groups -about some mountebank or maker of music performing upon several -ill-tuned instruments at once. On a patch of trodden grass young men -played noisy games of bowls until a gilded coach in passing wantonly -destroyed their goal. Here a bout with single-stick was in progress, -there a contest with bare fists which must have grown serious had not -the watch arrived in time to separate the belligerents with their pikes. -But the centre of most interest was a seafaring man who smoked a -long-stemmed pipe with rather ostentatious unconcern. The men regarded -him with furtive admiration, the women disapprovingly, while children -ran to catch a whiff of the strange aromatic scent. When he blew puffs -of vapor from his nostrils everybody laughed. - -Master Francis, moving hastily aside to make way for the smoker and his -escort, came into collision with a man of his own age, whose broad -good-humored face showed due appreciation of the scene. - -"What think you, friend?" the stranger asked, laughing. "Will this new -savagery become an institution? Have we been at such pains to banish -smoke from our churches only to turn our heads into censers? Mayhap this -be another Popish plot?" - -"It seems to me a bit of arrant folly," Master Francis answered somewhat -listlessly, "and as such, certain to become the rage." - -"They tell us it will prolong the life," went on the other, "for it is -well known a herring when smoked outlasts a fresh one." - -"Say rather he who smokes will live the longer because the wise die -young," retorted Master Francis, pleased by the conceit. - -"At least," remarked the stranger, "the fashion will make trade for -fairy chimneysweeps." - -Some further conversation followed naturally, for Master Francis, weary -of his own society, was in the mood to welcome any companionship, and, -moreover, the newcomer, who seemed a man of understanding, met another's -eyes too frankly to leave the question of his honesty in doubt. They -spoke of tobacco as a possible feature in social life, and both agreed -that a whiff of the new herb might be an interesting experiment. - -"Let us go then to the Bull," the stranger suggested, "where in a small -room behind the tap one may smoke a pipe for threepence under the -tutelage of this very seaman, who acquired the art in our Virginia -colonies." - -"Agreed!" cried Master Francis willingly; though at another time he -might have rejected such an offer. "'Twill be an experience to -remember." - -"Marry," replied the other, "'tis he who lags behind the cavalcade who -must take the dust. For my part I like not to be outfaced by any idle -boaster who may lisp--'Ah, 'tis an art to keep the bowl aglow! Ah, -shouldst see me fill my mouth with smoke, and blow it out in rings! -Odd's bodkin, the Duke himself said bravo!'" - -The stranger's mimicry of the mincing gallants of the day was to the -life, and as they turned their steps toward the tavern, Master Francis -laughed with satisfaction at finding himself in such good company. When -presently his companion quoted Horace, he ventured to inquire at what -school he had read the classics. - -"At none," was the reply. "Let those who will perform the threshing. I -am content to pick up kernels here and there like a sleek rat in a -farmer's barn. Your tippling scholar of the taproom will set forth a -rasher of lean Xenophon with every cup of sack, and as for -churchmen--they be all unnatural sons who so bedeck their mother tongue -in scraps and shreds of foreign phrase, the poor beldame walks abroad as -motley mantled as a fiddler's wanton." - -"But surely--_Justitia eum cuique distribuit_--as Cicero hath it," -Master Francis cried in protest against such heresy. "You will not deny -that an apt quotation lends grace to our too barren English." - -"'Tis a thin sauce to a rich meat," replied the other; adding modestly, -"I am, an't please you, sir, but one who, having little Latin and less -Greek, must make a shift with what is left to him." - -"Your speech belies you, sir," retorted Master Francis courteously, "for -it proclaims a man of nice discrimination. I could swear you are a -doctor of the law." - -"Then would you be forsworn," replied the other, laughing, "for, by the -grace of God, I am near kinsman to the dancing poodle of a country fair. -Come any afternoon at three o'clock to the Curtain Play-house at -Shoreditch, and there for sixpence you may see my antics." - -"Ah, then you are a player!" Master Francis cried, well pleased. - -"For the lack of a more honest calling," his companion answered with a -gesture as who should say, "Tell me where can be found an honester?" - -"Then we are in like case," laughed Master Francis. "_Fere totus mundus -exercet histrionem_, says Phædrus; or as one might put it bluntly, 'All -the world's a stage.'" - -"Methinks our English hath the better jingle," commented the player. -"Would that some wordsmith might e'en recoin these ancient mintages to -fill the meager purses of our mouths!" - -They had come now to the broad low archway leading to the courtyard of -the Bull, and passing in beneath its shadow, Master Francis recalled the -plays he had witnessed there in boyhood. - -"Ah," said his companion, "'tis not so long since we poor players hung -our single rag of curtain where we might. Now we have playhouses of our -own, and when the servants of the Lord Chamberlain shall occupy the -Globe at Bankside, you shall see how plays may be presented. But _Navita -de ventis de tauris narrat orator_, as thy gossip Propertius hath it, -though I like best the homely adage, 'A tinker will talk of his -trade.'" - -They found the seaman in the little room behind the tap, a veritable -high priest of some mystic cult in dignity. He bowed a hearty welcome to -the visitors and presently made clear to them the true relationship -between his pot of dried tobacco and the earthen pipe bowls at the ends -of hollow reeds. He cautioned them to have a care, when the coal of fire -was applied, not to draw the smoke into their mouths too suddenly and -fall to coughing. He was a swarthy man, with brass rings in his ears and -long hair braided in a queue behind, and his account of the savage king -held captive until the inner secrets of the art of smoking were revealed -by way of ransom was in itself a yarn well worth his fee. - -"I pray you, gentlemen, hold not the pipe too lightly lest it be overset -and mar your garments," he instructed them. "And, by your leave, it must -be grasped between the thumb and second finger, nicely balanced that -the forearm grow not weary. Should the brain become afflicted by the -vapor it is well to pause and inhale some breaths of common air. Extend -the little finger carelessly and compose the face as though the flavor -were agreeable, for to spit and grimace at the pipe were most -inelegant." - -"Out upon you for an arrant knave!" cried Master Francis, springing to -his feet, exasperated by the solemn affectation of superior wisdom. -"'Tis but an indifferent entertainment at the best, and as for the art, -I know of none too great a fool to compass it." - -He had grown a trifle pale about the lips and his nerves tingled. - -"Nay, then," protested his fellow investigator, "were the taste less -vile and the savor less like a smithy 'twould make an excellent good -physic for one afflicted with too much health." - -The sailor was a man of evil disposition, who had not only sailed with -Raleigh's godless mariners but, had the truth been known, in other -service still less creditable. Hearing his enterprise thus flouted, his -anger rose, and with a mighty oath he turned upon his clients. - -"A pest upon such horse boys!" he exclaimed. "Get back to the stables -whose smells best suit you. Leave elegant accomplishments to your -betters." - -Master Francis, grown fearful lest his knees give way beneath him, and -blinded by a film which swam before his eyes, moved unsteadily toward -the door, half throwing, half dropping his pipe upon the oaken table, -where the red clay bowl fell shattered in a dozen fragments. - -"Hold!" cried the sailor. "Not another step, my gallant, till you have -paid me ten shillings for my broken pipe." - -He sprang upon the slighter man and, grasping him by the shoulders, -would have done him violence had not the other smoker interposed a -doubled sinewy fist beneath his irate nose and bade him let go his hold. -As the command was not instantly obeyed, a sharp blow followed. - -"Beshrew my blood!" the pirate roared, turning to strike at random. - -"Gadslid!" returned the player, facing him and bringing both fists into -action with such good effect that presently the table groaned beneath -the weight of the struggling freebooter, while pipes, jug, and precious -weed went flying. - -The uproar brought the company from the taproom at a run, customers, -servants, the drawer, the pot-boy, a brace of hostlers, until the small -room filled to suffocation. Swords were drawn, cudgels brandished, above -the din the seaman's oaths boomed like the cannon of a sloop of war in -action. - -"Good friends," the player bawled out, springing to a stool to command -attention, "behold to what a pass the smoking of this weed will bring a -man. I pray you bind this fellow fast and get him safe to Bedlam before -some mischief happens." - -Master Francis sank down into the corner of a high-backed seat, too ill -for much concern with what passed about him, and it was not till some -moments later, in the open air and propped against a wall, that -consciousness returned. His champion in the late encounter stood beside -him. - -"Sir," said the student, "it is to you I owe my preservation, though, by -my honor, I should have cut a better figure in the skirmish had not the -vapors of that vile weed overpowered me. How made you our escape?" - -"Even as Æneas with Anchises on his back," replied the other, laughing. -"'Twas high time to take ourselves away, being but two against so many, -though, by my faith, I've rarely seen a merrier opening for a game of -skull cracking." - -The player, whether actuated by humor or generosity, seemed disposed to -make light of the whole affair. Grasping his companion's arm he -supported that gentleman's still uncertain steps in the direction of the -lodging-house of Mistress Hodges. He spoke of broils and frays as though -such pastimes were of every-day occurrence with men of spirit, whether -the sport were putting a pinnace crew of drunken sailors to their heels, -or by some trickery outwitting the watch. At the door Master Francis -could do no less in hospitality than invite so stanch an ally to enter. - -"Come to my chambers and rest awhile," he said, adding regretfully, -"though they be plain indeed, and offer no better entertainment than my -poor company." - -"Good cheer enough," replied the other, stepping back for a better view -of the house. "By my estates in Chancery!" he cried, "yon bristling roof -that sets its lance against the very buckler of the moon hath met mine -eyes before. 'Twas here, unless my memory be a lying kitchen wench, our -noble Christopher did lodge, the prince and potentate of pewter pots." - -"And knew you Master Christopher?" asked Master Francis with increasing -interest. - -"Marry, I knew him well," replied the player. "Marry, a poet. Marry, a -rimester to couple you a couplet while your Flemish fighter quaffs a -mug of sack, and pay the reckoning with a sonnet to his landlord's -honesty. 'The first line,' he would say, 'shall tell the weight of it.' -And here he did set down a naught. 'So likewise with the second, which -doth sing its breadth; the third proclaims its depth'--another naught, -and thus until the measure of the verse was writ. 'Now add them for -thyself,' he bids the rum-fed Malmsey monger, 'and by the thirst of -Tantalus, the sum shall blazon both thine honor and my debt.'" - -"Methinks 'twas but a scurvy trick," protested Master Francis, laughing -tolerantly. "What said the host to it?" - -"In faith," replied the player, "he found the meter falling short and -clamored for money. 'Money!' quoth Kit. 'Think well on't! for if, as men -of reason all agree, naught is better than money, you are overpaid in -getting naught!'" - -"His was a pretty wit indeed," assented Master Francis. "Enter!" he -urged with a gesture of hospitality. - -"Nay!" cried the other. "As I am a just man it is perilous to enter -into a writer's castle where one without offense is often lashed with -lyrics or--what is more fearful--pilloried in prose. And furthermore, -this Hebe of all Hodges, I have heard, this Helen of Houndsditch, hath a -stout broomstick hid behind her door for players," he added, making a -pretense of looking about him warily as he followed his host up the -stairs, Master Francis going first to light a candle with a flint and -steel. - -"Come in," he said as the flame flickered up, "and welcome to my -chambers, though this poor farthing dip is little better than a glowworm -that doth serve to make the darkness visible." - -"So shines a good deed in a naughty world," returned the other, throwing -himself into a seat. - -"You are yourself a poet!" Master Francis cried, "for you temper the -cold iron of rough speech with oil of metaphor." - -"Nay," said the player, "I am no rimester, but like a scissors-grinder -I sometimes put a keener edge on better men's inventions. Faith," he -continued, looking about him with approval, "I knew not that our Kit was -housed so well. This is a very bower in which to woo the Muse. Friend, -had I your table and your chair, your inkwell and your wit, it would not -take me long to be the owner of one hundred pounds." - -"One hundred pounds?" gasped Master Francis. "Believe me, it is not from -inkwells that such miraculous drafts are made." He waved his hand toward -the scattered papers on the table. "Look," he said, "it hath taken me a -year to make that much fair paper valueless." - -"You waste your time," replied the player lightly. "Instead of learned -discourses, treatises, and theses, in which our age will not believe and -the next most certainly prove false, you should devise a mask, a -mummery, a play to set the groundlings' munching mouths agape, and make -the gentle ladies of the boxes mince and murmur to their cavaliers, -'Ah, me, 'tis such a sweet death! Oh, la! and 'twould be pure to be so -undone!'" - -"A play!" exclaimed the scholar in surprise. "That's a task for poets, -not for men of learning." - -"Say not so!" the other interposed. "For learning is but poetry turned -prude. Coax her with kisses, cozen her with a sigh, give her a broidered -girdle and a fan, and call me Cerberus if thy staid Minerva will not -tread a merry measure to Orpheus's lute." - -"An' should she play the wanton thus for me, how should advantage -follow?" Master Francis asked with growing interest, as he leaned -forward in the candle-light to catch the answer. - -"'Tis simplicity itself," replied the player. "Look you, this new-built -play-house of the Globe is shortly to be opened, and the town is at the -very finger pricks of curiosity to behold its marvels. The players -stand like greyhounds in their gyves, the counters wait the welcome -buffets of the coin, and Burbage, madder than a hare in March, bounds -doubling on his track hither and thither to find a play." - -"Sure London hath as many playwrights as a cheese hath mites," commented -Master Francis. - -"True," the other answered, "but look you, here's a case when mite and -wright agree not. For one is mad, and one hath lost his cunning, and one -will spend in drink the money given him for ink, and Kit, the master of -them all, is writing comedies for shades in Pluto's courtyard. In troth, -there seems no better market for a hundred pounds than 'twere a -huckster's hat of rotten cherries." - -"An hundred pounds!" gasped Master Francis. "The sum doth spell for me -ambition gratified." - -"Ah, ha, my lean scholar!" cried the player. "Is not the matter worth -considering?" - -"Marry, it is," admitted Master Francis, "if one had but the fancy." - -"Oh, as to that," returned the other, "I'll warrant when your blood ran -hot from the full caldron of lip-scalding youth, thy fancy played you -many a pretty mask, for young imagination dreams more dreams than waking -age doth have the wit to write. These conjure up again, unbar your -closet, unlock your treasure chest--" Here Master Francis gave a start, -but the player went on heedlessly: "By my faith, yon rascal coffer well -might be the grave wherein the best of thee lies buried." - -He made a motion of the hand toward the box of the departed Christopher, -and Master Francis's visage in the candle-light turned pale. - -"What ails you, man?" the other inquired. "Have you a memory of that -last tobacco pipe?" - -"Sir," cried Master Francis, rising slowly to his feet, "is it the truth -that a play can be sold for so much money?" - -"In the Queen's coin," the other answered. "So that it be worth the -playing, so it be such a play as Kit could have written." - -Master Francis, taking up the candle, moved toward the chest. - -"I'll take you at your word," he said. "Like one who creeps with -shrouded lanthorn and with muffled spade to force the moldering hinges -of the gate of Death, I'll bring you back a play." - -He stooped, and lifting the lid seized the first manuscript that met his -hand and waved it triumphantly at his companion sitting on the table. - -"A play!" cried the other, catching at the roll. "Ah, then I guessed -aright. 'Tis a dull writer, fitted best for slumber-wooing churchmen's -homilies, who has not in his time chucked blushing Thalia under her fair -chin.... What have we here?" he demanded, spreading the pages open -before him. "A play, indeed! A comedy, i' faith! Gadslid, a tragedy! A -miracle of masterpieces, a masterpiece of miracles! 'Twill be the talk -of London town and in the ages yet to come, when stately playhouses -shall stand where now the painted savage cleaves his enemy, your play -shall win the coy and cautious coin of nations yet unborn, your fame--" - -"Peace, peace!" protested Master Francis, with a smile that would have -done credit to his uncle, the Lord Treasurer, "you are like a paid -praisemonger who bawls loudest to extol the book he has not read." - -"'Tis my prophetic soul," returned the player merrily, and waving the -scroll above his head he went on: "Hear ye, hear ye, good servants of -the Queen, here's meat for your digestions, matter for your minds; -here's wit and wisdom, prose and poetry, to make ye swear that brave Kit -Marlowe walks the earth again.... Come, gossip, write your name upon the -title sheet. You are too modest." - -"My name I may not sell," said Master Francis, holding back. - -"Unnatural parent!" roared the other. "Would you thus turn your -offspring loose upon the world without parentage?" - -"I'll not be father to a brat so ill-begotten," replied Master Francis. - -"How shall I answer then to Burbage should he ask the writer?" demanded -the player. - -"As you may," returned Master Francis with a shrug. "An't please you, -say it was yourself. I care not, so my name be not revealed." - -"'Twill be a jest," the player cried, laughing, "a jest which, should -the play find favor, may be at any time corrected." - -And taking up a pen he dipped it in the ink-horn to write across the -page: - - - THE TRAGEDY OF ROMEO AND JULIET - BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE - - -"A proper title, surely!" commented the scholar, looking across his -shoulder. "Your name, friend Will, should lure the public eye more -cunningly than that of Francis Bacon." - - - - -THE CARHART MYSTERY - - -The conversation had grown reminiscent, as conversations will when old -acquaintance stirs its coffee after dinner and the blue wreaths of good -tobacco-smoke float ceilingward, like pleasant specters, in the subdued -light of the shaded lamps. - -Barton and I, in following back some winding paths of memory now -well-nigh overgrown, were in danger of forgetting our good manners till -Willoughby reminded us of his presence. - -"I might as well embrace this opportunity for a nap," he said, -stretching his long legs to the fire, and sinking back into one of -Barton's most engaging armchairs. "Just wake me up when you fellows hit -upon a subject I know something of. I happen to have been living in -India during the time the thrilling tea-and-tennis episodes you recall -so fondly were taking place, and, to tell the truth, they bore me." - -Barton laughed. - -"Oh, we have done with recollections, and now you shall have a chance to -bore us with an Indian tale or so by way of recompense," he said, with -the candor permissible only between men who know each other well. "Make -clear to us the difference between a maharajah and a pongee pajama, and -go ahead." - -"At least, my stories do not deal with duels that ended in Delmonico's, -and flirtations which fell flat," asserted Willoughby, blowing a cloud -of fragrant incense into space. "I've no idea of wasting occult material -on a brace of rank Philistines, but if I were so disposed----" - -"Dear boy!" I put in, rather testily; for I dislike fatuous patronage -even in fun. "Either Barton or I could relate to you an incident which -occurred in this very room, within a yard of where you sit, remarkable -enough to make your Kiplingest jungle-tale seem as tame as 'Mother -Hubbard's Dog!'" - -"Indeed!" he said, sinking still farther into his chair, with something -very like a yawn; and Barton, as he arose and moved to the mantelpiece, -cast a look of remonstrance toward me which I was careful not to -recognize. - -"Ah, here comes Nathan with fresh coffee," our host announced, clearly -to change the subject, as the round-shouldered figure of his worthy -valet appeared in the lamplight. "Pray let him fill your cups, and, if -it is not strong enough, don't hesitate to tell him." - -"It'th not the coffee gentlemen dethired when I wath young," commented -Nathan, a trifle sadly, and with the amusing lisp which made him -something of a character, albeit he was rather a dull man even for a -valet. - -"I never take a second cup," Willoughby declared, adding: "But, if it's -all the same, I might be tempted by a sip of soda later, say in half an -hour or so." - -This struck me as an excellent suggestion, and Barton evidently thought -the same. - -"Bring soda in half an hour," he instructed the servant, "and mind you -have it cold." - -"It'th never any other way you've had your thoda a thingle night for -fifteen yearth, thir," retorted Nathan, with quite sufficient truth, no -doubt, to justify the protest; and as he shuffled from the room, "Jim" -Barton's guests chuckled. - -"I move we give the half-hour to your yarn," said Willoughby, crossing -his legs. "That is, if it can be told in thirty minutes." - -"It's not worth half that time if it were told at all," replied our -host. "The story is not worth much at best, but to give old Joe here the -chance to intimate a too-elaborate dinner." - -My name is Joseph, by the way. - -"Oh, if you will admit that explanation----" I began, to draw him on, -for I was anxious Willoughby should understand that interesting things -could happen elsewhere than in India. - -"I don't admit it in the least!" cried Barton, interrupting. "I assure -you, Willoughby, upon my word, as sure as I stand here, I had tasted -nothing more potent than a glass or two of Burgundy that night." - -"What night?" inquired Willoughby. - -"The night young Carhart disappeared," I interposed impressively. "The -night a fellow six feet high and heavier than any one of us vanished as -completely from this room as a puff of smoke dissolves in air." - -"I have seen a puff of smoke go flying through a window," Willoughby -suggested, laughing, though his interest had evidently been aroused, for -he glanced toward the bay of leaded glass which made one of the -pleasantest features of Barton's cozy smoking-room. - -"But no man ever went through this particular window," I replied, -taking the burden of enlightenment upon myself, in spite of my host's -very apparent disapproval. "This window looks out upon a neighbor's -yard, and ever since the house was built it has been barred as heavily -as you see it now." - -I sprang up, and, when I had pressed a button which set a dozen electric -bulbs aglow in the four corners of the room, drew the light curtains to -one side. - -"Examine for yourself!" I cried, much in the manner of a showman. - -"I'll take your word for it the iron in that grille is genuine," said -Willoughby, without rising. "And I will admit that no fasting Yogi could -worm himself through interstices so small. But how about the door?" - -"The door," I hastened to assure him, "was then just as you see it now, -an opening three feet wide, and Barton himself stood before it in the -hall, a single step beyond the threshold." - -I should have gone on in my eagerness to call attention to the walls -and ceiling and floor, all obviously free from secret openings, had not -Barton interrupted. - -Shifting uneasily on his feet before the mantelpiece, he said: "Our -friend Joe has not explained that he knows nothing of the circumstances -beyond what I have told him." - -"But not in confidence," I protested. - -"No," admitted Barton, "not in confidence." And to his other guest he -said: "I have made no secret of this strange occurrence, Willoughby, and -my reluctance to discuss it arises from a doubt that long familiarity -with the circumstances has not made it impossible for me to give to each -its proper weight. I am in constant fear of coming upon a weakness which -I have overlooked in the chain, and yet it would be a relief to discover -such a flaw. I should have called in an expert at once. I should have -sought the counsel of detectives; and such would unquestionably have -been my course had not those most interested dissuaded me, Young -Carhart's father telegraphed me: 'Say nothing to authorities. -Disappearance satisfactorily explained.' And, at the time, that was -enough. It was not till some months later that I learned the family were -theosophists, a sect to which nothing is so satisfactory as the -inexplicable. I have, myself, no theory to advance. The man, my guest, -was here one moment, and the next he had gone from a room where the only -openings were a grilled window and a guarded door. His overcoat and hat -are still in my possession; and, from all I have been able to learn, he -has not been heard of since." - -"I beg that you will not think it necessary to tell me more of the story -if it distresses you," protested Willoughby, courteously; for Barton's -face had grown grave, and I had begun to feel my introduction of the -subject ill-timed. But our host was quick to reassure him with a -gesture. - -"On the contrary," he said, "you have but just returned from India, -where, as I have heard, mysterious disappearances are not uncommon, and -occult matters are better understood. Your opinion will be of the -greatest service." - -"In that case," Willoughby replied, becoming instantly, judicially -alert, "let us begin at the beginning. Who was Carhart? How came he -here? What was the manner of his going?" - -"That's just the mystery," I interposed. - -"Joe, please don't interrupt," said Barton, making an effort to collect -his thoughts. - -"Sit down, old man," Willoughby suggested. "We'll choke Joe if he speaks -again. Now let us have the facts--I'm deeply interested. Do sit down." - -Barton complied in so far as to perch himself upon the broad arm of a -leather chair. - -"I shan't be tragic," he began; "for, as I said, there may be--in fact, -there must be--some purely natural explanation. Of course, you never met -young Carhart; for he came here while you were away. He had but few -acquaintances in New York; for, although he brought good letters from -Boston, where his people lived, he had not chosen to present them. He -was a most attractive sort--half-back at Harvard, stroke-oar and all the -rest. Great fellow in the Hasty Pudding Club, and poet of his class, but -just a trifle--shall I say--susceptible and--" - -"Soft," I suggested. - -"No," contradicted Barton; "though, to tell the truth, he never could -resist a pretty face. That was his failing." - -"Remarkable man!" Willoughby commented, with fervor. - -"He was," assented Barton. "In that respect, at least. He carried it too -far. He wanted to marry every good-looking girl he met. He would have -been married a dozen times before he graduated, had not his friends -interfered." - -"Thank heaven for friends!" commented Willoughby, with still more -fervor. - -"Till at last," continued Barton, now sufficiently himself to punctuate -his narrative with occasional whiffs of his cigar, "at last Carhart -fell under the influence of a widow." - -"A designing widow," I put in, to make the situation clearer. - -"Attractive?" Willoughby inquired. - -"Oh, decidedly." - -"Encumbrances?" - -"No," answered Barton. "Not exactly. There were rumors of a husband in -the background somewhere, but he was not produced." - -"A pretty widow is beyond the habeas corpus act," mused Willoughby. - -"Quite so," Barton admitted. "But, at all events, there was nothing -really known against the lady except a maiden aunt, and this -objectionable relative was, by the way, quite as much opposed to the -match as were Carhart's own people." - -"And why were they opposed to it?" - -"Oh, you see, with his proclivities for poetry and acting, they were -afraid an unhappy marriage would drive him to the stage, and, -naturally, they took every measure to prevent it." - -Here Barton paused to light a fresh cigar, while we others sipped our -coffee thoughtfully. - -"And what were these preventive measures?" Willoughby inquired. - -"Oh, the usual thing," said Barton. "Threats, badgering, advice and -promises. All these failed to move him; he was determined to make her -his wife, and, as a last resource, his father wrote to me, putting the -matter in my hands without reserve. Our ancestors came over on the same -boat, so it appeared." - -"The _Mayflower_," I breathed, but that was scarcely necessary. - -"Quite so," he admitted; "and that, of course, entailed a certain -obligation." - -"Of course," we both assented, and the narrative continued. - -"An elopement had been planned, as we had every reason to believe, for a -certain evening; and the elder Carhart kept the Boston wires hot all -day with appeals to me to save his son." - -"And did you?" Willoughby inquired. - -"Yes," answered Barton, cautiously, "in a way." - -"How?" - -"I began by inviting him to dinner." - -"And, of course, he did not accept?" - -"Oh, yes, he did. He both accepted and arrived on time, and I must say I -never saw a man confront a filet mignon bordelaise with more outward -satisfaction; and, though we spoke upon indifferent topics, his spirits -seemed exuberant beyond all bounds. But you may be sure I kept an eye -upon his every movement. I was determined he should not escape. In an -extremity, I was prepared to administer a harmless sleeping-potion in -his coffee." - -"Indeed!" said Willoughby, as he set down his cup, and ran an -investigating and suspicious tongue along the edges of his lips. - -"A drastic measure, I admit," continued Barton, "but one which I should -have considered justifiable, could I have foreseen the miscarriage of my -other plan. You know my eldest sister, Emily?" - -We bowed, for it was a duty to know Emily. - -"And you know her eldest daughter, Emeline?" - -We bowed again; it was a pleasure to know Emeline. - -"Well," went on Barton, "it so happened that they were to dine that -evening in the neighborhood, and I arranged with them to drop in upon me -in an offhand way soon after their dinner, which was a small, informal -one. I was convinced, you see, that Carhart could not fail to fall -desperately in love with Emeline, which would have simplified affairs at -once." - -Of course, we both assented--I through civility, but Willoughby, as I -fancied, with a somewhat heightened color. - -"I presume you did not take Miss Emeline into your confidence," he said, -a trifle stiffly. - -"No," answered Barton, "but I have often wished since that I had been -more frank. It's just the sort of thing she's good at." - -Willoughby tossed his excellent cigar, half smoked, into the grate, with -what appeared unnecessary violence. - -"You were saying that your plan fell through," he prompted. - -"It did," rejoined the host. "It fell through completely, as you shall -see. I kept my young friend at the table as long as possible, and -Nathan--to his credit I will say it--was never more deliberate; but when -Carhart had declined almonds and raisins rather pointedly for the third -time, we rose from the table, as the clock struck ten, and came in here -to smoke. The lights were low, as they were before our friend Joe tried -to blind us." - -"I beg your pardon!" I exclaimed, and, hastening to the button, I -reduced the room again to semi-darkness. - -"Ah, that's more like it," said Barton. "I much prefer the light -subdued. Well, here we were--Carhart before the mantelpiece, where I -stood just now, smoking composedly enough, and I between him and the -door, listening for the sound of the bell which might at any moment -announce the arrival of the ladies. I remember perfectly that we were -discussing setter-dogs; and, as you may well believe, I was never so put -to it for anecdotes in my life, when at last the welcome summons came." - -"I thought you said your plan fell through," Willoughby interposed. - -"It did," retorted Barton. "The bell, which echoed through the house, -was not rung by Emily at all, but by a servant with a note from her to -say that, being indisposed, my sister had decided to drive directly -home. Emeline, she added, was going on to some infernal dance. I had -given Carhart no intimation of my sister's coming, and, naturally, I did -not reveal the contents of her note. In fact, I made the dim light an -excuse for stepping into the brighter hall, and this enabled me to -conceal from him my first chagrin. As I stood not two feet from the -threshold, debating what my course should be, I observed that Nathan -closed the front door upon the messenger; and presently he passed me, -going to his pantry, as I thought. I must have remained standing there -before the door nearly a minute, though it seemed much less, for, when I -turned, Nathan was at my elbow again, holding in his hand a tray of -cups. - -"'You served the coffee not a minute ago, you idiot!' I said, betraying -the irritation which I felt; and, furthermore, I will confess, the smell -of coffee brought back to me most painfully the only plan which then -remained. - -"'I thought you might be ready for thum more,' persisted Nathan, with -his most aggravating lisp. 'I did not know the gentleman had gone.' - -"'Gone!' I exclaimed. 'You must be blind. The gentleman, Mr. Carhart, is -in the smoking-room.' - -"'I beg your pardon, thir; but he'th not,' retorted Nathan, moving from -me as though to avoid a blow. 'The gentleman ain't in the -thmoking-room.' - -"'Fool!' I cried, and darted from him, but the next moment I had found -his words too true. Carhart had vanished, disappeared, melted, as one -might say, into the element of air." - -"Strange!" I reflected, lowering my voice as an aid to Barton's climax. - -"Strange enough!" cried Willoughby, less impressed than I had hoped. -"And so your servant was the first to make the discovery?" - -"Yes," answered Barton; "although I have never allowed him to know of my -astonishment. I did my best to pass it off as a joke. I allowed him to -believe that Carhart had taken leave of me before the stupid blunder of -the second coffee." - -"Athking your pardon, thir," came in injured, lisping accents from the -gloom. "I never brought no thecond coffee that night, becauth the cat -upthet the coffee-pot, nor did I thay, thir, that the gentleman had -gone." - -Barton, concealing his annoyance, sat regarding his domestic for a -moment with assumed indifference. - -"And pray, what did you say, then, when you stood there beside me at the -door?" he demanded. - -"Nothing at all, thir," answered Nathan. "I wathn't there. I went back -to my pantry when I had let out the methenger, and there I thtayed until -I heard you hammering on the wallth and floor with the fire-shovel." - -"That will do, Nathan," returned Barton stiffly; and I perceived an odd -expression on the face of Willoughby. - -"Thoda, thir?" inquired Nathan of the other guest. - -"Yes," was the answer. "And please fill it up." - -We settled down into an awkward silence, while Nathan fidgetted with -soda-water bottles, Barton fingering his cigar, I toying with a -paper-weight, and Willoughby intent upon the fire. - -"Carhart," he kept repeating, almost to himself. "Where have I heard -that name before? Carhart!" - -"Carhart?" said Barton inquiringly. - -"Carhart!" repeated Willoughby, with still more abstraction. "Carhart!" - -"Yes, Carhart!" I put in, by way of keeping up the train of thought. - -"Carhart!" roared Barton, springing to his feet. "Can't anybody say -anything but Carhart?" - -"And what became of the widow?" Willoughby demanded meditatively. - -"I never knew nor cared to know," replied our host. - -"Pretty, I think you said," continued Willoughby. "And auburn-haired?" - -"Yes, deuced pretty, deuced auburn-haired. What are you driving at?" - -Willoughby held up a soothing hand. "Just let me think," he said. "I -used to know a man once in Calcutta. An American from Boston; sold -canned goods, calico and caramels at wholesale; had a pretty wife. -Clever fellow, too; and great at giving imitations--could mimic -anything. Used to do an old domestic with a lisp in a way that would -make your sides ache. I wish I could recall that fellow's name. By Jove, -it was--it was!--it was!----" - -"Was what?" I asked. - -"Why, 'Carhart'!" - -Barton, before the fire, swayed on his feet unsteadily, and clutched the -mantelpiece for support. Old Nathan shuffled to his side. - -"Thoda, thir?" the servant asked. - -"Yes," said the master absently. "If you please, one lump of sugar and a -little cream." - - - - -THE MONSTROSITY - - -Fifteen minutes after Mr. and Mrs. Lemuel Livermore, accompanied by -their daughter Selma, had driven away from their comfortable West Side -residence, for the purpose of attending an annual family gathering at -the house of Mrs. Livermore's widowed mother, Mrs. Pease, on the -opposite side of Central Park, the Livermore domestics were stirred by a -more than usually imperative ring at the front door-bell. It was -Christmas Eve, a season when mercantile delivery wagons may appear at -any hour. Presents had been arriving all the afternoon, and the sight of -a large van backed up against the curbstone occasioned no surprise. - -"What are they bringing us now?" inquired Bates, the butler, who rarely -condescended to open the door in the absence of the family, from his -pantry. - -"It looks to me something like a sofa," replied the smiling housemaid, -who generally knew by instinct when the ringer was to be young and -good-looking, "and the delivery gentlemen want to know where to put it." - -"A sofa, is it?" exclaimed the butler, coming forward. "I'd like to know -who has been silly enough to make a present of a sofa to a family who -have already more household goods than they know what to do with. -They'll be sending in a porcelain bath-tub next," he added with a grunt, -as he unbolted the second half of the front door to make room for a -cumbrous piece of furniture, just then ascending the steps apparently -upon four lusty legs. "Here, you fellows, wipe your feet and put it in -the parlor, and when the family comes home I bet somebody'll get a -blessing." - -The sofa was, in point of fact, a well-fed lounge, corpulent and plushy -and be-flowered, and when, its wrappings removed, it occupied the -center of the Livermore pink and white drawing-room, the Livermore -bric-à-brac and bibelots and bijouterie appeared to turn a trifle pale -and to shrink within themselves, as though a note of discord had -distressed them. - -"Lord!" said the housemaid frankly, as she regarded the latest unwelcome -acquisition, "but it is a beast!" - -"Sets the room off, don't it?" remarked the fattest and most optimistic -of the furniture men, as he consulted a memorandum in his hat. "Come in -handy, won't it, when the missus wants to snatch a nap in the -afternoon?" - -The butler and the housemaid exchanged a glance of tolerant pity, but -such benighted ignorance of social use was beyond enlightenment. - -"Best give it a good brush-up to bring out the colors," the optimist -admonished, surveying his late burden admiringly. - -"I wouldn't touch it with the tongs," declared the housemaid, and the -butler prophesied, "It won't stop long to gather dust where it is when -the missus sets eyes on it once." - -"Well," moralized the other, with a comprehensive glance about the room, -"it's certainly a fact that rich folks does come in for all the luck." - -And so saying he withdrew, accompanied by his mate, and the bolts were -shot behind them. - -"Our dinner will be getting cold," observed the butler. "Go down, Mary -Anne, and tell the cook I'm coming, and I'll bring down the decanters. -That sherry's hardly fit to serve upstairs again." - -The housemaid sniffed. - -"Be careful, Mr. Bates," she cautioned him. "The old butler, Auguste, -was discharged because he found so many bottles of champagne that were -unfit to serve upstairs." - -"Auguste," rejoined the butler, "was a French duffer. He ought to have -known that even broad-minded gentlemen always count champagne." - -"Shall we leave the lights all burning in the parlor?" asked the -housemaid. - -"Certainly," replied Bates; "it wouldn't do for the missus to stumble -over that thing in the dark." - -"Lord!" said the housemaid, with a parting glance across her shoulder. -"Lord! but it _is_ a beast." - -"An out and out monstrosity," the butler agreed. - -Time passed; the servants went their ways; the parlor gas purred -soothingly; the bric-à-brac engaged in whispered consultation. Whatever -happened, the monstrosity should be made to feel its isolation--and it -did. It stood a thing apart from its environment; it seemed to sigh, and -presently its plebeian breast began to heave as with emotion. A crack -developed in its tufted side, a pair of eyes appeared within the crack. -The gas purred on; sounds from the servants' hall below suggested that -the sherry had begun to express itself in terms of merriment. The crack -grew wider until the sofa opened like a fat and flowery trunk. The eyes -became a head, the head a man, who sat upon the sofa's edge and looked -about him. - -"All zings is the same," he murmured to himself in broken English. -"Nothing is changed except that ze arrangements are in less taste zan in -my time. Ah, people do not know when zay have ze good fortune." - -He sighed, and, rising, ventured one large foot, encased in a felt shoe, -upon the rug. He stood and gazed about him lovingly, as one who -contemplates inanimate things once dear. He moved with noiseless caution -to the nearest door and disappeared. Presently he returned, bearing a -salver laden with pieces of silver from the dining-room--an ice-pitcher, -an epergne, some dishes; these he proceeded deftly to roll in flannel -bags, depositing each with loving care in the interior of the -Monstrosity. Another expedition resulted in an equally attractive lot -of plate, to be bestowed as carefully. Next, stepping to the -mantel-piece, he selected a modest pair of Dresden images from the -assortment there displayed. - -"These," he soliloquized, "are mine undoubtedly. I might have broken -them a thousand times and did not, and, therefore, they are mine." - -He laid the figures tenderly and almost with a sigh beside the silver -and closed the heavy tufted lid upon them. - -"I will go upstairs for ze last time," he mused, a trace of sadness on -his Gallic features, "and behold if Madame is still as careless with her -jewel-box as in old days. I will ascertain for myself if Monsieur still -sticks his scarf-pins in ze pin-cushion.... Ah, but it is depressing to -revisit once familiar scenes. It makes one shed ze tear." - -The tall clock in the hall struck half-past eight. - -Even as the clock struck the butler below was rising to propose a toast. - -"'Here's to those that love us,'" it began, and went on: "'Here's to us -that love those,'"--but as this was not the way it should have gone on, -the butler paused and blinked in disapproval at the cook, who laughed. - -"'Here's to those that love those that love those that love those,'" he -persisted solemnly, and might have continued the hierarchy still further -had not an electric summons from the front door interrupted him. - -"Sakes!" cried the cook, "what can that be?" - -"More presents," the housemaid suggested. - -"Another monstrosity, I'll be bound," the butler chuckled, stumbling -from the room. "Let'sh all go shee about it." - -He climbed the stairs unsteadily, and made his way along the hall with -noticeable digressions from an even course. - -"'Here's to those that love us that love them,'" he caroled cheerily, -and when, with fumbling fingers, he had thrown the front door open, his -eyes, still blinking, failed to perceive for the moment that Mr. -Livermore himself stood on the threshold, surrounded by some half a -score of muffled figures. - -"Bates," began Mr. Livermore, "I forgot my latch-key, and ..." - -"Get away with you," cried cheerful Mr. Bates; "we've got all the -monstrosities we want already. 'Here's to them that love them that we -love' ..." - -"Bates," said Mr. Livermore, "you're drunk." - -"Shir," said Bates; "shir, I ashure you sherry was not fit to sherve -upstairs." - -"Bates," said Mr. Livermore, "you are very drunk." - -"Shir," said Bates, "shir, I ashure you it's all owing to that -monstrosity. Monstrosity not fit to sherve upstairs." - -Meanwhile Mrs. Livermore had lost no time in pushing past her husband -into the hall, followed by Selma, followed by her widowed mother, Mrs. -Pease, and Mr. Bertram Pease, her brother, and Miss McCunn, to whom Mr. -Pease was supposed to be attentive, and Cousin Laura Fanshaw, and the -two Misses Mapes, and Mr. Sellars, and Doctor Van Cott, all old friends, -and a young gentleman by the name of Mickleworth, whom nobody knew much -about, except Selma, who, for reasons of her own, kept her knowledge to -herself. He had been invited to the family party as a chum of Cousin -Dick Busby's, and was to have come with Dick, but the latter gentleman, -at the last moment having received a more promising invitation, had sent -word that he was ill. - -While Mr. Livermore drew Bates aside, the housemaid busied herself with -the ladies' wraps. - -"You're through dinner early, ma'am," she said to Mrs. Livermore. - -"We haven't had any dinner, Mary Anne," replied her mistress. "Mother's -range exploded, or something awful happened to the pipes just after we -sat down, and everything was ruined. So we brought the entire party here -in cabs. Tell cook she must give us some sort of a meal at once ... -canned tomato soup to begin with, followed by cold canned tongue, and ..." - -"The breakfast fishballs," suggested Mary Anne. - -"Excellent!" exclaimed her mistress. "And after that we might have ..." - -"Marmalade," suggested Mary Anne. - -"And buckwheat cakes," Selma interrupted. - -"Of course," her mother acquiesced, "that will have to do ... with lots -of bread and butter.... And now," she added cheerfully, turning to her -guests, "we'll all go into the drawing-room and guess conundrums till -dinner is ready. How fortunate it was that we had had our oysters before -the accident!" - -"My dear," said Mr. Livermore in a whisper, "I fear that Bates is -hopelessly intoxicated." - -"Oh, Lemuel, what are we to do?" gasped the hostess, clutching the -hat-rack for support. - -They were alone together in the hall and face to face with a dilemma. - -"I give it up," said Mr. Livermore. - -"You can't," rejoined his wife. "You'll have to think of something." - -"Perhaps," suggested the gentleman foolishly, "an angel might be induced -to come down from heaven...." - -But his words were truer than he thought; a figure which had been -creeping unobserved down the stairs now stood before them. - -"Auguste!" gasped Mrs. Livermore, with an almost superstitious start. - -"Yes, Madame," replied her former servant, while his benignant smile -brought reassurance; "it is I. I have taken ze liberty of dropping in to -wish Madame a merry Christmas." - -"Thank Heaven!" cried the Hostess, restraining her impulse to fall upon -his neck. "Now you must stay and help us out of our difficulties. You -know exactly where all the silver is." - -"Perfectly," replied the man respectfully, "and it will give me great -pleasure to once more serve Madame." - -"Auguste," said Mr. Livermore, "let bygones be forgotten. Go quickly and -set the table, and put on everything to make it look attractive." - -"Pardon, Monsieur," Auguste protested, "might it not seem out of place -to display too much silver at such a simple meal?" - -"He is right," declared Mrs. Livermore, "Auguste is right. His taste was -always perfect--even in champagne." - -Further discussion was prevented for the time by Selma's appearance at -the drawing-room door, convulsed with mirth. Close at her side stood Mr. -Mickleworth, also laughing. - -"Oh, mamma!" cried the daughter of the house, "will you come and see -what somebody has sent us as a present? The ugliest thing conceivable, -an absolute monstrosity." - -But the Livermores were thankful for the sofa, and the diversion which -it brought. As no one present could possibly have made such a choice, -they felt at liberty to abuse it to their hearts' content, and they -stood just then in dire need of something to abuse ... until the -fishballs filled the atmosphere with welcome fragrance. - -Later, after Auguste had compounded his celebrated punch, they said some -most amusing things about the lounge. - -"It would make a capital wedding gift," laughed Mr. Livermore, with a -sly glance at Mr. Bertram Pease, and Miss McCunn declared that she would -die single rather than begin married life in the society of the -monstrosity. - -As time went on the spirit of the joyous season filled the company, and -Yule-tide pastimes were suggested. - -"In my young days," said Mrs. Pease, growing distinctly sporty, "we used -to play hide-and-seek all over the old homestead, and whoever found the -person hiding was entitled to a kiss." - -"Capital!" pronounced Doctor Van Cott, debating which of the Misses -Mapes a prosperous practitioner would be most fortunate in finding. - -"Let's play it now," cried Uncle Bertram, knowing quite well whom he -himself should seek most diligently. - -"Good!" put in Mr. Mickleworth, "I'll be It first. All go into the -little smoking-room, and when I say 'Coo' come out and look for me." To -Selma he added, in a whisper, "If you, while searching, should hum 'In -the Gloaming' softly, may I scratch to let you know where I am?" - -Miss Livermore blushed. - -Now, of course, the game was all a joke, not to be taken seriously, and -to make the situation funnier, Mr. Mickleworth, who, in his -boarding-house commonly kept his evening clothes in a divan box, went -direct to the monstrosity and climbed in, closing the lid upon himself. -But, as it happened, Mr. Mickleworth's box was old-fashioned and -unprovided with the latest patent catch, impregnable to those -unacquainted with the combination. His position, therefore, in the -lounge's dark interior must have been alarming for a moment, had he not -discovered an ample breathing hole, concealed from outward observation -by a fringe. Some bundles, hard and angular, occasioned but a trifling -inconvenience at his feet. - -"Coo!" cried Mr. Mickleworth through the hole, when he had allowed -sufficient time to mystify his fellow players. But for a moment it -seemed to him that the others had not been playing fair, for there were -voices speaking close to him. - -"Say, you're a slick one, Frenchy," somebody remarked in unfamiliar -accents. "You'll have your picture in the Gallery yet." - -"Zat is all right," a foreign voice replied, "I know my business." - -Now others appeared to join in the conversation, and it became evident -that the entire company had entered. - -"Let me out!" cried Mr. Mickleworth, but in the general Babel no one -heard, and presently Mrs. Livermore's silvery notes were audible above -the rest. - -"It was a very stupid mistake," she said. "You should have known such an -ugly thing could not be for us. Please take it away at once, and another -time be more careful about reading the address." - -"I'm sorry, mum," retorted somebody, "but I do hope you won't go for to -report us to the firm? We're just pore workingmen." - -"You have probably been drinking," put in Mr. Livermore magnanimously, -"and as it is Christmas we will overlook the error. Auguste, see that -they do not scratch the wood-work." - -"Hurrah!" cried Selma joyfully. "It's going. The Monstrosity is being -taken away. I hope whoever gets it will appreciate its merits more than -we did." - -"Let me out! Let me out!" cried Mr. Mickleworth, but by this time all -the guests were chattering louder than ever. - -Doctor Van Cott and the two Misses Mapes joined hands and danced as King -David did before the Ark. Mr. Bertram Pease at the piano began to play -the first selection that occurred to him, which chanced to be the -Wedding March. The others clapped their hands and cheered. - -"Let me out!" cried Mr. Mickleworth for the last time from his prison, -but an oily apron was now pressed tight against the hole, and he caught -the whispered observation: - -"Say, Frenchy, you must have chucked the cat in by mistake." - -He felt himself raised, jolted, tipped; he felt the chill of cold night -air as it found access through the crack. He realized that he was being -thrust feet first into a van and driven rapidly, he knew not where. - - -"And now," said Mr. Sellars, "I think we had better look for Mr. -Mickleworth." - -"Let us begin in the butler's pantry," suggested Cousin Laura Fanshaw, -not loud enough for anyone else to hear. - -The Christmas party sought high and low; they penetrated to the upper -floors, and not until Selma had sung "In the Gloaming" before every -closet door did they give up the quest. - -"It's most mysterious," asserted the host. - -"It's worse," his wife corrected him; "it's most ill-bred." - -"Oh, we must look again," cried Selma, now in real distress; "he may be -lying somewhere faint and ill." - -"Nonsense!" rejoined Mrs. Pease. "Leave him alone, and, my word for it, -he will make his appearance in a little while looking silly enough. -Lemuel, a glass of water, if you please." - -While the good lady sank exhausted to a chair, her devoted son-in-law -hastened to the dining-room to supply her want. - -"The ice-pitcher is not there," he said, returning. "I'll ring." - -"But the pitcher must be in its usual place on the sideboard with the -other silver," his wife protested. - -"But all the same, it isn't," he insisted. "There is nothing on the -sideboard; not a thing. Come see for yourself." - -This gave occasion for the playful aphorism concerning the inability of -man to see beyond his nose, but presently a scream from Mrs. Livermore -confirmed her husband's statement. - -"My pitcher!" she cried piteously. "My silver dishes! My epergne! Where -have they gone? Where is Auguste?" - -"Auguste," said Mary Anne, who, scenting an excitement, now ran up the -kitchen stairs, "has also gone. He drove off with the sofa in the van." - -"With the sofa?" - -"Yes, ma'am; sitting on it." - -"Robbed!" cried Mr. Livermore, with a lightning flash of keen -conviction, and the entire company repeated in a hollow chorus: - -"Robbed!" - -But Mr. Livermore's lightning, after the manner of such fluids, was not -satisfied to score a single bull's-eye. - -"It was a deep conspiracy," he went on, becoming clairvoyant, "and ten -to one that Mickleworth young man was in the plot." - -"You shall not say such horrid things of him, papa," cried Selma. - -"A thief!" persisted Mr. Livermore, disregarding her. "A villain in -disguise! I don't believe that this impostor was ever Cousin Dick's old -chum." - -"Oh, papa," Selma interrupted, trembling; "Dick himself introduced Mr. -Mickleworth to me at Southampton last summer. I did not tell you about -it till you could know him and see how nice he is." - -"Nice?" gasped her mother. "Nice?" - -"Yes, mamma," Selma cried, sobbing, but still undaunted; "awfully nice, -and he can write the most respectful little notes." - -"Notes?" screamed her mother. "Selma, you stand there and tell me you -have corresponded with a burglar? Oh, that I should have lived to see -this day!" - -Miss McCunn, much disturbed, had retired to the smoking-room, where Mr. -Bertram Pease did all he could to comfort her. Doctor Van Cott on the -stairs had put an impartial arm about each of the Misses Mapes. Cousin -Laura Fanshaw, behind a screen, wept copiously on Mr. Sellars's left -lapel. - -"In my young days," said Mrs. Pease, "we kept a closer watch on both our -children and our silverware." - -"Mother," cried Mrs. Livermore, "don't make things worse by being -aggravating. Poor Selma is suffering enough." - -"I am not suffering at all," protested Selma stoutly. "My faith in -George remains unshaken." - -"George!" ejaculated her mother. "Lemuel, do you hear?" - -"I do," replied Mr. Livermore, "and I'll attend to George's case just as -soon as I can get Mulberry Street on the telephone." - -"Stop!" cried his wife; "we must avoid a scandal." - -The doorbell, which had taken such an active part in this eventful -evening, now rang again. A silence followed, while the form of Bates was -seen to pass through the hall. Then, almost with his accustomed dignity, -though somewhat pale and wet about the head, he reappeared. - -"Mr. Mickleworth!" he announced. - -"I knew it!" Selma cried, with jubilation. - -And Mr. Mickleworth it was, in truth, though much disheveled as to -dress. A streak of mud lay on his rumpled shirtfront, and his evening -coat suggested active combat. From each shoulder hung a nosebag, such as -teamsters use for feeding horses in the street, and each bag bulged with -priceless silver heirlooms. Behind him came a stalwart minion of the -law, bearing the family ice-pitcher on a massive salver. - -"Ah, ha!" cried Mr. Livermore complacently. "So, ho! 'Caught with the -goods on,' as you say officially. You have done well, officer, and this -night's work shall not go unrewarded." - -"It wasn't me," the policeman protested ungrammatically; "this here -young feller did it all himself." - -"That we already know," said Mrs. Livermore. - -"Be quiet, my child, until we hear the story," put in Mrs. Pease, who -usually objected to her daughter's methods. - -And the policeman told his tale. - -"This here young chap," he said, with generous fervor, "must be a -regular Herculaneum. He burst the lock and stopped the van and knocked -two of the robbers out of time. When I came up he had the Frenchman by -the throat, a-rolling of him in the mud. All I had to do was to ring for -the patrol, and help him bring the stuff right back to you for -recognition." - -"Ahem!" said Mr. Livermore. "Ahem! Ahem!" - -"Papa," cried Selma, while tears of triumph made her eyes more bright, -"aren't you going to shake hands with George?" - -And thereupon Mr. Livermore cordially enough did shake hands with -George. - -"Papa," said Selma, "won't you tell George that his part in this night's -work shall not go unrewarded?" - -"Oh, tell him that yourself," cried old Mrs. Pease impatiently. - -In the drawing-room Mr. Bertram Pease was playing the Wedding March. - - - - -THE PRIESTESS OF AMEN RA - - -In the cold light from the tall studio window Frank Morewood's face -seemed almost haggard, and certainly the right hand which held the -little square of photographic paper trembled perceptibly. His left hand -still retained its glove, although he had been George Dunbarton's guest -for fully half an hour; his hat was pushed back on his head, his cane -beneath his arm, as though he had forgotten everything except the -negative before his eyes. - -"Dunbarton," he demanded, with an obvious effort at unconcern, "is this -some silly trick you have been playing me?" - -The other, openly impatient, shrugged his shoulders beneath the velvet -painter's jacket, and took a step toward the Frisian cabinet upon which -lay a box of cigarettes. - -"A trick, indeed!" he repeated across the flaming match. "You must -think I have very little on my mind!" Then, under the inspiring -influence of the Melachrino, his just resentment of the charge expressed -itself more vehemently. "You break in upon me like a wild man; you -insist that I stop in my serious work to develop your wretched little -film; you watch every step of the process with the most unflattering -suspicion, and now, by Jove, you're not satisfied!" - -"Dunbarton," Morewood calmly replied, holding the print above his head, -"you cannot realize what this may mean to me; the thing is too strange, -too weird." - -Dunbarton blew a smoke ring toward the ceiling, thoughtfully. "These -amateur snap-shots are usually a trifle weird," he admitted, "they -seldom do the subject justice, especially in the eyes of ardent -admiration. Better keep your treasure covered up, old man, if you don't -want it to fade out altogether. It isn't fixed, you know; it's just a -negative." - -"It's the most positive thing that ever came into the world," his -visitor asserted; "the truest, the most wonderful." - -"And so have twenty other pretty faces been for you, my dear boy," the -confidant urged. "Each wonder commonly endures about a month." - -"This wonder has endured three thousand years and more," retorted -Morewood, once more regarding the photograph with reverent awe. - -"A case of re-incarnation, I suppose?" the other suggested lightly, with -a glance at his neglected easel that might have been accepted as a hint. -"You'll excuse me if I daub a little on the masterpiece while the light -lasts?" he added. "Going; no? Well, I'm glad to have you stay. Trouble? -Oh, none at all. Always happy to oblige a friend. Of course, if you mean -to follow up photography you ought to learn how to do these little -things for yourself. And, by the way, do get a decent camera instead of -a Cheap Jack department store affair such as every Seeing New Yorker -has slung across his shoulder. Get out of the light, please. Sit down, -do! Take off your hat; have a cigarette; make yourself comfortable, -confound you!" - -"Thanks, old man," Morewood answered, "I won't smoke; and, as for work -this afternoon, I mean to tell you something which shall put all other -thoughts out of your head for a while. I mean to tell you presently of -the most wonderful thing that ever happened in the world." - -"Great Scott!" the artist groaned; "is it as bad as that? Please keep -your stick a little farther from my canvas, if you don't mind." - -"It's quite a long story," Morewood admitted, disposing of the cane. - -"Most of yours are!" his friend interjected. - -Already the shadows were beginning to invade the painter's spacious -studio; lurking in the folds of Flemish tapestry and Oriental stuffs, -and filling distant corners where the glint of steel and copper arms -and arabesques suggested the twinkling eyes of impish and unearthly -listeners. If there is a time for everything, the early twilight is the -season for story-telling, and the painter felt far less reluctance than -he feigned when he resigned himself to listen. Throwing himself upon a -divan and clasping his hands about an elevated knee, he said, "Begin -your yarn, old fellow, I'm all attention." - -Morewood took off his hat, bestrode a chair, and rested both elbows on -its back. - -"Dunbarton," he remarked, by way of introduction, "I don't suppose you -have ever so much as heard of the college of Amen Ra?" - -"Never in my life!" the other admitted frankly. "Where under the sun may -be the college of Amen Ra?" - -"No longer anywhere beneath the sun," Morewood replied, "but it used to -be in Thebes about sixteen hundred years before Christ, as nearly as I -can remember." - -"Quite near enough," Dunbarton assented amiably. "We will not let a -century or so retard a narrative which is to comprehend three thousand -years." - -"Don't jump too quickly at conclusions!" protested Morewood. "The story -as I know it goes no farther back than the early sixties, when a party -of five friends from Philadelphia----" - -"Quakers?" inquired the painter. - -"I don't know!" replied the other, not without a touch of irritation. -"Five acquaintances, men of cultivation and means, who in the course of -travel ascended the Nile as far as the first cataract. At Luxor they -rested for a week, with a view to visiting the site of the great city of -Thebes, and especially its marvelous and mystic temple of Amen Ra, -unequaled upon earth for the sublimity of its ruined magnificence----" - -"For further particulars, see Baedeker!" Dunbarton muttered. - -"Upon the night of their arrival," continued the narrator, unheeding the -interruption, "a fête was given in their honor by the Consul, Mustapha -Aga. It was in the middle of this festivity, and during a dance by the -Gaivasi girls of Luxor, that a strange nomad from the desert made his -appearance unexpectedly. The Sheik Ben Ali, he was called, and his -errand was to inform Mustapha Aga of the discovery, near a certain -oasis, of an object of unusual interest, nothing less than a mummy case -of surpassing beauty which had once held the body of a high priestess of -Amen Ra." - -"Hold on!" Dunbarton interrupted, relinquishing his grasp upon his knee. -"Your local color is so intense that I feel myself in danger of becoming -interested." - -"Just wait until I get a little farther," answered Morewood, with a -touch of triumph; "I only wish you could hear the story as it was told -to me." - -"By whom, if one might ask?" inquired Dunbarton, and his friend replied -impressively: - -"By a venerable man whom I met by the merest chance late one afternoon -in the Egyptian room of the Metropolitan Museum--a strange old man, -poorly dressed, but who had evidently seen better days, for he had -traveled much in the East and knew the country well." - -"I recognize the type," Dunbarton commented, "and make no doubt your -learned friend was in the end prevailed upon to accept a trifling -loan----" - -"That has nothing to do with the story," Morewood retorted. "How far had -I got?" - -"You were in Luxor, at the last reports," the other prompted, "attending -an informal little dance of Gaivasi ladies." - -"Yes, yes," cried Morewood, taking up his thread again. "It was, indeed, -a scene to captivate the traveler's fancy." - -"Never mind the scene!" - -"I don't intend to. Escorted by Mustapha Aga and his guard, they left -the revels and followed the mysterious sheik out into the desert to a -grove of palm-trees, where, bathed in the Egyptian moonlight, lay the -marvelous mummy-case." - -"What had become of the mummy?" asked Dunbarton. - -"Hush!" Morewood whispered reverently. "Hear the story. The case, though -decorated throughout with a surpassing skill, was most remarkable for -the extreme beauty of the woman's face portrayed upon its upper end, in -colors which had defied the ravages of time." - -"I know the kind!" the painter put in. "Flat nose, wide mouth, two -staring eyes, that might be either rights or lefts." - -"The art of that period was, as we know, conventional," returned -Morewood, "and it was that very fact which made this particular painting -so remarkable, for it was realistic, vivid; it conveyed, indeed, a -distinct impression of personality." - -"Oh, amazing!" Dunbarton murmured. - -"The most amazing thing in the world, as you yourself will presently -admit," continued the story-teller. "You may believe the travelers were -overjoyed to be the first outsiders to whom the treasure had been shown. -They were not only men of talent and cultivation, but each was -abundantly able to pay the very moderate price demanded by the sheik, -and they lost no time in closing the bargain. To avoid contention, they -drew lots among themselves for the privilege of becoming the owner of -the mummy-case." - -Here the narrator made an effective pause, and Dunbarton took the -opportunity to light another cigarette. - -"At first," pursued Morewood, "good fortune seemed to favor the eldest -of the party, who was designated to me simply as Mr. X., though I -strongly suspect him to have been no other than my old acquaintance of -the Museum. But he had a generous disposition, and, touched by the keen -disappointment of another member of the party, he relinquished his -rights in favor of the second highest number, after an ownership of -barely thirty seconds. Mr. P. forthwith became the sole possessor of the -coveted object. I need not now recount the circumstances which led in -the course of a few months to the transfer of the property to each in -turn of the remaining members of the company, Mr. G. and Mr. Q. But here -begins the mystery." - -Another dramatic pause and the speaker's voice deepened. - -"Within the year, P. lost his life by the explosion of a fowling piece -without visible cause; G. disappeared while bathing in the Nile in the -vicinity of a crocodile pool, and Q., after a period of captivity among -hostile Arabs, died of a snake bite. Mr. X. alone survived, and arrived -in Cairo broken in health, only to learn that the greater part of his -fortune had been lost through the knavery of an agent. Truly, the -priestess of Amen Ra had signified her displeasure in a most convincing -manner." - -"Who the deuce was she?" demanded Dunbarton. - -"Why, the mummy, as I should have told you." - -"But you didn't," remarked the painter. "And why do you suppose she was -displeased?" - -"Because," the other replied, with conviction, "she had been accustomed -in life to veneration, worship, love, and naturally she did not like to -have her coffin knocked about from place to place." - -"I see," Dunbarton admitted gravely, but with the suspicion of a yawn -suppressed. "What became of the coffin?" - -"It had been shipped meanwhile to Germantown as a gift to the aunt of -the last owner, a lady of so far unblemished reputation, who almost -immediately acquired the cocaine habit." - -"What? Cocaine in the sixties?" cried the painter captiously. - -"Perhaps it may have been opium," Morewood admitted. "At all events she -took to something pernicious, lost everything she had, and finally sold -the precious relic to a Mrs. Meiswinkle, of Tuckahoe, who gave it a -conspicuous place in her baronial hall." - -"Which promptly burnt down without insurance," Dunbarton supplemented at -a venture. - -"As it happens, it didn't," Morewood answered with spirit. "But from -that day misfortune following misfortune fell upon the family--troubles, -disappointments, losses. I have all the details, if you care to hear -them." - -Dunbarton made a sweeping gesture of negation, and his friend resumed: -"It so happened that this Mrs. Meiswinkle, who was something of an -amateur in occultism, received one day a visit from a noted adept in -theosophy. This gentleman, who had newly come from Thibet and was in -consequence highly sensitive, had scarcely set foot in the house when he -announced the presence of a sinister influence. 'There is something -here,' he cried, 'that simply radiates misfortune.'" - -"Extraordinary acumen!" Dunbarton murmured, having got the better of -the yawn. - -"Of course," Morewood proceeded, "it did not take an expert long to -identify the mummy-case, and of course a weight of evidence to support -the adept's assertion was not long in accumulating. All the misfortunes -which had befallen its recent owners were quickly traced in some direct -way to the possession of the mysterious coffin, and in the end Mrs. -Meiswinkle needed no great persuasion to rid herself of the thing -forever." - -"How?" Dunbarton asked. - -"She made a present of it to the city of New York." - -"Noble woman!" cried the painter. "That simple act of patriotism may -account for much!" - -It was a frivolous remark, but more than once Morewood had noticed that -his companion glanced over his shoulder when a breeze from the open -windows stirred some bit of drapery, although the studio was still well -lighted by a golden sunset. The storyteller's manner would have made a -stoic nervous. His muscles twitched, his eyes had brightened, and his -bearing was that of one determined to throw off the burden of a mighty -secret. - -"Dunbarton," he said solemnly, "that mummy-case stands at this moment in -the uptown corner of the first Egyptian room, numbered 22,542 in the -catalogue, which reads, 'Lid of Egyptian coffin, unearthed at Thebes,' -and the name of the donor; nothing more. No word to tell that this poor -shell of papier-maché once contained the mortal body of a priestess of -Amen Ra; no hint of her surpassing loveliness except the lineaments you -painters sneer at, and the ill-drawn hands crossed on her breast. She is -gone; she is forgotten--she that was the most beautiful of Nature's -works!" - -"Frank," said Dunbarton, "has this story of yours anything to do with -your Kodak film?" - -"Yes, everything!" Morewood declared, speaking rapidly. "Listen. To-day -I smuggled my camera into the Museum, and stood before the mummy-case -undetected. But scarcely had I pressed the button when I was arrested by -an official, who confiscated the machine and took it to the parcel room. -I lost no time in finding the Director, gave my name and yours for -surety for my respectability, and, after some delay and red tape, got -back my property." - -"You were lucky," the other commented coolly. "The rules are very -strict. Well? Is that the end?" - -"No!" exclaimed Morewood, "only the beginning, as I firmly believe. I am -now about to tell you of an extraordinary fact, which I have so far -purposely kept back." Dunbarton sighed. - -"I am going to startle you," went on Morewood. "While the casket was -still in the possession of Mrs. Meiswinkle, she, acting under the -theosophist's direction, sent for an expert and had a photograph taken -of the lid, with every possible safeguard against deception or mistake." - -He spoke with tremulous deliberation; now he rose to his feet, and his -eyes, fixed upon the wall above his listener's head, seemed to gaze -beyond its limits. - -"George, I should not tell you this, had I not the proof of its truth -which even a scoffer like yourself can hardly question. When the plate -was developed it was not the painted features of the mummy-case that -looked from the negative, but--the face of a living woman! The face of -the priestess of Amen Ra, unchanged through three thousand years, and -_alive_!" - -"That must have jarred them!" Dunbarton commented irreverently. "It was -going it pretty strong, even for Thibet." But his cigarette dropped to -the floor unheeded. - -"And mark me, George," Morewood said, very gravely, "it was the same -face, I have not the slightest doubt, that you and I beheld to-day -appear before us, the same strange, wonderfully beautiful face that I -hold now in my hand." - -"By Jove!" ejaculated Dunbarton, alive at once to the arcane -significance of the statement. "But you can't really believe----" - -"I believe nothing that I have not seen," asseverated Morewood. "Nothing -that you have not seen yourself. I, too, was incredulous at first; I -laughed at the story of the photograph as the figment of a disordered -brain; but it took possession of me, haunted me night and day, until I -determined to prove its wild impossibility to myself. I bought a camera, -took it to the Museum, as I have told you, and came directly here with -the result. You yourself developed the film; you saw the face appear; if -you can suggest any other explanation of the mystery, in Heaven's name -let us discuss it reasonably." - -"Let me look at the glass film again," Dunbarton suggested, below his -breath. He picked up the smoldering cigarette and, coming to his -friend's side, looked long and gravely at the glass film. Both men were -silent for a time, so silent that they could hear their own hearts -beating. - -"She is indeed beautiful," said the painter, finally. "To our eyes she -seems about twenty years old, though Eastern women reach perfection -early. That diadem upon her brow is, I think, the two-horned crown of -Isis. The drapery falling down on either side is certainly Egyptian and -probably of a period antedating the Pharaohs, but the type of feature is -scarcely Oriental." - -"Yet Cleopatra was a blonde," Morewood suggested. - -"True," assented the other, "and possibly the race three thousand years -ago differed materially from the degenerate Sphinx-like personalities of -the hieroglyphics. We must get Biggins of the Smithsonian to give us his -opinion." - -"Never!" cried Morewood, thrusting the negative in his breast. - -"But in the interest of science----" protested Dunbarton. - -"Science?" Morewood returned scornfully; "what has science to do with -this? What right have I to betray a lady's confidence?" - -Dunbarton made a sign of impatience. "Your lady has been dead a matter -of three thousand years or more," he remarked. - -"That's not true!" the other contradicted, warmly. "I tell you, man, -that woman is alive to-day. Don't ask me to explain the unexplainable. I -simply know that she lives, as young and innocent as every feature of -her face proclaims her. For years, for centuries, perhaps, she has been -trying to make herself known to the stupid brutes who have been -incapable of comprehending. But now, thank heaven, she has selected me -to do her will--whatever it may be--and I shall consecrate my life to -her!" - -He grew very pale as he spoke, but there was a rapt joy in his face. - -"See here, old man," Dunbarton remonstrated kindly, with a hand on his -shoulder, "you're rather overwrought just now, and I don't blame you. -But take a friend's advice, and don't get spoony on a girl so very much -older than yourself. It never turns out well." - -"That's my affair!" Morewood said, doggedly. - -"Of course, of course!" Dunbarton assented. "She's awfully pretty, I -admit, and no doubt well connected; but, even if we overlook her playful -little way of killing people, think of the difficulties about meeting, -and that sort of thing." - -"I'm willing to leave it all to her," Morewood said. "A priestess of -Amen Ra must have learned by this time every mystery of life and death, -and I am confident that in the proper time and place I shall meet her -face to face." - -"Old chap," Dunbarton pronounced with conviction, "what you need is a -good night's rest." - -But Morewood did not reply to this, for the gentle swaying of an -Eastern curtain just then caught his eye. It hung before the open door -of the studio, and the movement might have come from some breath of air. -But immediately it occurred again, and this time accompanied by the -vision of a human hand, clearly in search of something on which to rap. - -"There's someone there," said the painter, whose eyes had followed the -other's, and he spoke lower: "Possibly a model in search of work." Then -he raised his voice in an encouraging "Come in!"--the tone that painters -use to models who are often pretty and sometimes timid. - -Morewood paid no attention; he stood transfixed, watching the swaying -curtain. His finger tips tingled with a strange electric current and his -pulses beat with an unreasoning hope. Then Dunbarton said, a little -louder: - -"Come in; please come in." - -"I think the curtain must be caught," replied a low, melodious voice -without. Dunbarton took three strides across the room, seized the -drapery, and, with a single movement of his arm, swept it aside. - -"Oh!" he cried, starting back, while Morewood clutched the table for -support. Then, instantly recovering themselves, both men bowed as in the -presence of a queen. And well they might. - -Against the background of green velvet curtain with its embroidery of -dull gold, there stood a lady all in poppy red, crowned with a headdress -seemingly of the flowers themselves. It was not the dress of any period -of time, for since the beginning of time flowers have grown for women to -wear, and the two onlookers, being masculine, knew only that she wore -them, and cared not whether they had bloomed in Eden or the Rue de la -Paix. Time was for the moment eliminated, disregarded: the centuries -rolled away like dewdrops from a rose, for, by the grace of Isis and -Osiris, were they not bowing before the peerless priestess of the rites -of Amen Ra? It was she and none other--the mistress of the mummy-case, -the mystery of the Kodak film; the lady of Thebes three thousand years -ago. - -Morewood passed his hand across his brow and caught his breath; -Dunbarton was the first to recover the power of speech. - -"Madam," he said, and his voice shook a little, "you do me far too great -an honor. What is your will? You have but to command me." - -"I venture to assert a prior claim to do your bidding," put in Morewood, -coming forward quickly. - -The priestess of Amen Ra tried to control a little laugh, and failed -bewitchingly. "I am looking for a Mr. Dunbarton," she explained. - -The painter drew himself erect and bowed with dignity. "I have the good -fortune to bear that name," he said, taking a sidewise step which left -his friend a trifle in the background. - -"Oh, I am so glad!" cried the lady. "Then perhaps you can tell me where -to find a Mr. Morewood?" - -"Your humble and devoted servant!" the other man pronounced himself, -executing a maneuver which totally eclipsed Dunbarton. - -"Really?" asked the lady, her face radiant with pleasure. "How very -fortunate!" - -At this Morewood fairly beamed with satisfaction, but she went on -rapidly, in a silvery ripple of feminine narrative: - -"Do you know, Mr. Morewood, that you have something of mine and I have -something of yours? It was not my fault and it wasn't yours, either; it -was the stupid person in the parcel room of the Museum. Of course two -Kodaks are exactly alike, if one of them hasn't got a name scratched on -the bottom with a pin; but I don't suppose he ever thought of looking, -so he gave you mine and me yours, and I should never have found out who -you were if you hadn't been arrested. Of course it wouldn't have made -very much difference, after all, if my Cousin Jack hadn't snapped me in -a most ridiculous Egyptian fancy dress." - -Dunbarton gave a groan as of agony suppressed, and Morewood's face might -have been in color a fragment of the sacerdotal robe of Ra. - -"Oh!" moaned the painter, "if I could only howl!" - -"Don't mind him, please!" the other man pleaded. "You see, I, too, had -used a film, and we were rather interested in seeing how it came out." - -"Oh, but yours came out beautifully!" she reassured him. "My Cousin Jack -developed it after lunch. That's the way we discovered the mistake, and -here it is. We made up our minds that you must be at least seventy-five -years old to want to photograph a hideous mummy-case." - -It was then that Dunbarton mastered himself and became once more -conscious of the duties of hospitality. - -"A thousand pardons!" he protested, "for not offering you a seat. This -is a painter's workshop, as you see, and therefore public property in a -way. Might I suggest a cup of tea? It won't take me a minute to -telephone for a chaperon." - -The priestess was graciously pleased to laugh. - -"I should like tea," she said, with an approving glance about the room, -flooded with the last of a long sunset; "but, if you don't mind, I -detest chaperons. You see, I'm from Oklahoma." - -There was an instant's hesitation, then: - -"My friend, Mr. Morewood," remarked the painter, "has just been telling -me the strangest story in the world. Perhaps you can induce him to -repeat it for you." - -He laughed a mocking laugh and turned to busy himself with the silver -tea-service standing on an Adams table, while Morewood drew forward a -low chair for the lady. - -"Is your story romantic?" she asked, as she settled her poppy-colored -ruffles; "has it a heroine?" - -"Oh, yes, indeed," he answered, by no means including Dunbarton in the -confidence. "No less a personage than the priestess of Amen Ra." - -She looked at him suspiciously, while the veriest suggestion of a blush -suffused her cheek. - -"Is there anything about photographs in it?" she demanded, regarding him -defiantly. - -"Yes," he replied, "there is; a lot!" - -"Then I don't care to hear it, for it's certain to be stupid," she -protested, pouting. - -"It is," he told her, frankly; "and I shall not inflict it on you now. -But some day, when we know each other better." - -"We start for Boston to-morrow morning early," she interrupted; "and -from there we go to Bar Harbor for mamma's hay fever. We're staying at -the Waldorf." - -"Then I shall return the camera this evening," said Morewood. - -"If you do," she said, "my Cousin Jack will be very glad to talk -photographs with you." - -"How old is your Cousin Jack?" Morewood demanded. - -"Twelve," replied the lady, with just the shadow of a smile. - - - - -THE GIRL FROM MERCURY - -AN INTERPLANETARY LOVE STORY - - Being the interpretation of certain phonic vibragraphs recorded by - the Long's Peak Wireless Installation, now for the first time made - public through the courtesy of Professor Caducious, Ph. D., - sometime secretary of the Boulder branch of the association for the - advancement of interplanetary communication. - - It is evident that the following logograms form part of a - correspondence between a young lady, formerly of Mercury, and her - confidential friend still resident upon the inferior planet. The - translator has thought it best to preserve as far as possible the - spirit of the original by the employment of mundane colloquialisms; - the result, in spite of many regrettable trivialities will, it is - believed, be of interest to students of Cosmic Sociology. - - - - -THE GIRL FROM MERCURY - -THE FIRST RECORD - - -Yes, dear, it's me. I'm down here on the Earth, and in our Settlement -House, safe and sound. I meant to have called you up before, but really -this is the first moment I have had to myself all day.--Yes, of course, -I said "all day." You know very well they have days and nights here, -because this restless little planet spins, or something of the sort.--I -haven't the least idea why it does so, and I don't care.--I did not come -here to make intelligent observations like a dowdy "Seeing Saturn" -tourist. So don't be Uranian. Try to exercise intuitive perception if I -say anything you can't understand.--What is that?--Please concentrate a -little harder.--Oh! Yes, I have seen a lot of human beings already, and -would you believe it? some of them seem almost possible--especially -_one_.--But I will come to that one later. I've got so much to tell you -all at once I scarcely know where to begin.--Yes, dear, the One happens -to be a man. You would not have me discriminate, would you, when our -object is to bring whatever happiness we can to those less fortunate -than ourselves? You know success in slumming depends first of all upon -getting yourself admired, for then the others will want to be like you, -and once thoroughly dissatisfied with themselves they are almost certain -to reform. Of course I am only a visitor here, and shall not stay long -enough to take up serious work, so Ooma says I may as well proceed along -the line of least resistance.--If you remember Ooma's enthusiasm when -she ran the Board of Missions to Inferior Planets, you can fancy her now -that she has an opportunity to carry out all her theories. Oh, she's -great! - -My transmigration was disappointing as an experience. It was nothing -more than going to sleep and dreaming about circles--orange circles, -yellow circles, with a thousand others of graduated shades between, and -so on through the spectrum till you pass absolute green and get a tone -or two toward blue and strike the Earth color-note. Then with me -everything got jumbled together and seemed about to take new shapes, and -I woke up in the most commonplace manner and opened my eyes to find -myself externalized in our Earth Settlement House with Ooma laughing at -me. - -"Don't stir!" she cried. "Don't lift a finger till we are sure your -specific gravity is all right." And then she pinched me to see if I was -dense enough, because the atmosphere is heavier or lighter or something -here than with us. - -I reminded her that matter everywhere must maintain an absolute -equilibrium with its environment, but she protested. - -"That's well enough in theory; you must understand that the Earth is -awfully out of tune at present, and sometimes it requires time to -readjust ourselves to its conditions." - ---I did not say so, but I fancy Ooma may have been undergoing -readjustment.--My dear, she has grown as pudgy as a Jupitan, and her -clothes--but then she always did look more like a spiral nebula than -anything else. - -(_The record here becomes unintelligible by reason of the passage of a -thunderstorm above the summit of Long's Peak._) - ---There must be star-dust in the ether.--I never had to concentrate so -hard before.--That's all about the Settlement House, and don't accuse me -again of slighting details. I'm sure you know the place now as well as -Ooma herself, so I can go on to tell what little I have learned about -human beings. - -It seems I am never to admit that I was not born on Earth, for, like all -provincials, the humans pride themselves on disbelieving everything -beyond their own experience, and if they understood they would be -certain to resent intrusions from another planet. I'm sure I don't blame -them altogether when I recall those patronizing Jupitans.--And I'm told -they are awfully jealous and distrustful even of one another, herding -together for protection and governed by so many funny little tribal -codes that what is right on one side of an imaginary boundary may be -wrong on the other.--Ooma considers this survival of the group-soul most -interesting, and intends to make it the subject of a paper. I mention it -only to explain why we call our Settlement a Boarding-House. A -Boarding-House, you must know, is fundamentally a hunting pack which one -can affiliate with or separate from at will.--Rather a pale yellow idea, -isn't it? Ooma thinks it necessary to conform to it in order to be -considered respectable, which is the one thing on Earth most -desired.--What, dear?--Oh, I don't know what it means to be respectable -any more than you do.--One thing more. You'll have to draw on your -imagination! Ooma is called here Mrs. Bloomer.--Her own name was just a -little too unearthly. Mrs. signifies that a woman is -married.--What?--Oh, no, no, no, nothing of the sort.--But I shall have -to leave that for another time. I'm not at all sure how it is myself. - -By the way, if _any one_ should ask you where I am, just say I've left -the planet, and you don't know when I shall be back.--Yes, you know who -I mean.--And, dear, perhaps you might drop a hint that I detest all -foreigners, especially Jupitans.--Please don't laugh so hard; you'll get -the atmospheric molecules all woozy.--Indeed, there's not the slightest -danger here. Just fancy, if you please, beings who don't know when they -are hungry without consulting a wretched little mechanism, and who -measure their radius of conception by the length of their own feet.--Of -course I shall be on hand for the Solstice! I wouldn't miss that for an -asteroid!--Oh, did I really promise that? Well, I'll tell you about him -another time. - - - THE SECOND RECORD--THOUGH PROBABLY THIRD COMMUNICATION - ---I really must not waste so much gray matter, dear, over unimportant -details. But I simply had to tell you all about my struggles with the -clothes. When Ooma came back, just as I had mastered them with the aid -of her diagrams, the dear thing was so much pleased she actually hugged -me, and I must confess the effect made me forget my discomfort. Really, -an Earth girl is not so much to be pitied if she has becoming dresses to -wear. As you may be sure I was anxious to compare myself with others, I -was glad enough to hear Ooma suggest going out. - -"Come on," she said, executively, "I have only a half-hour to devote to -your first walk. Keep close beside me, and remember on no account to -either dance or sing." - -"But if I see others dancing may I not join them?" I inquired. - -"You won't see anybody dancing on Broadway," she replied, a trifle -snubbily, but I resolved to escape from her as soon as possible and find -out for myself. - -I shall never forget my shock on discovering the sky blue instead of the -color it should be, but soon my eyes became accustomed to the change. In -fact, I have not since that first moment been able to conceive of the -sky as anything but blue. And the city?--Oh, my dear, my dear, I never -expected to encounter anything so much out of key with the essential -euphonies. Of course I have not traveled very much, but I should say -there is nothing in the universe like a street they call -Broadway--unless it be upon the lesser satellite of Mars, where the poor -people are so awfully cramped for space. When I suggested this to Ooma -she laughed and called me clever, for it seems there is a tradition that -a mob of meddling Martians once stopped on Earth long enough to give -the foolish humans false ideas about architecture and many other -matters. But I soon forgot everything in my interest in the people. Such -a poor puzzle-headed lot they are. One's heart goes out to them at once -as they push and jostle one another this way and that, with no -conceivable object other than to get anywhere but where they are in the -shortest time possible. One longs to help them; to call a halt upon -their senseless struggles; to reason with them and explain how all the -psychic force they waste might, if exerted in constructive thought, -bring everything they wish to pass. Mrs. Bloomer assures me they only -ridicule those who venture to interfere, and it will take at least a -Saturn century to so much as start them in the right direction. Our -settlement is their only hope, she says, and even we can help them only -indirectly. - -Not long ago, it appears, they had to choose a King or Mayor, or -whatever the creature is called who executes their silly laws, and our -people so manipulated the election that the choice fell on one of us. - -I thought this a really good idea, and supposed, of course, we must at -once have set about demonstrating how a planet should be managed. But -no! that was not our system, if you please. Instead of making proper -laws our agent misbehaved himself in every way the committee could -suggest, until at last the humans rose against him and put one of -themselves in his place, and after that things went just a little better -than before. This is the only way in which they can be taught. But, dear -me, isn't it tedious? - -Of course, I soon grew anxious for an exchange of thought with almost -anyone, but it was a long while before I discovered a single person who -was not in a violent hurry. At last, however, we came upon a human drawn -apart a little from the throng, who stood with folded arms, engaged -apparently in lofty meditation. His countenance was amiable, although a -little red. - -Saying nothing to Ooma of my purpose, I slipped away from her, and -looking up into the creature's eyes inquired mentally the subject of his -thoughts; also, how he came to be so inordinately stout, and why he wore -bright metal buttons on his garment. But my only answer was a stupid -blink, for his mentality seemed absolutely incapable of receiving -suggestions not expressed in sounds. I observed farther that his aura -inclined too much toward violet for perfect equipoise. - -"G'wan out of this, and quit yer foolin'," he remarked, missing my -meaning altogether. - -Of course I spoke then, using the human speech quite glibly for a first -attempt, and hastened to assure him that though I had no idea of -fooling, I should not go on until my curiosity had been satisfied. But -just then Ooma found me. - -"My friend is a stranger," she explained to the brass-buttoned man. - -"Then why don't you put a string to her?" he asked. - -I learned later that I had been addressing one of the public jesters -employed by the community to keep Broadway from becoming intolerably -dull. - -"But you must not speak to people in the street," said Ooma, "not even -to policemen." - -"Then how am I to brighten others' lives?" I asked, more than a little -disappointed, for several humans hurrying past had turned upon me looks -indicating moods receptive of all the brightening I could give. - -I might have amused myself indefinitely, studying the rapid succession -of varying faces, had not Bloomer cautioned me not to stare. She said -people would think me from the country, which is considered -discreditable, and as this reminded me that I had as yet seen nothing -growing, I asked to be shown the gardens and groves. - -"There is one," she said, indicating an open space not far away where -sure enough there stood some wretched looking trees which I had not -recognized before, forgetting that, of course, leaves here must be -green. I saw no flowers growing, but presently we came upon some in a -sort of crystal bower guarded by a powerful black person. I wanted so to -ask him how he came to be black, but the memory of my last attempt at -information deterred me. Instead, I inquired if I might have some roses. - -"Walk in, Miss," he replied most civilly, and in I walked through the -door, past the sweetest little embryonic, who wore the vesture of a -young policeman. - -"Boy," I said, "have you begun to realize your soul?" - -"Nope," he replied. "I ain't in fractions yet." - ---Some stage of earthly progress, I suppose, though I did not like a -certain movement of his eyelid, and one never can tell, you know, how -hard embryonics are really striving. So I made haste to gather all the -roses I could carry, and was about to hurry after Ooma, when a person -barred my way. - -"Hold on!" he cried. "Ain't you forgetting something? Why don't you -take the whole lot?" - -"Because I have all I want for the present," I answered, rather -frightened, perceiving that his aura had grown livid, and I don't know -how I could have soothed him had not Ooma once more come to my relief. I -could see that she was annoyed with me, but she controlled herself and -placed some token in the being's hand which acted on his agitation like -a charm. - -As I told you, Bloomer had given me with the other things, a crown of -artificial roses which, now that I had real flowers to wear, I wanted to -throw away, but this she would not permit, insisting that such a -proceeding would make the humans laugh at me--though to look into their -serious faces one would not believe this possible. The thoughts of those -about me, as I divined them, seemed anything but jocular. They came to -me incoherent and inconsecutive, a jumble of conditional premises -leading to approximate conclusions expressed in symbols having no -intrinsic meaning.--Of course, it is unfair to judge too soon, but I -have already begun to doubt the existence of direct perception among -them.--What did you say, dear?--Bother direct perception?--Well, I -wonder how _we_ should like to apprehend nothing that could not be put -into words? You, I'm sure, would have the most confused ideas about -Earthly conditions if you depended entirely upon my remarks.--Now -concentrate, and you shall hear something really interesting. - ---No, not the One yet.--He comes later.-- - -We had not gone far, I carrying my roses, and Bloomer not too well -pleased, as I fancied, because so many people turned to look at us -(Bloomer has retrograded physically until she is at times almost -Uranian, probably as the result of wearing black, which appears to be -the chromatic equivalent of respectability), when suddenly I became -sensible of a familiar influence, which was quite startling because so -unexpected. Looking everywhere, I caught sight of--who do you suppose? -Our old friend Tuk.--Mr. Tuck, T-u-c-k here, if you please. He was about -to enter a--a means of transportation, and though his back was towards -me, I recognized that drab aura of his at once, and projected a -reactionary impulse which was most effective. - -In his surprise he was for the moment in danger of being trampled upon -by a rapidly moving animal.--Yes, dear, I said "animal."--I don't know -and I don't consider it at all important. I do not pretend to be -familiar with mundane zoölogy.--Tuck declared himself delighted to see -me, and so I believe he was, though he controlled his radiations in the -supercilious way he always had. But upon one point he did not leave me -long in doubt. Externally, at least, my Earthly Ego is a-- - -(NOTE: _The word which signifies a species of peach or nectarine -peculiar to the planet Mercury is doubtless used here in a symbolic -sense._) - ---I caught on to that most interesting fact the moment his eyes rested -on me. - -"By all that's fair to look upon!" he cried, jumping about in a manner -human people think eccentric, "are you astral or actualized?" - -"See for yourself," I said, holding out my hand, which it took him -rather longer than necessary to make sure of. - -"Well, what on Earth brings you here? Come down to paint another planet -red?" he rattled on, believing himself amusing. - -"Now haven't I as much right to light on Earth as on any other bit of -cosmic dust?" I asked, laughing and forgetting how much snubbing he -requires in the delight of seeing anyone I knew. - -Then he insisted that I had a "date" with him.--A date, as I discovered -later, means something nice to eat--and hinted very broadly that Bloomer -need not wait if she had more important matters to attend to. I must -confess she did not seem at all sorry to have me taken off her hands, -for after cautioning me to beware of a number of things I did not so -much as know by name, she shot off like a respectable old aerolite with -a black trail streaming out behind. If she remains here much longer she -will be coming back upon a mission to reform _us_. As for Tuck, he -became insufferably patronizing at once. - -"Well, how do you like the Only Planet? and how do you like the Only -Town? and how do you like the Only Street?" he began, waving his hands -and looking about him as though there were anything here that one of -_us_ could admire. But, of course, I refused to gratify him with my -crude impressions. I simply said: - -"You appear very well pleased with them yourself." - -"And so will you be," he replied, "when you have realized their -possibilities. Remark that elderly entity across the street. I have to -but exert my will that he shall sneeze and drop his eyeglasses, and -behold, there they go."--Yes, my dear, eyeglasses. They are worn on the -nose by people who imagine they cannot see very well. - -"I consider such actions cruel and unkind," I said, at the same time -willing an embryonic girl to pick the glasses up, and though the child -was rather beyond my normal circle, I was delighted to see her obey. But -I have an idea Tuck regretted an experiment which taught me something I -might not have found out, at least for a while. - -I had now been on Earth several hours, and change of atmosphere gives -one a ravenous appetite. You see, I had forgotten to ask Ooma how, and -how often, humans ate, so when Tuck suggested breakfast as a form of -entertainment I put myself in sympathy with the idea at once. Besides, -it is most important to know just where to find the things you want, and -you may be sure I made a lot of mental notes when we came, as presently -we did, to a tower called Astoria. - -I understand that the upper portions of the edifice are used for study -of the Stars, but we were made welcome on the lower story by a stately -being, who conducted us to honorable seats in an inner court. There were -small trees growing here, green, of course, but rather pretty for all -that; the people, gathered under their shade in little groups, were much -more cheerful and sustaining than any I had seen so far, and an -elemental intelligence detailed to minister to our wants seemed -well-trained and docile. - -"Here you have a glimpse of High Life," announced Tuck, when he had -written something on a paper. - -"The Higher Life?" I inquired, eagerly, and I did not like the flippant -tone in which he answered: - -"No, not quite--just high enough." - -I was beginning to be so bored by his conceit and self-complacency that -I cast my eyes about and smiled at several pleasant-looking persons, -who returned the smile and nodded in a friendly fashion, till I could -perceive Tuck's aura bristle and turn greenish-brown. - -"You can't possibly see anyone you know here," he protested, crossly. - -"All the better reason why I should reach out in search of affinities," -I retorted. But after that, though I was careful to keep my eyes lowered -most of the time, I resolved to come some day to the Astoria alone and -smile at every one I liked. I don't believe I should ever know a human -if Tuck could have his way. - -Presently the elemental brought us delicious things, and while we ate -them Tuck talked about himself. It appears he has produced an opera here -which is a success. People throng to hear it and consider him a great -composer. At all of which, you may believe, I was astonished--just fancy -our Tuck posing as a genius!--but presently when he became elated by the -theme and hummed a bar or two, I understood. The wretch had simply -actualized a few essential harmonies--and done it very badly. I see now -why he likes so much being here, and understand why his associates are -almost altogether human. I don't remember ever meeting with such deceit -and effrontery before. I was so indignant that I could feel my astral -fingers tremble. I could not bear to look at him, and as by that time I -had eaten all I could, I rose and walked directly from the court without -another word. I am sure he would have pursued me had not the elemental, -divining my wish to escape, detained him forcibly. - -Once in the street again, I immediately hypnotized an old lady, willing -her to go direct to Bloomer's Boarding-House while I followed behind. It -may not have been convenient for her, I am afraid, but I knew of no -other way to get back.--Dear me, the light is growing dim, and I must be -dressing for the evening. Good-by!--By the way, I forgot to tell you -something else that happened--remind me of it next time! - - -THE THIRD RECORD - ---Yes, I remember, and you shall hear all about it before I describe an -evening at the Settlement, but it doesn't amount to much.--I told you -how cross and over-bearing Tuck was at the Astoria tower, and of the -mean way in which he restricted my observations. Well, of all the people -in the grove that day there was only one whom I could see without being -criticized, and he sat all alone and facing me, just behind Tuck's back. -Some green leaves hung between us, and whenever I moved my head to note -what he was doing he moved his, too, to look at me. He seemed so lonely -that I was sorry for him, but his atmosphere showed him to be neither -sullen nor Uranian, and I could not help it if I was just a little bit -responsive. Besides, Tuck, once on the subject of his opera, grew so -self-engrossed and dominant that one had either to assert one's own -mentality or become subjective. - ---No, dear, that is not the _only_ reason. There may be such a thing as -an isolated reason, but I have never met one--they always go in packs. I -confess to a feeling of interest in the stranger. Nobody can look at you -with round blue eyes for half an hour steadily without exercising some -attraction, either positive or negative, and I felt, too, that he was -trying to tell me something which would have been a great deal more -interesting than Tuck's opera, and I believe had I remained a little -longer we could have understood each other between the trees just as you -and I can understand each other across the intervals of space. But then -it is so easy to be mistaken.--I had to pass quite close to him in going -out, and I am not sure I did not drop a rose. - ---There may be just a weenie little bit more about the Astorian, but -that will come in its proper place. Now I must get on to the -evening.--It was not much of an occasion, merely the usual gathering of -our crowd, or rather of those of us who have no special assignment for -the time in the large Council Room I have described to you. - -The President of the Board of Control at present is Marlow, Marlow the -Great, as he is called, the painter whose pictures did so much to -elevate the Patagonians.--No, dear, I never heard of Patagonia before, -but I'm almost sure it's not a planet.--With Marlow came a Mrs. Mopes, -who is engaged in creating schools of fiction by writing stories under -different names and then reviewing them in her own seven magazines. -Next, taking the guests at random, was Baxter, a deadly person in his -human incarnation, whose business it is to make stocks fly up or tumble -down.--I don't know what stocks are, but they must be something very -easily frightened.--Then there was a Mr. Waller, nicknamed the Reverend, -whom the Council allows to speak the truth occasionally, while the rest -of the time he tells people anything they want to hear to win their -confidence. And the two Miss Dooleys, who sing so badly that thousands -who cannot sing at all leave off singing altogether when they once hear -them. And Mr. Flick, who misbehaves at funerals to distract mourners -from their grief, and a Mr. O'Brien, whose duty it is to fly into -violent passions in public places just to show how unbecoming temper is. - -There were many others, so many I cannot begin to enumerate them. Some -had written books and were known all over the planet, and some who were -not known at all had done things because there was nobody else to do -them. And some were singers and some were actors, and some were rich and -some were poor to the outside world, but in the Council Room they met -and laughed and matched experiences and made jokes; from the one who had -built a battleship so terrible that all the other ships were burnt on -condition that his should be also, to the ordinary helpers who applaud -stupid plays till intelligent human beings become thoroughly disgusted -with bad art. - -In the world, of course, they are all serious enough, and often know -each other only by secret signs, while every day and night and minute -our poor earth-brothers come a little nearer the light--pushed toward -it, pulled toward it, wheedled and tricked and bullied and coaxed, and -thinking all the while how immensely clever they are, and what a -wonderful progressive, glorious age they have brought about for -themselves.--At all events, this is the rather vague composite -impression I have received of the plans and purposes of the Board of -Directors, and doubtless it is wrong. - -I suppose with a little trouble I might have recognized nearly everyone, -but the fancy took me to suspend intuition just to see how Earth girls -feel, and you know when one is hearing a lot of pleasant things one does -not much care who happens to be saying them. - -I fancy Marlow thought less of me when I confessed that I am here only; -for the lark, and really do not care a meteor whether the planet is ever -elevated or not. But he is a charming old fellow all the same, and the -only one of the lot who has not grown the least bit smudgy. - -Marlow announced that the evening would be spent in harmony with the -vibrations of Orion, and set us all at work to get in touch. I love -Orion light myself, for none other suits my aura quite so well, and I -was glad to find they had not taken up the Vega fad.--The light here? My -dear, it is not even filtered.--Some of us, no doubt for want of -practice, were rather slow about perfecting, but finally we all caught -on, and when O'Brien, no longer fat and florid, and the elder Miss -Dooley, no longer scrawny, moved out to start the dance, there was only -one who had not assumed an astral personality. Poor fellow, though I -pitied him, I did admire his spunk in holding back. It seems that as an -editor he took to telling falsehoods on his own account so often that -the Syndicate is packing him off as Special Correspondent to a tailless -comet. - -Tuck never came at all; either he realizes how honest people must regard -him and his opera, or else the elementals at the Astoria are still -detaining him. - -We had a lovely dance, and while we rested Marlow called on some of us -for specialties. Mrs. Mopes did a paragraph by a man named Henry James, -translated into action, which seemed quite difficult, and then a person -called Parker externalized a violin and gave the Laocoon in terms of -sound. To me his rendering of marble resembled terra-cotta until I -learned that the copy of the statue here is awfully weather-stained. -After this three pretty girls gave the Aurora Borealis by telepathic -suggestion rather well, and then I sang "Love Lives Everywhere"--just -plain song. - ---I know this must all sound dreadfully flat to you, quite like -"Pastimes for the Rainy Season in Neptune," but Bloomer says she -doesn't know what would happen if we should ever give a really -characteristic jolly party. - -We wound up with an Earth dance called the Virginia Reel, the quickest -means you ever saw for descending to a lower psychic plane. That's all I -have to tell, and quite enough, I'm sure you'll think.--What? The -Astorian? I have not seen him since.--But there is a little more, a very -little, if you are not tired.--This morning I received a gift of roses, -just like the one I dropped yesterday, brought me by the same small -embryonic I had seen in the flower shop. I asked the child in whose -intelligence the impulse had originated, and he replied: - -"A blue-eyed feller with a mustache, but he gave me a plunk not to -tell." - -I understood a plunk to be a token of confidence, and I at once -expressed displeasure at the boy's betrayal of his trust. I told him -such an act would make dark lines upon his aura which might not fade -for several days. - -"Say, ain't you got some message to send back?" he asked. - -"Boy!" said I, "don't forget your little aura." - -"All right," he answered, "I'll tell him 'Don't forget your little -Aura.' I'll bet he coughs up another plunk." - -I don't know what he meant, but I am very much afraid there may be some -mistake.--Oh, yes, I am quite sure to be back in time for the -Solstice.--Or at least for the Eclipse. - - -THE FOURTH RECORD - - (NOTE.--Between this logogram and the last the Long's Peak - Receptive Pulsator was unfortunately not in operation for the space - of a fortnight, as the electrician who took the instrument apart - for adjustment found it necessary to return to Denver for oil.) - - ---Yes, dear, it's me, though if I did not know personality to be -indestructible I should begin to have my doubts. I have not made any -more mistakes, that is, not any bad ones, since I went to the Astoria -alone for lunch, and the elementals were so very disagreeable just -because I had no money. I know all about money now, except exactly how -you get it, and Tuck assures me that is really of no importance. I never -told Ooma how the blue-eyed Astorian paid my bill for me, and her -perceptive faculties have grown too dull to apprehend a thing she is not -told. Fresh roses still come regularly every day, and of course I can do -no less than express my gratitude now and then.--Oh, I don't know how -often, I don't remember.--But it is ever so much pleasanter to have some -one you like to show you the way about than to depend on hypnotizing -strangers, who may have something else to do. - ---I told you last week about the picnic, did I not? The day, I mean, -when Bloomer took me into the country, and Tuck so far forgave my -rudeness to him as to come with us to carry the basket.--Oh, yes, -indeed, I am becoming thoroughly domesticated on Earth. And, my dear, -these humans are docility itself when you once acquire the knack of -making them do exactly as you wish, which is as easy as falling off a -log.--A _log_ is the external evidence of a pre-existent tree, -cylindrical in form, and though often sticky, not sufficiently so to be -adhesive. - ---That picnic was so pleasant--or would have been but for Bloomer's -anxiety that I should behave myself, and Tuck's anxiety that I should -not--that I determined to have another all by myself--and I have had it. - -I traveled to the same little dell I described before, and I put my feet -in the water just as I wasn't allowed to do the other day. And I built a -fire and almost cooked an egg and ate cake (an egg is the bud of a bird, -and cake is edible poetry) sitting on a fence.--Fences grow horizontally -and have no leaves.--Don't ask so many questions! - -After a while, however, I became tired of being alone, so I started off -across some beautiful green meadows toward a hillside, where I had -observed a human walking about and waving a forked wand. He proved the -strangest-looking being I have met with yet, more like those wild and -woolly space-dwellers who tumbled out when that tramp comet bumped -against our second moon. But he was a considerate person, for when he -saw me coming and divined that I should be tired, he piled up a quantity -of delicious-scented herbage for me to sit on. - -"Good-morning, mister," I said, plumping myself down upon the mound he -had made, and he, being much more impressionable than you would suppose -from his Uranian appearance, replied. - -"I swan, I like your cheek." - -"It's a pleasant day," I said, because one is always expected to -announce some result of observation of the atmosphere. It shows at once -whether or not one is an idiot. - -"I call it pretty danged hot," he returned, intelligently. - -"Then why don't you get out of the sun?" I suggested, more to keep the -conversation fluid than because I cared a bit. - -"I'm a-goin' to," he answered, "just as soon as that goll-darned wagon -comes." (A "goll-darned" wagon is, I think, a wagon without springs.) - -"What are you going to do then?" I asked, beginning to fear I should be -left alone again after all my trouble. - -"Goin' home to dinner," he replied, and I at once said I would go with -him.--You see, I had placed a little too much reliance on the egg. - -"I dunno about that, but I guess it will be all right," he urged, -hospitably, and presently the goll-darned wagon arrived with another -man, who turned out to be the first one's son and who looked as though -he bit. - -Together the two threw all the herbage into the wagon till it was heaped -far above their heads. - -"How am I ever to get up?" I asked, for I had no idea of walking any -farther, and I could see the man's white house ever so far away. - -"Who said you was goin' to get up at all?" inquired the biter, -disagreeably, but the other answered for me. - -"I said it, that's who, you consarned jay," he announced, reprovingly. - -When I had made them both climb up first and give me each a hand, I had -no difficulty at all in mounting, but I was very careful not to thank -the Jay, which seemed to make him more morose than ever. Then they slid -down again, and off we started. - -Once when we came to some lovely blue flowers growing in water near the -roadside I told the Jay to stop and wade in and pick them for me. - -"I'll be dogged if I do," he answered; so I said: - -"I don't know what being 'dogged' means, but if it is a reward for being -nice and kind and polite, I hope you will be." - -Whereupon he bit at me once and waded in, while the older man, whose -name, it seems, was Pop, sat down upon a stone and laughed. - -"Gosh! If this don't beat the cats," he said, slapping his knee, which -was his way of making himself laugh harder. - -I put the flowers in my hair and in my belt and wherever I could stick -them. But there was still a lot left over, and whenever we met people I -threw them some, which appeared to please Pop, but made the Jay still -more bite-y. - -Presently we came to a very narrow place and there, as luck would have -it, we met an automobile.--Thank goodness, I need not explain -automobile.--And who should be at the lever all alone but--the Astorian. - -I recognized him instantly, and he recognized me, which was, I suppose, -his reason for forgetting to stop till he had nearly run us down. In a -moment we were in the wildest tangle, though nothing need have happened -had not the Jay completely lost his temper. - -"Hang your picture!" he called out, savagely, "What do you want?--The -Earth?" - -And with that he struck the animals--the wagon was not -self-propelling--a violent blow, and they sprang forward with a lurch -which made the hay begin to slip. I tried to save myself, but there was -nothing to catch hold of, so off I slid and--oh, my dear, my dear, just -fancy it!--I landed directly in his lap.--No, not the Jay's.--Of course, -I stayed there as short a time as possible, for he was very nice about -moving up to make room for me on the seat, but I am afraid it did seem -frightfully informal just at first. - -"It was all the fault of that consarned Jay," I explained, as soon as I -had recovered my composure, "and I shall never ride in his goll-darned -wagon again." - -"I sincerely hope you will not," replied Astoria, looking at me with the -most curious expression. "It would be much better to let me take you -wherever you wish to go." - -"That's awfully kind of you," I said, "but I don't care to go anywhere -in particular this afternoon, except as far as possible from that -objectionable young man." - -The Astorian did not speak again till he had turned something in the -machine to make it back and jerk, and, once free from the upset hay, go -on again. - -"Say, Sissy, I thought you was comin' to take dinner," Pop called out -from under the wagon, where he had crawled for safety, and when I -replied as nicely as I could, "No, thank you, not to-day," he said -again, quite sadly as I thought, "Gosh blim me, if that don't beat the -cats!" and also several other things I could not hear, because we were -moving away so rapidly. - -When we had gone about a hundred miles--or yards, or inches, whichever -it was--the Astorian, who had been sitting very straight, inquired if -those gentlemen--meaning Pop and Jay--were near relations. - -I showed him plainly that I thought his question Uranian, and explained -that I had not a relative on Earth. Then I told him exactly how I had -come to be with them, and about my picnic and the egg. I am afraid I did -not take great pains to make the story very clear, for it was such fun -to perplex him. He is not at all like the Venus people, who have become -so superlatively clever that they are always bored to death. - -"Were you surprised to see me flying through the air?" I asked. - -"Oh, no," he said; "I have always thought of you as coming to Earth in -some such way from some far-distant planet." - -"Oh, then, you know!" I gasped. - -The Astorian laughed. - -"I know you are the one perfect being in the world, and that is quite -enough," he said, and I saw at once that whatever he had guessed about -me he knew nothing at all of the Settlement. - -"Miss Aura," he went on,--he has called me that ever since that little -embryonic made his stupid blunder, and I have not corrected him--here it -is almost necessary to have some sort of a name--"Miss Aura, don't you -think we have been mere acquaintances long enough? I'm only human----" - -"Yes, of course," I interrupted, "but then that is not your fault----" - -"I'm glad you look upon my misfortune so charitably," he said, a trifle -more puzzled than usual, as I fancied. - -"It is my duty," I replied. "I want to elevate you; to brighten your -existence." - -"My Aura!" he whispered; and I was not quite sure whether he meant me or -not. - -We were moving rapidly along a broad road beside a river. There were -hills in the distance and the air from them was in the key of the -Pleiades. There were gardens everywhere full of sunlight translated into -flowers, and without an effort one divined the harmony of growing -things. I felt that something was about to happen; I knew it, but I did -not care to ask what it might be. Perhaps if I had tried I could not -have known; perhaps for that hour I was only an Earth girl and could -only know things as they know them, but I did not care. - -We were going faster, faster every moment. - -"Was it you who willed me to come out into the country?" I asked. "Have -you been watching for me and expecting me?" - -We were moving now as clouds that rush across a moon. - -"I think I have been watching for you all my life and willing you to -come," he said, which shows how dreadfully unjust we sometimes are to -humans. - -"While I was on another planet?" I inquired. "While we were millions and -millions of miles apart? Suppose that I had never come to Earth?" - -We were moving like the falling stars one journeys to the Dark -Hemisphere to see. - -"I should have found you all the same," he whispered, half laughing, -but his blue eyes glistened. "I do not think that space itself could -separate us." - -"Oh, do you realize that?" I asked, "and do you really know?" - -"I know I have you with me now," he said, "and that is all I care to -know." - -We were flying now, flying as comets fly to perihelion. The world about -was slipping from us, disintegrating and dissolving into cosmic thoughts -expressed in color. Only his eyes were actual, and the blue hills far -away, and the wind from them in the key of the Pleiades. - -"There shall never any more be time or space for us," he said. - -"But," I protested, "we must not overlook the fundamental facts." - -"In all the universe there is just one fact," he cried, catching my hand -in his, and then-- - -(NOTE: _Here a portion of the logogram becomes indecipherable, owing, -perhaps, to the passage of some large bird across the line of -projection. What follows is the last recorded vibragraph to date._) - ---Yes, dear, I know I should have been more circumspect. I should have -remembered my position, but I didn't. And that's why I'm engaged to be -married.--You have to here, when you reach a certain point--I know you -will think it a great come-down for one of us, but after all do we not -owe something to our sister planets?-- - - - - -THE UNEXPECTED LETTER - - -As much as I dislike superlatives, I must confess that nothing in my -life has given me greater surprise than that letter addressed to me in a -firm but unfamiliar hand, face upward on the counter of a small -curiosity shop in an insignificant by-street of a strange city. - -I have a weakness for such small shops, where one is commonly permitted -to roam at will amid a multitude of attractive objects without the -slightest obligation to buy, and the proprietors are often men of -intelligence and education. When I have leisure I rarely resist the -temptation to enter, and in this case the impulse had been almost -mandatory. - -It was my first visit to Selbyville, and I may say that it will probably -be my last; for I have never seen a duller, less interesting place. A -bad connection had left me stranded at the railway station there, with -several hours to be disposed of, as I feared, in aimless wanderings -along streets and avenues each one more crude and commonplace than the -last; but the chance discovery of a favorite haunt filled me at once -with lively satisfaction. - -A dark and musty little shop, it proved to be, and its owner all I could -have wished--a mild old Dickens person who had a virtuous pride in his -collection, and at once divined in me a sympathetic listener. At first I -followed him from case to case with unaffected interest and attention; -but presently, I own, his conversation grew a trifle wearisome, and I -allowed my thoughts to stray. - -He had produced, as I remember well, a tray of antique cameos, and to -make room for it upon the counter brushed aside a litter of disordered -papers. Neglected bills, they seemed to be, and circulars such as a -careless man forgets to throw away. But I noted nothing more; for -suddenly amid the trash my own familiar name confronted me, bold, clear, -and unmistakable, across a large and square envelope of a bluish tint: -"Josiah Brunson Dykefellow, Esq., 109 South Ninth Street, City." - -Now, I am not a man to jump at rash conclusions. The address, of course, -was one that might be found in almost any city; but as it happened to be -mine in Masonburg, and as my name was not a common one, to say the -least, the letter seemed so clearly meant for me that I should have -taken it without compunction, could I have done so unobserved. But the -merchant never left me for a moment, and though most amiable I gave him -credit for too much good sense to deliver a sealed communication on the -unsupported statement of a perfect stranger; for I had left my card-case -in my satchel at the station, and as I am a bachelor my linen is -unmarked. However the letter came to be there, it was evident that I -should have to exercise diplomacy to gain possession of my own. And so, -continuing our circuit of the shop, I weighed the matter nicely. My -final resolution was, I shall always think, little short of inspiration. - -We had reached an ancient rosewood wardrobe of enormous size and hideous -design before I found the opportunity to put my plan in operation. - -"Ah! this is something I should like to own," I cried, "provided that my -new rooms are large enough to hold it. And," I added carelessly, -"perhaps you can direct me to the address"--I feigned to consult a -memorandum--"109 South Ninth Street." - -The worthy dealer turned on me a look of half-amused surprise. "That's -here," he said--"right here, this street and house." - -"Indeed!" I cried, though I had not been wholly unprepared for such an -answer. "That's really odd! for this, my dear sir, is the very place -where I was told to seek lodgings." - -"There must be some mistake," replied the dealer civilly; "for as it is -the house is too small to accommodate my family." - -At this I must have feigned the signs of extreme annoyance rather -cleverly; for the dealer joined in condemnation of officious friends in -general, and especially of one McPherson, a second auditor, who had so -misled me. - -"That ass McPherson," I explained, "has put me to the greatest -inconvenience! For, feeling certain of the rooms, I have actually given -this address to correspondents. But," I hastened to assure my courteous -listener, "I shall, of course, write at once and save you any trouble on -that score. Please save the wardrobe for a day or two. My name is Josiah -Brunson Dykefellow." - -As I pronounced each syllable with distinctness, I could perceive the -dealer's kindly face expand with pleasure. "Why, Mr. Dykefellow!" he -exclaimed, "a letter came for you this morning. I was about to return it -to the carrier. Here it is." - -I thanked him, gave the square envelope only a casual glance before -slipping it into an inner pocket, and then bought a curio, scarcely -knowing what I did. I could hardly wait to see my purchase wrapped in -newspaper. I feared the dealer might think better of his confidence and -make demands on me for identification. I felt the prick of conscience -that an honest man must feel who gains even a righteous victory by -disingenuous means. - -When the door had closed behind me and I was free to stride up Ninth -Street with my curio beneath my arm, I dreaded at every step to hear the -hue and cry of "Stop thief!" at my heels. Once safe beyond the nearest -corner, I actually ran. Up one street, down another, now running, and -now short of breath, proceeding at a rapid walk, I came at length to a -small, well-nigh deserted public square, and here, seated on a retired -bench, I cautiously took out my blue envelope, and for the first time -scrutinized its inscription. - -The writer was evidently a person of decided character; but whether man -or woman it was impossible to guess. There was something masculine about -the stationery, which suggested a well-appointed club; but on the other -hand, the seal of violet wax, the rather blurred impression of what -might have been a dainty crest, the smell of orris, I fancied, spoke of -a lady's boudoir. As for the postmark, it was non-committal as to place, -but the hour and date were clearly nine-thirty P. M. the previous day, -which seemed rather late for a lady; but again, few men ever write "In -haste" across the corner of a letter. Of course it would have been a -simple matter to have solved the mystery then and there; but a mystery -solved can never be itself again, and for the moment I determined to -prolong the pleasures of anticipation. I chuckled to myself, and cast a -friendly glance about me, vaguely imagining what Selbyville might mean -to me in after years. Assuming an easy attitude upon the bench, I gazed -into the sky. - -"Ah, Fate!" I was beginning to soliloquize, when a rude voice beside me -interrupted. - -"Say, kape yer feet offen the grass, unless ye own the earth!" it said, -and looking up I saw before me the sinister visage of a minion of the -law. "And what are ye doin' here anyway?" the voice went on while the -visage turned with undisguised suspicion toward my curio, which did look -something like an infant wrapped in newspaper. - -I said that I was waiting for my train, and asked with all humility to -be directed to the station. - -I was answered with contumely. I was commanded to "Get a move on!" I was -told with scant civility that the Union Station was only one block away. -"Even you can't miss it," my informant said. "Follow South Ninth -Street." - -I rose and thanked the man with all the dignity at my command. I also -gave him a cigar, which seemed to mollify him; but if my random flight -had brought me once more to the far end of Ninth Street, I should have -let every train that ever cleared from Selbyville depart without me -rather than have risked another meeting with the curiosity man. As I -sauntered nonchalantly in the wrong direction, I am sure that I caught a -vulgar idiom muttered by official lips. - -But the experience had taught me that one who has a secret to conceal -should avoid above all things making himself conspicuous. So, carrying -my curio--which was of bronze and growing every moment heavier--as -though it was a package from the laundry, I struck into a swinging gait, -and hummed a popular refrain. My single wish now was to seem absolutely -sane; for to be "bug-house" (such was the policeman's phrase), though -not a crime, may lead to inquiries, perhaps examination, and I was by no -means certain what incriminating matter my hidden letter might contain. -Thus reasoning, I became doubtful all at once of my right to the blue -envelope. And the more I thought about it, the weaker grew my -confidence in the course I had pursued. What if after all I had -appropriated some one's else business, some one's else secret, the -hideous clue to some one's else misdemeanor? - -It had been my half-formed purpose to walk until the town was far behind -me, out into the quiet country where there were surely haystacks and -deserted barns, or at least, if nothing better offered, trees to climb. -But now the thought occurred to me that it might be safer to read my -letter in broad daylight and the open street, than in uncertain and -suspicious solitude. - -The decision was a wise one, and I lost no time in turning it into -action; for my surroundings at the moment could scarcely have been more -favorable. I stood before what appeared to be a public building, tightly -closed and to all appearance unused, and right at hand there was a most -convenient newel-post on which to rest my curio, which had for some time -been threatening to shed its wrappings altogether. I can't remember now -just what it was--some Eastern object, doubtless--but scarcely had it -left my hands when all the air grew resonant with yells as though the -fiends of Tophet were released from durance; the great doors of the -building opened, and children, innumerable children, issued forth. I -have never in my life beheld so many children all at once. They swarmed -about me and my curio, uttering uncouth cries, and pointing with their -horrid little fingers urged their young companions far and near to join -in the affray. I yield to no one in my love for childhood--properly -conducted childhood--but Selbyville is not the place to find it. - -With one disheartened cry, I grabbed my property, and started whither I -neither knew nor cared, the children pursuing like a pack of misbehaved -young wolves. I crossed a crowded thoroughfare, doubled on my tracks, -overturned a push-cart full of oranges, threw a matinee audience into -wild alarm, and everywhere I seemed to hear two fatal words. And when -at last I threw myself upon a trolley-car the stupid vulgarism still -rang in my ears. - -I am sure the conductor eyed me with suspicion; but I did not care; for -I was moving every moment farther from the scenes of my discomfiture, my -curio out of sight beneath the seat, and my letter safely in my inside -pocket. I picked up an abandoned paper, and read it, or appeared to do -so, with composure, though all the while the fingers of my left hand -never ceased to pinch the blue envelope, making fresh discoveries. - -Within the sheet of folded note-paper there was unquestionably an -inclosure of a smaller size and softer texture, perhaps a bank-note, -perhaps a draft. Of course I held my imagination well in check, and -tried to think of nothing more important than a newspaper cutting; but -even this allowed a certain scope for fancy. Advertisements for missing -heirs are not uncommon, and even poems when embalmed in orris may have -deep significance. Ah! What if I were rich? What if I were loved? What -if both at once? The thing is not impossible. Soon I should know all, -beneath my haystack, in my barn, or, bird-like, swinging in my tree. I -was so certain now that what had cost so much inconvenience must be all -my own, that I would have parted from the blue envelope only with my -life. - -It was a shock to have my dreaming interrupted by the conductor's -cheerful call, "All out!" and to find that the thrice accursed trolley -had all the while been flying, not toward the country, but into the -depths of darkest Selbyville, where gasworks, rolling-mills, and docks -compete for grimy precedence. But if by that time I had not grown used -to disappointment, the opportunity to abandon my curio beneath the seat -would have made up for much. - -I have often wondered since my afternoon in Selbyville where the man who -wrote in praise of solitude obtained his information. I feel convinced -that Crusoe never sat down for a quiet pipe without black Friday butting -in to ask what time it was. But this is idle speculation. - -Once freed from my incumbrance, my heart beat high with hope, and -crawling through a broken fence I found myself within a lumber-yard. On -every hand well-ordered planks were piled reposefully, and under foot -the ground was soft with sawdust. And here I lost no time in taking out -my letter. As I did so, a new and most absorbing possibility flashed -upon me. The smaller inclosure might be a photograph, one of those -unmounted carbon prints taken by amateurs, and so frankly truthful that -only good-looking people care to send them to their friends. I felt my -pulses flutter at the thought and pressed the blue envelope to my lips, -secure from observation, as I fancied. - -But such was not the case. A large check-jumpered person, with a -protruding jaw, perched on a heap of railway ties, had been regarding -me with tolerant amusement all the while. "Well, what in Paradise are -you up to anyhow?" he drawled complacently. - -"I trust that you will pardon the intrusion," I replied politely; "but I -have taken the liberty of stepping in to read a letter." - -"Then you can just step out again," returned the man with a deliberation -in itself a rudeness. "This ain't no reading-room." - -"But," I protested, "surely you will not grudge me a modicum of solitude -and quiet?" - -"I guess we ain't got what you want in stock to-day. I guess you'd -better inquire up at the jail; they make a sort of specialty of just -them things." - -I left, unwilling to expose myself to further incivility; and presently -I quitted the gas-house region altogether; but not before I had been -driven from a brewery by a dog, and from a canal-boat by a woman -bargeman; a stevedore had challenged me to fight, and an intoxicated -roustabout had given me an apple. And nowhere, nowhere, did I find a -spot to read my letter. - -Time passed; how much I shall never know, for I had lost all track of -it. Nor could I find to-day the little bridge where, weary and -disheartened, I sank down upon the broad stone coping to rest. Below, -the waters tumbled foaming through a raceway toward the turbines of a -power-house, with a sound that mingled pleasantly with the whir of -wheels and dynamos within. In contrast with the sordid sights and sounds -of Selbyville, the place was grateful and refreshing to the eye and ear, -and looking from the coping I was pleased to perceive a shelf of masonry -projecting below, wide enough to form a comfortable seat, and easily -reached by a short drop from the bridge. Here, indeed, was an oasis, a -refuge, a retreat. But unfortunately the place had been preëmpted by a -negro, who appeared to be asleep. - -"Hello!" I shouted, for nothing short of manslaughter could now balk me -of my purpose. "Hello, my colored friend! Would you not like to earn a -dollar?" - -"Sure, boss!" he answered, waking instantly. - -"Then go," I said, "directly to the City Hall and find out if the Mayor -is in town." - -The man demurred, until the actual contact of the dollar with his palm -convinced him of my good faith. And presently he clambered to the -bridge, while I lost little time in dropping to his place. - -"Say, boss," he called down to me in a nervous whisper, "if youse done -goin' to drown yourself, won't you please wait till I get off where I -cain't hear you splash?" - -At last I was alone, at last secure from interruption! And scarcely -daring to believe in such good fortune, I crouched against the wall and -held my breath. So minutes went by, each one an agony of fear that some -fresh difficulty might yet confront me. Then, gaining strength, I -cautiously drew forth once more the treasured blue envelope. - -My hands were tremulous, my nerves tingling with emotion; but I had -schooled myself to bear whatever good or evil Fate might have in store. -The strong cool wind from beneath the bridge brought me new courage, and -the very machinery seemed to murmur promises. I pressed my blue envelope -to my heart; I laid it on my knee for one brief instant, to experience -again the tantalizing delights of anticipation. - -The breeze became a gale. It threatened to dislodge my hat, and in one -mad moment I raised both hands. In the next--I know not how it -happened--in the next, I saw my letter far below where the wild waters -whirled. For an instant it leaped and danced before me, lighter than the -foam, and then with one last flash of blue it disappeared in the black -waters of the turbine pit.-- - - - "Continued on page 14," _Sunday Magazine_, April 1, '07. - - -Much as I dislike superlatives, I may say that never have I been so -disappointed and annoyed. - - - ("If you have read this story, it may be well to remind you that - this is April 1st."--ED. _Sunday Magazine_.) - - - - -THE MONEY METER - - -Hiram Clatfield, upon the threshold of his office, peered out into the -counting-room in a manner difficult to associate with the inscriptions -on the plate-glass door half open at his back. "Private" was printed -there in gilded letters, and "President," but the tone of the president -was almost that of one who asks a favor as he said: - -"Mr. Wattles, if you should happen to be disengaged, I should like to -speak with you a moment." - -The cashier, wheeling on his lofty-legged stool, gave one regretful -glance toward a regiment of figures, a marching column six abreast from -which he had been casting out the nines, and replied resignedly: - -"I'm disengaged at present." - -"Then please come in," said Mr. Clatfield, accepting the untruth with -gratitude. "Come in and shut the door." - -The room marked "President," paneled in quartered oak much like the -state apartment of a private car, contained a polished desk, six chairs -with red morocco seats, a Turkish rug, and the portrait of a former -president done in oil. Beneath the picture, upon a pedestal and -protected by a dome of glass, stood a small machine which, from time to -time, emitted jerky, nervous clicks, and printed mystic characters upon -an endless paper tape. - -The former president upon the wall smiled perpetually, with eyes -directed to the plate-glass door, as though it pleased him to observe -through it the double row of neat young men on lofty stools so well -employed. Perhaps it pleased him better still to watch the little, -brass-barred windows farther on, where countless faces came and went all -day from ten till three--thin faces and fat, and old and young, and -hands, innumerable hands, some to carry and some to fetch, but all to -leave a tribute for whomever might be sitting at the polished desk. - -"Please read this item, Mr. Wattles," said the president, indicating -with a well-kept finger-nail a paragraph in the _Morning Mercury_, and, -putting on his glasses, Mr. Wattles read: - -"Conservative estimates place the fortune of Hiram Clatfield at seven -million dollars." - -At the same moment the small machine appeared to rouse itself. - -"Con-ser-vat-ive--est-i-ma-tes--place--the--for-tune--of--Hi-ram-- -Clat-field--at----" it seemed to repeat deliberately, as for dictation, -and stopped. - -"S.e.v.e.n.m.i.l.l.i.o.n.d.o.l.l.a.r.s," concluded a typewriter in the -counting-room beyond the plate-glass doors, and the sentence ended in -the tinkle of the little bell which gives warning that a line is nearly -finished. - -Mr. Wattles, having laid the paper on the table, wiped his glasses with -a pocket-handkerchief and held them to the light. - -"Do you propose to take action in the matter?" he inquired. "Is there -anything I can do?" - -Mr. Clatfield moved to the center of the rug and thrust both hands into -his trousers' pockets. - -"Wattles," he said, "is that thing true?" - -"Not altogether," said the other, betraying nothing in his tone beyond a -wish for accuracy. "I think it would be safe to say at least--allowing -for fluctuations--ten million dollars." - -"Al-low-ing--for--fluc-tua-tions----" repeated the ticker. - -"T.e.n.m.i.l.l.i.o.n.d.o.l.l.a.r.s," the typewriter concluded. - -Between the two men on the Turkish rug there was so little to choose -that, with straw cylinders to protect his cuffs and a left coat sleeve -somewhat marred by wiping pens, either might have been cashier, and -without these tokens either might very well have been president. The -banker was a trifle bald and gray about the temples. The other's hair -was still erect and of a hue which had suggested "Chipmunk" as a fitting -nickname in his school days. - -"Wattles," said the banker slowly, "what is ten million dollars?" - -"Why, it's--it's a heap of money," faltered the cashier. - -The other took a turn towards the margin of the rug and back. - -"That doesn't help me," he protested. "That doesn't give me an idea. You -used to be so full of fancies," he went on, somewhat pettishly; "you -used to bring a book of poetry to read at lunch when we were kids -outside there"--he nodded toward the counting-room. "You used to laugh -at me for puzzling over discounts, and say I went about with blinders, -like a horse, to shut out everything that was not right ahead. I never -could imagine anything--I can't imagine ten millions now. How long would -it be if it were all in dollar bills placed end to end? How big would -it be if it were in two-cent postage stamps?" - -"It would take a little time to work that out," replied the other man -respectfully, though not without a twinkle in his eye. "I can let you -have a statement in half an hour." - -"Don't do it, then," rejoined the banker. "I'm sick of figures, and you -never needed them when you used to make up fairy tales as we went -roaming through the streets after the bank had closed." - -"I often make up fairy stories still," said Mr. Wattles, "after the bank -has closed." - -"Do you?" demanded the other. "Do you still? And do you still take walks -before going home to supper?" - -"Yes, when it does not rain." - -"And do you think it will be clear to-night?" - -Mr. Wattles laughed. - -"To-night I shall be late in getting off," he said, "because to-morrow -is a holiday." - -"What holiday?" inquired Mr. Clatfield. - -"Christmas," said Mr. Wattles. - -"I don't pretend to keep track of all the holidays," said Mr. Clatfield. - -"No," said Mr. Wattles, "I suppose not." - -It was a busy day at the bank, and the city clocks had sounded six -before the cashier set the time-locks in the vault and bade good-night -to the watchman at the door. But if he was surprised to find an old -companion waiting on the steps, his face did not betray the fact. - -"I thought I'd walk a little way with you," explained the banker, with -an attempt at carelessness that overshot the mark. - -"All right," said Mr. Wattles, buttoning up his serviceable coat and -bestowing a quick, chipmunk glance upon the weather. "You won't mind if -I stop to get my collars?" - -A misty rain was falling, and the streets were filled with people -hurrying home from work. As the two men fell in with the procession the -banker gave an awkward little hop to catch the step. - -"I don't suppose you take your laundry to the same place still?" he -speculated. - -"Oh, yes, the same old place," replied the other. "Mrs. Brennan's dead, -of course, but Mary Ann still carries on the business." - -"You don't mean little Mary Ann?" - -"Yes, she's big Mary Ann now, and has five children of her own. Her -husband was a switchman in the yards until he got run over by an engine -two years ago." - -Connected talk was difficult in the jostling crowd, and often the two -men proceeded for half a block in silence. Once Mr. Wattles dived into a -little shop to buy tobacco for his pipe. On his return he found the -banker occupied with landmarks. - -"Didn't there use to be a grocery over there?" asked Mr. Clatfield. - -"Yes, where the tall building now stands," replied the other. "Do you -remember the fat groceryman who used to sell us apples?" - -"Oh, yes," the banker rejoined, "and they were first rate apples, too. -Strange, but I can't eat apples now; they don't agree with me." - -"No," said Mr. Wattles, "I suppose not." - -The lighted windows of a great department store made an arcade of -radiance in the murky night, creating an illusion of protection so -strong that one might well believe oneself indoors. The rain was -changing into snow, which melted under foot but hung about the hair and -beards and shoulders of the passers-by. Along the curb a row of barrows -displayed cheap toys and Christmas greens for sale. - -"Do you remember how we used to linger at the shops, and pick out -presents and imagine we had lots of money?" Mr. Wattles asked. - -"That was your game," answered Mr. Clatfield. "I never could imagine -anything. I could see only the things you pointed out." - -It seemed to the banker that in the place of his middle-aged cashier -there walked beside him an odd, alert little boy, with bristling hair -and beady eyes, and he caught himself looking about him in an old, vain -hope of being able first to catch sight of something interesting. As -they turned into a less frequented street he asked: - -"What became of the old woman who made butterscotch?" - -"She made the last in '81," replied the other. "The penny-in-the-slot -machines broke up her business." - -"Really?" the banker commented. "It seems a pity." - -The air was growing colder and the dancing motes of snow made halos -about every street-lamp. - -"Don't they look like swarms of Mayflies?" remarked Mr. Wattles. "One -might almost believe it was summer." - -"Yes, so one might," assented Mr. Clatfield, "now that you speak of -it." - -A few steps up a slippery alley they stopped before a shabby little -house, the shabbiest of a row of little houses, each one of which -displayed the legend "Washing Done." - -"Come in," said the cashier, as he pushed open the door. - -Within, a tall spare woman stood with bare red arms before a washtub on -a backless wooden chair. Upon the floor, amid the heaps of linen waiting -for the tub, a litter of small children rolled and tumbled like so many -puppies. Festoons of drying shirts and handkerchiefs hung in an -atmosphere of steam and suds. - -At sight of Mr. Wattles the woman broke into a flood of explanation and -excuse. The water had been frozen all the week, the sun had refused to -shine, the baby had been sick. There were a dozen reasons why he could -not have his collars, as the speaker called on Heaven to bear witness. - -"You'd have 'em on your neck this minute," she declared, "if work could -put them there, for it's meself that needs the money for me rint." - -"Ahem!" said Mr. Wattles, "I fancied that your claim against the railway -had left you pretty comfortably off." - -"Claim, is it?" cried the laundress. "Claim against the railway? Faith, -after keeping me waiting for two years they threw me out of court. They -said that Mike contributed his negligence and that it served him right." - -"That seems a little hard," commented Mr. Clatfield guardedly, for he -was a director in the railway. - -"Small blame to you, but you're a gentleman!" exclaimed the washerwoman. - -"At least your husband left you quite a little family," the banker -ventured to suggest. - -"Contributory negligence again!" said Mr. Wattles under his breath. - -"It's all a body has to do to keep them fed," lamented Mary Ann, "as -maybe you know well yourself, sir, if you've childer of your own." - -"I have none," said the other. - -"God pity you!" returned big Mary Ann. - -"Ah, that reminds me," put in Mr. Wattles, and coming nearer to the -laundress, he explained: "My friend here is the banker, Mr. Clatfield." - -"It's proud I am this day," she answered, with a courtesy. - -"He has no children," went on Mr. Wattles, "but he is very anxious to -adopt one, and knowing that you have more than you really need----" - -"What are you saying?" began Mr. Clatfield, but his voice was drowned in -an outbreak from the woman. - -"Is it daft ye are?" she cried. Mr. Wattles continued, unheeding: - -"He is willing to give you ten thousand dollars for such a one as -this"--indicating with his cane an animated lump upon the floor. - -"Me Teddy, is it?" cried the mother, catching up the lump and depositing -it for safety in an empty tub. - -"Or what would you say to twenty thousand for this one here?" persisted -Mr. Wattles, again making use of his cane. - -"Sure that's me Dan," the woman almost shrieked, and another lump went -into the tub. - -"Well, we are not disposed to quarrel over trifles," went on Mr. Wattles -cheerfully. "You select the child and name the price--twenty, thirty, -forty thousand--all in cash." - -"Gwan out of this, and take your dirty money wid yez!" cried Mrs. -Murphy, ominously rolling a wet sock into a ball. - -"Of course, if you feel that way, we shall not urge the matter," said -Mr. Wattles coldly. "Good-evening, Mrs. Murphy." - -"Bad luck to yez for a pair of thavin' vipers!" she called after their -retreating figures. "If I had me strength ye'd not get far." - -"I am astonished at you, Wattles," said Mr. Clatfield when they were -safe beyond the alley. "I would not have given a dollar for the lot." - -"No," said Mr. Wattles, "I suppose not." - -The two men walked along in silence for a time, while Mr. Clatfield -occupied himself with efforts to divine the point of Mr. Wattles's -ill-timed jest. More than once he would have cut short the expedition -could he have thought of an excuse, and though the course was somewhat -devious, they were headed in a general way toward his own front door, -with its broad marble steps and iron lions. The people in the street -were few and uninteresting, the houses dull and monotonous, each with -its drawn yellow shades and dimly lighted transom, and the banker -welcomed the sight of what appeared to be a gathering of some sort up -ahead. - -They had come out upon a dreary square, surrounded by tall warehouses -and wholesale stores, now tightly closed and barred with iron shutters. -A line of vans and drays without their horses occupied an open space in -violation of the law. From one of these a man addressed a little group -of inattentive loiterers. - -The audience changed constantly as those whose passing curiosity was -satisfied moved off to be replaced by others, but the man did not appear -to care how few or many stayed to listen. He was a young man, and his -face, in the full glare of the electric light, was radiant with -enthusiasm for his theme, whatever it might be. The cashier pushed his -way into the crowd and Mr. Clatfield followed. - -"I should think he would prefer to speak indoors a night like this," -remarked the banker. - -The speaker's subject was an old one, old as the tree of Eden, but never -had the two newcomers heard a more effective speech. Perhaps the -setting of the bleak, deserted market-place created an illusion. - -"That man is getting rich," he cried, "who can every day add a little to -the surplus in his heart----" - -"What interest do you pay?" called out a bystander facetiously. - -"None," replied the young man. "Ours is a profit-sharing enterprise." - -"That don't mean anything," commented Mr. Wattles; "but it was a -first-rate answer all the same. It made the people laugh." - -"I wonder why?" demanded Mr. Clatfield. - -The discourse ended presently and the audience dispersed, some with -swinging dinner-pails and some with thin coats buttoned tightly at the -neck. - -"It does a fellow good to hear the world ain't going to the dogs," -remarked a burly laborer, "even if it is just a crank who says it." - -"Good-evening," said the young man, jumping from his dray and landing -within speaking distance of the two adventurers. "I'm glad to see you -here." - -"And we are glad to be here," answered Mr. Wattles. "We have been -greatly interested, especially my friend Mr. Clatfield, the banker." - -Mr. Clatfield drew himself erect, for he considered such an introduction -unnecessary. - -"I have heard of Mr. Clatfield often," said the other simply, "and I am -happy now to make his acquaintance. Good-evening, gentlemen; I hope -you'll come again." - -"One moment, please," the cashier interposed. "We will not detain you -long, but my friend here has a proposition to make you. He is about to -build a large church on the Heights, and he is anxious to secure a -preacher who entertains the views you have expressed so well. May I ask -you, sir, if you are free to undertake such a charge?" - -The young man's face blushed red with gratified amazement. - -"A church?--and on the Heights?" he stammered. - -"Yes," went on Mr. Wattles, "a large church--very large. I don't suppose -you would be sorry to give up this sort of thing." He made a motion of -his head toward the dray. - -"Would that be necessary?" the young man asked. - -"Naturally," rejoined the other. "The two could scarcely be combined." - -"In that case," said the preacher, "I am not free." - -"The salary, I should have told you, will be twenty thousand dollars." - -"You ought to get a first-rate man for that amount," replied the -preacher. "I should advise you to consult the Bishop." - -"Thank you," said Mr. Wattles, "and good-night." - -"Wattles," cried Mr. Clatfield, who had heard the conversation with -stupefied astonishment which deprived him of the power of speech; -"Wattles, I have not the slightest idea of building a church either on -the Heights or anywhere else." - -"No," said Mr. Wattles, "I suppose not." - -"I'm going home," announced the banker. - -"All right," agreed the other. "We'll strike through here to Main -Street." - -At Main Street they were detained for several minutes at the corner -where the trolleys cross, by the crowds waiting for the cars or flocking -about the transfer agent like so many sheep for salt. They seemed a -dull, bedraggled lot to Mr. Clatfield, just like every other lot who -waited every night there for blue or red or yellow trolley cars. But the -cashier's eyes went wandering from face to face, more in selection than -in search, and presently he nudged his companion to call attention to a -couple who stood apart a little from the rest under the shelter of a -small, inadequate umbrella. - -"What of them?" asked the banker crossly. "You need not look far to see -a fellow and a girl." - -The fellow in this case was tall and stoutly built, and the fact that he -wore no overcoat might have been set down to strenuous habits. But as -Mr. Wattles noted, he was the only man without an evening paper, and he -wore his derby hat reversed in order that a worn place on the rim might -be less conspicuous. - -"I'll bet that young man is terribly hard up," remarked Mr. Wattles. - -"You don't want me to adopt him, do you?" demanded Mr. Clatfield. - -"Oh, no, but just see how his shoulder is getting soaked with drippings -from the wet umbrella." - -"That's the girl's fault," said Mr. Clatfield. "I guess he wishes she -were home." - -She was a plain girl with freckles on her nose; she carried a lunch -basket and her gloves were white about the seams, but as the young man -whispered something in her ear even Mr. Clatfield thought that he had -never seen a more attractive smile. When a blue car came along the young -man helped her carefully to mount the step, and in shaking hands they -laughed and made a little secret of the act. As the car went on its way -the young man ran for cover to the awning beneath which stood the banker -and the cashier. - -"Good-evening, sir," said Mr. Wattles. "I have seen you often at the -bank." - -"Oh, yes, indeed," replied the other, highly gratified to be recognized -by one so great as Mr. Wattles. "I am there every day for my employers, -Pullman & Pushings." - -"An excellent firm," commented Mr. Wattles. "I understand they pay their -people handsomely." - -"Oh, as to that," responded the other, laughing, "it's rather handsome -to pay at all in times like these." - -"That's true," assented Mr. Wattles. "Times are dull, and more than -likely to get worse." - -"Oh, do you think so, really?" the young man asked rather wistfully. - -"Sure of it," answered the cashier, "and if you've any thought of asking -for a raise of salary, I should advise you not to do so." - -"I'm very much obliged for the advice," rejoined the other, "because I -have been thinking----" - -"Ahem!" coughed Mr. Wattles, interrupting. "I want to introduce you to -our president, Mr. Clatfield." - -The junior clerk took off his hat and put it on again the right way by -mistake. In his confusion he had not observed that Hiram Clatfield -looked frigidly above his head; he only heard the cashier's voice -continuing like enchanted music: - -"Mr. Clatfield has for some time been looking for a private secretary. -The salary would be commensurate with the responsibility from the first, -and should you prove the right man--but of course we would make no -promises. Do you think you would be disposed to consider such an -opening?" - -"Would I?" gasped the junior clerk. - -"And, by the way, you are not married, are you?" - -"No," said the young man, "I'm not, but----" - -"That's good," continued the cashier. "That's very fortunate, for Mr. -Clatfield prefers that his confidential secretaries should be single -men. In fact, he makes that an absolute condition." - -"The deuce he does!" replied the junior clerk. "Then he can give the -place to anyone but me. There comes my yellow car. Good-night, and much -obliged." - -"Wattles," cried Mr. Clatfield, "have you gone crazy? I do not want a -private secretary on any terms!" - -"No," answered Mr. Wattles, "I suppose not." - -The lighted trolley cars went shooting past. The wind had risen till the -big umbrella of the transfer agent threatened to go sailing skyward like -a yellow parachute. Already at the corners the ground was getting -white. A muffled clock somewhere struck seven. - -"Wattles," said Mr. Clatfield, "come home and dine with me. I'd like to -talk about our walk." - -"I can't to-night," replied the cashier. "I'm going to take dinner with -a man named Briggs." - -Mr. Clatfield tried to fancy what this Mr. Briggs was like and what his -dinner would be like, but in either case failed to make a picture -because he never could imagine anything. - -"At least come with me to the door," he said. - -It was not far to where the iron lions crouched, and presently the two -men stood before them shaking hands. - -"Good-night," said Mr. Clatfield. "This has been like old times. I -suppose you'll not be at the bank to-morrow?" - -"I shall be there for an hour perhaps to finish up some work," replied -the cashier. "Is there anything I can do?" - -He drew a memorandum book from his pocket. Holding the page in the -light of a street lamp, his eyes fell on some small, neatly penciled -figures. - -"By the way," he said, "I have figured out your problem. Ten million -one-dollar bills placed end to end would reach one hundred and ten -miles, forty-eight hundredths and a fraction." - -"Thank you," said Mr. Clatfield. - -"In two-cent stamps----" continued the cashier, but his employer -interfered. - -"Never mind the stamps," he said. "To-morrow, if you have time, I should -like you to draw three checks upon my private account." - -"Three checks----" repeated Mr. Wattles, preparing to make a note. - -"For twenty thousand each--no, make it fifty thousand each." - -"For fifty thousand dollars each--and payable to----" - -Mr. Clatfield hesitated an instant, then went on desperately: - -"One payable to big Mary Ann; one to the preaching fellow, and -one--make it out to the girl with the freckles on her nose." - -The cashier paused, and for the first time in his long service ventured -to dispute instructions. - -"Hiram," he said, "what harm have they done you?" - -Mr. Clatfield did not answer, but stood in silence, poking his cane into -the iron lion's open mouth. - - - - -THE GUEST OF HONOR - - -"Letters of introduction!" Clara sighed. "One can't help wishing they -were made misdemeanors like other lottery tickets." And this being her -third remark of kindred import, curiosity became at least excusable. So -Mrs. Penfield stroked a sable muff in silent sympathy. - -"We had one yesterday from Jack's Boston aunt," went on her charming -hostess, "a Mrs. Bates, who is continually sending us spiritualists or -people who paint miniatures, or Armenian refugees, just because we spent -a week or so with her one summer when the children had the mumps. In -Lent one does not mind, one rather looks for trials, but now one's -dinner-table is really not one's own. Maude, do let me give you another -cup of tea; it's awfully bad, I know; we have to buy it from the Dunbar -girls. If one's friends would only not sell things one has to drink!" - -"Such a delightful little tea-pot would make any tea delicious, I am -sure," murmured Mrs. Penfield, and the conversation rested while a -noiseless menial entered, put wood upon the fire, and illuminated an -electric bulb within an opalescent shell. An odor of cut flowers floated -in the air and an exotic whiff of muffin. - -Mrs. Fessenden, when she had made the tea, sank back once more among the -cushions and stretched her small feet to the blaze. - -"I am not at home, Pierre," she announced. - -"Perfectly, Madame," replied the menial, as though the absence were -self-evident. - -Mrs. Penfield mused and sipped. - -"Some women are so inconsiderate when they are old," she said -remindingly. - -"And so are most men when they are young," rejoined the lady of the -cushions, "and Jack, though nice in many ways, is no exception. When I -ask him to help by having unexpected men who must be fed to luncheon at -the club, he says champagne at midday gives him apoplexy. And so we have -to invite an unknown person to our very nicest dinner." - -"What unknown person?" inquired Mrs. Penfield, and Clara sighed. - -"A Mr. Hopworthy," she replied. "Fancy, if you can, a man named -Hopworthy." - -Mrs. Penfield tried and failed. - -"What is he like?" she asked. - -"I haven't an idea. He called here yesterday at three o'clock--fancy a -man who calls at three o'clock! and Jack insisted on inviting him for -to-morrow night--and I had to give so much thought to to-morrow night!" - -"Of course he is coming," put in Mrs. Penfield; "such people never send -regrets." - -"Or acceptances either, it would seem," returned her friend; "the -wretch has not so much as answered, and soon it will be too late to get -even an emergency girl." - -"Oh, one can always scare up a girl," the other said consolingly. - -Pierre entered with a little silver tray. - -"A note, if Madame pleases," he announced. Perhaps had Madame pleased a -pineapple or a guinea-pig might have been forthcoming. When he had -retired, Madame tore open the envelope. A flush of pleasure made her -still more charming. - -"Hopworthy has been seriously injured!" she cried almost in exultation. - -"And how much anxiety you have had for nothing, dear!" said Mrs. -Penfield, rising. "So often things turn out much better than we dare to -hope. What does he say?" - -"Oh, only this; he writes abominably," and Clara read: - - - DEAR MRS. FESSENDEN: - - I assure you, nothing less than a serious injury could prevent my - availing myself of your charming invitation for Wednesday - evening.... - - -"Oh, Maude, you can't think what a relief this is!" - -"But----" began Mrs. Penfield and paused, while Clara, folding the note, -tore it deliberately in twain. - -"I don't believe he has been seriously hurt at all," she said on second -thought. "He simply did not want to come. Fancy a man who invents such -an excuse!" - -"But----" began Mrs. Penfield once more, when Mrs. Fessenden interposed. - -"I shall hope never to hear his wretched name again," she said. "Maude, -dear, you won't forget to-morrow night?" - -"Not unless Butler forgets me," said Mrs. Penfield, whereat both ladies -laughed the laugh that rounds a pleasant visit. - - -"Jack," whispered Clara, "please count and see if everyone is here; -there should be twenty." - -It was Wednesday evening, and the Fessenden's Colonial drawing-room -housed an assembly to make the snowy breast of any hostess glow with -satisfaction, especially a hostess possessing one inch less of waist -and one inch more of husband than any lady present. - -"Exactly twenty," Jack announced; "that is, if we count the Envoy and -the Countess each as only one, which don't seem quite respectful." - -"Please don't try to be silly," said his wife, suspecting stimulant -unjustly. - -To her the function was a serious achievement, nicely proportioned, -complete in all its parts; from Mrs. Ballington's tiara--a constellation -never known to shine in hazy social atmospheres--to the Envoy -Extraordinary's extraordinary foreign boots. Even the Countess, who wore -what was in effect a solferino tea-gown with high-bred unconcern, was -not a jarring note. Everybody knew how the Countess's twenty priceless -trunks had gone to Capetown by mistake, and her presence made the pretty -drawing-room a _salon_, just as the Envoy's presence made the occasion -cosmopolitan. When the mandolin club in the hall struck up a spirited -fandango, no pointed chin in all the town took on a prouder tilt than -Clara Fessenden's. - -The Envoy Extraordinary had just let fall no less a diplomatic secret -than that, in his opinion, a certain war would end in peace eventually, -when Mrs. Penfield, who happened to be near, inquired: - -"Oh, Clara, have you heard anything more of that Mr. Hopworthy?" - -"Don't speak to me of him!" retorted Clara, clouding over. "When Jack -called at his hotel to leave a card, he had the effrontery to be out. -Just fancy, and we had almost sent him grapes!" - -"But----" began Mrs. Penfield. - -Pierre was at the door; one hand behind him held the orchestra in check. - -"Madame is served," he formed his lips to say, but having reached -"Madame," he found himself effaced by someone entering hurriedly--a tall -young man with too abundant hair and teeth, but otherwise permissible. - -The new arrival paused, took soundings, as it were, divined the hostess, -and advanced upon her with extended hand. Evidently it was one of those -amusing little incidents called "contretemps," which often happen where -front doors are much alike, and the people on the left have odd -acquaintances. - -"I trust I am not late," the blunderer began at once. "It was so kind of -you to think of me; so altogether charming, so delightful." His eyes -were dark and keen, his broad, unsheltered mouth, which seemed less to -utter than to manufacture words, gave the impression of astonishing -productive power, and Clara, though sorry for a fellow-creature doomed -to rude enlightenment, was glad he was not to be an element in her -well-ordered little dinner. But as her guests were waiting she gave a -slight impatient flutter to her fan. The other went on unobservant. - -"One can say so little of one's pleasure in a hurried note, but I assure -you, my dear Mrs. Fessenden, nothing short of a serious accident----" - -Where had she met this formula before? - -"Oh, Mr. Hopworthy!" she responded with a smile, an automatic smile, -self-regulating and self-adjusting, like the phrase that followed, "I am -so glad you were able to come." And turning to her husband, she -announced, too sweetly to leave her state of mind in doubt: - -"Jack, here is Mr. Hopworthy, your aunt's old friend." - -With her eyes she added: - -"Fiend, behold your work!" - -Jack grasped the stranger's hand and wrung it warmly. - -"I'm glad you're out again," he said. "Now tell my wife just how you -left Aunt Bates." And so saying he backed toward the door, for he could -be resourceful on occasion. Two minutes later when he reappeared his -face was wreathed in smiles. - -"It's all serene," he whispered to his wife. "They have crowded in -another place at your end. We'll make the best of it." - -Perhaps it occurred to Clara that things to be made the best of were -oftenest crowded in at her end, but she had no time to say so, for -Pierre had come into his own again--Madame was served. - -Jack led, of course, with scintillescent Mrs. Ballington, he having -flatly refused to take in the Countess. Jack's point of view was always -masculine, and often elementary. - -The Countess followed with a Mr. Walker, who collected eggs, and was -believed to have been born at sea, which made him interesting in a way. -Then came Maude Penfield, preceding Lena Livingston, according to the -tonnage of their husbands' yachts. In truth, the whole procession gave -in every rank new evidence of Clara's kindly forethought. For herself, -she had not only the Extraordinary, but, by perverse fate, another. - -"Mr. Hopworthy," she explained, bringing both dimples into play, "a very -charming girl has disappointed us. I hope you don't mind walking three -abreast." - -Clara's untruths were never compromises. When they should be told, she -told them, scorning to keep her score immaculate by subterfuge. "Though -the Recording Angel may be strict," she often said with child-like -faith, "I am convinced he is well-bred." - -The pleasant flutter over dinner cards ended as it should in each guest -being next the persons most desired--each guest, but not the hostess. -For Jack's resourcefulness having accomplished the additional place, -stopped short, and his readjustment of the cards, which had been by -chance, had brought the Envoy upon Clara's left and given to Mr. -Hopworthy the seat of honor. - -For a moment Clara hesitated, hoping against hope for someone to be -taken ill, for almost anything that might create an opportunity for a -change of cards. But while she stood in doubt the diplomat most -diplomatically sat down. Beyond him the Countess was already drawing off -her gloves as though they had been stockings, and further on the -gentleman born at sea seemed pleased to find his dinner roll so like an -egg. - -It was one of those unrecorded tragedies known only to woman. The -failures of a man leave ruins to bear testimony to endeavor; a woman's -edifice of cobweb falls without commotion, whatever pains its building -may have cost. - -"I gave you that seat," said Clara to the diplomat in dimpled -confidence, "because the window on the other side lets in a perfect gale -of draught." - -"A most kind draught to blow me nearer my hostess's heart," he answered, -much too neatly not to have said something of the sort before. - -Fortunately both the Envoy and the Countess appreciated oysters, and -before the soup came, Clara, outwardly herself again, could turn a -smiling face to her unwelcome guest. But Mr. Hopworthy was bending -toward Maude, who seemed very much amused. So was the man between them, -and so were several others. - -Already he had begun to make himself conspicuous. People with broad -mouths always make themselves conspicuous. She felt that Maude was -gloating over her discomfiture. She detected this in every note of -Maude's well-modulated laugh, and could an interchange of beakers with -the stranger have been sure of Florentine results, Clara would have -faced a terrible temptation. As it was, she asked the Envoy if he had -seen the Automobile Show. - -He had, and by good luck machinery was his favorite topic, a safe one, -leaving little ground for argument. From machinery one proceeds by -certain steps to things thereby created, silk and shoes and books, and -comes at length, as Clara did, to silverware and jewels, pearls and -emeralds. And here the Countess, who mistrusted terrapin, broke in. - -She had known an emerald larger than an egg--Mr. Walker looked up -hopefully. It had been laid by Royalty at the feet of Beauty--Mr. -Walker, who had been about to speak, resumed his research, and the -Countess held the floor. - -She wore a bracelet given her by a potentate, whose title suggested -snuff, as a reward for great devotion to his cause, and its exhibition -occupied a course. - -Meanwhile the hostess, as with astral ears, heard snatches of the -conversation all about her. - -"And do you think so really, Mr. Hopworthy?" - -"Oh, Mr. Hopworthy, were you actually there?" - -"Please tell us your opinion----" - -Evidently Jack's aunt's acquaintance was being drawn out, encouraged to -display himself, made a butt of, in point of fact! This came from taking -Maude Penfield into her confidence. There was always a streak of -something not exactly nice in Maude. As Clara, with her mind's eye, saw -the broad Hopworthian mouth in active operation, she felt--the feminine -instinct in such matters is unerring--that Butler Penfield cherished -every phrase for future retaliation at the club, and Lena Livingston, -who never laughed, was laughing. After all, if foreigners are often -dull, at least they have no overmastering sense of humor. - -"My Order of the Bull was given me at twenty-six," the Envoy was -relating, and though the story was a long one, Clara listened to it all -with swimming eyes. - -"Diplomacy is full of intrigue as an egg of meat," it ended, and once -more Mr. Walker looked up hopefully. - -Again the hostess forced herself to turn with semblance of attention to -her right. But Mr. Hopworthy did not appear to notice the concession. He -did not appear to notice anything. He was haranguing, actually -haranguing, oblivious that all within the hearing of his resonant voice -regarded him with open mockery. Jack in the distance, too far away to -apprehend the truth, exhibited his customary unconcern, for Jack's -ideals were satisfied if at his table people only ate enough and -talked. And perhaps it was as well Jack did not comprehend. - -"To illustrate," the orator was saying--fancy a man who says "to -illustrate." "This wine is, as we may say, dyophysitic"--here Mr. -Hopworthy held up his glass and looked about him whimsically--"possessed -of dual potentialities containing germs of absolute antipathies--" Even -Jack, could he have heard, must have resented the suggestion of germs in -his champagne. - -"Perhaps you would rather have some Burgundy with your duck," suggested -Mrs. Fessenden with heroic fortitude, and Mr. Hopworthy checked his -train of thought at once. - -"Aye, Madam," he rejoined, "there you revive an ancient controversy." - -"I am sure I did not mean to," Clara said regretfully, and Mr. Hopworthy -smiled his most open smile. - -"A controversy," drawled Lena Livingston, "how very odd!" - -"It was indeed," assented Mr. Hopworthy, and went on: "Once, as you -know, the poets of Reims and Beaune waged war in verse over the -respective claims of the blond wine and the brunette, and so bitter grew -the fight that several provinces sprang to arms, and Louis the -Fourteenth was forced to go to war to keep the peace." - -It was pure malice in Maude to show so marked an interest in a statement -so absurd, and it was fiendish in the rest to encourage Mr. Hopworthy. -Even the most insistent talker comes in time to silence if nobody -listens. - -"Oh, M. Hop--Hop--Hopgood," cried the Countess, "if you are a savant, -perhaps you know my Axel!" - -"And have you taken out a patent for your axel?" asked the diplomat, -whose mind reverted to mechanics. - -The Countess favored him with one glance through her lorgnettes--a -present from the exiled King of Crete--and straightway took her bag and -baggage to the hostile camp. For, of course, the young Count Axel was -known to Mr. Hopworthy, or at least he so declared. - -"Please tell me how you won your Order of the Bull," said Clara to the -diplomat, her one remaining hope. - -"I think I mentioned that just now," he answered, and conversation -perished. - -And thus the dinner wore away, a grim succession of demolished triumphs. -When after an æon or two Clara gave the signal for retreat, she sought -her own reflection in the glass to make sure her hair was still its -normal brown. - -"Clara," said Mrs. Penfield, when the ladies were alone, "you might at -least have warned us whom we were to meet." - -Mrs. Fessenden drew herself erect. Her breath came fast, her eyes were -bright, and she had nearly reached the limit of forbearance toward -Maude. - -"Mrs. Penfield--" she began with dignity, but Maude broke in. - -"I must have been a baby not to have recognized the name." - -Clara hesitated, checking the word upon her lips, for with her former -friend, to be inelegant was to be sincere. - -"I do not understand," she substituted prudently. - -"To think, my dear, of you being the first of us to capture Horace -Hopworthy and keeping it from me!" cried Maude. - -"I am sure I mentioned that we hoped to have him," murmured Mrs. -Fessenden. - -"So sweet of you to give us such a surprise, it was most delightful," -Lena Livingston drawled. - -"Your house is always such a Joppa for successful genius," declared Mrs. -Ballington, "or is it Mecca? I've forgotten which. How did you come to -know he was in town?" - -"Jack's relatives in Boston always send us the most charming people with -letters," answered Clara. "Shall we take coffee on the balcony? The men -are laughing so in the smoking-room we can't talk here with any -comfort." - -Later--an hour later--when the last carriage-door had slammed, Jack lit -a cigarette and said: - -"That Hoppy fellow seemed to make a hit." - -Clara yawned. - -"Yes, he was rather a fortunate discovery," she said, "but, Jack, we -really ought to take a literary magazine." - - - - -THE MAN WITHOUT A PENSION - - -He was a dapper little man with a gray pointed beard, and he wore -knickerbockers and russet hunting gaiters, nearly new. A jaunty Alpine -hat was perched upon his head, and as he pursued his cautious way along -the cañon's edge it would be hard to fancy anyone less in touch with his -surroundings. He seemed uncertain of the trail, mistrustful of himself, -or unaccustomed to mountain atmosphere, for within the last hundred -yards of the camp he paused in every dozen steps to listen or to recover -breath. - -There was no sound anywhere except the moan of pine trees, and no motion -but the perpetual trembling in the aspen undergrowth. The greater trees -nearly met above the cañon; the lesser clung along its brink, leaning -far out to catch the sun and send broken lights and colors to the water -far below. Contrasting with the unchanging twilight and boundless -solitude of the forest, the meadow where the tents were pitched seemed -to blaze with light, and the three small shelters took on the importance -of a settlement, whose visible inhabitants consisted of a pair of -mountain magpies possessed of an idle spirit of investigation. - -The little man coughed a dry inadequate cough to herald his approach, -while his foot dislodged a pebble which, rattling down the cañon, sent -the magpies to a tree top in affected terror. From under the shelter of -his hand he cast a glance about the camp which mastered its small array -of unimportant details; two tents, wide open to the air, disclosed -elementary sleeping quarters for half a score of men, coarse blankets -covering heaps of twigs and pine needles, the bare necessities of a -bivouac. The third tent was closed. - -Evidently perplexed, the visitor stood still. Had anyone been watching -him, say from behind the ragged canvas of the closed tent, he must have -seemed a nervous, apprehensive little man. There came a sound which -might have been a derisive chuckle and might have been a magpie in the -trees. The visitor controlled a start and clenched his hands as though -summoning courage. Then loudly as one who gives a challenge, he shouted, -"Is there anybody here?" - -The voice was resonant for so small a body, and the echoes caught the -last word eagerly, and sent it back, clear from the cañon, faint from -where the snow peaks cut the blue, deep from the hollow of the timber. -"Here! Here!" as though a scattered army answered to a roll call. -Immediately there followed another and louder "Here!" distinctly not an -echo, and a gruff ungracious laugh. - -The multitude of answers must have bewildered the stranger, for he -looked everywhere about him, almost stupidly, except toward the only -possible hiding place. It needed a second derisive laugh to guide him -to the tent whose half-closed flap concealed the only custodian of the -camp, a man so tall that in his little shelter he gave the impression of -a large animal inadequately caged or in a trap. His black hair fell -below the ears; his jaws were hidden by a heavy beard cut square, -through some freak of fancy, like the carved beards of human-headed -Assyrian beasts. - -"Ahem! I beg your pardon," began the little man after another cough. - -"What do you want?" returned the other without looking up. He bent above -a tin pan of dough, kneading the pliant stuff almost fiercely, with red -knotted knuckles and sinewy forearms. - -"My name," replied the visitor, "is Sands--Professor Sands of Charbridge -University." - -The man in the tent rolled his dough into a cannon ball and held it up -at arm's length. "Sands," he repeated. "Charbridge University?" And -striking his dough with his palm as though it could appreciate a joke, -he added, "Well, you look it!" - -He wiped his hands upon a strip of burlap bagging which served him as -apron, and deliberately surveyed the new comer. "How did you ever get so -far from home all by yourself?" he asked with open insolence. A fuller -view of his face disclosed incongruous tones of red about the roots of -hair and beard, and a long scar on the left cheek. - -"I am connected with our geological expedition," Professor Sands -explained concisely. "We are camping in the valley, and this morning I -ventured to explore the cañon on my own account, and have been tempted -farther than I intended." - -The large man put his hands upon his thighs and leaned against the tent -pole. "So that's it?" he commented patronizingly. "Well, if I was you, -I'd stick to camp, and not go roaming in the timber where you might get -lost." - -"Quite so," the little man assented readily; "but I was told I should -surely come upon the railway survey somewhere in the cañon, and I have -had your stakes to guide me. The engineers are doubtless working -somewhere near here?" he added, taking off his hat to cool his head with -its thin gray hair. - -The other spat and eyed his visitor with amused contempt. "We don't lay -out railroads sitting round the fire," he volunteered. "The boys are -working up near timber line, and won't be back till dark, and the -teamster's gone to Freedom City for more grub." - -"Ah!" remarked the scientist. "Then we are quite alone. I'll rest a -little, if I may." - -He deposited an army haversack that he carried slung about his shoulder -upon a flat boulder just outside the tent door and sat down beside it. -"My geological specimens are rather heavy," he went on, wiping his brow. -"With your permission I should like to label them before I forget their -identity." - -The other, with his hands in his overall pockets, took a slouching step -beyond the tent to overlook the sack's contents as they appeared--a -small steel sorting hammer, a heap of broken bits of float, and a large -flask with a silver top. He watched the geologist sort his specimens -with an idle interest mingled with contempt--for the trade he did not -understand, for the spotless handkerchief, for the physical weakness of -the man himself. - -"I suppose that's some sort of acid you've got in your bottle?" he -speculated presently. - -"I beg your pardon?" asked the professor, absorbed in his work; then -added as the question's meaning reached him, "Ah, the flask? No, that -contains whiskey. I always carry a supply in case of accident." -Whistling softly, he marked another specimen, ignoring his host's nearer -approach. - -"Partner," the latter suggested, "if you'd like a bite to eat, you've -only got to say so. That's mountain manners." - -The professor glanced up now and with an odd intentness in his look; no -doubt his mind was still with his specimens. "You're very kind, I'm -sure," he responded courteously; "but I have lunched already on my -sandwiches. Thank you, Mr.----" He paused for a name. - -The other chuckled with new-found amiability. "You needn't 'Mister' me," -he said. "I'm Budd, Jim Budd the Scorcher, and if any man in camp don't -like my grub he's got the privilege of going hungry." - -"Ah, quite so, quite so," rejoined the scientist. "I'm very sure your -cooking is excellent." - -"That's what the boys tell me," returned the scorcher; "but, by blood! -I've got 'em educated. I'll just set them biscuits to raise, and then -we'll have a chat." He re-entered the tent, limping noticeably, and -from the interior his voice was heard mingled with the clatter of -utensils in blasphemous denunciation of everything about him. During -this explosion the scientist from Charbridge made a rather singular -experiment. - -He rose, and after a cautious glance behind him he crept to the verge of -the precipice, looked down into the water swirling over jagged rocks far -below, and pulling up a sod of wire grass let it drop, and watched it -sink and reappear in single straws that circled and sank again. This -done, he went back to his specimens. - -The Scorcher's pibrock of vituperation had now changed to a tuneless -chant, scarcely less vindictive in its cadence: - - - Old John Rogers was burnt at the stake; - His poor wife cried until her heart did break! - - -he sang, and the professor's listening face took on an expression out of -keeping with the meaningless doggerel, the look of one who responds to -an inexorable call. - -"'Until her heart did break!'" he murmured. But when Budd appeared -again he only asked if he was interested in geology. - -"I am if it's the sort that's got silver in it," replied the cook. - -"One does not look for silver in sandstone formation," the professor -explained. - -"Do you mean to tell me the Almighty couldn't put silver in this here -red rock?" Jim demanded, from the stone on which he had seated himself. - -"No," replied the professor guardedly: "I say only that He did not. -However, here is a bit of quartz----" - -"Say!" interrupted the cook, "I'm a heap more interested in the specimen -you've got in that bottle." He was staring at the polished cap of the -flask. - -"Indeed, are you?" the other smiled a a tolerant smile. "Then perhaps -you will do me the honor----" - -Budd seized the flask without a second invitation and raised it to his -lips. He drank as dying men drink water, and when he stopped for lack -of breath his face was fiery but for the white scar. As he lowered the -bottle he met the professor's curious fixity of gaze, and wriggled -uneasily before it. - -"Say, partner," he remonstrated, "your whiskey's all right; but I'm -hanged if I like your eye! By blood! it goes ag'in me!" - -"I beg your pardon," said the professor without averting his look. "I -have the habit of close observation. And," he proffered the flask -afresh, "the more you drink of that, the less I'll have to carry home." - -Budd poured a generous portion into a tin cup and stared reflectively at -the bright cap. His next remark, mellowed by whiskey, had a genial -candor. "Say! if I'd a popped you over, as I had a mind to when you came -along the trail, just think what I'd a missed!" - -"And so you had a mind to pop me over?" queried the other. "May I ask -why?" Having finished his labeling, he was at leisure to regard his -companion still more closely. - -"There's fellers prowling in the timber I ain't got no use for," the -cook explained, drinking. "But you're all right! You haven't got a cigar -handy, now, have you?" - -The scientist was well supplied, and as the cook bit off the end of a -large and black cigar he sighed with satisfaction. - -"I get the horrors sometimes," he explained. "I get as scary as a -cottontail. Them quaking asps is enough to drive a feller crazy, -anyhow." - -"There's nothing like a little whiskey in such cases," remarked the -professor, filling the extended cup. - -"If this keeps up, one of us is liable to get drunk," remarked Budd. -"That's a handy flask of yours. Come all the way from New York?" - -"From Richmond, I believe," responded the other. "My brother found it on -a battle field and sent it home to me." - -"I take it you wasn't there yourself," the Scorcher chuckled. - -"No," said Professor Sands. "I was in bad health at the time." - -"So was a lot of others," sneered Budd. "I wasn't feeling what you might -call well myself; but I stuck to it till they biffed me in the leg--the -hounds!--and put me out of business." - -"Of course, you draw a pension," ventured the professor. - -"No," said the cook, "I never asked for no pension. They've given one to -about every feller what wasn't dead when the war broke out, but there -hasn't been a bill passed yet that takes me in." - -"Indeed?" His listener was politely observant. - -"Yes, that's the truth," went on the cook. "I declare I feel real dopy -or dotty or something. They pensioned every beat that came back with a -knapsack full of rebel watches, but they left out old Jim. He don't wear -no medals; he don't parade on Decoration Day to scatter posies; he -don't get no free beer while the band plays 'Georgia'--'Hurrah for the -flag that makes us free!'" he chanted hoarsely. "Hurrah for the Devil! -that's what I say. Hurrah for the man without a pension!" - -"You interest me," interposed Professor Sands. - -"Oh, do I?" cried the cook. "By blood! I've half a mind to interest you -more. But don't look at me like that--I tell you, I don't like your -eye!" He tried to shield himself from that unmoved gaze. "You're -interested, are you? You'd like to put my case before your influential -friends back East? You with your little bag of rocks and your little -hammer and your gloves! Did you ever in your life see anyone who wasn't -a nickel-plated angel? Did you ever run across a real live blackguard -out of a story paper? Did you ever see a man who couldn't show his face -in a settlement by the light of day, and had to take up any job that -kept him out of sight? I don't know why, but I've got to shoot my mouth -off now if it hangs me. I've got to blab or go stark mad!" - -"I understand," said the professor. - -"I was one of them patriots," Budd went on, speaking almost -mechanically, as though hypnotized, "who enlisted for the boodle and -then skipped out to work the racket somewhere else." - -"In point of fact, a bounty jumper," his listener put in. - -"Yes," agreed the cook, "that's what I was. They were paying three -hundred gold for likely men to go down South and head off bullets, and -that beat getting drafted, so I joined. Oh, those were great old days, -great old days!" - -"How long were you in the service?" - -"About an hour and a quarter the first time," Budd replied. "It happened -in New York, and when I'd signed the roll they put me in a squad to -march off somewhere to get our uniforms. The sergeant was a tall guy, -greener than spinach, who'd drifted down from Maine a week before, and -didn't know no more about New York than a bull calf knows about the New -Jerusalem; but he made a bluff and asked the feller next me, whose name -was Butch, to give him points at every corner. Well, Butch directed, and -His Nibs kept on commanding 'Column left!' and 'Column right!' till we -got down to the toughest sort of a district--gas works and lumber yards -and such. I didn't know the game, but I dropped to it quick enough when -Butch says in a whisper, 'Here's our chance!' and it happened to be the -neatest chance a new beginner ever had. You see, in those days when -there was a fire pretty near everybody was welcome to catch hold and -help pull the machine, and there was always a crowd that come along to -holler and keep up the excitement. Well, that's the sort of outfit we -come up against. They filled the whole street, yelling and pushing, and -a feller either had to turn and run with them or get knocked down. I -didn't stop to see what became of the balance of the squad. I sloped up -one street and down another, going like a jack rabbit, till I found -myself before a ferry boat. I paid my fare and crossed the river, just -to get a chance to think." - -"Quite so," the professor sympathized. - -"I never meant no harm," the cook protested--"not then. There wouldn't -have been much sense in going back, especially when there were other -recruiting offices right there in Jersey City. I got another three -hundred, but my new sojer clothes was spoiled when I fell off the -transport in the dark the night before we sailed--and got drownded. Oh, -it was easy enough those days, before a lot of duffers took to the -business. But it got so arter awhile that we professionals had to keep -away from cities and play the country stations--Citizens' Committees, -Women's Aid Associations, and the substitute racket. Sometimes I did the -farmer boy with cowhide boots and hayseed in my hair, and told about -the mortgage on the old place, and the kid that was expected; and there -wasn't anything they wouldn't do so I could leave the folks comfortable -when I went off to the war. Oh, those were great times. In one day, out -the next!" - -"And--and was the getting out as easy?" his hearer asked. - -"Not quite," Budd admitted; "but pretty near. Say you were at a camp of -instruction; then it might be a pass, or a little something to the -sentry, or a brickbat in the dark, if you could throw straight. I gave a -feller fifty to let me through once, and then the sucker peached on me, -the lowdown sneak! But I got even with him later on. So I went marching -out of Philadelphia with the band playing and the women crying and the -men what was too delicate to go themselves singing out 'God bless you, -boys!' I tell you what, professor, for a moment I come pretty near to -wishing I was playing square." - -"A passing sentiment, I'm sure," said the geologist. - -"Sure!" cried Budd, delighted with his hearer's sympathy. "I'd like to -see the sentiment that would hold out after a couple of nights building -intrenchments in the rain. How could I help it if when the sentry's back -was turned the pick flew out of my hand and clipped him right behind the -ear? It was the same cuss who had blocked my game the week before." - -"Good!" laughed the professor. - -"He dropped," went on the cook, "and that was all I wanted. I lit out -and lay around in barns and corn cribs, living on raw carrots and what -eggs I found in the straw, till I guessed they must be tired looking for -me, and then one morning early I crept out and scared an old black aunty -who was feedin' chickens into fits. But I reckon I wasn't the first -strange bird she'd seen that summer, for she fed me, and that night she -steered me to a friend of hers who was in the clothing business and did -a little bartering evenings. He charged a hundred for a suit of -hand-me-downs and twenty for a hair cut and a shave--we enlisters never -argued over trifles--and shipped me back to Pennsylvania. But maybe you -won't believe it--by that time I had sorter lost my nerve. I got a -notion in my head that every man who looked my way was spying on me. I -couldn't pass the time of day with anyone who didn't seem to talk about -deserters. I was afraid to get a gold piece changed, for all the gold -went out of sight about that time, and just to have one was suspicious. -So what do you think I did? I walked right into a recruiting station and -enlisted without getting a cent. 'Rah for the flag!' I says. 'Gimme a -gun. I want to fight.' That was in Pittsburgh." - -The professor's start was too slight to break the narrative, but if -possible his watchfulness deepened; he leaned forward and his eyes held -those of Budd. - -"Yes," the cook continued, "in Pittsburgh. Same old band; same old -handkerchiefs waving; same old 'God bless you, boys!' I thought at first -I was all right and 'twould be the same old game, but it wasn't. They -had me spotted with a lot of others, and they kept us guarded like a -parcel of wild beasts, for all we was enlisted regular in the 120th -Pennsylvania." - -"The 120th Pennsylvania?" repeated the professor slowly. - -"That's what I said!" Budd resented the interruption. "And I tell you it -was no way to treat men. There must have been forty of us shut up in a -baggage car with no light or air but from one door open at the end, and -there we was for days and nights, and a tough lot, too! Bounty men and -substitutes and drafted truck, slamming along to the front, cussing our -luck, and everyone of us ready to bolt at the first chance. I stood it -till I heard the guns roaring like sin, not five miles off. Say, did you -ever hear that sound? Did you ever hear a gun you knew was fired at -real men and sending them to Kingdom Come? I heard it once, and that -was enough. We was laying flat along the floor, side by side as though -we was dead already, and next me was a German-looking guy, what had been -praying and swearing, turn about, ever since we started. When he heard -the firing, he went clean off his nut; he'd have blown his brains out -rather than take the chance of letting somebody else do it for him; he'd -have fought the Union army single-handed sooner than listen to them -shots another minute. Well, to make a long story short, him and me we -fixed up a scheme." - -The speaker caught his breath to listen, for the forest seemed suddenly -alive with sound and motion. A cloud swept down the valley of the North -Fork, so low that shreds of scud were caught in the topmost branches. -Hail pattered on the wire grass. The tent curtains flapped noisily, and -in the shadow the aspen leaves flashed white as though a mailed army -sprang from ambush. - -"Go on!" the professor urged, and the cook held up a brawny fist and -shook it at the universe defiantly. - -"I'll tell it now," he cried, "and all the winds that ever blew sha'n't -shout me down! Here's how it was." He faltered, and the professor -prompted him. - -"There's where you lay," he said, making a gesture to indicate the ranks -of trembling men. - -"There's where we lay," Budd echoed dully. - -"And there was the door," said the professor softly. He pointed to a -tree at the cañon's brink. - -"Yes, yes!" cried Budd, "there was the door. The platform was outside, -and there were two on guard. I was to spring out first--so," he jumped -up--"and tackle the one farthest off. The Dutchman was to grab the other -from behind. Mine was a stout young feller." - -"A stout young fellow," repeated the professor. - -"Yes," and the cook stood motionless as though some vision rose before -him. "I can see him now, with straight back and crisp curly brown hair." - -"A little curly," murmured the other. - -"Percy, they called him," said Budd. - -"Percy?" echoed the professor. "You are sure it was Percy?" - -"Sure as you're sitting there!" cried Budd. "'Keep your eyes open, -Percy, they're a bad lot.' That's what the corporal told him when he -went on guard. Lord! but it was a pity!" He chuckled inanely, swaying on -his feet. - -"What then?" inquired the man from Charbridge, rising slowly. - -Budd cowered before his questioner's eyes as he might have cowered when -those long silent guns were booming had the tall young fellow turned. - -"Nothing!" he muttered sullenly. "Nothing, so help me God! I didn't do -it." - -"You lie!" retorted the small man quietly. - -Budd laughed a foolish laugh. "There's where we lay," he babbled, "just -where your foot is, me and the Dutchman and the balance of us, and here -was the door----" - -He lurched toward the aspen tree and laid a hand upon its trunk to keep -from falling. The professor followed and stood close behind. - -"What do you want?" cried Budd, wheeling in sudden panic. - -"To learn the manner of my brother's death," the other answered between -lips that scarcely moved. - -The voice of the pines was like the rumble of a railway train; the winds -boomed down from timber line like thunders of artillery; the hailstones -struck the aspens' leaves like bullets, and over all the laugh of Budd -rang in maniacal mirth. - -The professor held his eye steadily; then abruptly: "Turn out the -guard!" he shouted. - -"Choke him, you big Dutch fool!" Budd called back in response, as with -his bare arms he grappled with an invisible adversary. - -He of the straight back and curly hair had been a strong young fellow, -but, taken unawares, the contest was bound to go against him. Once, it -seemed, he had brought Budd to his knees; once he had nearly hurled him -from the rocking car; but his knapsack must have hampered him, and his -musket and heavy cartridge box. The bounty jumper fought in silence and -with desperate method, gaining advantage every moment; while one hand -pinioned a phantom forearm, the other closed with murderous clutch upon -a ghostly throat. Meanwhile the professor stood by with folded arms -watching critically, one would have thought impartially. - -It was over presently, and Budd stood breathing hard. Then-- - -"Jump for your life!" commanded the professor. - -Without an instant's hesitation, Budd crept to the cañon's brink and -peered below. - -"All right!" he whispered. "Good-by, Dutch! We're free!" - -And with a last grasp of the aspen tree he swung himself across the edge -and dropped. - -The boys were mad enough to find no supper ready when they came from -timber line; but not surprised, for Budd was never one to give long -notice when he changed his habitation. And if somewhere on a high shelf -in an Eastern university--not Charbridge, by the way--there is still a -cube of red rock labeled "North Fork Cañon," it is the only memorial -left of the man without a pension. - - -THE END - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's On the Lightship, by Herman Knickerbocker Vielé - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ON THE LIGHTSHIP *** - -***** This file should be named 40648-8.txt or 40648-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/0/6/4/40648/ - -Produced by Robert Cicconetti, Martin Pettit and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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