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diff --git a/old/51797-h/51797-h.htm b/old/51797-h/51797-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index da1801f..0000000 --- a/old/51797-h/51797-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,12064 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - The Project Gutenberg eBook of To the Highest Bidder, by Florence Morse Kingsley. - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - <style type="text/css"> - -body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} -div.limit {max-width: 35em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} -div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} - - - h1, h2 {text-align: center; padding-left: 0em;} - -p {margin-top: 0.2em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: 0em; text-indent: 1.5em;} -.pi10 {text-indent: 0em; padding-left: 10em;} -.pc {text-align: center; text-indent: 0em;} -.pc2 {margin-top: 2em; text-align: center; text-indent: 0em;} -.pc4 {margin-top: 4em; text-align: center; text-indent: 0em;} -.pn1 {margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 0em; text-indent: 0em;} -.pn2 {margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 0em; text-indent: 0em;} -.pp6q {margin-top: 0em; line-height: 1em; font-size: 90%; text-align: left; margin-bottom: 0em; padding-left: 6em; text-indent: -0.45em;} -.pr4 {margin-top: 0em; text-align: right; text-indent: 0em; padding-right: 4em;} -.pbq {line-height: 1em; text-indent: 1.2em; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%;} -.ptn {margin-top: 0.3em; text-indent: -1em; margin-left: 2%;} - -.p1 {margin-top: 1em;} -.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} -.p4 {margin-top: 4em;} - -.small {font-size: 75%;} -.reduct {font-size: 90%;} -.lmid {font-size: 110%;} -.mid {font-size: 125%;} -.large {font-size: 150%;} -.xlarge {font-size: 200%;} - -hr {width: 33%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; margin-left: 33.5%; margin-right: 33.5%; clear: both;} -hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} -hr.d1 {width: 5%; margin-left: 47.5%; margin-right: 47.5%; margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em;} - -.figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} -.pc400 {margin-top: 0em; width: 25.5em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center; margin-bottom: 0.5em; text-indent: 0em;} -.pr400 {line-height: 1em; font-weight: normal; font-size: 90%; width: 30em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: right; margin-bottom: 0.5em; text-indent: 0em;} - -table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} - -#toc {width: 60%; line-height: 1em; margin-top: 1em;} - - .tdc1 {text-align: center;} - .tdsp {width: 40%;} - .tdr1 {text-align: right; width: 1em; vertical-align: bottom; width: 1em;} - -.pagenum { /* visibility: hidden; */ position: absolute; left: 94%; color: gray; - font-size: smaller; text-align: right; text-indent: 0em; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;} - -.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} - -.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA; color: black; font-size:smaller; padding:0.5em; margin-bottom:5em; font-family:sans-serif, serif; } - </style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -Project Gutenberg's To the Highest Bidder, by Florence Morse Kingsley - -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: To the Highest Bidder - -Author: Florence Morse Kingsley - -Illustrator: John Rae - -Release Date: April 19, 2016 [EBook #51797] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TO THE HIGHEST BIDDER *** - - - - -Produced by Giovanni Fini, David Edwards and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - -</pre> - -<div class="limit"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="transnote p4"> -<p class="pc large">TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:</p> -<p class="ptn">—Obvious print and punctuation errors were corrected.</p> -<p class="ptn">—A Table of Contents was not in the original work; one has been produced and added by Transcriber.</p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_i" id="Page_i">[i]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/cover.jpg" width="350" height="547" alt="" /> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ii" id="Page_ii">[ii]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p class="pc4 xlarge">TO THE HIGHEST BIDDER</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/fr.jpg" width="400" height="591" - alt="" - title="" /> - <p class="pc400">In the one spring-time when David Whitcomb -loved her</p> - <p class="pr400">(<i>Page <a href="#Page_74">74</a></i>)</p> -</div> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[iii]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h1 class="p4">TO THE<br /> -<span class="lmid">HIGHEST BIDDER</span></h1> - -<p class="pc4">By</p> - -<p class="pc2 mid">FLORENCE MORSE KINGSLEY</p> - -<p class="pc reduct">Author of “The Singular Miss Smith,” “The Glass House,” etc.</p> - -<p class="pc4">ILLUSTRATED BY</p> -<p class="pc mid">JOHN RAE</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/logo.jpg" width="200" height="305" - alt="" - title="" /> -</div> - -<p class="pc lmid">NEW YORK</p> -<p class="pc mid">DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY</p> -<p class="pc">1911</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv">[iv]</a></span></p> - - -<p class="pc4 reduct"><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1911, by</span><br /> -DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY<br /> -Published, January, 1911</p> - -<hr class="d1" /> - -<p class="pc reduct"><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1910, by</span><br /> -THE CHRISTIAN HERALD</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[v]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4">TABLE OF CONTENTS</h2> - -<table id="toc" summary="cont"> - - <tr> - <td class="tdc1"><span class="small">CHAPTER</span></td> - <td class="tdr1">I.</td> - <td rowspan="23" class="tdsp"> </td> - <td class="tdc1"><span class="small">PAGE</span></td> - <td class="tdr1"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdc1">”</td> - <td class="tdr1">II.</td> - <td class="tdc1">”</td> - <td class="tdr1"><a href="#Page_15">15</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdc1">”</td> - <td class="tdr1">III.</td> - <td class="tdc1">”</td> - <td class="tdr1"><a href="#Page_29">29</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdc1">”</td> - <td class="tdr1">IV.</td> - <td class="tdc1">”</td> - <td class="tdr1"><a href="#Page_47">47</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdc1">”</td> - <td class="tdr1">V.</td> - <td class="tdc1">”</td> - <td class="tdr1"><a href="#Page_58">58</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdc1">”</td> - <td class="tdr1">VI.</td> - <td class="tdc1">”</td> - <td class="tdr1"><a href="#Page_69">69</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdc1">”</td> - <td class="tdr1">VII.</td> - <td class="tdc1">”</td> - <td class="tdr1"><a href="#Page_78">78</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdc1">”</td> - <td class="tdr1">VIII.</td> - <td class="tdc1">”</td> - <td class="tdr1"><a href="#Page_89">89</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdc1">”</td> - <td class="tdr1">IX.</td> - <td class="tdc1">”</td> - <td class="tdr1"><a href="#Page_106">106</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdc1">”</td> - <td class="tdr1">X.</td> - <td class="tdc1">”</td> - <td class="tdr1"><a href="#Page_117">117</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdc1">”</td> - <td class="tdr1">XI.</td> - <td class="tdc1">”</td> - <td class="tdr1"><a href="#Page_129">129</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdc1">”</td> - <td class="tdr1">XII.</td> - <td class="tdc1">”</td> - <td class="tdr1"><a href="#Page_142">142</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdc1">”</td> - <td class="tdr1">XIII.</td> - <td class="tdc1">”</td> - <td class="tdr1"><a href="#Page_150">150</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdc1">”</td> - <td class="tdr1">XIV.</td> - <td class="tdc1">”</td> - <td class="tdr1"><a href="#Page_162">162</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdc1">”</td> - <td class="tdr1">XV.</td> - <td class="tdc1">”</td> - <td class="tdr1"><a href="#Page_175">175</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdc1">”</td> - <td class="tdr1">XVI.</td> - <td class="tdc1">”</td> - <td class="tdr1"><a href="#Page_188">188</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdc1">”</td> - <td class="tdr1">XVII.</td> - <td class="tdc1">”</td> - <td class="tdr1"><a href="#Page_203">203</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdc1">”</td> - <td class="tdr1">XVIII.</td> - <td class="tdc1">”</td> - <td class="tdr1"><a href="#Page_218">218</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdc1">”</td> - <td class="tdr1">XIX.</td> - <td class="tdc1">”</td> - <td class="tdr1"><a href="#Page_235">235</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdc1">”</td> - <td class="tdr1">XX.</td> - <td class="tdc1">”</td> - <td class="tdr1"><a href="#Page_246">246</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdc1">”</td> - <td class="tdr1">XXI.</td> - <td class="tdc1">”</td> - <td class="tdr1"><a href="#Page_259">259</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdc1">”</td> - <td class="tdr1">XXII.</td> - <td class="tdc1">”</td> - <td class="tdr1"><a href="#Page_269">269</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdc1">”</td> - <td class="tdr1">XXIII.</td> - <td class="tdc1">”</td> - <td class="tdr1"><a href="#Page_291">291</a></td> - </tr> - -</table> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p class="pc4 xlarge"><b>TO THE HIGHEST BIDDER</b></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<h2 class="p4">THE HIGHEST BIDDER</h2> - -<h2 class="p2">I</h2> - -<p class="pn2"><span class="smcap">Abram Hewett</span> and his son “Al” were distributing -the mail in the narrow space behind the high tier of -numbered glass boxes which occupied the left-hand -corner of the general store known as “Hewett’s grocery.” -There were not many letters and papers in -the old leathern bag whose marred outer surface bore -evidence to its many hurried departures and ignominious -arrivals. Only the “locals” stopped at Barford; -the expresses whizzed disdainfully past, discharging -the mailbag on the platform of the ugly -little station like a well-aimed bullet.</p> - -<p>There was one letter in the scant pile awaiting -official scrutiny over which the younger Hewett -pursed his thick lips in a thoughtful whistle. He -turned over the thin envelope, held it up to the light, -squinted curiously at it out of one gray-green eye -before he finally deposited it among the letters destined -for general delivery.</p> - -<p>This done, a slight sound drew his attention to -the wabbly stand on the counter next to the post-office -proper, whereon was displayed a variety of picture -postal cards; “views” of Barford taken by the local -photographer, and offered generously to the public<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span> -at the rate of two for five cents. Intermingled with -the photographic representations of the village were -cards of a more general and decorative nature; impossibly -yellow Easter chickens, crosses, wreaths, and -baskets of flowers, in a variety of startling colors, and -lurking behind these in a manner suited to the time of -year (it being the month of April) were reminders of -a Christmas past, in the shape of stars, holly wreaths, -and churches, their lighted windows sparkling with -mica snows.</p> - -<p>Before this varied collection a small boy, with a -scarlet tam perched on the back of his curly head, -stood gazing with longing eyes.</p> - -<p>“Oh! hello there, bub!” observed Mr. Al Hewett -rebukingly. “You mustn’t touch them cards, y’ -know.”</p> - -<p>The boy stared at him from under puckered brows, -his rosy mouth half opened.</p> - -<p>“What are they for?” he demanded.</p> - -<p>“Why, to sen’ to folks, Jimmy,” explained Mr. -Hewett, with a return of his wonted good humor. -“Easter greetings, views of our town, et cetery. -Want one t’ sen’ t’ y’r bes’ girl?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I do,” said the child earnestly. “I want -one for—for Barb’ra. I want this one.”</p> - -<p>He laid a proprietary hand on a Christmas tree -sparkling with tinsel lights and surmounted by the -legend, “I wish you a merry Christmas.”</p> - -<p>“Well, son, that card’ll cost you a nickel, seein’ -it’s early in the season,” responded the youth humorously.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span> -“A nickel apiece; three fer ten. Shan’t I -wrap you up an Easter greetin’ an’ th’ Meth’dist -church along with it?”</p> - -<p>The boy was engaged in untying a hard knot in -the corner of his handkerchief.</p> - -<p>“I’ve got ten cents an’ a nickel,” he said. “An’ -I want ten cents’ worth of m’lasses an’ the mail an’ -that card. It’s my birfday,” he added proudly, “an’ -Barb’ra said I could buy anything I wanted with the -nickel. She’s goin’ to make me some popcorn balls -with the m’lasses.”</p> - -<p>“How old are you, Jimmy?” inquired the youth, -as he tied up the card in brown paper with a pink -string, and languidly deposited the nickel in the till. -“‘Bout a hunderd, I s’pose.”</p> - -<p>“I’m six years old,” replied Jimmy importantly. -“An’ I’m large of my age; Barb’ra says so.”</p> - -<p>“Then it mus’ be so, I reckon. Say, here’s a letter -fer Barb’ra f’om ’way out west. I’ve been wonderin’ -who Barb’ra knows out west. Ever hear her -say, Jimmy?”</p> - -<p>The boy shook his blond head vigorously, as he -bestowed the letter in the pocket of his coat.</p> - -<p>“I’ll ask her if you want me to,” he said with a -friendly little smile.</p> - -<p>But young Mr. Hewett was back at his post behind -the little window, where he presently became engaged -in brisk repartee with a couple of red-cheeked -girls over the non-arrival of a letter which one of -them appeared confidently to expect.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span></p> - -<p>Neither bestowed a glance upon the small figure -in the red cap which presently made its way out of -the door, carefully carrying a covered tin pail, and -out of whose shallow pocket protruded the half of a -thin blue envelope addressed to Miss Barbara Preston, -in a man’s bold angular hand.</p> - -<p>There was a cold wind abroad, roaring through -the branches of the budding trees, and tossing the red -maple blossoms in a riotous blur of color against the -brilliant blue and white of the sky. To Jimmy Preston -trudging along the uneven sidewalk, where tiny -pools of water from the morning’s rain reflected the -sky and the tossing trees, like fragments of a broken -mirror, came a sense of singular elation. It was his -birthday; in one hand he carried the beautiful sparkling -card, and in the other the tin pail containing the -molasses; while in the dazzling reflections under foot -were infinite heights—infinite depths of mysterious -rapture.</p> - -<p>“If I sh’d step in,” mused Jimmy, carefully skirting -the edges of a shallow uneven pool in the worn -stones, “‘s like’s not I’d go clear through to heaven.”</p> - -<p>Heaven was a wonderful place, all flowers and -music and joyous ease. He knew this, because Barbara -had told him so; and nearly all of the family -were there—all but Barbara and himself. But there -might not be popcorn balls in heaven; Jimmy -couldn’t be certain on that point; and, anyway, he -concluded it was better to stay where Barbara was -and grow up to be a man as soon as possible.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span></p> - -<p>The little boy broke into a manly whistle as he -pictured himself in a gray flannel shirt with his -trousers tucked into large boots, ploughing and calling -to the horses, the way Peg Morrison did.</p> - -<p>The sidewalk came to an end presently, together -with the village street, just opposite the big house -of the Honorable Stephen Jarvis. Jimmy stopped, -as he always did, to look in through the convolutions -of a highly ornamental fence at the cast-iron deer -which guarded the walk on either side, and at the -mysterious blue glass balls mounted on pedestals, -which glistened brightly in a passing gleam of sunshine. -There were other things of interest in the -yard of the big house: groups of yellow daffodils, -nodding gaily in the wind, red, white, and purple -hyacinths behind the borders of blue-starred periwinkle, -and shrubs with clouds of pink and yellow -blossoms. In the summer there would be red geraniums -and flaming cannas and pampas grass in tall -fleecy pyramids. Jimmy wondered what it would -be like to walk up the long smooth gravel path and -open the tall front door. What splendors might be -hid behind the lace curtains looped away from the -shining windows; books, maybe, with pictures; a real -piano with ivory keys, and chairs and sofas of red -velvet.</p> - -<p>“S’pos’n,” said Jimmy to his sociable little self, -“jus’ s’pos’n me an’ Barb’ra lived there; an’ I should -walk right in an’ find Barb’ra all dressed in a pink -satin dress with a trail an’ maybe a diamon’ crown.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span> -She’d look lovely in a diamon’ crown, Barb’ra -would.”</p> - -<p>His attention was diverted at the moment by the -sight of a smart sidebar buggy, drawn by a spirited -bay horse, which a groom was driving around the -house from the stable at the rear. The man pulled -up sharply at the side entrance, where the bay horse -pawed the gravel impatiently. Jimmy observed with -interest that the horse’s tail was cropped short and -bobbed about excitedly.</p> - -<p>He was imagining himself as coming out of the -house and climbing into the shining buggy, and taking -the reins in his own hands, and——</p> - -<p>He waited breathlessly, his eyes glued to an opening -in the fence, while the tall spare figure of a man -wearing a gray overcoat and a gray felt hat emerged -from the house.</p> - -<p>Jimmy recognized the man at once. He was the -Honorable Stephen Jarvis. Few persons in Barford -ever spoke of him in any other way. “The -Honorable” seemed as much a part of his name as -Jarvis. Jimmy, for one, thought it was.</p> - -<p>“That’s me!” said Jimmy. “Now I’m climbin’ -in; now I’ve took the lines! Now I’ve got the whip! -And now——”</p> - -<p>The vehicle dashed out of the open gate, whirred -past with a spatter of half-frozen mud, and disappeared -around a bend of the road where pollarded -willows grew.</p> - -<p>“My! I’m goin’ fast!” said Jimmy aloud. “But<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> -I ain’t afraid; no, sir! I guess Barb’ra’ll be some -s’prised when she sees me drivin’ in! I’ll say, ‘Come -on an’ take a ride with me, Barb’ra’; an’ Barb’ra, -she’ll say, ‘Why, Jimmy Preston! ain’t you ’fraid -that short-tailed horse’ll run away?’ An’ I’ll laugh -an’ say, ‘Don’t you see I’m drivin’?’”</p> - -<p>The laugh at least was real, and it rang out in a -series of rollicking chuckles, as the child resumed his -slow progress with the pail of molasses which had -begun to ooze sticky sweetness around the edge. -Observing this, Jimmy set it down and applied a cautious -finger to the overflow; from thence to his mouth -was a short distance, with results of such surprising -satisfaction that the entire circumference of the pail -was carefully gone over. “I guess,” reflected Jimmy -gravely, “that I’d better hurry now. Barb’ra’ll be -expectin’ me.”</p> - -<p>A more rapid rate of progress brought about a -recrudescence of the oozing sweetness which, manifestly, -involved a repetition of salvage. By this time -Jimmy had reached and passed the row of willows, -cut back every spring to the gnarled stumps which -vaguely reminded the child of a row of misshapen -dwarfs; enchanted, maybe, and rooted to the ground -like gnomes in the fairy-tales. Beyond the distorted -willows, with their bunched osiers just budding into a -mist of yellowish green, was the bridge with its three -loose planks which rattled loud and hollow when a -trotting horse passed over, and responded to the light -footfalls of the child with a faint, intermittent<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span> -creaking. On either side of the brook, swollen now -to a muddy torrent with the spring rains, grew crisp -green clumps of the skunk cabbage, interspersed with -yellow adders’ tongues and the elusive pink and white -of clustered spring-beauties.</p> - -<p>“If I sh’d take Barb’ra some flowers, I guess she’d -be glad,” communed Jimmy with himself. “I’m -mos’ sure Barb’ra’d be awful glad to have some of -those yellow flowers; she likes yellow flowers, Barb’ra -does.”</p> - -<p>He climbed down carefully, because of the molasses -which seemed to seethe and bubble ever more joyously -within the narrow confines of the tin pail, and -having arrived at the creek bottom he set down the -pail by a big stone and proceeded to fill his hands -with pink and yellow blossoms. It was pleasant -down by the brook, with the wind roaring overhead -like a friendly giant, and the blue sky and hurrying -white clouds reflected in the still places of the stream.</p> - -<p>A thunder of hoofs and wheels sounded on the -bridge, and the child looked up to see the round red -face of Peg Morrison, and the curl of his whip-lash -as he called to his horses.</p> - -<p>“Hello, Peg!” shouted Jimmy, “wait an’ le’ me -get in!” He caught up the pail and clambered briskly -up the steep bank.</p> - -<p>The man had drawn up his horses, his puckered -eyes and puckered lips smiling down at the little -boy.</p> - -<p>“Wall, I d’clar!” he called out in a high cracked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> -voice, “if this ’ere ain’t the Cap’n! Where’d you -come f’om, Cap’n? Here, I’ll take your pail.”</p> - -<p>“It’s got molasses in it, so you’d better be careful,” -warned Jimmy. “I’m goin’ to have six popcorn -balls an’ one to grow on, ’cause it’s my birfday an’ -I’m large of my age.”</p> - -<p>“Wall, now, I d’clar!” cried Peg admiringly, “so -you be, now I come to think of it, Cap’n. You’re -hefty, too—big an’ hefty.”</p> - -<p>He pulled the little boy up beside him with a grunt -as of a mighty effort. As he did so the blue letter -slipped out of the small pocket, which was only half -big enough to hold it, and dropped unnoticed to the -ground. Then the wagon with a creak and a rattle -started on once more.</p> - -<p>“You c’n see,” said Peg gravely, “how the horses -hes to pull now’t you’re in.”</p> - -<p>“Didn’t they have to pull’s hard as that before I -got in?” inquired Jimmy. “Honest, Peg, didn’t -they?”</p> - -<p>“Why, all you’ve got to do is to look at ’em, -Cap’n,” chuckled Peg. “I’m glad it ain’t fur or -they’d git all tuckered out, an’ I’ve got to plough -to-day. Say, Cap’n, the wind’s blowin’ fer business -ain’t it? You’d better look out fer that military -hat o’ your’n.”</p> - -<p>“It does blow pretty hard,” admitted Jimmy; -“but my hat’s on tight.”</p> - -<p>He glanced back vaguely to see a glimmer of -something blue skidding sidewise across the road into<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> -the tangle of huckleberry and hard-hack bushes; then -he turned once more to the man at his side.</p> - -<p>“I’ve got a birfday present for Barb’ra,” he said -eagerly.</p> - -<p>“A birthday present fer Barb’ry? ’Tain’t her -birthday, too, is it?” inquired Peg, clucking to his -horses.</p> - -<p>“No, it’s my birfday; but I got Barb’ra a birfday -present with my fi’ cents. I’m six.”</p> - -<p>“Sure!” cried Peg. “Anybody’d know you was -six, Cap’n, jus’ to look at you! Six, an’ large an’ -hefty fer your age. You bet they would! What -sort of birthday present did you get for Barb’ry—hey?”</p> - -<p>“If you’ll keep the molasses from spillin’ over I’ll -show it to you,” offered Jimmy. “It’s a beautiful -picture.”</p> - -<p>“Wall, now I vow!” exclaimed Peg, when the pink -string had been carefully untied and the sparkling -Christmas tree exposed to view. “‘I wish you a -merry Christmas,’” he read slowly. “Say, that’s -great, Cap’n! Mos’ folks fergit all about merry -Christmas long before spring. But they hadn’t -ought to. Stan’s to reason they hadn’t. They’d -ought to be merrier in April ’an in December, ’cause -the goin’s better an’ it’s ’nuffsight pleasanter -weather. I’ll bet Barb’ry’ll be tickled ha’f to death -when she sees that.”</p> - -<p>“It sparkles, don’t it, Peg?”</p> - -<p>“Mos’ puts my eyes out,” acquiesced the man.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> -“It’s all kin’s an’ colors o’ sparkles. It cert’ly is a -neligant present. D’ye want to drive while I do it -up fer ye?”</p> - -<p>Jimmy took the reins.</p> - -<p>“I won’t let ’em run away,” he said gravely.</p> - -<p>“Run away?” chuckled Peg. “I’d like to see -’em run away with you a-holt o’ the lines. They -wouldn’t das to try it.”</p> - -<p>“I s’pose I’ll be able to work the farm before -long, Peg,” observed Jimmy, after a short silence, -during which he sternly eyed the bobbing heads of the -old farm horses. “I’m pretty old now, an’ I’m -gettin’ taller every day.”</p> - -<p>“H’m!” grumbled Mr. Morrison. “I guess the’ -ain’t no ’special hurry ’bout your takin’ charge o’ -the farm, Cap’n. Me an Barb’ry’s makin’ out pretty -well; an’ you know, Cap’n, you’ve got to go to school -quite a spell yet.”</p> - -<p>Jimmy knit his forehead.</p> - -<p>“I guess there is some hurry,” he said slowly. -“I’ve got to grow up’s quick’s I can.”</p> - -<p>The man looked down at the valiant little figure at -his side with a queer twist of his weather-beaten face.</p> - -<p>“Did—Barb’ry tell you that?” he wanted to know -after a short silence.</p> - -<p>“No,” said Jimmy, shaking his head, “Barb’ra -didn’t tell me. I—just thinked it. You see, it’s -this way,” he went on, with a serious grown-up air, -“I’m all Barb’ra’s got, an’ Barb’ra’s all I’ve got. -We’ve just got each other; an’—an’—the farm.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span></p> - -<p>Peg pursed up his lips in an inaudible whistle. -“You wasn’t thinkin’ of givin’ up the farm—you an’ -Barb’ry; was you?” he inquired presently.</p> - -<p>“What? Me an’ Barb’ra give up the—farm?” -echoed Jimmy, in a shocked little voice. “Why—we -couldn’t do that.”</p> - -<p>“Seein’ the’s jus’ th’ two of you, Cap’n—you an’ -Barb’ry, an’—an’—the farm, I didn’t know but what -you was calc’latin’ t’ move int’ th’ village, where the’s -more folks, an’——”</p> - -<p>Jimmy shook his blond head vigorously.</p> - -<p>“We couldn’t live anywhere else,” he said decidedly. -“It’s—why, it’s our home!”</p> - -<p>Peg had taken the reins and the wagon jolted -noisily between the tall stone gate-posts, past the big -elms and the groups of untrimmed evergreens, to -where the house stood on its low grassy terrace, a -gravelled driveway encircling it. It was a wide, low, -old-fashioned house with narrow porches and small-paned -windows, glittering in the sun like little fires. -Obviously the house had not been painted for a long -time; and its once dazzling walls and green shutters -had softened with time and uncounted storms into a -warm silvery gray which lent a certain dignity to its -square outlines.</p> - -<p>Jimmy climbed down over the wheel and dashed -excitedly into the house.</p> - -<p>“I’ve come, Barb’ra!” he shouted imperiously. -“Where are you, Barb’ra?”</p> - -<p>The door of the sitting-room opened and a young<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> -woman came out. She was tall and slender, with -masses of warm brown hair, a red mouth, and a -brilliantly clear pale skin; her gray eyes under their -long dark lashes were wide and angry, but they softened -as they fell upon the small figure in the red tam.</p> - -<p>“I’ve got a neligant birfday present f’r you, -Barb’ra,” announced the little boy loudly. “An’ -I’ve got a quart of m’lasses an’ I’ve got a letter -f’om way out west. An’ Al Hewett he wants to -know——”</p> - -<p>“Hush, Jimmy,” said the girl, stooping to kiss the -child’s red mouth. “There’s—someone here. I—can’t -stop now. Go and get warm in the kitchen. -I’ll come presently.”</p> - -<p>She opened a door peremptorily and the child -passed through it, his bright face clouded with disappointment.</p> - -<p>“Don’t you want to see your—birfday present, -even?” he demanded with quivering lips. “I -bought it with my fi’ cents, an’ it’s——”</p> - -<p>But the girl had already closed the door behind -her; he could hear her speak to someone in the -sitting-room. There followed the sound of a man’s -voice, speaking at length, and the low-toned murmur -of a brief reply. Jimmy laid the small flat parcel -containing the postal card on the kitchen table, and -set the pail of molasses on a chair. There was a -froth of sweetness all around the edge now, but Jimmy -didn’t care. Vaguely heavy at heart he walked over -to the window and looked out. Hitched to the post<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> -near the lilac bushes was a tall bay horse with a -cropped tail. Behind the horse was a shining sidebar -buggy with red wheels. The horse was stretching -his sleek neck in an effort to reach the tender green -shoots of the lilac bushes, his cropped tail switching -irritably from side to side. Jimmy stared with round -eyes.</p> - -<p>Presently the side door opened and Stephen Jarvis -came out quickly, jamming his gray felt hat low -upon his forehead. He untied the horse, jerking the -animal’s head impatiently to one side as he did so, -and stepped to the high seat; then, at a savage cut -of the whip, the horse darted away, the gravel spurting -from under his angry hoof-beats.</p> - -<p>“I’m glad I’m not that horse,” mused Jimmy, -“an’ I’m glad—” he added, after a minute’s reflection—“‘at -I’m not—him.”</p> - -<p>He was still thinking confusedly about the short-tailed -horse and his owner, when he heard Barbara’s -step behind him.</p> - -<p>The girl stooped, put both arms about the little -boy, and laid her hot cheek on his. Then she -laughed, rather unsteadily.</p> - -<p>“Kiss me quick, Jimmy Preston!” she cried. “I -want to be loved—hard!”</p> - -<p>The child threw both arms fervently about his sister’s -neck. “I love you,” he declared circumstantially, -“wiv all my outsides an’ all my insides! -I love you harder’n anyfing!”</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4">II</h2> - -<p class="pn2"><span class="smcap">For</span> a long time (it seemed to Jimmy) after the -last hoof-beat of the ill-tempered horse with the -cropped tail had died away on the gravelled drive -Barbara sat with the child in her arms, his curly -head close against her cheek; her gray eyes bright -with tears resolutely held in check.</p> - -<p>“Aren’t you gettin’ some tired of holdin’ me?” inquired -Jimmy, with a stealthy little wriggle of protest. -“You know I’m six, an’ Peg says I’m hefty -for my age.”</p> - -<p>Barbara laughed faintly, and the little boy slipped -from her arms with alacrity and stood before her, -eyeing her searchingly.</p> - -<p>“I bought you a birfday present with my fi’ -cents,” he said, “but you wouldn’t wait to see -it.”</p> - -<p>“You bought me a birthday present?” cried Barbara. -“Why, Jimmy Preston! Show it to me; I -can’t wait a minute longer.”</p> - -<p>Jimmy walked soberly across to the table. The -first glow of his enthusiasm had vanished, and he -frowned a little as he untied the pink string.</p> - -<p>“Maybe you won’t like it,” he said modestly. -“It’s a picture, an’—an’ it—sparkles. I fought—no;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> -I mean I <i>thought</i> it was pretty, an’ that you’d -like it, Barb’ra.”</p> - -<p>“Like it, boy! I should say so! It’s the most -beautiful birthday present I ever had.” Barbara -spoke with convincing sincerity and her eyes suddenly -wrinkled with fun—the fun Jimmy loved. “I’d -really like to kiss you six times—and one to grow on, -if you’ll allow me, sir,” she said.</p> - -<p>Jimmy considered this proposition for awhile in -silence. “You don’t kiss Peg,” he objected at last.</p> - -<p>“Mercy no! I should hope not!” laughed Barbara.</p> - -<p>She seized the child firmly and planted four of the -seven kisses on his hard pink cheeks. “Now two -more under your curls in the sweet place,” she murmured. -“And the last one in the sweetest place of -all!” And she turned up his round chin and sought -the warm white hollow beneath like a homing bee.</p> - -<p>“I guess I’ll be some sweeter after I eat six popcorn -balls,” observed Jimmy, disengaging himself. -“The molasses didn’t spill much.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I’m glad of that!” cried Barbara. “I -guess I’d better get to work. You run out and -bring in some chips from the woodpile, and I’ll have -that molasses boiling before you can spell Jack Robinson.”</p> - -<p>“J-a-c-k,” began Jimmy triumphantly; but Barbara -chased him out of doors with a sudden access of -pretended severity.</p> - -<p>“You’re getting altogether too clever for me,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> -Jimmy Preston!” she said. Then her face clouded -swiftly at the recollection of Stephen Jarvis’s parting -words.</p> - -<p>“What do you propose to do with the boy?” he -had asked.</p> - -<p>“Take care of him,” she had replied defiantly, -“and save the farm for him.”</p> - -<p>It was then that Jarvis had risen, crushing his -gray felt hat angrily between his hands.</p> - -<p>“You’re likely to find it impossible to do either -the one or the other,” he said coldly. “The boy is -a chip of the old block. As for the farm, I’ve been -trying to make you understand for the last half hour -that it does not belong to you, unless you can meet -the payments before the date I set; and you’ve just -told me you can’t do that.”</p> - -<p>“Let me pop the corn, Barb’ra!” begged Jimmy, -sniffing ecstatically at the molasses which was beginning -to seethe and bubble fragrantly in the little -round kettle. “I like birfdays,” he went on sociably; -“don’t; you, Barb’ra? I mean I like <i>birthdays</i>. -Did I say that right, Barb’ra?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, dear,” said his sister absent-mindedly. She -was drawing out the little round mahogany table. -“I’m going to put on the pink china,” she announced, -with a defiant toss of her dark head. The defiance -was for the Honorable Stephen Jarvis.</p> - -<p>“It’s beginning to pop!” cried Jimmy excitedly, -as he drew the corn-popper back and forth on the -hot griddles with a busy scratching sound.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Don’t let it burn,” warned Barbara. “How -would you like some little hot biscuits, Jimmy, and -some strawberry preserves?”</p> - -<p>“Strawberry ’serves?” he echoed. “I didn’t -know we had any ’serves.”</p> - -<p>“Well, we have. I’ve been saving ’em for—for -your birthday, Jimmy.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I’m glad!” cried the little boy, redoubling -his efforts. “See me work, Barb’ra. Don’t I work -hard?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, indeed, dear.” She hesitated, then added in -a low voice, “You always will work hard; won’t you, -Jimmy?”</p> - -<p>The child watched her gravely while she shook the -crisp white kernels into a bowl. He was thinking -of her question.</p> - -<p>“Do you think I’ll have to go to school much -longer, Barb’ra?” he asked. “It takes such a long -time to go to school.”</p> - -<p>The girl wheeled sharply about.</p> - -<p>“What put that notion into your head?” she demanded. -“Of course you’ve got to go school till—till -you’re educated—like father.” Her voice -faltered a little, and a dark flush crept into her -cheeks.</p> - -<p>The boy’s eyes were on her face.</p> - -<p>“Of course father was—he was sick, Jimmy, sick -and unhappy. You don’t remember him as I do; but -he——”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I know,” the child said simply.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span></p> - -<p>Then he threw his arms about Barbara and hugged -her. He didn’t know why exactly, except that Barbara -liked his rough boyish caresses. And he wanted -to make her smile again.</p> - -<p>She did smile, winking back the tears.</p> - -<p>“I want you to study—hard, Jimmy,” she went -on in a low tremulous voice; “and grow to be a good -man—the best kind of a man. You must! I couldn’t -bear it, if you——”</p> - -<p>“Well, I won’t, Barb’ra,” promised the child -gravely. He eyed his sister with a sudden flash of -comprehension as he added stoutly, “You don’t have -to worry ’bout me. I’m growin’ jus’ ’s fas’ ’s I can, -an’ I know mos’ all my tables, ’ceptin’ seven an’ nine -an’ some of eight.”</p> - -<p>Barbara laughed, and there was the same odd ring -of defiance in the sound. Then she opened a cupboard -in the wall and took out a cake covered with -pink icing.</p> - -<p>Jimmy’s blue eyes grew wide with wonder. -“What’s that?” he demanded.</p> - -<p>Barbara was setting six small candles around the -edge; last of all she planted one in the middle.</p> - -<p>“You couldn’t guess if you tried,” she said gaily. -“I just know you couldn’t. You’re such a dull -boy.”</p> - -<p>“I can guess, too!” cried Jimmy with a shout of -rapture. “It’s a cake! It’s my birfday cake! An’ -it’s got six candles on it an’ one to grow on. I ’member -last year it had only five an’ one to grow on; but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> -I growed that one all up. I want Peg to see it. Can -I go out t’ the barn an’ get him? Can I, -Barb’ra?”</p> - -<p>The girl hesitated as she cast a troubled eye on the -table set daintily with the pink china, and the few -carefully cherished bits of old silver.</p> - -<p>“You may ask Peg to come in and have supper -with you, if you like,” she said slowly. “Just this -once—because it’s your birthday.”</p> - -<p>Jimmy didn’t wait for a second bidding; he dashed -out of the back door with a boyish whoop, carefully -studied from the big boys in school.</p> - -<p>Peg (shortened from Peleg) Morrison had worked -on the Preston farm for so many years that he appeared -almost as much a part of the place as the -shabby old house itself, or the rambling structures at -its rear known indeterminately as “the barns.” He -slept over the carriage-house, in quarters originally -intended for the coachman. Here also he cooked -handily for himself on a rusty old stove, compounding -what he called “tried an’ tested receipts” out of -a queer old yellow-leaved book bound in marbled -boards, its pages written over in Peg’s own scrawling -chirography.</p> - -<p>“I wouldn’t part with that thar book for its weight -in gold an’ di’mon’s,” he was in the habit of saying -solemnly to Jimmy. “No, Cap’n, I reelly wouldn’t. -I begun to write down useful inf’mation in it when I -wasn’t much bigger’n you be now, an’ I’ve kep’ it -up.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Vallable Information, by Peleg Morrison,” was -the legend inscribed on its thumbed cover. Jimmy -admired this book beyond words, and quite in private -had started one of his own on pieces of brown -paper accumulated in the attic chamber where he -played on rainy days.</p> - -<p>“Hello, Cap’n!” observed Peg with a genial smile, -as the little boy thrust his yellow head in at the -door of his quarters. “Say! I do b’lieve you’ve -growed some since I seen you last. It must be them -popcorn balls, I reckon. Pop-corn’s mighty tasty -and nourishin’.”</p> - -<p>“I haven’t eaten ’em—not yet!” said Jimmy -breathlessly. “An’, Peg, I’ve got a birfday cake—an’ -it’s got six candles on it, an’ one to grow on; an’—an’ -it’s all pink on top; an’ Barb’ra, she’s made a -whole lot of biscuits; an’ we’ve got some strawberry -’serves, an’—an’ we want you to come to supper; jus’ -this once, ’cause it’s my birfday. Barb’ra said to -tell you. An’ she’s put on the pink dishes, too!”</p> - -<p>“Wall, now, Cap’n, that surely is kind of Miss -Barb’ry. But you see I ain’t got my comp’ny clo’es -on. M’ swallow-tail coat’s got the rear buttons off, -an’ m’ high collar ’n boiled shirt’s to m’ wash-lady’s.”</p> - -<p>Peg winked humorously at Jimmy, in token that -his remarks were to be interpreted as being in a -purely jocular vein.</p> - -<p>“We don’t care ’bout clo’es—me an’ Barb’ra,” -said Jimmy, grandly. “An’ I want you to see my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> -cake wiv the candles burning. I’m goin’ to blow ’em -out when we are all through wiv supper; then we’re -goin’ to eat the cake.”</p> - -<p>“Wall, now I’ll tell you, Cap’n. I’ll mosey in -’long ’bout time you get t’ the cake. I wouldn’t miss -seein’ them candles blowed out fer anythin’. You c’n -tell Miss Barb’ry I’m obleeged to her fer th’ invitation—mind -you say Miss Barb’ry, Jimmy. ’Cause -that’s manners, seein’ I’m hired man on this ’ere -farm.”</p> - -<p>“Does Barb’ra pay you lots o’ money?” asked -Jimmy, with sudden grave interest.</p> - -<p>Peg puckered up his mouth judicially.</p> - -<p>“You don’t want t’ git in th’ habit o’ askin’ -pers’nal questions, Cap’n,” he said, with a serious look -in his kind old eyes. “‘Tain’t reelly p’lite, you know. -An’ the’s times when it’s kind o’ embarrassin’ to answer -’em. But, in this ’ere case, I’m pertickler glad -to tell you, Cap’n, that Barb’ry—I mean Miss -Barb’ry—does pay me all I ask fur, an’ a whole lot -besides. You see I hev special privileges here on -this place that ain’t come by ev’ry day, an’ I value -’em—I value ’em highly. An’ that reminds me, -Cap’n, that I’ve got a little present fer you, seein’ -you’re six, goin’ on seven, an’ big an’ hefty fer your -age. Jest you clap yer eyes onto that an’ tell me -what you think of it. ’Tain’t what you’d call reelly -val’able now; but you keep it fer—say fifty years an’ -do what I’ve done with mine, an’ money won’t buy it -f’om you.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Oh, Peg!” gasped Jimmy, in a rapture too deep -and pervasive for words, “is it—a val’able inf’mation -book?”</p> - -<p>“That’s what it is, Cap’n,” chuckled Peg, holding -off the book and gazing at it with honest pride. “Y’ -see, I couldn’t find th’ mate to mine in looks; but this -’ere red cover beats mine all holler, an’ you see I’ve -put ‘Vallable Information by James Embury Preston’ -on it in handsome red letters. Take it, boy, an’ -don’t put nothin’ into it ’at won’t be true an’ useful, -is the prayer o’ Peg Morrison.”</p> - -<p>The old man’s tone was solemn and his blue eyes -gleamed suddenly moist in the midst of their network -of wrinkles.</p> - -<p>“The’s folks in this world,” he went on soberly, -“‘at would be mighty glad if they had a book like -that, full o’ tried an’ tested rules—fer conduct, as -well as fer hoss liniment an’ pies an’ cakes. In the -front page o’ mine I put down more’n twenty years -ago, ‘Never promise anythin’ that you ain’t willin’ -to set ’bout doin’ the nex’ minute.’ That’s a good -sentiment fer man or beast. Ye c’n turn to a rule -fer mos’ anythin’, f’om what to do fer a colt ’at’s et -too much green clover, up to how to set on a jury. -But I’ve took my time to it, an’ ain’t never wrote anythin’ -down jus’ t’ fill paper. Now you trot along, -Cap’n; an’ I’ll be with you before you git them -candles blowed out.”</p> - -<p>“I—I’d like to shake hands, Peg,” said Jimmy -fervently. “I’m too big an’ hefty to kiss people for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> -thank you. But I like this book better’n anyfing—I -mean anything.”</p> - -<p>He put out his small brown hand on which babyish -dimples still lingered, and the old man grasped and -shook it solemnly.</p> - -<p>“You’re more’n welcome, Cap’n!” he said heartily. -“An’ thinkin’ y’ might like to set down a few sentiments -I got you a bottle o’ red ink an’ a new steel -pen. I like red ink m’self. It makes a handsome -page.”</p> - -<p>“I never s’posed I’d have a whole bottle of red -ink,” said Jimmy, with a rapturous sigh of contentment -filled to the brim and running over. “Don’t -forget to come and see my cake,” he called out as -the old man convoyed him to the foot of the stairs -with a nautical lantern.</p> - -<p>“I’m goin’ right back up to put on m’ swallow-tail,” -Peg assured him. “You’ll see me in ’bout -half an hour.”</p> - -<p>Barbara knit her fine dark brows a little over the -birthday book with its quaint inscription.</p> - -<p>“I shouldn’t like you to suppose that was the way -to spell valuable information,” she said crisply. -“Suppose we put another card over this one, dear. -I’ll write it for you.”</p> - -<p>Jimmy pondered this proposal in silence for a few -minutes, then he shook his head.</p> - -<p>“I want my book to be ’zactly like Peg’s,” he said -firmly. “It’s a val’able inf’mation book; that’s what -it is.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span></p> - -<p>He kept it by him all the while they were eating -their supper off the pink and white china Grandfather -Embury brought from foreign parts, while -the seven candles cast bright lights and wavering -shadows across the table on the boy’s rosy little face -and the girl’s darker beauty.</p> - -<p>“Peg’s comin’ in’s soon’s he puts on his swallow-tail,” -said Jimmy placidly. “I like Peg better’n -anybody, ’ceptin’ you, Barb’ra. He’s so durned -square.”</p> - -<p>“You shouldn’t say such words, Jimmy,” Barbara -said, with a vexed pucker between her brows. -“You must remember that you are a gentleman.”</p> - -<p>“So is Peg a gentleman,” said Jimmy, valiantly -ready to do battle for his friend. “An’ he says -durned.”</p> - -<p>Barbara shook her head impatiently at the child.</p> - -<p>“If you say that word again, Jimmy,” she threatened, -“I shall be obliged to forbid you going out to -the barn at all.”</p> - -<p>“I guess you don’t mean that, Barb’ra,” the little -boy said firmly. “Course I have to go out to the -barn; but I promise I won’t say durned ’cept when I -plough.”</p> - -<p>A sound of hard knuckles cautiously applied to -the back kitchen door announced Mr. Morrison, attired -in his best suit of rusty black, his abundant iron-gray -hair, ordinarily standing up around his ruddy, -good-humored face like a halo, severely plastered -down with soap and water.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Good-evenin’, Cap’n,” he said ceremoniously, “I -hope you fin’ yourself in good health on this ’ere -auspicious occasion, sir; an’ you, too, Miss Barb’ry, -as a near relation of the Cap’n’s. I hope I see you -well an’—an’ happy, ma’am.”</p> - -<p>“See my cake, Peg,” shouted Jimmy, capering -wildly about the old man. “See the candles!”</p> - -<p>Peg pretended to shade his eyes from the overpowering -illumination. “Wall, now, I mus’ say!” -he exclaimed. “If that ain’t wo’th coverin’ ten miles -o’ bad goin’ t’ see. That cert’nly is a han’some cake, -Miss Barb’ry, an’ the Cap’n here tells me you made -it.”</p> - -<p>Barbara smiled, rather sadly.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” she said, “I made it. If you’ll blow out -the candles now, Jimmy, I’ll cut it and we’ll each -have a piece.”</p> - -<p>The little boy climbed up in his chair.</p> - -<p>“I have to sit down when I blow,” he said seriously, -and sent the first current of air across the -table from his puckered lips. “One of ’em’s out!” -he announced triumphantly.</p> - -<p>“Give it to ’em agin, Cap’n!” cried Peg. -“Give ’em a good one. That’s right! Now the -nigh one’s gone; but that off candle’s a sticker. -I dunno whether you’ll fetch that one or not, -Cap’n.”</p> - -<p>The child drew in a mighty breath, his puffed -cheeks flushing to a brilliant scarlet, and blew with -all his might, the flame of the one lighted candle<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> -waned, flared sidewise, and disappeared, leaving a -light wreath of smoke behind.</p> - -<p>“There! I blowed ’em out, all by myself,” he -exulted. “I’ve got a strong wind in my breaf, -haven’t I, Peg?”</p> - -<p>“I declar’, I’d hate to have you try it on the roof -o’ the barn, Cap’n. The loose shingles’d fly, I bet,” -Peg assured him jocularly.</p> - -<p>Barbara was cutting the cake, her troubled eyes -bent upon her task. Mr. Morrison glanced at her -anxiously.</p> - -<p>“I seen a rig hitched out t’ the side door this afternoon,” -he said slowly. “‘Twant a—a sewin’-machine -agent; was it, Miss Barb’ry?”</p> - -<p>“No,” said the girl shortly; her look forbade -further questions.</p> - -<p>“I’ll tell you who ’twas, Peg,” said Jimmy sociably, -as he began to nibble the edges of his slice of -cake. “It was the Hon’rable Stephen Jarvis. An’ -his horse’s tail is cut off short so’t it can’t switch -’round, an’ it makes him cross. I guess it would -make me some cross, too, if I was a horse. Wouldn’t -it make you, Peg?”</p> - -<p>“I reckon’t would, Cap’n,” said the old man, fetching -a heavy sigh for no apparent reason. He turned -to Barbara, whose red lips were set in an expression -of haughty reserve.</p> - -<p>“If I’d ’a’ knowed ’twas the Hon’rable Stephen -Jarvis fer certain,” he went on, with an effort after -careless ease of manner, “I b’lieve I’d ’a’ took the opportunity<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> -to talk over crops with him fer a spell. -We’re goin’ to have a first-rate crop o’ buckwheat -this year, an’ winter wheat’s lookin’ fine. The’d -ought to be plenty of apples, too. I pruned the -trees in the spring an’ manured ’em heavy last fall.”</p> - -<p>Barbara gazed steadily at the table. She did not -answer.</p> - -<p>“I was thinkin’ some o’ plantin’ onions in the five -acre field this year,” went on Peg, an agitated tremor -in his voice. “They’re a heap o’ work, onions is, -what with weedin’ ’em an’ cultivatin’ ’em; but the’s -big money in ’em; white, red, an’ yellow sorts. What -would you say to onions, Miss Barb’ry?”</p> - -<p>“There’s no use,” said the girl, “of our planting—anything.” -She turned her back abruptly on pretence -of pulling down a window shade. “I’ll speak -to you to-morrow—about the work.”</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4">III</h2> - -<p class="pn2"><span class="smcap">After</span> Jimmy had said his prayers and was tucked -up in bed, tired but happy, the book of “Vallable -Information” under his pillow, Barbara sat for -awhile by the open window in the dusk of the April -night. The wind had gone down since sunset, and in -the stillness she could hear the “peepers,” singing in -the distant marshes, and the soft roar of the river, -filled to its brim with the melted snows from the hills. -Something in the sound of the swollen river and the -gleam of a single star, seen dimly between drifting -clouds, brought the remembrance of other April -nights to Barbara’s mind.</p> - -<p>Her thoughts went back to the day when her -father, then a proud, handsome man in his prime, had -brought his new wife to the farm. Her own passionately -mourned mother seemed strangely forgotten in -the joy of the home-coming and the girl had resented -it in the dumb, pathetic fashion of childhood. After -a little, though, she had come to love the gentle -creature who had won her father’s heart. There -followed a few happy years, regretfully remembered -through a blur of tears, when the little mother, as -Barbara learned to call her, filled the old house to -overflowing with sunshine. Then on an April night -when the river lifted up its plaintive voice in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> -stillness that fell after a wild, windy day, Jimmy -came, and the little mother went—hastily, as if summoned -out of the dark by some voice unheard by the -others. Barbara remembered well the night of her -going, and of how, with a last effort, she had lifted -the tiny baby and placed him in her own strong young -arms.</p> - -<p>“Love—him—dear,” whispered the failing voice. -Then she had smiled once, as if with a great content, -and was gone.</p> - -<p>Jimmy’s voice broke sleepily through these bitter-sweet -memories.</p> - -<p>“Barb’ra!” he called, “are you there? I forgot -somethin’.”</p> - -<p>“What did you forget, dear?” asked the girl, going -to his bed.</p> - -<p>“I love you, Barb’ra!” murmured the little boy, -snuggling his hand in hers.</p> - -<p>She stooped to kiss him all warm and sweet with -sleep. Then drew the blankets closer about his -shoulders.</p> - -<p>“It was—a—a—letter,” the drowsily-sweet little -voice went on. “I—forgot——”</p> - -<p>“Jimmy,” said Barbara the next morning, as she -brushed the child’s yellow hair, “what was it you -said last night about a letter?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I bringed—no, I brought a letter home to -you in my coat pocket, and I forgot to give it to -you.”</p> - -<p>“It isn’t in either of your pockets, dear. I looked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> -there last night. Try and think what you did with -it.”</p> - -<p>The little boy looked troubled.</p> - -<p>“The man gave it to me, an’ it was blue. An’ he -said it was f’om way out west, an’ he asked me who -did you know out west; an’ I said I didn’t know; but -I’d ask you. I put it in my pocket.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps it wasn’t anything important,” Barbara -said slowly, “but——”</p> - -<p>“No, I guess it wasn’t,” agreed Jimmy placidly. -“Say, Barb’ra, can I have two popcorn balls to -take to school?”</p> - -<p>“But what do you suppose became of the letter?” -persisted Barbara. “Which pocket did you put -it in?”</p> - -<p>Jimmy eyed the small garment uncertainly.</p> - -<p>“It was in this one,” he decided; “I ’member I -put the letter in my pocket an’ it stuck out, ’cause it -was too long.”</p> - -<p>“Did you come straight home from the post-office?” -demanded Barbara. “Did you, Jimmy?”</p> - -<p>Jimmy reflected.</p> - -<p>“I walked along,” he said, “an’ ’nen I looked in -through the fence to see the deer an’ the shiny blue -round things—you know, Barb’ra, when the sun -shines you c’n see——”</p> - -<p>“I know,” said the girl, with a touch of impatience.</p> - -<p>“An’ ’nen I saw the horse wiv a short tail come -out, an’ I p’tended I was drivin’ an’ goin’ awful fast! -But I couldn’t trot real fas’ because the m’lasses<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> -spilled. I had to stop an’ lick it off lots of -times.”</p> - -<p>“Why, Jimmy!” said the girl rebukingly.</p> - -<p>“Wiv my fingers,” explained Jimmy mildly. “You -know you have to do something when it comes out all -bubbles ’round the edge; an’—an’ ’nen I——”</p> - -<p>“You must have dropped the letter somewhere -along the road,” interrupted his sister.</p> - -<p>“Uh-huh! I guess I did,” assented the culprit. -“But I didn’t mean to, Barb’ra. Truly I didn’t.”</p> - -<p>His lip quivered as he looked up at her stormy -face.</p> - -<p>The girl controlled herself with an effort.</p> - -<p>“Of course you didn’t mean to, darling,” she said, -kissing the rosy mouth, which had begun to droop -dolefully at the corners. “Perhaps it was just an -advertisement, anyway, and not worth bothering over. -I’ll walk along with you and see if we can find it.”</p> - -<p>But the letter, snugly hidden under a clump of -unfolding fern, gave no token of its presence as the -two walked slowly past it, their eyes searching the -road and the tangled growths on either side.</p> - -<p>Barbara walked swiftly to the post-office, after she -had left Jimmy at the schoolhouse. It had occurred -to her that someone might have returned the missing -letter to the office.</p> - -<p>Al Hewett, when questioned, shook his head.</p> - -<p>“Nope,” he said, “the’ ain’t nobody brought it -here. ’Course I’d ’a’ saved it fer you if they had. -I remember the letter all right, I happened to notice<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> -the postmark. It was fo’m Tombstone, Arizony. -Know anybody out there?”</p> - -<p>The girl shook her head. “Was there any -printing—or—writing on the envelope?” she -asked.</p> - -<p>“Not that I recall,” said Mr. Hewlett, mindful -of his official state. “Of course you understan’ with -the amount of mail we handle in this office that we -couldn’t be expected to notice any one letter in pertickler. -I’m real sorry, Barb’ra,” he added, with -genuine good feeling. “Jimmy’s pretty small t’ -deliver mail. He’s a nice little shaver, though. -Anythin’ in the line o’ groceries to-day?”</p> - -<p>“Not to-day,” said Barbara, her cheeks flushing.</p> - -<p>Then she looked up with sudden determination. -“Is your father here?” she asked, in a low voice. -“If he is—I’d like to see him.”</p> - -<p>“Pa’s in the back room makin’ up accounts,” the -younger Hewett informed her. “I’ll call him, if -you say so.—Pa!”</p> - -<p>“No; don’t, please,” objected Barbara hastily. -“I’ll go and speak to him there.”</p> - -<p>But Mr. Abram Hewett had already appeared in -answer to the summons and was advancing briskly -behind a counter gay with new prints and ginghams. -His face stiffened at sight of Barbara, and he darted -an impatient look at his son.</p> - -<p>“Could I speak with you—just a moment, Mr. -Hewett?” asked Barbara, in a low, determined voice, -“on business?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span></p> - -<p>The man coldly scrutinized the flushed face the -girl lifted to his.</p> - -<p>“If it was ’bout the balance o’ that account o’ -yours——” he began, “I was just lookin’ it over, -’long with some others like it. You c’n come in -here.”</p> - -<p>Barbara followed his short, bent figure, her heart -beating heavily. But she had found a remnant of -her vanished self-possession by the time Mr. Hewett -had climbed to the high stool behind the long-legged -desk, which represented the financial centre of the -establishment. “Well?” he said interrogatively, fixing -his lowering regard upon her.</p> - -<p>Barbara glanced at the two fly-specked legends -which flanked the desk on either side, reading respectively, -“My time is money; don’t steal it,” and -“This is my busy day.”</p> - -<p>“I didn’t come to finish paying that bill to-day,” -she said, a flush of shame mounting to her forehead. -“But the hens are beginning to lay now, and——”</p> - -<p>“Eggs is cheap an’ plentiful,” demurred Mr. -Hewett, with unconcealed impatience. “I couldn’t -agree t’ allow ye much on eggs.”</p> - -<p>“It wasn’t the bill I came to see you about,” said -Barbara, with a proud look at him. “I shall pay it -in money as soon as I possibly can.”</p> - -<p>“Oh!” interjected Mr. Hewett. Then he added -sharply “Humph!” drumming meanwhile on the lid -of his desk to denote the lapse of unfruitful minutes.</p> - -<p>Barbara still hesitated, while she strove to find<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> -words to introduce the difficult business she had in -mind.</p> - -<p>Mr. Hewett cleared his throat suggestively.</p> - -<p>“There’s a mortgage on the farm,” she said slowly, -“and we’re going to lose it, unless——”</p> - -<p>“Unless you pay up,” suggested Mr. Hewett -briskly. “Yes; jes’ so. I’ve been wonderin’ how -you managed to hang on to it s’ long’s you have.”</p> - -<p>“I’ve worked,” said Barbara, in a low, tense voice. -“I’ve worked early and late, ever since father died, -and before that. But—there was unpaid interest, -and interest on that; and last year the apples failed, -and so——”</p> - -<p>“He’s goin’ to foreclose on ye. Yes, yes; exac’ly. -I s’pose likely Jarvis holds the mortgage?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Barbara breathlessly. “But if I -only had a little more time I could manage it—somehow. -I must keep the farm for Jimmy. I promised -father he should have it.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Hewett was silent, his plump face drawn into -the semblance of a dubious smile.</p> - -<p>“I’ve come to ask you to take up the mortgage for -me, and give me more time to pay it. Will you do -it?” asked Barbara, avoiding the man’s look.</p> - -<p>Mr. Hewett shifted his gaze to the ink-well, around -the edge of which a lean black fly was crawling -dispiritedly.</p> - -<p>“W’y, no,” he said decidedly. “I shouldn’t like -to interfere; I couldn’t do it.”</p> - -<p>“Why couldn’t you?” demanded Barbara. “If<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> -we have a good apple year, I could pay the mortgage -in two years. It doesn’t cost us much to live.”</p> - -<p>“If it’s a good apple year, apples’ll be a drug -on the market,” Mr. Hewett prophesied gloomily. -“Nope! I’m sorry; but I guess you’ll have to let -Jarvis foreclose on ye. I shouldn’t like to run up -against Jarvis, y’ know.”</p> - -<p>“But—there’s Jimmy!” The girl’s voice rang -out in a sharp cry.</p> - -<p>“Put the boy in an institootion, or bind him out,” -advised Mr. Hewett, drumming impatiently on the -lid of his desk. “The’s folk a-plenty that wouldn’t -mind raisin’ a healthy boy to work.”</p> - -<p>Barbara turned swiftly.</p> - -<p>“Say!” called Mr. Hewett; “hold on a minute!” -Then, as Barbara paused, “This ’ere account’s -been standin’ since long before your pa died. -I’ve been pretty easy on you to date, but I guess I’ll -have to attach somethin’ before Jarvis gits his hold -onto things. You’ve got some stock, I b’lieve, -an’——”</p> - -<p>But Barbara was already out of hearing, hurrying -as if pursued. Two or three women, looking over -dress goods at the counter, turned to look after -the slim figure in its black dress.</p> - -<p>“She don’t ’pear to see common folks any better’n -her father did,” said one, with a spiteful laugh.</p> - -<p>“Well, I don’t see’s she’s got much to be stuck -up about,” put in another. “What with her father -drinkin’ himself to death, an’——”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Was that what ailed him?” inquired a newcomer -in the neighborhood. “I remember he was -buried a year ago last winter, just after we moved -here. But I never heard he was a drinking man.”</p> - -<p>“None of us suspicioned it for quite a spell,” explained -the first speaker volubly. “Donald Preston -was too awful stylish and uppity to go to the tavern -an’ get drunk like common folks; he used to sen’ -for his liquor f’om out of town. The best of brandy, -so they say; then he’d drink, an’ drink till he was -dead to the world, shut up in his room. He kind of -lost his mind ’long toward the last, they say. He -lived more’n two years that way ’fore he finally -died.”</p> - -<p>“She didn’t take care of him like that, did she?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, she did. Her an’ the hired man; an’ I guess -they had their hands full part the time. He used to -cry an’ holler nights like a baby towards the last. -Me an’ Mr. Robinson heard him once when we was -comin’ home f’om a revival meetin’ over to the Corners. -Seth, he was for stoppin’ an’ seein’ if there -was anythin’ we could do, but I says, ‘No, I don’t -want to mix up in it,’ I says. Afterwards I was kind -of sorry; I’d like to have seen the upstairs rooms in -that house.”</p> - -<p>The subject of these manifold revelations and -censures was walking rapidly down the village street, -her mind a maze of unhappy reflections. She stopped -short at the end of the sidewalk, as Jimmy had done -the day before.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I don’t suppose there’s any use,” she thought, -her eyes fixed on the imposing front which the Jarvis -residence presented to the public gaze. “But I’ll -try, anyway. If he’d give me a year—or even six -months longer, I’m sure I could get the interest paid -up.”</p> - -<p>Without waiting for her elusive courage to vanish -into thin air the girl pushed open the front gate, -which clanged decisively shut behind her. The harsh -metallic sound appeared to pursue her relentlessly -up the long gravelled walk, past the stiff figures of -the cast-iron deer, past the blossoming shrubs and the -glittering blue glass globes—quite up to the pillared -entrance. A sour-faced woman opened the door.</p> - -<p>Mr. Jarvis was at home, she informed Barbara. -“But he’s busy,” she added importantly. “The’ -can’t nobody see him this mornin’, an’ he’s goin’ away -to-morrow.”</p> - -<p>“Then I must see him,” Barbara said firmly. -“Tell Mr. Jarvis that Miss Preston would like to -see him—on—on business.”</p> - -<p>Stephen Jarvis had spent several hours shut up in -his library that morning, during which period he had -opened and examined his mail, read the morning -papers, published in a neighboring city, and the -county papers, one of which he owned, and whose -editorial utterances he controlled.</p> - -<p>The morning sun, streaming cheerfully through the -clear windows, lay across his paper-strewn desk, -bringing into prominence its handsome fittings and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> -the large sinewy hand which reached purposefully -for a pen. As he sat there in the revealing light -Stephen Jarvis appeared very nearly what he had -made of himself in the course of some thirty laborious -years. Nature had provided him with a big-boned, -powerful body, topped by a head in no wise remarkable -for its beauty, yet significant as the compact -rounded end of a steel projectile; eyes of no particular -color, deep-set beneath penthouse brows; a nose, -high in its bony structure, curving at the tip, with a -suggestion of scorn; a jaw, heavy but clear-cut, well -furnished with strong, even teeth. Jarvis was born -a farmer’s son, poor with the poverty of sparse -acres, sparsely cultivated through successive generations -of uncalculating, simple-hearted men, content -to live and die as had their forbears. It was far -otherwise with Stephen Jarvis. His initial conclusion, -derived from keen-eyed observation and comparison, -resulted in an active hatred of the grinding -poverty his fathers had accepted with settled stoicism -as the common lot. He would not, he resolved, -remain poor. He would in some way—in any way—acquire -houses, lands, money. This single idea, -planted, rooted, and grown mighty, brought forth -fruit after its kind. In ten years’ time he had -climbed out of the walled pit where he had found -himself; in the decade which followed, having -learned, experimentally, of the compelling power of -the fixed idea doggedly adhered to, he had gone on, -adding more houses, more lands, more money to what<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> -he already possessed; and this process having by now -become somewhat monotonously easy, he had reached -for and seized political power of the sort most easily -grasped by the large hand of wealth. He still continued -almost mechanically to loan money at a high -rate of interest, to execute and foreclose mortgages, -but there was no longer zest or excitement in -the game. And there intervened disquieting moments -like the present when he perceived that, after all, he -was not successful, as the world counted success; nor -rich, as the world counted wealth; moments when he -realized his loneliness and the coldness of his hearth-stone, -where neither friends nor children gathered.</p> - -<p>His wife, dead more than two years, had been a -dull, emotionless woman, with a flat, pale, expressionless -face and a high-shouldered, angular figure. -Jarvis had married her without pretence of passion -because she had money, and in his poverty-pinched -youth he had thought of little else. He had -never been unkind to the woman who bore his name. -He had, in fact, paid very little attention to her, and -she had trodden the dull round of her existence unprotestingly -and died as unobtrusively as she had -lived. A portrait of the late Mrs. Jarvis in the cold -medium of black and white crayons, hung above the -mantel. The man’s eyes rested upon it mechanically -as he lifted them from the dull report of a dully -rancorous speech delivered on a late public occasion -by his political opponent in the county. The portrait -failed to arouse memories either sweet or bitter;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> -but Jarvis observed that his housekeeper in her annual -spring cleaning had taken the pains to protect -the picture in its showy, expensive frame. He -frowned as he noticed the barred pink netting from -behind which his wife’s plain features looked forth -with a suggestion of pained protest. The effect was -distinctly unpleasing. He caught himself wondering -irritably why the picture should confront him thus; -portraits were foolish, unmeaning things, anyway; -shrouded with pink tarlatan they became impossible. -His gaze still lingered frowningly upon the picture -when there came a dubious tap upon the panels of -the door.</p> - -<p>“What d’you want?” demanded Jarvis sharply, as -he recognized the intruder. “I thought I told you -not to disturb me this morning.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I told her so; but she wouldn’t go away,” -the woman apologized. “I guess ’f I let her stan’ -there till she’s good an’ tired o’ waitin’, she’ll——”</p> - -<p>“Kindly acquaint me with the name of the person -who wishes to see me, Mrs. Dumser,” he interrupted, -with a quick, choleric lift of the hand.</p> - -<p>“It’s that Preston girl,” the woman said sullenly. -“I told her you was busy and——”</p> - -<p>“Show her in at once,” her employer ordered -briefly. On the whole he welcomed the interruption. -There was a certain excitement akin to that experienced -by the sportsman when he subdues some struggling -wild creature to his will. It was a species of -weak folly, he told himself, to entertain anything like<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> -compassion for borrowers of money who could not -pay. And Stephen Jarvis was not a weak man. He -was, moreover, thoroughly familiar with all the various -excuses, subterfuges and pitiful expedients of -such luckless individuals, as well as complete master -of the final processes by which he was wont to detach -them from their forfeited possessions. His mouth, -long, straight, expressionless, and shaded by a -closely clipped mustache, tightened as Barbara -Preston entered.</p> - -<p>He glanced at her sharply as the girl sank into -a chair opposite the desk without waiting to be -asked.</p> - -<p>The light from the long French windows fell full -upon the slender young figure in its plain black -gown, and her face, seen against the sombre background -afforded by rows of leather-bound law-books, -appeared vividly alive, defiantly youthful, like a -spray of peach blossoms against a leaden sky.</p> - -<p>“You wished to see me, I believe,” said Jarvis, -perceiving that the girl was struggling with involuntary -fear of him, a fear heightened by her surroundings. -“What can I do for you?”</p> - -<p>She met his gaze unflinchingly.</p> - -<p>“I have come,” she said, “to see if you will give -me a little more time. It is going to be a good apple -year, and—and I’ll work—hard to save the farm.”</p> - -<p>Her eyes darkened and widened; a quick color -sprang to lips and cheeks, as when a flag is suddenly -unfurled to the wind.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span></p> - -<p>“If you’ll only give me a chance!” she cried.</p> - -<p>“What sort of a chance are you looking for?” he -wanted to know.</p> - -<p>Barbara’s eyes fell before his steady gaze.</p> - -<p>“I—want——” she began, and stopped, obviously -searching for forgotten words and phrases.</p> - -<p>He waited imperturbably for her to go on.</p> - -<p>“I want you to let me stay—in my home.”</p> - -<p>He lifted his eyebrows.</p> - -<p>“I thought we discussed that matter pretty thoroughly -yesterday afternoon,” he said. “I can think -of nothing more to say on the subject.”</p> - -<p>“But,” she persisted, “I don’t intend to give it -up. I—can’t.”</p> - -<p>He was silent. But his look angered her unreasonably.</p> - -<p>“You don’t want the farm!” she burst out, with -sudden hot indignation. “You’ve got most of the -farms about here now, and you’ll have the others in -time, I suppose.”</p> - -<p>“You appear to know a good deal about my -business,” he said ironically. “But you’re right. I -don’t want the Preston farm. I don’t want any of -’em. Why should I? Most of them are like yours, -worn out, worthless. But the owners want my money—your -father did. And I let him have what he -asked for. I might have refused. But I let him have -a thousand dollars, and he took it, did as he liked -with it—drank it up, for all I know. And now you -come here begging——”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span></p> - -<p>The girl sprang to her feet; her gray eyes blazed -angrily upon him.</p> - -<p>“I’m not begging!” she cried. “All I want is the -chance to pay you—every cent, and I could do it—I -will do it.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps you will tell me how you are going about -it,” he said coldly.</p> - -<p>She sank back into her chair.</p> - -<p>“Yes!” she said slowly. “I am—begging. I am -begging for time. Give me another year—give me -this summer, and let me—try!”</p> - -<p>He was studying the girl’s passionate face with a -curious interest. A singular idea had presented itself -to him, and he was considering it half mockingly. -Nevertheless it lent a human sound to his voice as he -answered her.</p> - -<p>“See here, Miss Preston,” he said. “I admire -your pluck and energy. But let me tell you that you -don’t want to hold on to that farm. The orchards -are too old to be productive; the land needs -fertilizers, rotation, all sorts of things that require -brains and money. That old fool, Morrison, hasn’t -managed the place properly, and can’t. It’s a losing -fight, and you’d better give it up—peaceably.”</p> - -<p>“But I want it,” she urged, “for Jimmy. I want -to hold the place for him. He’ll soon grow up now, -and—he’s the last of the Prestons.”</p> - -<p>She stopped short and sprang to her feet, with a -little gasp of angry protest.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span></p> - -<p>“You are laughing at me!” she cried indignantly. -“You have no right——”</p> - -<p>She was mistaken; Stephen Jarvis seldom indulged -in laughter; but his hard-set mouth had relaxed -somewhat under his clipped mustache. His greenish -brown eyes shone with an unaccustomed light. He -was thinking his own thoughts, and for once, at least, -he found a singular pleasure in them.</p> - -<p>“Don’t get excited,” he advised her coolly. “Sit -down and we’ll talk this over. You want to keep the -farm for that half-brother of yours, you say. Well, -I’m disposed to give it to you to do as you like with, if -you——”</p> - -<p>She gazed at him almost incredulously.</p> - -<p>“You’ll give me time to try?” she asked breathlessly. -“Oh, thank you!”</p> - -<p>He answered her impetuous question with another. -“Did you notice the person who showed you in? -Yes; I see you did, particularly. Well, she’s my -housekeeper. She’s been here since my—since I buried -the late Mrs. Jarvis. But I—well; I’m tired of seeing -the woman about. I shall need somebody to take -her place, and—Stop! I want you to hear me -out.”</p> - -<p>The girl had not resumed her seat at Jarvis’s bidding. -She retreated swiftly toward the door. The -man’s imperious voice followed her.</p> - -<p>“Come back! I’m not done with what I had to -say!”</p> - -<p>But Barbara had already closed the door definitely<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> -behind her. The woman in black silk stood just outside. -She had, in fact, been listening.</p> - -<p>“Well!” she breathed explosively, staring at Barbara. -Then she rustled toward the front door, her -ample draperies filling the narrow twilight passage -with a harsh, swishing sound.</p> - -<p>“You better not show your face here again!” she -said in a low, fierce voice, as she held the door wide -for Barbara to pass out.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4">IV</h2> - -<p class="pn2"><span class="smcap">Jimmy Preston</span> sat curled up on one foot by the -table in Peg Morrison’s loft. His yellow hair was -damp and towsled, for he had run bare-headed -through the rain, bearing his precious book of “Vallable -Information” tucked under his blouse.</p> - -<p>“I didn’t bring my red ink,” he explained breathlessly -to Peg, “‘cause I was ’fraid I’d spill it. I -fought I could borrow some of yours.”</p> - -<p>“You can, an’ welcome, son,” agreed Peg, “but -remember that’ll give me an option on yours. Them -that borrows ought to be willin’ to lend. They ain’t -though, as a gen’ral thing. Borrowers is spenders, -and lenders is savers, as a rule.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll lend you my whole bottle of red ink an’ I’ll -lend you my pen, too,” said Jimmy magnificently.</p> - -<p>The little boy spread his book open on the table -for Mr. Morrison’s inspection. “You see I’ve begun -it already,” he said with pride.</p> - -<p>“Le’ me see; what you got here?” and Peg traced -the first wavering line with a horny forefinger.</p> - -<p>“That’s how not to lose a letter,” said Jimmy -proudly. “Barb’ra says sometimes letters are ’portant, -an’ you don’t want to lose ’em.”</p> - -<p>“‘Lev letters in the posoffis. They wil be saf<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> -ther,’” read Peg slowly. He paused and screwed his -mouth in a noiseless whistle.</p> - -<p>“Don’t you think that’s a vallable inf’mation?” -demanded Jimmy anxiously. “If I hadn’t taken -that letter and put it in my pocket, I shouldn’t have -lost it. Barb’ra could have got it herself, and maybe -it was ’portant. You can’t tell ’thout you read a -letter whether it’s ’portant or not; an’ you can’t -read a letter when it’s lost.”</p> - -<p>“So you lost a letter ’dressed to Barb’ry, did you? -H’m! Where’d you lose it?”</p> - -<p>“If I knew, I’d go an’ find it,” said Jimmy soberly. -“I put it in my pocket, an’ it was blue, an’ it was -f’om out west. Barb’ra doesn’t know who it was -f’om. But she’d like to know.”</p> - -<p>“H’m!” repeated Peg. “You’d ought to carried -it all the way right in your han’, where you c’d -see it. Pockets are kind o’ dangerous when it comes -to letters. I know a whole row o’ little boys ’at ain’t -alive at all, ’count o’ a letter bein’ lost. They never -was born,” he added by way of explanation.</p> - -<p>Jimmy drew a deep sigh of sustained interest.</p> - -<p>“You see it was this way,” continued Peg circumstantially. -“The’ was a young feller ’at I used -to know, an’ he was workin’ in a lumber-camp one -winter where the’ wasn’t any pos’offis; one o’ the men -used to carry the letters in an’ out, a matter o’ fifteen -miles. One time he lost a letter this young feller -wrote to his girl, an’ didn’t think to say nothin’ -’bout it; an’ she got all worked up ’cause she didn’t<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> -hear f’om him, an’ after a spell she up an’ married -another man; an’ so the young man I was speakin’ of -never got married, an’ never had any little boys o’ his -own. He felt awful bad ’bout it fer a long time, but he -ain’t never los’ a letter ’at b’longed to anybody else.”</p> - -<p>The pattering sound of the rain on the barn roof -increased to a steady roar as Peg related this short -but instructive tale.</p> - -<p>“I sh’d think those little boys would feel bad,” -said Jimmy sympathetically. “I’d hate not to be -alive.”</p> - -<p>“Mebbe they do; an’ ag’in, mebbe they don’t,” -observed Peg cautiously. “Anyhow, some of ’em -would be growed up by this time; farmin’ it, mebbe, -or keepin’ store.” His eyes wore a far-away look.</p> - -<p>Jimmy dipped Peg’s pen in the red ink bottle.</p> - -<p>“How do you spell not, Peg?” he inquired.</p> - -<p>“K-n-o-t,” replied the old man, with a sigh.</p> - -<p>Jimmy was silent for a long minute, his pen travelling -slowly along the blue line and leaving a trail of -wabbly red letters behind.</p> - -<p>“‘Hough knot to los a letter,’” he read aloud, -with honest pride in his achievement. “What’ll I -say next, Peg?”</p> - -<p>“Keep yer mind an’ yer eyes onto it till you get it -t’ the person it’s meant for,” the old man said, with -some sternness. “You’ve got to do that with ev’rythin’ -you do,” he went on. “You can’t go moseyin’ -’long thinkin’ ’bout ev’rythin’ under the sun ’cept -what you’re doin’. If you’re ploughin’, plough, an’<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> -put all the grit an’ gumption you’ve got onto ploughin’. -Most folks ain’t so smart ’at they c’n afford to -run a d’partment store in their minds. Hold on! -Don’t try to write all that. Jus’ say, pay attention -to that letter. You know, Cap’n,” he went on impressively, -“you come of awful fine stock. The -Prestons was always smart; your great-gran’father, -he was smarter ’an all possess, an’ your gran’father, -he was jes’ the same.”</p> - -<p>“An’ my father was, too,” interrupted Jimmy, -eying the old man with a pucker between his brown -eyes. “Wasn’t he smarter’n all possess, Peg?”</p> - -<p>“‘Course he was, Cap’n,” agreed the old man -hastily. “Up to the time he was took sick, he was -A number one. An’ Barb’ry—I mean Miss Barb’ry, -she’s awful smart an’ ambitious, too, fer a female. -Oh, you’ll get along in the world, Cap’n, ’course -you’ll get along! But losin’ letters is like losin’ other -things, such as money an’—an’ health, an’ reputation -an’—farms. It all comes o’ lettin’ yer mind kind -o’ wander. You won’t do that, will you, Cap’n?”</p> - -<p>The man’s voice trembled; he seemed anxiously intent -on the little boy’s answer.</p> - -<p>“I won’t, if I can help it, Peg,” Jimmy answered -honestly. “But,” he added candidly, “I like to -think ’bout things in school—all kind o’ things. -When I look out the windows an’ see the trees wavin’ -an’ hear the birds I like t’ p’tend I’m outdoors -playin’.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t you do it, Cap’n,” Peg spoke almost<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> -solemnly. “You keep a stiddy holt on them thoughts -o’ yourn’ an’ nail ’em down to readin’, writin’, an’ -’rithmetic. If you ketch ’em a-wanderin’ out the window, -you fetch ’em back an’ make ’em work. You -c’n do it, every trip.”</p> - -<p>“But if I don’t want to——”</p> - -<p>“There you got it! Struck the nail square on -the head, Cap’n. You’ve got to make yourself want -to. You ain’t too young to learn, neither. Gracious! -I wisht somebody’d told me what I’m tellin’ you, -when I was ’bout your age. I’ve kind o’ reasoned -it out, watchin’ folks an’ their doin’s, an’ noticin’ how -I try an’ squirm out o’ doin’ things. The’s two -folks in ev’rybody, Cap’n; a lazy, good-fer-nothin’ -sort o’ a chap, that won’t do nothin’ in school, nor -anywheres else if he c’n help it, an’ there’s a smart, -good, up-an’-a-goin’ feller ’at’s anxious to git along -in the world. I know ’em both inside o’ me. An’ -ol’ lazybones come nigh onto ruinin’ me when I was a -boy. Lord! I jes’ wouldn’ work! Ust t’ lie half th’ -day in the sun an’ think o’ nothin’, when I’d ought t’ -been hoein’ corn. Then I’d come in an’—say I had -the backache, or th’ headache or—mos’ anythin’ I -could think of. Ol’ lazybones is an awful liar, Cap’n. -You don’t want t’ listen to anythin’ he says. You -want to shet him up an’ keep him shet. He’ll lead -a man t’ drink an’ to steal other folks’ time an’ -money; he’s meaner’n pusley an’ slyer’n—well, he’s -s’ durned sly, Cap’n, that you gotta be on his track -all the endurin’ while.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Do you think I’ve got two folks in me, Peg?” -asked Jimmy, laying his hand over the pit of his -stomach with a worried look.</p> - -<p>“I’m reelly ’fraid ye have, Cap’n,” said Peg firmly. -“I never see anybody ’at hadn’t. But ef you git -th’ upper han’ o’ ol’ lazybones now’t you’re small, -you won’t have much trouble with him.”</p> - -<p>“I’m not small, Peg,” Jimmy corrected him. -“You said I was large an’—an’ hefty fer my -age.”</p> - -<p>“Sure you be, Cap’n, but you ain’t reelly a man -growed. That’s what I mean, an’ I want you should -grow up into an A number one man, full o’ grit an’ -gumption. An’ you can’t do it unless you start right. -You see, Cap’n, I’m gittin’ ’long in life an’ I’ve figgered -it out ’at ’bout six folks out o’ every ten kind -o’ see-saws back an’ forth betwixt bein’ lazy an’ -lyin’ an’ no ’count, an’ bein’ industrious an’ truthful. -Folks like that gits ’long so-so; they don’t hev no -partickler good luck—ol’ lazybones keeps ’em f’om -that; but they don’t git nowheres neither, ’cause they -don’t stick to biz. Then the’s ’bout three out o’ ev’y -ten thet gives right up to ol’ lazybones f’om the start; -an’ he runs ’em right into th’ ground ’s fas’ ’s possible. -The tenth man, he stomps on ol’ lazybones -ev’ry time he opens his head t’ speak, an’ bimeby he -gits on the right track s’ stiddy an’ constant ’at nobody -c’n stop ’im. An’ he’s the one thet gits thar! -I want you should be that kind o’ a man, Cap’n. -An’ that’s one reason I give you that book o’ Vallable<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> -Info’mation. It’ll help you to kind o’ think over differ’nt -things that happens. Now I’ll bet you won’t -lose another letter in a hurry.”</p> - -<p>“No, I won’t,” Jimmy said earnestly. “An’ I’m -goin’ to try an’ stomp on ol’ lazybones.”</p> - -<p>“That’s right, Cap’n,” cried Peg. “You jes’ -stomp on him hard an’ proper. You git th’ upper -han’ o’ him b’fore he grows too big and hefty, an’ -bimeby he won’t bother you.”</p> - -<p>“Peg,” said Jimmy, after a period devoted to reflection, -“the Hon’rable Stephen Jarvis is in our -house.”</p> - -<p>“Dear me! You don’t say so!” ejaculated Peg, -with a frightened start.</p> - -<p>“He makes Barb’ra cry,” said Jimmy, scowling -fiercely. “I wanted to stay an’ keep him f’om doin’ -it; but Barb’ra said for me to come out here and see -you. I’d like to stomp on him—hard!”</p> - -<p>The subject of these dubious comments and conjectures, -more ill at ease than his worst enemy had -ever hoped to see him, sat in the dull light of the -rainy afternoon, looking at Barbara Preston with -new eyes: to wit, the eyes of a man.</p> - -<p>“I suppose,” the girl said steadily, “you have -come to tell me that you will foreclose the mortgage.” -She gripped her hands close in her lap.</p> - -<p>“No,” said Stephen Jarvis, “that was not my -intention. As I have already informed you, the -mortgage will foreclose itself, when the time -comes.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span></p> - -<p>He stopped short and narrowed his lids frowningly.</p> - -<p>“I have been thinking about you,” he said harshly, -“since you left me so abruptly yesterday. Why -did you do it? And yet, I am glad, on the whole, that -you did. I want to tell you that I stood in my library -door and witnessed my housekeeper’s dismissal of -you from my house. Her own followed without -delay.”</p> - -<p>“I am sorry,” Barbara told him mechanically. -She was noticing dazedly that Jarvis was dressed as -she had occasionally seen him in church, and that -his gloves and linen were quite fresh and immaculate.</p> - -<p>“Why should you be sorry?” he demanded with -a straight look at her.</p> - -<p>“I—why, I think I should be sorry for any woman -who had lost what she wanted to keep,” Barbara -answered. “If you discharged her because -I——”</p> - -<p>“You were not primarily the cause of her -dismissal,” he said coolly. “I had already -told you that I was tired of seeing the woman -about.”</p> - -<p>He was silent for a long time, gazing frowningly -at the floor.</p> - -<p>Suddenly he looked up and, meeting Barbara’s -astonished and somewhat indignant eyes, held them -steadily with his own.</p> - -<p>“You are wondering why I came here to-day. -You are afraid of me, and you doubtless fancy with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> -the rest of the world that you—dislike me exceedingly.”</p> - -<p>Barbara opened her lips to reply.</p> - -<p>“Don’t take the trouble to deny it,” he went on, -with a faint sneer. “I know what most people think -of me, perhaps with reason. But I am myself, not -another; and so far, fear—dislike have seemed to me -unavoidable.” Again his rigid lips relaxed into -something like a smile, and he looked questioningly at -the girl.</p> - -<p>“It ought to be easy,” she said uncertainly, “to -make people like you. You might——”</p> - -<p>“I know what you are thinking of,” he interrupted -rudely. “But it wouldn’t do. People fear -and hate a hard man; they despise a fool. I refuse -to be despised.”</p> - -<p>He rose and walked up and down the room impatiently -as if his thoughts irked him. Finally he -paused before the window where a scarlet geranium -blossomed on the sill, and turned a singularly flushed -face upon the girl. For a dazed instant she wondered -with a thrill of painfully remembered fear if he -had been drinking.</p> - -<p>“You will be startled at what I am about to say -to you,” he said, in a changed voice. “I should -have laughed at the idea if anyone had suggested it to -me a week ago. But—I want you to marry me. I -want you to be my wife. No! don’t answer; don’t -refuse! You haven’t thought what it means. You -cannot consider the matter so suddenly. But this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> -much you can understand, I will give you this place -on our wedding-day—to do with as you like, and I -will attach no conditions to the gift.”</p> - -<p>Barbara had not removed her fascinated gaze -from his face. She felt like one dreaming fantastically -and struggling unavailingly to awake.</p> - -<p>“Perhaps you do not realize what you have asked -of me,” she said at last. “But—I will not sell myself -for this farm. That is what you have asked me -to do.”</p> - -<p>Her eyes sparkled blue fire; her lips curled disdainfully.</p> - -<p>“Don’t be a fool,” he said roughly. “I want -nothing of the sort. I want you—you! I need you. -I am more sure of it now than ever.”</p> - -<p>He took three steps toward her, his rugged face -alive with determination—the grim determination -which had wrested all that he possessed from the grip -of a hostile world.</p> - -<p>“When I want anything,” he said doggedly, “I -always get it. Didn’t you know that? I want you.”</p> - -<p>“You’ll not get me—ever!” cried Barbara.</p> - -<p>She knew it must be war to the bitter end between -them, and she flung the gage of battle full in his face -with fine recklessness.</p> - -<p>“You may take everything I have, if you can. -But you’ll not get me!”</p> - -<p>He stood up and buttoned his frock coat over his -white waistcoat.</p> - -<p>“I’ll not take your answer to-day,” he said, quite<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> -unmoved by her anger. “I had no intention of -doing so.”</p> - -<p>He strode to the door without another look at -her, signalled his coachman, stepped into his closed -carriage, shut the door hard behind him and rolled -away, with a smooth whir of shining wheels.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4">V</h2> - -<p class="pn2"><span class="smcap">“I’ll</span> give her time to think before I see her again,” -Jarvis decided, as his swift-stepping bays carried him -along through the April rain. He dropped the window -of his brougham and drew in deep satisfying -breaths of the moist air. He was glad that she had -not yielded supinely, as a weaker woman might have -done. There was to his mind something heroic, -splendid in her attitude as she defied him. For the -first time in his life, Stephen Jarvis felt the stir of -half-awakened passion; and the savage within his -breast, never wholly eliminated or even tamed by an -imperfect civilization, exulted at the thought of the -imminent conflict of wills, the flight, the pursuit, the -inevitable capture.</p> - -<p>“I’ll give her time to think—to be afraid!” he repeated; -“then——”</p> - -<p>The blood hammered in his temples and involuntarily -he clenched his strong hands, as if already -crushing that weaker woman’s will and subduing it to -his own.</p> - -<p>But Barbara Preston was not thinking of the fact -that Stephen Jarvis had asked her to be his wife. -Being a woman, and, moreover, hard driven by cruel -necessity, she might have been pardoned, if for a -moment she had allowed her thoughts to linger upon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> -the interview which had just ended. She might even -have recalled with a certain speculative interest the -luxurious interior of the carriage into which he had -stepped and the smooth roll of the wheels which had -borne him away, safe shut from the wind and the -weather. So might she be lifted and sheltered from -the bleak peltings of poverty, and life become a -smooth progression instead of a painful pilgrimage. -The girl sat quite still by the window looking out -through misty panes into a mistier world, and only -vaguely aware of dripping lilac sprays, ruddy with -swelling buds, and of the flash of wet brown wings -athwart the gray sky.</p> - -<p>Stephen Jarvis, master of fate, and thrilling with -the clash of his will upon hers, could hardly have -known that the ghost of another man stood between -him and the object of this new, urgent desire of his. -He would have laughed the shadowy presence to scorn -had he known it.</p> - -<p>Yet it was this mere shadow of a man which -chained Barbara’s thoughts while the April rain -softened the landscape to a soft green blur. After -all it was but natural that her one pitiful little love -story should come back to her now, even to a vision of -David Whitcomb’s eager face, his dark impatient -eyes, and tossed hair, and the strong clasp of his -hand upon hers in the dusk of the summer twilight.</p> - -<p>It was Jimmy who had come between them; little -motherless Jimmy, then a baby a year old, with big -appealing eyes under a fluff of soft yellow hair, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> -a voice sweeter than any bird’s. All the woman’s -heart in her had gone out to the helpless little creature -who nestled in her arms at night, and whose eyes and -voice followed her as she went about her work by -day. This in the days when her father, grown suddenly -old and apathetic, had begun to shut himself -up in his library, for what purpose Barbara did not -guess, at first. When she did know it was too late. -The leaves of the book had been long closed and -sealed, but the heart within her shivered at the remembrance -of what was written there.</p> - -<p>“If you really loved me,” David had said hotly, -“you would not let anyone or anything come between -us.”</p> - -<p>She told him that she could not go to him over the -bodies of a sick father and a helpless child. And since -he had asked this of her, she did not, indeed, love him.</p> - -<p>After this stormy scene—the last between them, -since David Whitcomb had gone away, no one knew -whither, nor indeed cared, since he was young and -friendless and poor—Barbara had cried herself to -sleep for many successive nights, quietly, so as not -to disturb the sleeping child. But one does not weep -overlong at night whose brain and hands and feet -are employed in the daytime. Only the beggared -rich may give themselves to the indolent luxury of -grief. After many nights of weeping followed by -days of anxiety and uncounted labors, the pain of -that parting subsided to a dull aching memory, which -wakened once to cry out bitterly when she heard that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> -he had been seen on a ship bound to the Yukon -region in the early days of the gold fever. Many -perished along the trail that year. It was rumored -that David Whitcomb was among the number. No -word ever came back to contradict the rumor, which -after the lapse of months was accepted as a fact, and -so—forgotten.</p> - -<p>It was a long time—as youth measures time—since -she had thought of David Whitcomb. Now -she deliberately travelled back over the years between, -and stood looking at her anguished young -self, torn between love and duty, and at her one lover, -who was not noble enough—she saw this with mournful -certainty now—to help her lift and carry her -heavy burden. Nevertheless she forgave him—as -she had done hundreds of times in the past, excusing -him tenderly, as a mother might have done, for his -hot young selfishness, which refused to share her -heart with a dying man and a helpless little child.</p> - -<p>“I am glad,” she said aloud to the shadowy presence -of her one lover, “glad that I did not yield.”</p> - -<p>But her face was grave and sorrowful as she rose -to answer a gentle knock at the kitchen door.</p> - -<p>Peg Morrison stood there under the shelter of an -ancient green umbrella, his puckered face smiling -and healthily pink against the pale green of the outside -world.</p> - -<p>“I lef’ the Cap’n a-studyin’ over his book,” he -chuckled, as he stepped into the kitchen, carefully -wiping his feet on the braided rug inside. “He takes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> -to vallable info’mation as the sparks fly upwards, an’ -I’m glad to see it. Thinks I, as I looked at him -settin’ down improvin’ maxims in red ink, this is a -good time to talk over the situation with Miss Barb’ry.”</p> - -<p>Barbara drew a deep breath.</p> - -<p>“Come in,” she said briefly.</p> - -<p>Then, as Peg seated himself in a wooden chair, -ceremoniously arranging his coat-tails on either side, -she added, “There isn’t much to say.”</p> - -<p>“Wall, I’ve been thinkin’ fer quite a spell back -that mebbe you’d like t’ lease th’ farm to me, ’stid o’ -my workin’ it on shares, as heretofore. I’m——”</p> - -<p>“But you haven’t had any share, Peg,” Barbara -said, with a shade of impatience. “And that is why I -have felt so—so unwilling to have you stay here and -work, when I couldn’t possibly pay you what I knew -you were earning.”</p> - -<p>Peg struck one heavy palm upon his knee before -he answered, his kindly face drawn into myriad -comical puckers.</p> - -<p>“Now, look-a-here, Miss Barb’ry,” he began. -“You an’ me’s argued this ’ere question over more’n -once. If I don’t get my share I’d like to know -who does? I git m’ livin’, don’t I? An’ I git free -house-rent, don’t I? An’ them two items, livin’ an’ -house-rent, ’s ’bout all mos’ folks git. W’y, Miss -Barb’ry, I live luxurious to what lots o’ folks do. -And then ag’in you mus’ remember that I ain’t a -reelly d’sirable farm laborer. I’m gittin’ ’long in life,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> -an’ I can’t put in the kind and description o’ a day’s -work folks’ll pay good wages fer. I’ll bet you——”</p> - -<p>And the old man raised his voice to the argumentative -pitch commonly employed in heated controversies -around the stove in Hewett’s grocery.</p> - -<p>“I’ll bet you a dollar an’ a half ’at I couldn’t git -a place on a farm ’round here to save my neck! I’ll -bet I’d git turned down quicker’n scat ev’ry place I’d -try. ‘What!’ they’d say, ’ol’ Peg Morrison wants a -place? That ol’ coot? Why, he ain’t wo’th his -victuals!’ ’Tain’t reelly fur f’om charity, Miss Barb’ry, -fer you to keep me here, givin’ me all the veg’tables -an’ po’k I want, with now an’ then a fresh egg, -er a—chicken. Sakes alive! I tell ye I’m grateful -of a winter night when I creep under that nice patchwork -quilt you give me ’at I’m workin’ fer a lady—on -shares.”</p> - -<p>Barbara laughed, an irrepressible girlish laugh, -even while she shook her head.</p> - -<p>“I couldn’t pay you for what you’ve done for -Jimmy and me since—since father died, and—before, -too. And I can’t thank you, either. I couldn’t find -words to do it if I tried.”</p> - -<p>“Thank me!” echoed the old man exuberantly. -“Say, excuse me fer appearin’ to smile, Miss Barb’ry.” -His voice grew suddenly grave. “I guess -ther’ ain’t any pertickler use in quarrellin’ ’bout it, -after all. I’ll do what I can fer you an’ the boy—bein’ -a poor shakes of a laborer—jes’ ’s long ’s I -live, an’ you c’n d’pend upon it. But now what do<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> -you think ’bout leasin’ th’ farm—say, fer a thousand -dollars?”</p> - -<p>Peg’s eyes grew round, and he gasped a little at -the magnitude of the proposition.</p> - -<p>“I’ve got a dollar or two laid by fer a rainy day, -an’ I’ll put that down in advance,” he went on, with -a chuckle, “an’ the way I’ve figgered it I’ll make -big money on the deal. W’y, look-a-here,” and he -drew a soiled newspaper from his pocket, “I come -’cross this ’ere article th’ other day. I’d like t’ -read t’ you what it says on the subjec’ o’ onions. -‘Thirty-three acres o’ land in onions netted John -Closner of Hidalgo, Texas, ’leven thousan’ dollars!’ -Hear that, will ye? He says he perduced thirty-six -carloads off’n his farm—more’n a carload t’ an -acre!’ Hold on! that ain’t all—’course that’s in -Texas. But listen t’ this, Miss Barb’ry——”</p> - -<p>“But, Peg, there isn’t any use of talking,” interrupted -the girl, “the mortgage is going to be foreclosed -the first of June, unless I——”</p> - -<p>“Foreclosed—eh? Foreclosed!” echoed the old -man. “Wall, I was ’fraid of it when I seen his -buggy here yist’day an’ ag’in t’-day. Farmers -’round here say they hate th’ sight o’ that red-wheeled -buggy worse’n pison snakes. It gene’ally -means business o’ th’ kind they ain’t lookin’ fer. -Say! I wisht I’d got a-holt o’ this ’ere article on -onion-growin’ before. I reelly do. Jes’ listen t’ this: -‘Onions are profitably grown in th’ north, also. -Ebenezer N. Foote of Northampton, Mass., has perduced<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> -av’rage crops ’s high es nine hunderd an’ -ten bushels t’ th’ acre! He says he expects to raise -that to twelve hunderd! The annual value of his -crop ranges f’om five hunderd to six hunderd dollars -per acre!’”</p> - -<p>Peg’s voice swelled into a veritable pæan in a high -key; his face glowed with the ecstasies of his imaginings. -He carefully folded the newspaper and stuffed -it into a capacious pocket.</p> - -<p>“Now, y’ see,” he went on oratorically, “exclusive -o’ the orchards, which had ought to net us -at least five hunderd dollars this year, we could put -in, say, twenty acres o’ onions, at five hunderd dollars -per acre, that would net us—l’me see, five hunderd -dollars times twenty acres ’ud make. Here, -lemme figger that out.”</p> - -<p>The old man fumbled in his vest pocket for a -stubbed pencil.</p> - -<p>“I ain’t th’ lightnin’ calculator you’d expect fer -such a schemin’ ol’ cuss,” he murmured apologetically, -as he wet the lead preparatory to computation.</p> - -<p>Barbara smiled. “It would be ten thousand dollars,” -she said. “But, Peg, don’t you see——”</p> - -<p>“Ten thousand dollars! Whew! I guess that -’ud make a mortgage look kind o’ sick, wouldn’t it? -We’d ought to hold on a spell longer an’ give onions -a try.”</p> - -<p>“But we can’t, Peg. It’s only six weeks before -the first of June, and I’ve only twenty dollars in the -world.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span></p> - -<p>Barbara leaned back in her chair, her face relaxed -and weary and unutterably sad.</p> - -<p>“You must look for another place right away, -Peg,” she went on, “I’ll try and find one for you. -Then, if I can get a school, or—some sort of work. -I don’t care much what it is, if it will keep Jimmy -and me.”</p> - -<p>“The’s a whole lot o’ money in p’tatoes, too,” -grumbled Peg, his anxious blue eyes on her face. -“I’d ought to ’ave sowed peas an’ oats on that hill -lot las’ fall an’ ploughed ’em in this spring. It -says in this ’ere article on big crops that’ll grow -p’tatoes like all possessed. I wisht I’d come acrost -th’ inf’mation b’fore.”</p> - -<p>“Mr. Jarvis says the farm is worn out,” Barbara -said, a growing despondency in her voice. “He -says the orchards are worthless, too; they are old.”</p> - -<p>“Shucks!” exploded Peg. “‘Course Jarvis’d talk -like that when he’s gittin’ it away f’om you fer -nothin’ like its value. I’ll bet he’d have another -story to tell ef anybody was to try ’n buy it of him. -Values has a way o’ risin’ over night like bread -dough once Stephen Jarvis gits a-holt o’ a piece o’ -prop’ty.”</p> - -<p>“He asked me to marry him,” said Barbara -abruptly. Then bit her lip angrily at the old man’s -look of amazed incredulity. “I’m sure I don’t know -why I told you, only I—haven’t anyone to speak to, -and—no one to advise me.”</p> - -<p>Peg’s face grew suddenly grave.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Don’t you be afraid I’ll mention it, Miss Barb’ry,” -he said gently. “‘Course I was kind o’ -s’prised—at first. But I don’t know’s I be, come t’ -think o’ it. He asked you to be Mis’ Jarvis? Wall! -You goin’ to do it, Miss Barb’ry?”</p> - -<p>“He said he would give me the farm,” Barbara -went on slowly, “to do as I liked with. I could—give -it to Jimmy.”</p> - -<p>She looked at him with a child’s unconscious -appeal.</p> - -<p>“Do you think I ought to—to marry him, -Peg?”</p> - -<p>The old man was still eyeing her soberly, even -wistfully.</p> - -<p>“I’ve knowed you sence you was a little girl no -higher’n my knee, Miss Barb’ry,” he began. “I’ve -seed you grow up. An’ I’ve seed you go through -some pretty hard experiences. Now, I ain’t the kind -to talk very much ’bout my religion, an’ the’s times -when I don’t ’pear to have a nawful lot of it; but -the’s a God that hears an’—an’ takes notice. That -much I’ve found out, an’ ef I was you I’d go to headquarters -an’ git th’ best advice. But I’ll say this, -ef the farm is wore out,—es he says,—it ’pears t’ me -he’s askin’ a pretty high price fer th’ prop’ty. He -wants your youth, Miss Barb’ry, an’ your pretty -looks, an’ your life. An’ es fer the Cap’n—Wall, -I’d ruther not d’pend too much on th’ Hon’rable -Stephen Jarvis, when it comes t’ th’ Cap’n. That’s -the way it looks to me. ’Course I don’t p’tend to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> -be a good jedge o’ what’s best in th’ world. I don’t -look like it, do I?”</p> - -<p>He glanced down at his patched and faded clothes -with a cheerfully acquiescent smile.</p> - -<p>“I’ve a notion,” he went on, “that the Lord’ll -advise ye ’long th’ same lines ’s I hev. But don’t -take my word fer it.”</p> - -<p>“None of my prayers have been answered,” Barbara -said, her red lips setting themselves in obstinate -lines. “I’ve given up expecting anything so foolish. -I prayed to have father get well, and he—died.”</p> - -<p>“But he got well,” put in Peg quietly. “You c’n -bet he did. Mebbe the Lord couldn’t fetch it ’round -any other way. The’ was so many things ag’in him.”</p> - -<p>Barbara’s delicate brows went up scornfully.</p> - -<p>“I don’t call dying getting well,” she said.</p> - -<p>“H’m!” murmured the old man gently. “Mebbe -we don’t always call things by their right names.”</p> - -<p>He got to his feet slowly.</p> - -<p>“Wall, I mus’ be gittin’ out t’ the barn.”</p> - -<p>He fixed his friendly, anxious eyes on the girl.</p> - -<p>“I guess I’d figger a spell on that marryin’ proposition, -ef I was you,” he said softly, and shook his -head.</p> - -<p>He turned, with his hand on the latch, to cast a -dubious look back at the girl.</p> - -<p>“It ’pears t’ me you ain’t cut out right for the -second Mis’ Jarvis,” he said. “She’d ought b’ rights -t’ be a big, upstandin’ female, with—with red hair.”</p> - -<p>He shut the door hastily behind him.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4">VI</h2> - -<p class="pn2"><span class="smcap">It</span> is a well-worn, yet none the less true saying that -every human life is a chain of causes and effects; each -effect a cause, and each cause an effect, stretching -back to an unimagined and unimaginable First -Cause; and on and on into endless, undreamed of -vistas of the future. Yet the realization of this -vague, yet tremendous fact comes but seldom even to -the thoughtful mind, so busy are we forging link on -link of the chain which binds us alike to past and -future.</p> - -<p>Barbara Preston, stopping aimlessly to read the -notice of an auction of farm stock and household -furniture advertised to take place in a neighboring -township, could not guess that the trivial impulse -that stayed her feet by the big chestnut at the roadside -linked itself with events already slowly shaping -in her future. The notice was printed in bold red -letters on a buff background, calculated to seize and -hold the eye of the passerby, and set forth the fact -that one Thomas Bellows, Auctioneer, would, on the -twenty-fifth day of April, sell to the highest bidder, -on the premises of the owner, four milch cows, three -farm horses, and sixty-four sheep. Also one young -carriage horse, well broken, sound, kind, and willing. -Other items relating to household gear and poultry<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> -followed, set down in due order of their relative -importance.</p> - -<p>The red letters on the buff ground passed into -Barbara’s eyes—as indeed they were purposefully intended—and -impressed themselves on her memory. -She considered them half angrily as she pursued her -way to the post-office, picturing to herself the day -when Thomas Bellows or another, would noisily exploit -the contents of her own well-loved home. There -was little there to bring money, and the mortgage -covered stock and furniture as well as the land itself. -She had learned this from a curt letter addressed to -her by Stephen Jarvis in reply to questions of her -own as concisely put.</p> - -<p>Apart from her half-dazed recollection of the -rainy afternoon a week since, their relations as ruthless -creditor and hopeless debtor appeared to be -unchanged. During the interval she had gone doggedly -about her self-imposed labors, rising in the -faint light of dawn to set strawberry and lettuce -plants, wintered carefully on the south side of the -big barns, with the vague unreasoning hope that -somehow or other she might be permitted to reap -the fruit of her toil. Between times she was casting -about for another home and other modes of livelihood -for herself and Jimmy. It would be difficult, if not -impossible, she was told, to secure a position to teach. -Only normal-school graduates stood any chance of -preferment, and there appeared to be no prospect of -a vacancy of any kind before fall. To become a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> -dressmaker’s apprentice was possible; but the woman -who provided the opportunity offered instruction for -the first six months in lieu of wages. And obviously -one could not live on information alone, however -valuable. Household servants were always in brisk -demand, she had been reminded; but pride of race -wrestled with the untold humiliation of such a lot. -Besides, there was Jimmy. Her heart grew faint at -the thought of the loving, carefully-shielded child in -the cold shelter of an “asylum” or the bound property -of some shrewd farmer, an investment involving a -grudging expenditure of coarse food and scanty, insufficient -clothing and forced to yield an ever-increasing -increment of labor. Oh, life was cruel at its best. -Her flesh and her soul cried out at the thought of -what its worst might be. If there was a way of -escape, why not accept it?</p> - -<p>She was turning these things wearily over in her -mind when the quick whir of wheels sounded at her -back. She stepped aside to allow the vehicle to -pass, without raising her eyes.</p> - -<p>A harsh, domineering voice, the sort of voice to -be slavishly obeyed, ordered the horse to stand still.</p> - -<p>She looked up quickly to meet the eager gaze of -the man who was in her thoughts. A vivid color, of -which she was angrily conscious, rose to her forehead. -She stammered some sort of greeting, her eyes -drooping before the dominant insistence in his.</p> - -<p>“I was just on my way to your house,” he said.</p> - -<p>His voice, as well as his eyes, was eager, insistent.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Get in, won’t you, and ride with me? I have -something to say to you.”</p> - -<p>The girl hesitated, her cheeks paling. He sprang -to the ground, speaking sharply to his young, restive -horse.</p> - -<p>“Allow me to assist you,” he said, with a politeness -wholly unfamiliar to Barbara.</p> - -<p>She gave him an astonished look, which he interpreted -correctly, with the acumen of a trained -politician.</p> - -<p>“You have been thinking that I was exceedingly -abrupt—even rude, in the way I spoke to you the -other day,” he said, as he took her firmly by the hand -and lifted her to a seat in the vehicle which was -“dreaded more’n pison snakes” by the delinquent -debtors in the countryside, according to Peg Morrison.</p> - -<p>He bent to look keenly into her face, as he seated -himself at her side. “Isn’t that so,—Barbara?”</p> - -<p>At the sound of her name in that new, strange -voice of his the girl started and almost shivered. -She was beginning to be afraid of herself—this no -less new and strange self, who was tired of being -poor and hardworked and anxious, and who longed -after comfort and ease and affection of some strong, -compelling sort. She lifted her eyes to his.</p> - -<p>“I have been thinking many things,” she murmured, -“since—since you——”</p> - -<p>He laughed under his breath.</p> - -<p>“Yes; and you have been doing some things, too,”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> -he said. “I heard you were looking for a place to -teach, and—it didn’t encourage me to suppose that -you were thinking very favorably of what I proposed. -Did you secure a position?”</p> - -<p>“N-o, I didn’t,” she acknowledged. She hesitated -visibly, then added, “They told me you were a school -commissioner, and that I must apply to you.”</p> - -<p>“Why didn’t you apply to me?” he wanted to -know. “Didn’t you think I would be a good sort of -person to help you in your desire for independence?”</p> - -<p>“I didn’t ask you,” she said, “because——”</p> - -<p>“Well?” he questioned sharply. “You didn’t -ask me for help because——”</p> - -<p>“How could I?” she demanded, with a spirited -lift of her head. “I asked you for help before and -you refused.”</p> - -<p>He looked at her with piercing keenness.</p> - -<p>“Did I?” he said gravely. “Well, I offered you—a -position. You haven’t forgotten, have you?”</p> - -<p>Barbara’s heart beat suffocatingly fast. His eyes -were on her face, compelling her, mastering her.</p> - -<p>“Would you—Could I take care of Jimmy just -the same?” she asked, in a muffled voice.</p> - -<p>He gave his horse a sharp cut with the whip before -he answered.</p> - -<p>“I can’t see why you should bring the boy into -our affairs,” he said coldly. “But he can live with -us—for the present, if you like. Then there is the -Preston farm; as I’ve already told you, you may do -as you like with it.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span></p> - -<p>Barbara looked mistily away over the fields past -which they were driving, the sound of meadow-larks, -calling and answering, and the soft jubilant gurgle -of a bluebird on a nearer fence-rail reaching her like -vaguely reproachful voices out of a dead past. Then -as now had the meadow-larks called “Sweet! oh, my -sweet!”—in the one spring-time when David Whitcomb -loved her.</p> - -<p>“I shall have to—to think,” she murmured. “I -am afraid——”</p> - -<p>“Of what?” he demanded. “Of me?”</p> - -<p>She did not answer, and again he cut the horse -impatiently with his keen whip-lash, holding the -spirited creature with a strong grasp on the reins -as he did so.</p> - -<p>“Well,” he said, after a long silence, “I’m afraid -I can’t make myself over, even for you. But I’ll tell -you something, my girl, there are worse men in the -world than Stephen Jarvis, and perhaps you’ll fall in -with some of ’em, if you turn me down. Look at me, -will you?”</p> - -<p>Unwillingly she turned her face to his.</p> - -<p>“I shall not take a silly <i>no</i> for an answer,” he -said under his breath. “I never have, and I shan’t -begin with you. I need you, and you need me.”</p> - -<p>His eyes held her powerfully.</p> - -<p>“Do you love another man?”</p> - -<p>“No,” said Barbara faintly. She could not bring -herself to uncover her one dead love before those -pitiless eyes, while the meadow-larks were calling and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> -answering with such piercing sweetness. David -Whitcomb was dead. If she had ever loved him it -was as another self in a dim past, growing ever -dimmer.</p> - -<p>“Then,” said the Honorable Stephen Jarvis -quietly, “you will marry me.” He broke into a short -laugh. “Do you know I couldn’t bear to think of -your loving another man? Is that being in love? -Tell me, Barbara.”</p> - -<p>He laughed again softly, as he bent to peer into -her averted face. She felt herself yielding, her weak -hold on past and future loosening.</p> - -<p>She did not answer, but her red mouth quivered.</p> - -<p>He experienced a sudden thrilling desire to touch -the fresh innocent lips with his.</p> - -<p>“It would be curious,” he murmured unsteadily, -“if I should learn what love is for the first time. -Shall I tell you how old I am, Barbara?”</p> - -<p>She looked up at him without curiosity.</p> - -<p>“Well, I’m thirty-seven; and I’ve never loved any -woman—I have never loved anything, except money -and success. But now—Barbara!”</p> - -<p>He bent toward her, his cold eyes alive with passion.</p> - -<p>“No—no!” she cried, shrinking from him in sudden -terror.</p> - -<p>His face stiffened into its accustomed mask.</p> - -<p>“You’re thinking I’ve waited too long,” he said -bitterly, and the curling lash stung the bay horse in -the flank.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span></p> - -<p>Neither spoke again while the wheels spun dizzily -along over the mile of road which brought them to -the big stone gate-posts of the Preston farm.</p> - -<p>He drew up his foaming horse sharply.</p> - -<p>“I won’t come in,” he said, “if you’ll get out -here.”</p> - -<p>She felt herself vaguely humiliated as she stepped -down from the high vehicle without assistance.</p> - -<p>“Stop!” he ordered as she passed quickly inside, -as if in haste to gain shelter.</p> - -<p>She looked up at him uncertainly, her eyes wide -with an emotion akin to terror.</p> - -<p>“I shall not humiliate myself by coaxing or cajoling -you,” he said haughtily. “You are best left -alone for the present.”</p> - -<p>He lifted his hat with a sweeping bow, and the -red-wheeled buggy dashed away.</p> - -<p>Barbara drew a long, struggling sigh. She felt -curiously light and free, as if she had made a breathless -escape from some grasping hand, outstretched to -seize her.</p> - -<p>The sight of Jimmy running swiftly down the -driveway toward her heightened the sensation to almost -passionate relief.</p> - -<p>“Hello, Barb’ra!” shouted the little boy. “I -came home from school, an’ you wasn’t here. An’ -you can’t guess what I’ve got for you!”</p> - -<p>The child’s face, glowing rosily with health and -mischief, was uplifted to hers. She stooped and -kissed it tenderly.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span></p> - -<p>“What have you got for me, Jimmy?”</p> - -<p>“Guess!”</p> - -<p>“I can’t guess,” she answered soberly. “You’ll -have to tell me.”</p> - -<p>“You ain’t cross wiv me, are you, Barb’ra?”</p> - -<p>“No, dear, of course I’m not. Why should I be -cross? Why, it—it’s a letter! Where did you get -it, Jimmy?”</p> - -<p>“It’s the one I lost,” said the child, puckering up -his chin disappointedly. “I fought you’d be glad. -Peg found it. He said he ’membered the wind was -blowin’ that day; so he looked all along the road on -bof sides, an’ he found it right under a bush.”</p> - -<p>Barbara hastily tore the sodden envelope apart. -Her fingers trembled as she unfolded the large stained -sheet.</p> - -<p>“Is it all spoiled?” asked Jimmy anxiously. -“Can’t you read it?”</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4">VII</h2> - -<p class="pn2"><span class="smcap">Barbara</span> stared at the stained and defaced sheet -with wide, frightened eyes. Her hands trembled.</p> - -<p>“Can’t you read it, Barb’ra?” pleaded Jimmy -anxiously, standing on tip-toe to peep at the letter. -“Peg said he was ’fraid you couldn’t; but he said -maybe you’d know who it was from, an’ if it was -’portant.”</p> - -<p>Barbara did not answer. The rain-soaked paper -in her trembling fingers faced her like a mute accusing -ghost out of the past. The lines of writing folded -close upon each other and soaked with rain and the -stain of the wet brown earth had been completely -obliterated; but two words of the many had escaped; -her own name at the beginning of the letter, and -another at its close.</p> - -<p>“He is not dead!” she murmured. “He is not -dead!”</p> - -<p>Jimmy clutched her sleeve, dancing up and down -in his impatience.</p> - -<p>“Is it ’portant, Barb’ra—is it? Can you read -it?” he persisted.</p> - -<p>She faced the child, her eyes clouded with despair -and anger.</p> - -<p>“No, I can’t read it!” she cried. “Oh! if you had -only brought it to me!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span></p> - -<p>She turned swiftly and hurried toward the house, -leaving the child lagging forlornly in the rear, his -blue eyes brimmed with tears.</p> - -<p>Peg Morrison, digging a patch of garden in the -rear of the house, his battered straw hat drawn low -over his eyes, his teeth firmly closed on a twig of -apple-tree wood, became presently aware of a small -dejected figure lurking in the shadow of the blossoming -tree.</p> - -<p>“Hello, Cap’n!” he called out cheerfully, relinquishing -the twig in favor of a spent dandelion stalk. -“Did ye find Barb’ry—heh? An’ did ye give her the -letter?”</p> - -<p>“I gave it to her; but she—can’t read it. An’—’n’ -I’m ’fraid it was ’portant. She’s mad wiv me, -Barb’ra is; ’n’ I haven’t had any dinner, either.”</p> - -<p>The child manfully swallowed the sob that rose in -his throat. Then he selected a tall dandelion with a -plumy top which he put in his mouth in imitation of -Peg, who watched him with a dubious smile.</p> - -<p>“Wall, now, that’s too bad, Cap’n,” sympathized -the old man. “But ef Barb’ry can’t read the letter -it mus’ be ’cause ’tain’t best she should. Things -don’t happen b’ chance, Cap’n. You want t’ remember -that. There’s Somebody a-lookin’ out fer things -as don’t make no mistakes.”</p> - -<p>Jimmy pondered this dark saying while the dandelion -stem slowly uncurled itself into a dangling spiral.</p> - -<p>“Then it was all right for me to lose that letter, -‘N’ you said——”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span></p> - -<p>Peg frowned thoughtfully at the antics of a pair -of barn-swallows swooping in and out from under the -eaves.</p> - -<p>“No; it wa’n’t right fer you to be careless an’ lose -the letter, Cap’n,” he said decidedly. “But the -Lord—wall, you see, the Lord is consid’able smarter’n -what we be, an’ He c’n fix things up that go wrong. -Kind o’ arranges it so’t the universe won’t fly the -track, no matter what we do. We ain’t p’mitted t’ -disturb the gen’ral peace t’ any great extent. You’ll -understan’ these things better when you’re growed -up, Cap’n.”</p> - -<p>“Will I?” said Jimmy hopefully.</p> - -<p>Peg thrust his spade into the ground.</p> - -<p>“Guess I’d better walk over t’ the house with you, -an’ see if the’s anythin’ I c’n do,” he said briefly.</p> - -<p>Barbara was setting the table with quick darting -movements of her lithe figure when the two came -in range of the kitchen door. She paused abruptly -at sight of them.</p> - -<p>“You must come in and eat your dinner quick, -Jimmy,” she called, “or you’ll be late to school.”</p> - -<p>“You g’wan in, Cap’n,” Peg urged in a diplomatic -whisper. “I guess she’s pretty nigh all right. But -I wouldn’t pester her none ’bout that letter ef I was -you. Mebbe she’d ruther not talk ’bout it yet.”</p> - -<p>The child stole into the kitchen with hanging head -and sat down at the table spread for two. He was -very much ashamed of himself in the stormy light of -Barbara’s gray eyes; but Mr. Morrison’s remarks<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> -concerning the Maker of the universe appeared -worthy of passing on. He fortified himself with a -large slice of brown bread and butter, thickly overlaid -with apple-sauce.</p> - -<p>“It couldn’t have been <i>very</i> ’portant, Barb’ra,” -he said blandly.</p> - -<p>The girl faced about in the act of taking two -boiled potatoes out of a saucepan.</p> - -<p>“But it was, Jimmy. I know that much, and I -can’t read it.”</p> - -<p>“Peg says there’s Somebody a-lookin’ out for -things, an’ He made that letter fall out o’ my -pocket.”</p> - -<p>“Peg,” interrupted Barbara wrathfully, “knows -nothing about it.”</p> - -<p>“‘N’ He let it rain, too,” pursued Jimmy determinedly. -“‘N’ He let the ink run, ’n’ the mud get -on it. Do you want me to tell you who it was? Do -you, Barb’ra?”</p> - -<p>“Well, who do you suppose it was?”</p> - -<p>“God!” exploded the child dramatically. “Peg -said——”</p> - -<p>“I don’t want to hear what Peg said. He doesn’t -know.”</p> - -<p>“I shall put it,” said the child, “in red ink, in my -Vallable Inf’mation book. It’s a vallable inf’mation.”</p> - -<p>“It would be, if it was true.”</p> - -<p>“An’ if it isn’t true, it’s a vallable inf’mation. I’ll -put it down that way.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I would,” advised Barbara gloomily. Then she -repented herself and stooped to kiss the child’s quivering -lips. “Anyway,” she said, “I love you; and you -didn’t mean to lose the letter.”</p> - -<p>After Jimmy’s inquisitive blue eyes were tight shut -that night, Barbara examined the blurred sheet once -more, holding it between her eyes and the bright light -of the lamp. A word here and there appeared to -emerge from the chaos, where the sharp penpoint -had bitten the paper.</p> - -<p>“... never forgotten,” was tolerably distinct. -Then followed a hopeless blur of brown earth stains -and purple ink. But further down the page she -read,</p> - -<p>“Write—if you——”</p> - -<p>That was all, except his name, “David Whitcomb,” -at the foot of the page.</p> - -<p>The postmark had resisted the spoiling of both -rain and mould, and read distinctly, as Al Hewett -had declared, “Tombstone, Arizona,” in a blurred -circle, with the date “April 2” and the hour of -stamping “2-<span class="smcap">P.M.</span>”</p> - -<p>With a sudden glad impulse Barbara pulled a sheet -of paper toward her.</p> - -<p>“Dear David [she wrote], Your letter has just -reached me, but I can only read a part of it, because——”</p> - -<p>She paused and hesitated; then went on firmly:</p> - -<p>“Jimmy lost it, and it lay out under a bush in the -rain for more than a week. I can make out only a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> -few words here and there, but those few tell me that -you have not forgotten, and that you want me to -write to you.”</p> - -<p>The girl paused to draw a deep, wondering breath.</p> - -<p>“I can’t tell you how strange it seems to be writing -to you, because I have been thinking of you, David, -for nearly three years as dead. They said you were -lost on a trail in Alaska. And I thought it must be -true. But your letter—even though I can’t read it—has -brought me the assurance that you are not in -some far-away heaven, where I have tried to picture -you, David, but on earth.</p> - -<p>“This letter may never reach you, for I can only -be sure that your letter to me was mailed in Tombstone; -but I want to tell you that only Jimmy and I -are left. Father died a year ago, and since then I -have been trying to hold the farm for Jimmy. We -are the last of the Prestons, you know, and I do -want——”</p> - -<p>She stopped short, laid down her pen and listened -breathlessly. She fancied she had heard the -child’s voice calling her from the room above. She -glided noiselessly to the foot of the stair, and listened, -her slight figure seeming to melt, spirit-like, into the -shadows. It was very lonely in the old house. The -tall clock on the stair-landing ticked loud and solemnly -in the stillness, and the wind in the budding -trees without swept past the house with a long sighing -breath. The girl shivered as she listened, then -she went quickly back to the sitting-room with its<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> -cheerful circle of light and its drawn curtains, and -paused to read the words she had written to David -Whitcomb. They sounded stiff and trite after her -brief absence in the shadowy hall. After all, was she -not taking too much for granted? Perhaps he was -merely asking for information, which he felt sure he -could obtain from her on the score of old friendship. -He had left some books in the bare little room he had -occupied in the village for a year. The minister had -them, she had been told. Her cheeks crimsoned -slowly as she crumpled the half-written page and -tossed it into the waste basket.</p> - -<p>Then she chose a fresh sheet and wrote slowly, with -frequent pauses: “Dear David: I was very much surprised -to receive a letter from you after all these -years. I must explain that though I received your -letter to-day I have not been able to read it. It had -been quite spoiled with rain and mildew. If this -reaches you—and I cannot be sure of it, because I -have only the postmark to go by—please write to -me again, and I will answer at once.”</p> - -<p>She signed the letter quite formally and simply -with her full name, Barbara Allen Preston.</p> - -<p>She mailed the letter the next morning, passing -the great Jarvis mansion on her way to the post-office -with averted looks. On the sixteenth morning -thereafter she received back her letter written to -David Whitcomb, with the words printed across the -envelope, “Not called for.” She scarcely knew how -much she had been expecting from David till her own<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> -unopened letter reached her with the effect of a door -hard shut in the face of entreaty.</p> - -<p>It was on that same day, as she walked slowly -toward home, leaving her fruitless letter in a trail -of tiny white fragments behind her, that the high-stepping -bay horse and the red-wheeled buggy again -passed her. She looked up involuntarily, her face -white and sad, to receive a cold stare and curt nod -from the man on the high seat. His whip-lash curled -cruelly around the slender flank of his horse as he -passed, and the sensitive creature sprang forward -with a lunge and a quiver, only to receive a second -and third stinging cut from the lash.</p> - -<p>Barbara straightened herself as she watched the -light vehicle disappear around a turn in the road.</p> - -<p>She was thinking with a vague terror that so he -would have tortured and driven her, cruelly, with no -hope of escape. She was not prepared to see him -return almost immediately at the same furious speed, -and still less for his words as he pulled up his foaming -horse.</p> - -<p>“Get in,” he ordered her roughly. “I must speak -to you.”</p> - -<p>She looked up at him, her gray eyes sparkling defiance -from under their long curling lashes.</p> - -<p>“No,” she said loudly, “I will not.”</p> - -<p>“Will not?” he repeated. “But I say you shall -listen to me.”</p> - -<p>She walked on quietly. He stared after her with -a muttered oath, as if half-minded to go on. Then<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> -he leaped down, jerked his horse roughly to the -fence-rail, tied him fast, and strode after the slim -figure in the shabby black gown.</p> - -<p>He overtook her in a few long strides. She turned -to face him in the middle of the muddy road.</p> - -<p>“I told you I would leave you to yourself. I -meant to. I intended to let you be frightened, -harassed, driven to the wall; but I can’t,” he said -in a low, choked voice. “I—love you! I love you! -Do you hear me?”</p> - -<p>She shrank back trembling before the man’s white -face and blazing eyes.</p> - -<p>“I never knew before what it was like to—to love,” -he stammered. “But I do now. What did you mean -by saying that you would not—sell yourself for a -worn-out farm? Sell yourself—to me? Why, girl, -I’d give you all that I have—and my soul to the -devil for—— I’ll do anything you say, if you’ll -only marry me! I’ll give you a dozen farms. -I’ll——”</p> - -<p>“Stop!” cried Barbara, her face slowly whitening. -“I—I am sorry I said that. I didn’t -mean——”</p> - -<p>“Do you mean that you’ll marry me, Barbara—Barbara!”</p> - -<p>His eyes devoured her.</p> - -<p>“Listen,” he went on. “I’ve put in ten such -days and nights as I never expected to spend in this -or any other world.”</p> - -<p>He gripped her by the arm.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span></p> - -<p>“You—must love me,” he stormed. “I—I can’t -give you up!”</p> - -<p>His shaken voice dropped into a low, pleading -tone.</p> - -<p>“You’ll not believe it, Barbara. But I—didn’t -know what it was like to love anyone. Why should -I? I married for money—I’m not ashamed to tell -you. But Barbara! Barbara!”</p> - -<p>The words rang out in a stifled cry, as he read -the fear—the aversion in hers.</p> - -<p>She writhed out of his grasp, her breath coming -and going in little gasps.</p> - -<p>“Stop!” she cried. “I—can’t listen!”</p> - -<p>She clutched at the fence-rail as if she feared his -violence.</p> - -<p>He folded his arms quietly, his face grown suddenly -rigid.</p> - -<p>“Something has happened since the other day,” -he said. “What is it?”</p> - -<p>She was silent.</p> - -<p>He took two long steps and stood over her, big, -powerful, threatening.</p> - -<p>“You shall answer me. Who or what is it that -has come between us?”</p> - -<p>Again he waited for her to speak; but she stood -mute with bent head.</p> - -<p>His clenched hands dropped at his side.</p> - -<p>“You’ll not answer me,” he said, in a cold, hard -voice. “Well, be it so; go your way, and I’ll go -mine. But—I shall not give you up. You’re killing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> -yourself with hard work; it is I who force you to it. -I am your master. You can’t escape me!”</p> - -<p>“You are not my master!” she said wildly. “I’m -free—free!”</p> - -<p>He turned without another look at her, his savage -heel grinding an innocent clover blossom into -the mud of the road.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4">VIII</h2> - -<p class="pn2"><span class="smcap">Barbara</span> stole softly down the creaking stair in the -gray obscurity of dawn, her shoes in one hand, a -smoking candle in the other. There was much to be -done, much to be thought of, and Jimmy must not -wake up to hinder for two full hours yet.</p> - -<p>It was cold in the kitchen, and the faint pink light -streaming from the east shone in uncertainty through -misted panes. Barbara sat down, her red lips sternly -compressed, her dark brows drawn in a frowning -line above her eyes, and applied herself briskly to -lacing up her shoes. It was a relief to be accomplishing -something real, tangible, after the whirling -mist of dreams from which she had emerged shaken -and breathless. Dreams of any description seldom -visited Barbara’s healthily tired brain, but the vanished -darkness of the past night had been haunted -with confused visions. Now Stephen Jarvis was pursuing -her through trackless forests, where long -branches reached down like crooked, grasping hands. -Always she managed to elude her pursuer and always -he followed, his panting breath in her ears, till -suddenly stumbling and falling through a vast -crevasse in the darkness she found herself on a wide -plain, starred with narcissus, swaying spirit-like in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> -the bright air; high overhead white clouds floated -and the winds of May blew cool fragrance into her -face. At first she was alone, seeking for something, -she knew not what; then David Whitcomb stood at -her side.</p> - -<p>“Come!” he cried imperiously, and his blue eyes -pleaded with hers. “We must make haste to escape -before the child overtakes us!”</p> - -<p>She turned to follow his pointing finger and saw -Jimmy running toward them, his arms outstretched, -his bare, rosy feet stumbling amid the folds of his -long white gown. Then, with the wild irrelevancy -of dreams she heard the raucous voice of Thomas -Bellows, the auctioneer from Greenfield Centre, shouting -something indistinguishable in the far distance. -Instantly the wide plain, the impassioned lover, and -the running, stumbling little figure vanished. She -was at home now, hurrying in anxious haste from -room to room to find everything empty and desolate -and the sun shining in through dimmed window-panes -on the bare floors. Outside on the lawn a -confused pile of household furniture, books, and -carpets, looking sadly worn and old in the pitiless -light of day, were being rapidly sold under the -hammer.</p> - -<p>“Here you are, ladies an’ gents,” shouted the -auctioneer, “lot number twenty-four, a strong, -healthy young woman, kind an’ willin’! A good cook -an’ housekeeper. How much am I offered? Come, -ladies, let me hear your bids!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span></p> - -<p>The faint light of morning touching her closed -eyelids like a cool finger-tip suddenly aroused the -girl to a consciousness of reality (if indeed the experiences -of this mortal life be more real than -dreams). She rose at once, dressed hastily, and -having by now finished the lacing up of her shoes -stood gazing out at the familiar door-yard with -gathered brows.</p> - -<p>“I ought,” said Barbara half-aloud in the silence -of the kitchen, “to be good for something.” She -looked down at her young strong hands; hands -skilled in many uses, her forehead still puckered with -unaccustomed thoughts.</p> - -<p>Then she opened the back door quietly, for she -was still mindful of the sleeping child above, and -went out into the frosty dawn. A robin was singing -loudly in the top of the budding elm down by the -gate.</p> - -<p>“Cheer up! Cheer up!” the jubilant bird voice -seemed to be saying. Then the song ceased and the -strong brown wings spread and carried the voice toward -the dawn, which now flung long streamers of -rose and gold athwart the frigid blue of the sky. A -bright, cold moon swung low in the west and the -distant houses of the village, huddled close among -dark folds of the hills, began to send up delicate -spirals of smoke which ascended and hung motionless -in mid-heaven, like unshriven ghosts.</p> - -<p>Peg Morrison was washing the mud off the wheels -of the old buggy to the tune of Denis, lugubriously<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> -wafted to the winds of morning through his -nose.</p> - -<p class="pp6q p1">“Blest be-hee th’ tie-hi which bi-inds,<br /> -Aour ha-ur-uts in Chris-his-chun lo-ove;<br /> -Th’ fe-hell-o-shi-hip of ki-hin-dred mi-hinds,<br /> -Is li-hike to tha-hat above!”</p> - -<p class="p1">“Peg!” cried Barbara, in her imperious young -voice.</p> - -<p>The old man stopped short in his rendition of -Fawcett’s immortal stanzas, an apologetic smile over-spreading -his features.</p> - -<p>“Good-mornin’, Miss Barb’ry,” he said. “A nice, -pleasant mornin’, ain’t it? Thinks I, I’ll wash -up this ’ere buggy an’ make it look’s well’s I kin. -Then, mebbe, ’long towards arternoon I’ll git ’round -t’ call on th’ Hon’rable Stephen Jarvis. I reckon -I——”</p> - -<p>“No,” interrupted Barbara decidedly, “you -mustn’t do that. It wouldn’t do any good,” she -added, in anticipation of protest.</p> - -<p>“It’s th’ matter o’ th’ onions I was thinkin’ o’ -bringin’ to his attention,” said Peg, raising his voice. -“‘F I c’n prove to th’ Hon’rable Stephen Jarvis -that onions’ll raise that goll-durned mortgage within -one year f’om date, I——”</p> - -<p>“Peg,” protested Barbara indignantly, “how do -you suppose I’m ever going to train Jimmy to speak -properly if you persist in using such language?”</p> - -<p>“Meanin’ th’ expression goll-durned, o’ course, -Miss Barb’ry,” acquiesced the old man meekly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span> -“You’re right, I ain’t no manner o’ business to use -swear words b’fore ladies. But that consarned, -measly——”</p> - -<p>The girl stamped her foot impatiently.</p> - -<p>“There’s no use talking to you,” she said sharply. -“I’ll just have to keep Jimmy away from you.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t do that, Miss Barb’ry; please don’t!” -pleaded Peg. “I won’t do him no real harm. I -ain’t no-ways vicious, ner—ner low-down; an’ that -little chap—— Why, Miss Barb’ry, me an’ th’ Cap’n -’s been a chumin’ it sence he could crawl out t’ th’ -barn on ’is han’s an’ knees. Ef he don’t fall int’ no -worse comp’ny ’n Peleg Morrison’s, I guess the -Cap’n ’ll come out all right. An’ you kin bet your -bottom dollar onto it.”</p> - -<p>Peg swashed the remaining water in his pail over -the hind wheel of the buggy with an air of stern -finality.</p> - -<p>“Of course I know you’re good, Peg,” murmured -Barbara contritely. “I didn’t mean——”</p> - -<p>“Don’t mention it, Miss Barb’ry,” interrupted -Mr. Morrison, with generous politeness. “Your -tongue gits the start o’ your jedgment occasionally, -same’s your pa’s ust to, but I shan’t lay it up ’gainst -you. Any more”—and he raised his voice in anticipation -of a possible interruption—“any more’n I -done in the past.” His eyes twinkled kindly at the -girl.</p> - -<p>“I want you to harness the buggy for me after -breakfast, Peg,” Barbara said soberly. “I’m going—somewhere<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> -on business, and I want to start -early.”</p> - -<p class="pp6q p1">“Blest be he th’ tie-hi which bi-inds.”</p> - -<p class="pn1">warbled Peg unmelodiously, as he stooped to apply -his wet sponge to the rear springs.</p> - -<p>“Did you hear me, Peg?” demanded Barbara.</p> - -<p>The old man gazed reproachfully at the girl -through the spokes of the wheel.</p> - -<p>“W’y, I’m goin’ to use the horses fer ploughin’ -this mornin’, Miss Barb’ry,” he said soothingly. -“An’ they’ll be all tuckered out b’ night.”</p> - -<p>“But there’s no use of doing any more ploughing. -I told you that last week. Unless I can manage -somehow to—to raise the money, the farm——”</p> - -<p>“Don’t say it!” interrupted Peg. “I don’t b’lieve -in namin’ troubles. It helps ’em to ketch a -body, someway, to notice ’em too much. I b’lieve -in actin’ ’s if the’ wa’nt anythin’ th’ matter ’s long -’s ye kin.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, and while you’re doing it the mortgage will -foreclose itself,” Barbara said, recalling Stephen -Jarvis’ curt phrase with a thrill of anger. “You -hitch up Billy for me and bring him around at seven -o’clock. Will you do it, please, Peg?”</p> - -<p class="pp6q p1">“The fe-hell-o-shi-hip of k-hin-dred mi-hinds!”</p> - -<p class="pn1">chanted Mr. Morrison, with entire irrelevance.</p> - -<p>“Very well, if you won’t, I’ll walk. It’s ten miles -there and back, but you won’t care, as long as you -have your own way.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Where was you thinkin’ of goin’, Miss Barb’ry?” -demanded Peg cautiously. “Ye know I ain’t set -on anythin’ that ain’t fer your good—yours an’ the -Cap’n’s.”</p> - -<p>But Barbara had already disappeared in a flutter -of angry haste.</p> - -<p>“Now, I s’pose,” soliloquized Mr. Morrison, -“that I’ll actually hev to give up ploughin’ the hill -lot this mornin’, an’ all ’long o’ that young female.” -He shook his head solemnly.</p> - -<p>“O Lord!” he burst out, “you know Miss Barb’ry, -prob’bly’s well’s I do. She’s a mighty nice -girl an’ always hes been; but she’s turrible set in her -ways, an’ I declar’ I can’t see what in creation she’s -a-goin’ to do; what with everythin’—you know now—I’ve -spoke ’bout it frequent enough. Then the’s -the Hon’rable Stephen Jarvis—him that holds th’ -mortgage—he wants t’ marry her. But I don’ trust -that man, Lord. I don’t know how he looks to you. -But to me he ’pears hard-fisted, an’ closer’n the bark -to a tree, an’ I c’n tell you he licks the hide off’n -his horses right along. But the’ may be some good in -him. Ef the’ is, bring it out, O Lord, so ’t folks kin -see it. An’ fix things up with Miss Barb’ry, somehow. -Kind o’ overrule Jarvis an’ the mortgage an’ all the -rest, the way you know how. Amen!”</p> - -<p>Peleg Morrison was on intimate terms with his -Creator, and on this occasion, as in the past, he -derived such satisfaction from his converse with the -Almighty that he was enabled presently to go on with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> -his vocal exercises. The washing of the buggy was -thus happily completed, the worn cushions dusted, -and the horses fed and watered by the time the sun -peeped over the fringes of dark woods. At seven -o’clock, as he was tying the wall-eyed bay to the -hitching-post in the side yard, Barbara appeared in -the open door, a brown loaf in her hand.</p> - -<p>“Here’s some fresh bread for your breakfast, -Peg,” she said. She glanced at the horse. “I -shan’t be gone very long. You can plough when I -come back, if you want to. It won’t hurt the -ground to plough it.”</p> - -<p>“The mare’s kind o’ skittish this mornin’,” replied -Peg, accepting the addition to his meagre bill of -fare with an appreciative grin. “Mebbe I’d better -go ’long an’ drive.” He glanced anxiously at the -girl. “I wouldn’t do nothin’ rash ef I was you, -Miss Barb’ry; like—like gittin’ engaged to be married, -or anythin’ like that.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t worry, Peg,” Barbara said soberly, “that’s -precisely what I don’t mean to do.”</p> - -<p>She felt entirely sure of herself now, even while -her cheeks burned hotly at the remembrance of -Jarvis’ look when he said, “I am your master.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll scrub floors for a living,” she promised herself, -“before I yield to him.”</p> - -<p>All the pride of a strong nature shone in her eyes -as she stooped over Jimmy, sitting at the table, his -short legs dangling, his slate pencil squeakily setting -down queer crooked figures in straggling rows.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I’m ahead in my ’rithmetic,” the little boy announced -triumphantly. “I’m doin’ reg’lar zamples. -I like zamples. An’ bimeby I’ll be all growed up, an’ -nen I’ll take care of you, Barb’ra.”</p> - -<p>She kissed him underneath the short yellow curls -in the back of his neck.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Jimmy,” she sighed, “I wish you were grown -up now!”</p> - -<p>The child straightened himself anxiously.</p> - -<p>“My head’s way above your belt when I stand -up,” he said, “‘n’ I ate lots of brown bread an’ milk -for breakfast. I’m growing jus’ as fast’s I can.”</p> - -<p>Barbara hugged him remorsefully.</p> - -<p>“You’re just big enough—for six,” she assured -him. “And—and we’ll come out all right, somehow. -We just will, precious!”</p> - -<p>“‘Course we will,” echoed the child. He slipped -from his chair and eyed his sister with a searching -gaze.</p> - -<p>“If you’re scared of anybody, Barb’ra,” he said -valiantly, “I’ll take a big stick, ’n’—’n’—I’ll—I’ll—I -won’t let anybody hurt you, Barb’ra!”</p> - -<p>The girl laughed rather unsteadily as she hurried -him into his coat and cap. “Learn a lot at school, -dear,” she murmured, “and you’ll have the best kind -of a big stick.”</p> - -<p>The remembrance of his warm little arms about -her neck comforted her as she drove the wall-eyed -mare along the road. She was going to do a very -strange thing. Something she had never heard of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> -any woman doing before. Just how the idea had -taken form and substance in her mind she did not -know. She appeared to herself to have awakened -with the resolve fully formed, distinctly outlined, even -to the small details, which she busily reviewed while -she was tying the horse before the house of Thomas -Bellows, auctioneer. There was a shop in the lower -front story of the house, which had once been a -piazza, but now protruded with two bulging front -windows to the edge of the sidewalk. The windows -disclosed a variety of objects in the line of household -appurtenances, clocks, flatirons, a pile of tin-ware, -likewise a yellow placard reading, “Auction -to-day,” surmounted by a professional flag of a faded -red color.</p> - -<p>Mr. Bellows himself, in blue overalls and a pink -shirt, was occupied in wiping off an exceedingly dusty -and ancient sewing machine with an oily rag. He -looked up sharply as the discordant jangle of the bell -announced the opening of his shop door.</p> - -<p>“Good-mornin’, miss,” he said as Barbara entered. -“If you don’t mind shuttin’ that door behind you. -It beats all how cold the wind stays, don’t it? You -want to look over some o’ these goods, heh? Household -effects of the widow Small down to the Corners. -Died las’ week, an’ her daughter don’t want to keep -none o’ her things. They’ll be sold at two sharp. It -ain’t a bad idea to cast yer eye around a little b’fore -the biddin’ begins. Things show off better. Now -this ’ere machine——”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I don’t want to buy anything,” stammered Barbara. -“I—want you to sell something for me.”</p> - -<p>“Yas,” assented Mr. Bellows explosively, standing -up and resting a grimy hand on either hip, the while -he surveyed Barbara’s slim figure attentively. “Jus’ -so! Well?” he added tentatively. “Sellin’ things -fer folks is my business. What d’ye offer: goods, -stock, or real estate? It’s all the same to me.”</p> - -<p>“It—it isn’t—— Could you sell my work for -me? I mean——”</p> - -<p>The man stared hard at the girl, his squinting -eyes puckered, his mouth drawn close at the corners.</p> - -<p>“I’m a gen’ral auctioneer,” he announced conclusively. -“It’s m’ business to sell household effects, -stock, or real estate, on commission.”</p> - -<p>“I want some money—a good deal of money,” -Barbara went on, “and I want it right away.”</p> - -<p>“I’ve seen folks in your fix before,” commented the -auctioneer dryly, as he again applied himself to the -sewing machine. “I gen’rally make out t’ sell what’s -offered. But I can’t guarantee prices.”</p> - -<p>“You sell horses, don’t you?” demanded Barbara.</p> - -<p>“Horses? Sure!”</p> - -<p>“And—and oxen. They’re meant to work, and -people buy them to work. That’s what I want to do. -I want to work for three—or four years, if I must; -and I want the money all at once—in advance.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know as I ketch your idee,” said Mr. -Bellows. “You want money, an’ you want it right -away, an’ you want me to sell——”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I want you to sell my work—honest work, housework, -any kind of work that I can do, for—for a -term of years.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Bellows abandoned further efforts at bettering -the condition of the late Widow Small’s sewing -machine. He stood up and scowled meditatively at -Barbara.</p> - -<p>“Seems t’ me I’ve seen you b’fore, somewheres; -haven’t I?”</p> - -<p>“My name is Barbara Preston,” the girl said -haughtily.</p> - -<p>“An’ you want I should——”</p> - -<p>“When people buy a horse they really buy and -pay for the labor of that horse in advance,” Barbara -said composedly. “I am more valuable -than a horse. I have skill, intelligence; I wish -to sell—my skill, my intelligence to the highest -bidder.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I swan!” exclaimed Mr. Bellows. Then he -fell to laughing noisily, his wizened countenance -drawn into curious folds and puckers of mirth.</p> - -<p>Barbara waited unsmilingly.</p> - -<p>“Say! d’you know I’ve been asked to sell mos’ -everythin’ you ever heard of,” said Mr. Bellows, getting -the better of his hilarity, “but I never was asked -to sell—a girl. A good-lookin’, smart, likely girl. -I guess you’re jokin’, miss. It wouldn’t do, you -know.”</p> - -<p>“Why wouldn’t it?” urged Barbara.</p> - -<p>“Well, it wouldn’t; that’s all. I’ve got m’ reputation<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> -as an auctioneer to think about; an’—lemme -see, your folks is all dead, ain’t they?”</p> - -<p>“No,” said Barbara. “I have a brother six years -old.”</p> - -<p>Her dry tongue refused to add to this statement. -She was conscious of an inward tremor of fear lest -he should refuse.</p> - -<p>“Whatever put such a curious notion into your -head?” Mr. Bellows wanted to know.</p> - -<p>“I may as well tell you,” the girl said bitterly. -“You’ll be asked to sell me out soon. We’re going -to lose everything we’ve got—Jimmy and I; the farm, -the—furniture—everything.”</p> - -<p>“You don’t say!” Mr. Bellows commented doubtfully. -“Well, that had ought to net you something—eh?”</p> - -<p>“We shan’t have anything; everything will be -gone,” the girl said coldly.</p> - -<p>“Sho! that’s too bad,” Mr. Bellows said good-naturedly. -He stuck his thumbs into the arm-holes -of his vest, and scowled absent-mindedly into space. -Then he looked at Barbara again. “Mortgage—eh?” -he suggested. “Coverin’ pretty much everythin’—eh?”</p> - -<p>“Everything,” repeated Barbara, in a dull tone.</p> - -<p>“Everythin’—save an’ exceptin’ one smart, willin’ -young woman—eh? You’d ought to bring a purty -good figger—in the right market.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Bellows paused to give way to mirth once -more.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span></p> - -<p>“The matrimonial market’s the one partic’lar -field I ain’t had much ’xperience in,” he concluded. -“An’ auctionin’ off goods of the sort you mention -ain’t ’xactly in my line, an’ that’s a fac’, miss. So I -guess——”</p> - -<p>“You don’t understand,” Barbara interrupted -quickly. “Let me explain. When I found that everything -was lost”—her voice trembled in spite of -herself—“I thought at first I would teach school—let -the farm go and teach——”</p> - -<p>“Well, why don’t you do that?” Mr. Bellows inquired. -He was a kind-hearted man, with sympathies -somewhat blunted by his professional zeal in a calling -which for the most part concerned itself with -clearing away the wreckage of human hopes. “You’d -make a right smart school-ma’am, I should say.”</p> - -<p>“I’m not a normal school graduate,” Barbara -told him. “Besides, they have no vacancies. Then I -tried to get sewing to do. I can sew neatly. But I -might easily starve on what I could earn with my -needle. A woman told me she knew of someone who -wanted—a—servant,” Barbara’s voice shook, but she -went on bravely. “She said that people sometimes -paid as much as twenty-five dollars a month for -such work. And that it wasn’t easy to find women -who could do that kind of work well. I said I would -not work in another woman’s kitchen. But I—I am -willing to do it, if I can sell my work for twelve -hundred dollars.”</p> - -<p>“Whew!” ejaculated Mr. Bellows.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span></p> - -<p>“It sounds like a lot of money, I know,” Barbara -went on; “but it is four years’ service at twenty-five -dollars a month. I want it all at once. Then I -can pay the mortgage on our farm, and keep it.”</p> - -<p>“Huh!” commented Mr. Bellows explosively.</p> - -<p>“I could lease the farm while I was working, and -it would bring in enough money to take care of -Jimmy.”</p> - -<p>Her face clouded swiftly at the thought of the -possible separation.</p> - -<p>“Wall, I don’t know of anybody who’d be willin’ -to pay down any twelve hundred dollars spot cash -for a <i>hired girl</i>,” objected Mr. Bellows. “Y’ couldn’t -get nobody to bid on a proposition like that. Y’ -might”—the man hesitated, then went on harshly, -“y’ might up an’ die, or——”</p> - -<p>“A man on the farm next to ours paid three hundred -dollars for a horse, and it died the next week,” -Barbara said quietly. “Then he bought another. -He had to have a horse.”</p> - -<p>“Well, he owned it for good an’ all, an’ you——”</p> - -<p>“I’ll work four years-or five for the money,” said -Barbara steadily. “And I shall be worth far more -than an ordinary servant.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Bellows wagged his head argumentatively. -“I’d hev to charge you five per cent.,” he warned -her. “An’ you couldn’t get any bidders, anyhow.”</p> - -<p>“That,” said Barbara, “would be my affair. -What I want to know is, will you sell me?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span></p> - -<p>The blood hammered in her temples; her hands -and feet were icy cold; but she eyed the man steadily.</p> - -<p>Mr. Bellows had been making a rapid mental calculation.</p> - -<p>“W’y, I don’ know,” he said, scratching his head -reflectively. “I don’t want to go int’ no fool job -fer nothin’. M’ time’s valu’ble.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll pay you—ten dollars, if—if—no one buys -me,” said Barbara faintly.</p> - -<p>Mr. Bellows bit his thumb-nail thoughtfully.</p> - -<p>“All right!” he burst out at length. “You -name the day, git th’ bidders t’gether an’ I’ll auction -ye off. Gracious! It don’t sound right, some way.”</p> - -<p>He looked at the girl carefully, real human kindness -in his eyes and voice.</p> - -<p>“Who holds your mortgage, anyhow?” he asked -indignantly. “I sh’d think most anybody’d be -ashamed o’ themselves t’ drive a nice young woman -like you to——”</p> - -<p>“If I can realize enough money to pay what I -owe I shall be—glad,” the girl said. “I am obliged -to work hard anyway. My plan will pay, if it succeeds; -don’t you see it will?”</p> - -<p>“W’y, yes; I see all right. I don’t b’lieve you -c’n work it, though,” was Mr. Bellows’ opinion.</p> - -<p>Barbara did not explain her intentions further. -She requested Mr. Bellows to say nothing of what -had passed between them, and this he readily promised.</p> - -<p>“‘Tain’t a matter t’ make common talk of,” he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> -agreed, with a dubious shake of the head. “The’s -folks that might not ketch the right idee. Sellin’ a -pretty girl at auction ’ud draw a crowd all right; -but I’d advise you t’ let me use my jedgment ’bout -biddin’ ye in, if it’s necessary.”</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="pc4">IX</h2> - -<p class="pn2"><span class="smcap">As</span> a man thinketh in his heart, so is that man, was -the Nazarene’s succinct announcement of a law as -ancient and immutable as the correlated principles -which govern gravity and motion. From the beginning -of things visible, when the thoughts of the great -I Am first began to fashion new and strange creations -out of the whirling fire mist, until now, the thoughts -of a God—of a man, continually and inevitably mould -his appearance and the circumstances of his existence. -As there can be no question as to the reality -of this fundamental principle at the root of all -phenomena, so there can be no evasion of its action -and effect.</p> - -<p>Stephen Jarvis, having successfully achieved -wealth by a constant and unremitting application -of his powerful ego to the thoughts of money-getting -by any and all means, looked the part. No man can -do otherwise. Having chosen his rôle, he proceeds -to a make-up more skilful and complete than can -be conceived by the bungler in the actor’s dressing-room. -Upon the plastic mask of the body his -thoughts etch themselves, his habits paint themselves, -his character blazons itself, till at middle age, he cannot -longer hide himself from the observant eye of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> -world. He is, in appearance, in reality, what his -thoughts have made him.</p> - -<p>If it be possible to imagine the havoc which the -oft-quoted bull in the china shop would create by a -sudden and unpremeditated use of his brute force, -one may, perhaps, conceive of the inward tumult, the -confusion, the very real loss, and consequent anguish -entailed upon a man like Jarvis by the sudden invasion -of a genuine passion.</p> - -<p>A thousand times he railed at himself, profanely -calling himself many varieties of a fool. Once and -again he strove to restore to cold, passionless order -the seething maelstrom of his thoughts. Why, he -demanded fiercely of himself, should he long to possess -this girl with every aching fibre of his being? -The mere urge and fever of animal passion did not -explain the matter; there was something deeper, more -elemental still in the fury of the desire which possessed -him, which drove him forth out of his comfortable -house by night and by day as if pursued -by the furies. Because Jarvis was a strong man, his -nature hardened by years of stern, unrelaxing self-discipline, -the utter rout and confusion of his cold, -passionless self was the more complete and disastrous. -He hated himself for loving a woman who disdained -him, and hating himself, he loved her with a despair -akin to torment. That she was poor, helpless, already -fast closed in his savage grip, like a bird in a -snare, he knew; and yet for the first time he dimly -realized the illusive part of her which successfully<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> -evaded his grasp, defied his power, despised -his threats. He might, if he would, crush her -by main force; he could not compel her to love -him.</p> - -<p>The thought of his own strength, helpless before -her weakness, maddened him. Houses, lands, money, -had become passively obedient to the power of his -will. He controlled these things, did with them as -he pleased, in effect an overlord, haughty, unbending, -merciless; but this one thing which he had put -out his hand to take—carelessly, as one will pluck a -ripe apple from the bough at the languid prompting -of appetite—this girl, who had for years been no -more to him than the birds hopping in the trees outside -his window, how and by what means had she -suddenly contrived to gain this monstrous ascendency -over him? What uncanny power in those clear -gray eyes of hers had metamorphosed Stephen Jarvis, -cool, middle-aged man of affairs, into the weak -creature he had always despised in his saner moments?</p> - -<p>During these days of inward tumult he carried -on the dull routine of his business, forcing himself -to the task with all the powers of a will suddenly -turned traitor to its master. In spite of himself -he seemed to see her there in his lonely house over -against the sombre rows of books, her face vividly -alive, defiantly youthful. Despite his resolves she -perpetually came between him and the printed page -which he strove to read; worst of all, she haunted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> -his restless slumbers by night, now pleading with -him; now defying him; mocking him with elfin laughter, -as she fled before him, the child in her arms; while -he pursued leaden-footed through uncounted miles -of shadowy country.</p> - -<p>The two did not meet face to face, while the rains -and chilling winds of April gradually spent themselves, -and the grass, illumined with a thousand -cheerful sunbursts of dandelions, grew long under -the blossoming trees. The mated birds sang only at -dawn now, being too busy with the rapturous labors -of nest-building to pause for vocal expression of -their gladness. In the fields staid farm-horses indulged -in unwonted gambols and nosed their mates -with little whinnying cries; grazing cattle lifted their -heads from the sweet springing grass to gaze with -large wistful eyes at the widespread landscape. Once, -long ago, they had roamed the unfenced pastures of -the world in May, herded cows and yearlings, and -the lordly bulls leading on, while the urge and rapture -of the returning sun brooded the earth, compelling -it to bring forth after its kind. Though she -did not see him, yet none the less Jarvis obtruded -his harsh visage into Barbara’s thoughts by day and -by night. Nor could a wiser man than Jarvis have -guessed that the girl was literally enfolded in cloudy -thought forms, projected toward her from his own -brain, with all the accuracy and certainty of an electric -current traversing the viewless paths of air -between wireless stations. That we do not understand<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> -these phenomena with any degree of accuracy -does not render them the less effective.</p> - -<p>It was still early in May when Jarvis drove over -to inspect a wood-pulp factory in the neighborhood -of Greenfield Centre. Its proprietor had borrowed -capital heavily within the past year, and Jarvis had -been narrowly watching the gradual ebb of the factory’s -output. It was the old story of misapplied -energy, paralyzed into inaction by impending failure. -Jarvis scored the luckless proprietor mercilessly -during their brief interview; later he sought the -services of Thomas Bellows, the auctioneer.</p> - -<p>“You may sell him out, plant, machinery, and all; -reserve nothing,” Jarvis ordered; and, referring to -his book of memoranda, added the date.</p> - -<p>Another entry that he saw there met his sombre -eyes. He stared at it frowningly.</p> - -<p>“Anythin’ more in my line in the near future?” -Mr. Bellows wanted to know.</p> - -<p>He rubbed his hands as he asked the question. The -Honorable Stephen Jarvis was, as he put it, “a -stiddy customer and a good one,” being constantly -in need of Mr. Bellows’ services.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Jarvis, a dull red flush rising in his -sallow face. “The contents of the Preston house, -the stock, and implements, must be sold on June -first.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Bellows struck one hairy fist into the other -by way of preface to his words. He was not afraid -of Stephen Jarvis, being sufficiently well provided<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> -with worldly goods, albeit these were for the most -part second-hand, and in the nature of left-overs -from many auctions.</p> - -<p>“It seems a pity,” quoth Bellows, “to sell her -out. Couldn’t you wait till fall, say, and give the -little Preston girl a chance? I ain’t what you might -call soft m’self; but I’m blamed if I could help -feelin’ sorry for the girl when she come in here one -day last week t’ engage my professional services.”</p> - -<p>“What is Miss Preston proposing to sell?” demanded -Jarvis. Something in his voice gave Mr. Bellows -a curious sensation. He gave Jarvis a sharp -look as he answered.</p> - -<p>“Nothing that belongs to you, I reckon.”</p> - -<p>“Tell me what it is,” repeated Jarvis. “I’ll be the -best judge of that,” His voice shook, and also the -hand which held the leather book of fateful dates and -occasions.</p> - -<p>“I’m sorry; but I guess I can’t ’commodate you,” -responded the other. “Perfessional etiquette, you -know; in this ’ere case binding.”</p> - -<p>“You have no right to refuse,” said Jarvis, and -something of the real nature of his secret thoughts -flared up in his eyes. “Everything that concerns -Miss Preston concerns me.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Bellows was puzzled.</p> - -<p>“Meanin’, of course, that you hold the lien on her -prop’ty,” he hazarded. “But you don’t”—and he -paused to chuckle to himself—“hold no lien on what -she’s propos in’ to sell to the highest bidder?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span></p> - -<p>“What do you mean?” demanded Jarvis.</p> - -<p>His tone was menacing, and he fixed angry eyes, -red from sleeplessness, on the old auctioneer.</p> - -<p>“You’ll either explain yourself,” he said, “or—you’ll -get no more business from me, to-day or any -other day.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Bellows expectorated violently in the general -direction of the opposite wall.</p> - -<p>“I ain’t,” he declared valiantly, “afeard of no -threats, nor yet of nobody. But I’m goin’ to tell -you, ’cause it’s you that’s drove her to it, an’ you’d -ought to know what sort of girl she is. I had three-quarters -of a notion to tell you anyhow, an’ I tol’ -m’ wife so, when I found it was you that held the lien -on her house an’ furniture. Business is business -with me as well as any other man; but I’d be ashamed -to drive a woman to the point of sellin’ herself.”</p> - -<p>“<i>Selling herself!</i>” echoed Jarvis.</p> - -<p>The observant eyes of Mr. Bellows were upon him, -as he fell back a pace or two and strove to steady -himself.</p> - -<p>“That’s what I said. Yes, sir; she asked me -right here in this shop to sell her at public auction. -‘I’ve lost everythin’,’ she says; ‘but I’ve got myself, -an’ I’ll sell that, an’ pay what I owe.’”</p> - -<p>“My God!” breathed Jarvis. “I—drove her to -it!”</p> - -<p>“You’re right, you did,” agreed Mr. Bellows.</p> - -<p>“You can’t do it, man. I forbid it!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, y’ do; do ye? Wall, I don’t see how you’re<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> -going to make out to prevent it. The girl’s got a -right to herself, and I’ve got a right to——”</p> - -<p>“I shall prevent it,” Jarvis interrupted fiercely. -“It’s inhuman—uncivilized, monstrous!”</p> - -<p>“Well, that’s the way it struck me—at first,” acquiesced -Mr. Bellows; “but the way she put it up t’ -me kind of won me over. She’s a takin’ sort of girl, -kind o’ good-lookin’, an’ innercent. W’y, Lord bless -you, she’s no more idee of the way a man—like you, -for instance—might look at it than a child. She -wants to work out—for a matter o’ four or five years, -she says; an’ she thinks she c’n get some fool woman -to bid twelve hunderd dollars spot cash fer bein’ sure -of a hired girl all that time—‘W’y,’ I says to her, -‘you might up an’ die,’ ‘Yes,’ she says, ‘so might a -horse; but folks hes to hev horses!’ I tell you she’s -cute an’ bright, an’ I’m goin’ to sell her to the highest -bidder, same’s I agreed to.”</p> - -<p>Jarvis was silent for a long minute, his eyes fixed -unseeingly on the miscellaneous collection of shabby -and broken furniture in the rear of the shop.</p> - -<p>“Is it to be a public sale?” he asked coolly.</p> - -<p>“Well, as t’ that, I can’t rightly tell you. I left -the advertisin’ o’ the goods, an’ the date o’ sale to -the young lady. I reelly hope you will call it off. -I s’pose you c’n easy fix things up so ’t she——”</p> - -<p>“Did she ask you to tell me this?” demanded -Jarvis suddenly. “Tell me the facts.”</p> - -<p>“Did she ask me—to tell you?” echoed Mr. Bellows -wonderingly. “You bet she didn’t! You<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> -wasn’t named betwixt us. I asked her who held the -lien on her prop’ty, an’ she didn’t answer. Thought -it was none o’ my business, likely. I suspicioned it -was you, though. You get most of ’em around these -parts.”</p> - -<p>Jarvis made no reply. He closed the red leather -book, slipped it into an inside pocket, then deliberately -drew on his driving gloves.</p> - -<p>“Can you tell me the date of this—this sale?” he -asked.</p> - -<p>“What you want t’ know for? Thinkin’ of puttin’ -in a bid?” chuckled Mr. Bellows.</p> - -<p>Jarvis gave him a terrible look.</p> - -<p>“I’d advise you to keep still about this. Don’t -attempt to interest anyone else in Miss Preston’s -affairs. Do you hear?”</p> - -<p>“I ain’t deef,” responded Mr. Bellows in an aggrieved -voice. “‘N’ I don’t know’s I see what business -’tis of yours, anyhow. Mebbe she’ll get the -money an’ pay you. ’Twouldn’t surprise me if she -did. She’s bound she will, an’ where there’s a will -there’s a way, I’ve heard tell.”</p> - -<p>“The date, man; give me the date!”</p> - -<p>“Seein’ I’ve told you so much, I s’pose you might -as well know; the sale’s set for the eighteenth.”</p> - -<p>“Where?”</p> - -<p>“At her house.”</p> - -<p>“And you’re actually going to—— No; she’ll -never do it. She won’t be able to bring herself to -it.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Wall, I’ll bet you ten dollars she will; d’ye take -me?”</p> - -<p>Jarvis turned without another word and left the -place. He suddenly felt the need of the outdoor air. -Barbara’s desperate expedient convinced him as no -words of hers could have done of the hopelessness of -his case. “She hates me,” he told himself; and for -the first time he looked within for a reason for her -aversion.</p> - -<p>He drove slowly, his thoughts a mad whirl of fury -and despair. For the first time he saw himself as he -fancied he must look to her, a man past his first -youth, cold, forbidding, harsh, unlovely. He perceived -with a flash of prescience that she cared nothing -for money, save as it signified the thing she held -most dear; nothing for the position, power, and -luxury for which he had sold his honor and his manhood. -Stripped of these things, what must he appear -in her eyes? A monster of selfishness and greed, no -less; to be feared, detested, escaped by any means -even to the sacrifice of brain and body. He groaned -aloud in the scorching flame of his humiliation.</p> - -<p>He told himself that he would go to her, beg her -forgiveness, offer her all that she had asked for, and -more. He would give her the farm free of all indebtedness. -Then he realized, with sickening certainty, -that she would not accept anything from him. -He had told her that he was her master. To escape -this slavery she was about to sell herself to another. -The thought was insupportable. Even while he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> -perceived her perfect ingenuousness and the practical -realization of her own worth which lay beneath this -fantastic and seemingly impossible plan of hers, he -sensed its frightful danger. In order to attract bidders -she would be forced to advertise her plans. Who -would respond? Who would buy, and for what purpose?</p> - -<p>He whipped his horse to a furious speed and soon -reached his house. The newspapers, unread for days, -were piled on a table near his desk. He seized one, -turned to its advertising columns and rapidly reviewed -their contents, then another, and another in -rapid succession. At last his devouring eyes lighted -and fastened upon a single paragraph, hidden among -the miscellaneous advertisements where a puzzled -proofreader had doubtless placed it:</p> - -<p class="pbq p1">“For Sale at Auction [he read]: A young woman in good -health, able and willing to do housework and plain sewing; or -could teach a little child and care for it, would like to secure a -position with a respectable family for a term of years. Her -services will be disposed of at private auction to the highest bidder, -for a term of three, four, or five years. Please communicate with -B., <i>Telegram</i>.”</p> - -<p class="p1">Jarvis crushed the paper in his hands savagely, as -though he would destroy the strange little appeal to -an unfriendly world. Then he sought for and read -it again, his eyes fixed and frowning.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4">X</h2> - -<p class="pn2"><span class="smcap">There</span> are times when to the unintelligent observer -the affairs of this world appear a hopeless tangle, a -web without a pattern, a heap of unclassified material -without an architect, a wild, unmeaning chaos -of things animate and inanimate, all grinding, groaning, -clashing together, sport of the gods or of -demons, tending towards nothing, useless, hideous. -But to one who views the world from another and -higher level there sometimes appear illumining hints -of harmony and completeness, tokens of a Master -Mind working continually among the affairs of men -and universes, setting all in divine order, either with -or without the understanding and co-operation of -the lesser intelligences.</p> - -<p>Thus when Barbara Preston was impelled, she -knew not how, to send forth her strange and piteous -little appeal to the unknown, it found instant response, -and proceeded to fit itself into the scheme -of things as perfectly and as cunningly as a tiny bit -in a picture puzzle. The paper in which it appeared -passed into the hands of a great number of persons, -who glanced carelessly at its glaring headlines or -searched painstakingly through its losts and founds -or things offered, or help wanted, according to their -varied tastes or necessities. On the second day thereafter,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> -as was also to be expected, the particular -edition containing the queer little unclassified appeal, -found its way to many ash-cans, waste-paper -baskets, bureau drawers, and pantry shelves; in its -progress it helped to build numberless fires, it wrapped -parcels of every conceivable shape and size; it fluttered -out of car windows, across decks of steamers -and ferry-boats; it floated and dissolved in many -waterways, and finally disappeared, swallowed in the -abyss which appears always to yawn for all things -of human creation. Having vanished mysteriously, -unobtrusively, as must every printed page sooner or -later, it nevertheless left its mark on the lives of -many. Plans were changed, voyages undertaken or -abandoned, marriages made and unmade. In a word, -prosperity, ruin, joy, sadness, glory, despair—all -came about through its appearance, and persisted -in ever widening circles after it had passed from sight -and mind.</p> - -<p>Four men and ten women, to be exact, of those -who chanced to notice Barbara’s somewhat absurd -little advertisement, cut it out of the doomed sheet, -and placed it in securer quarters, for further consideration. -Of the women four wrote to Barbara -asking for references; of the men, one conceived it -to be “a business opportunity,” not to be written -of here; one was a widower blessed with three small -unruly children and little appetite for further matrimonial -experience; another a rich, crabbed old miser, -bent on escaping designing relatives, and the fourth<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> -an enterprising young mining engineer, very deeply -in love with a pretty girl and anxious to marry her -and take her with him to a region remote from -civilization. The girl had sighed, demurred, wept—she -was of the delicate, clinging vine variety, and -totally unfit for the hard experiences of a mining -camp. But to this fact the amorous engineer was -quite naturally oblivious. He dilated glowingly -upon the wonderful efficiency of Chinese servants, -who could, he assured her, beat creation in the expert -disguising of the inevitable “canned goods,” -which formed the staple of provision. Her questions -and those of her mother elicited the fact that there -were no women to be hired in any capacity, the wives -of the miners, for the most part, being of a free -and independent nature, and, moreover, entirely occupied -with their own affairs.</p> - -<p>Mamma looked at Ethel, and Ethel looked at -Mamma; Mamma’s glance being dubious and Ethel’s -timidly imploring.</p> - -<p>“I couldn’t think of allowing darling Ethel to go -away out there to that dreary, lonely place, with no -one to wait on her and take care of her except a -Chinese man,” Mamma said tearfully. She added -that Ethel was delicate, very delicate.</p> - -<p>“The mountain air will make her strong,” declared -the engineer enthusiastically. Then he gazed -lovingly at the slight, pale, fashionably gowned -young woman who somehow managed to hold the -wealth of his honest affections in her small, highly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> -manicured hands, and in whom he fancied all possible -happiness was embodied “forever” (as he would -have put it).</p> - -<p>The end of it all was Mamma’s ultimatum, strongly -backed up by Ethel’s dutiful acquiescence, to the -effect that a suitable maid must be secured; a person -who would combine in one the capabilities of cook, -ladies’ maid, seamstress, and nurse, and who would -accompany the timid bride on her long journey away -from Mamma’s side.</p> - -<p>Imagine, then, the bridegroom’s dilemma, and his -anxiety to secure the advertising young person, who -upon further inquiry promised so exactly to fill the -conditions of his happiness.</p> - -<p>These persons, therefore, or their representatives -foregathered at the Preston farm on the morning -of the eighteenth of May. With them also appeared -a half dozen or so of neighbors, curious and prying, -and the usual complement of shabby individuals, -mysteriously aware of the unusual, and always to be -seen at village weddings, funerals, and public auctions.</p> - -<p>Thomas Bellows, alert, business-like, came early in -the morning.</p> - -<p>“Say, if you want to back out even now,” he said -to Barbara, “I c’n tell th’ folks th’ auction’s off. -I guess you’re feelin’ kind of frightened an’ sorry -you was so rash, ain’t you?”</p> - -<p>“No,” said Barbara composedly. “I am not—frightened -or sorry.” But her face was unnaturally<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> -white, and her eyes, deeply circled with shadowy blue, -belied the statement. “Must I—stand up and be—sold, -like—like——”</p> - -<p>“No, ma’am!” exclaimed Mr. Bellows decidedly. -“Not by a jugful! You’ve heard from some of the -folks interested, you said?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Barbara, “I’ve had a number of letters. -Two women are looking for a girl to do all -their housework; one needs a nursery governess—she -is going with her family to South America to -stay five years; another requires a reliable person -to look after an imbecile child.”</p> - -<p>“Huh!” exploded Mr. Bellows, “that all?”</p> - -<p>By way of answer Barbara produced the letter of -the elderly man who required a competent housekeeper, -and that of the widower, the engineer, -and the type-written communication of the person -who promised a luxurious home in exchange -for “slight occasional services of a sort easily -rendered.”</p> - -<p>“Huh!” commented Mr. Bellows, after a deliberate -perusal of these epistles. “Did you tell ’em all -to show up to-day?”</p> - -<p>He looked sharply at the girl, as he tapped the -rustling sheets with a blunt, tobacco-stained forefinger. -“The sale ’ll have to be made conditional on -satisfactory evidence that the highest bidder is an -honest, respectable sort of person.</p> - -<p>“The’s folks,” he added darkly, “‘at I wouldn’t -sell a cat to—if I cared shucks ’bout the cat.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I’m not afraid,” said Barbara, “to do any sort -of work.”</p> - -<p>“Mebbe not,” Mr. Bellows acquiesced dryly. -“Wall, guess I’ll wait till I git a good look int’ their -faces. I’ll bet,” he added, “‘at I c’n size ’em up all -right. An’ I’ll see t’ it ’at the right bidder gits the -goods. An’ now I’ll tell you what to do. You set -here inside the parlor, same’s if you was the corpse, -we’ll say, at a funeral, an’ I’ll let the bidders come in -one b’ one an’ kind o’ size you up. ’Course they’ve -got to know the general specifications, an’ mebbe -they’ll want to ask a few questions. But you’d best -let me talk up the article like I know how. That’s -m’ business; an’ I won’t make no fool mistakes.”</p> - -<p>Barbara drew a deep breath.</p> - -<p>“What,” she faltered, “are you going to say?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, you don’t have to worry none ’bout what I’ll -say. I’ll crack you up sky-high same’s I would a first-class -horse. All you’ve got to do is to set right still -an’ let me do th’ auctioneerin’. I’ll run you up to -fifteen hunderd, if I kin.”</p> - -<p>“Tell them I—I’ll work—hard and faithfully,” -faltered Barbara.</p> - -<p>She choked a little over the last word, her eyes -bright with unshed tears.</p> - -<p>“If I was you, ma’am, I’d put on a red ribbon or—or -somethin’ cheerful-lookin’,” advised Mr. Bellows, -with awkward sympathy. “I like a good bright red -m’self. An’ say, don’t you worry none. You ain’t -’bliged to accept anybody’s bid, unless you feel like<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> -it. I’m goin’ t’ bid ye in m’self, if things don’t go -right. Where’s the little boy?” he asked suddenly.</p> - -<p>Barbara controlled herself with an effort.</p> - -<p>“In school,” she replied briefly. “He—Jimmy -isn’t to know, till—till afterward.”</p> - -<p>“Mebbe you c’n take him along,” hazarded Mr. -Bellows, “to—South America, say, or——”</p> - -<p>“I shall leave him here,” Barbara told him with -stony calm. “I have arranged everything.”</p> - -<p>A stamping of feet on the porch brought a defiant -light to the girl’s eyes and a scarlet flush to her -cheeks; Mr. Bellows surveyed her with open satisfaction.</p> - -<p>“That’s right!” he encouraged her. “Perk right -up! You look wo’th th’ money now all right. I’ll -open the front door and let the folks pass right in. -Ye don’t need to do a thing but set right still an’ let -me manage things. Biddin’ ’ll begin at ten-thirty, -sharp!”</p> - -<p>And he bustled away full of importance.</p> - -<p>Barbara stood quite still in the spot where he had -left her, her eyes fastened with a kind of fascinated -terror upon the groups of persons coming toward the -house. The day was bright and warm and the clumps -of old-fashioned shrubs on either side of the driveway, -lilac and bridal wreath and snowball, were in full -bloom. On the other side of the fence long lines of -apple trees laden with odorous pink and white bloom, -lifted their gnarled limbs to the blue sky. Barbara -saw a woman pointing out the trees to the man at her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> -side. She knew the woman, and fancied she might -be speaking of the great yield of fruit to be expected -that year from the once famous Preston orchards.</p> - -<p>For two years past the girl had been toiling to -bring the trees back to a thrifty condition; this -spring for the first time they promised heavy returns -for all her labors.</p> - -<p>She clenched her strong brown hands in a passion -of unavailing protest against the cruel fate which -flaunted the myriads of blossoms in her face to-day.</p> - -<p>More people were coming than she had expected. -Her face burned with shame at sight of the two -shabby hired hacks among the groups of pedestrians. -A woman in one of them thrust her head out of the -window and asked some questions of the driver. He -nodded his head and presently drew up in front of -the house.</p> - -<p>“Well, I declare,” she heard in a high-pitched -feminine voice, “this seems like quite a nice place. -I thought——”</p> - -<p>The buzzing of tongues in the rooms across the -narrow hall increased; the people were congregating -there. She could hear the occasional sound of Mr. -Bellows’ creaking boots and his loud authoritative -voice, as he answered questions and arranged the -chairs, which two of the shabby men under his direction -were bringing from various parts of the house.</p> - -<p>There was something dreadfully suggestive of a -funeral in the subdued hum of voices, the solemnly -inquisitive glances levelled towards the house, and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> -active, creaking steps of Mr. Bellows. Alone in the -dim old parlor, peering through the shutters, alternately -cold with apprehension and hot with shame, -Barbara found herself threatened with hysterical -laughter. They will come in presently and look at -me, she thought, and stiffened into instant rigidity -at sound of the creaking knob.</p> - -<p>“Yes, ma’am,” she heard the old auctioneer saying. -“You’ll find the young woman right in here. She’s -ready t’ be interviewed, an’ I’ll guarantee she’s wo’th -double the price anybody’ll bid for her. One at a -time, if you please. An’ five minutes only allowed.”</p> - -<p>The door opened, and a tall, showily dressed -woman entered. She stared at Barbara through a -lorgnette.</p> - -<p>“Are you the young woman who is to be sold at -auction?” she asked, in an unbelieving voice. “I am -Mrs. Perkins, the housekeeper at Clifton Grange. I -wrote you, with reference to a boy of six. He is large -of his age, and not easy to care for. But his mother, -who is an invalid, won’t hear to his being sent away -from home. Yes; I received your references. But -you don’t look old enough to attempt the position I -speak of. But I shall have to bid, I suppose, for -we can’t keep a nurse in the house. They simply will -not stay through more than one of his fractious -spells. And of course, if we buy you, you’ll be -obliged to remain. Are you strong in your hands?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, very,” said Barbara, conscious of the increasing -dryness of her lips and throat.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span></p> - -<p>“You have rather a nice face,” observed the -woman dubiously. “And I do hope you’re naturally -lively and cheerful; you’ll get along better with <i>him</i> -if you are. If he takes a notion to you, he’ll be -pretty good most of the time. But if he don’t—— Are -you used to children?”</p> - -<p>“I have a brother.”</p> - -<p>“How old?”</p> - -<p>“Six years.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I declare! Quite a coincidence. Is your -brother an ordinary child?”</p> - -<p>“He is perfectly normal, if that is what you -mean,” Barbara managed to say. It was being -harder than she thought.</p> - -<p>“One thing more,” the woman was saying. “You -didn’t answer one question I asked. How did you -ever come to think of doing anything so strange as -selling your services at auction? And why should -you demand all the money at once? If your references—your -pastor’s letter and others—hadn’t been -so satisfactory, we shouldn’t have thought of considering -you. But we do want to secure someone who -will stay, and of course you’ll be obliged to; though -I’m not allowed to bid above a certain sum. Now -I shall expect a truthful answer to——”</p> - -<p>Mr. Bellows obtruded his puckered face into the -room.</p> - -<p>“Time’s up, ma’am,” he said authoritatively. -“Other bidders waitin’ their opportunity.”</p> - -<p>Barbara could not afterward recall all that passed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> -during the intolerable period before the bidding began. -She was vaguely aware of women, tall and -short, curious, eager, clutching hand-bags, presumably -containing large sums of money. There were -men, too. The representative of the Boston widower, -the young mining engineer, more eager and determined -than ever after his short interview with Barbara.</p> - -<p>“I’ll bid every cent I can on you,” he assured the -girl, with boyish sincerity. “You’re just the one for -us, and I know you’d enjoy the life out there. We -wouldn’t treat you like an ordinary servant; you’d -be more like a friend, I can see that, and I’m sure -Ethel—Mrs. Selfridge [he blushed at his own delightful -mendacity] will like you very much. She’ll -want to see you at once, if I am the lucky winner.”</p> - -<p>It was all strange, dream-like, and for the most -part intolerable. Barbara raised her heavy eyes once -more at the sound of the hard-shut door. Stephen -Jarvis stood looking at her in silence. She felt rather -than saw that some great though subtle change had -come over him.</p> - -<p>“Why,” he asked in a voice as changed as his -looks, “have you done this thing?”</p> - -<p>She did not answer, and he drew a step nearer.</p> - -<p>“Tell me,” he said under his breath, “will you give -it up? if I—agree to all that you asked for—time -to meet the payments?”</p> - -<p>He hesitated as if choosing his words with care.</p> - -<p>“You were right about the orchards,” he went<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> -on. “There will be a good yield—more than -enough.” He stretched out his hands imploringly, -“Spare me, Barbara,” he entreated. “Don’t put -yourself and me to shame before them all!”</p> - -<p>The door swung open a little way.</p> - -<p>“Did you say the young woman was in here?” -inquired a feminine voice, sharp with curiosity. Barbara -caught a momentary glimpse of a militant-looking -turban glittering with jet beads. Jarvis shut -the door, and stood against it, a tall sombre figure -of authority.</p> - -<p>“Let me put a stop to it all, Barbara,” he urged. -“Barbara!—in God’s name! I can’t let you do it!”</p> - -<p>“It is—too late,” she said, speaking slowly because -of the dryness of her throat and mouth. -“Don’t you see—I must go on with it, and I—shall -pay you—every cent!”</p> - -<p>He drew a difficult breath that was almost a sob.</p> - -<p>“You—will—pay—me,” he repeated, a dreadful -self-loathing struggling with the despair in his eyes. -Then he went away, quietly, as he had come.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4">XI</h2> - -<p class="pn2"><span class="smcap">Peg Morrison</span> smote the rough brown backs of his -horses with a practised slap of the lines.</p> - -<p>“Y’ remind me o’ the sect in gen’ral,” he observed, -in a loud, critical voice, as the off member of the team -backed and fidgeted uneasily. “When y’ want a -female, woman er hoss, to go, thet’s th’ pertickler -time they elect t’ stan’ still, an’ when y’ want ’em to -stan ’still—— Whoa, thar; can’t ye?”</p> - -<p>Mr. Morrison paused to wipe the moisture from -his brow with an ancient handkerchief of red and -white, while he gazed lovingly at the wide expanse -of glistening brown earth which had been deeply -ploughed, and more or less levelled into smoothness -under the action of the harrow which the horses were -dragging.</p> - -<p>“Planted t’ onions,” he went on, still addressing -his observations to the horses, whose heads drooped -sleepily toward the fresh-smelling ground, “this ’ere -ten acres ’ll net, anyway you figger it, four hunderd -an’ fifty dollars t’ the acre; an’ that’ll total—l’me -see, somethin’ like——”</p> - -<p>Mr. Morrison’s gaze being wholly introspective -at this stage of the mental problem under consideration, -he failed to notice the man who came swinging -along the road at a smart rate of speed. At sight<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> -of the old man leaning meditatively against the fence, -a spent dandelion stalk in his mouth, the pedestrian -halted.</p> - -<p>“Why, hello, Peg!” he called out in a clear and -somewhat authoritative voice.</p> - -<p>The stranger wore a rough suit of weather-stained -tweeds; and his felt hat, set at a becoming angle on -his curly head, shaded a face bronzed by sun and -wind almost to the color of the full brown beard -curling away from his red mouth with a careless -boldness repeated in the humorous blue eyes which -roved over the shabby old figure by the fence.</p> - -<p>He laughed outright at the puzzled look in Morrison’s -face.</p> - -<p>Then he folded his arms on top of the fence.</p> - -<p>“Well, how goes it, old man?” he inquired. -“Same lazy old horses—eh? Same job, same season -of the year, same old clothes, I should say—even -to the red and white bandanna. Makes me feel as if -I’d been dreaming. Maybe I have; who knows?”</p> - -<p>“Who be ye?” demanded Peg. “Seems ’s ’o I’d -seen ye somewhars; but I can’t think whar.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t be hasty, my friend,” advised the other, -pulling his hat over his laughing eyes. “You’ve -forgotten me, and so, apparently, has everyone else. -I saw Al Hewett at the station and he told me Miss -Preston was unmarried and still at home, and that -old Don Preston had gone to his reward a couple of -years ago.”</p> - -<p>“I c’n see you used t’ live ’round here,” hazarded<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> -Peg, shaking his head, “but I can’t seem t’ rec’lect -who ye be; ’nless—— If I didn’t know he was dead -I might think you was the young feller ’at used t’ -teach school in th’ village. Whitcomb, his name was. -But he’s been dead a matter o’ three years.”</p> - -<p>“That being the case,” said the stranger coolly, -“perhaps you’ll tell me about the auction up at the -farm. I heard some women asking questions about -it at the station.”</p> - -<p>“Auction?” repeated Peg. “The’ ain’t no auction -at our place—not yet. But you sure do remind -me o’ that young school-teacher feller. He got gold -crazy, an’ went off——”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I know; and got lost on a trail and froze -to death,” interrupted the stranger. “So I heard. -Sad, wasn’t it? Did they find the body?”</p> - -<p>“Not,” said Peg, his puzzled eyes still searching -the stranger’s face, “as I heerd tell of.”</p> - -<p>“Then you think the coast is clear up at the -farm? Is Barbara—Miss Preston—at home?”</p> - -<p>“Miss Barb’ry was to home when I come away at -six-thirty this mornin’. Say, are you——?”</p> - -<p>“I’ll walk over and call on her,” interrupted the -young man, with some impatience. “Perhaps Barbara -will remember an old friend. Her eyes used to -be bright enough.”</p> - -<p>Peg unhitched the harrow with fine deliberation.</p> - -<p>“Hold on a minute,” he requested, “an’ I’ll step -’long with ye. It’s gittin’ ’long towards noon, anyhow.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span></p> - -<p>He was furtively studying the younger man’s face -and figure, as he let down the bars and drove his -horses through.</p> - -<p>“B’en doin’ any school-teachin’ sence ye left these -parts?” he drawled, as the two struck the road at a -pace commensurate to the unhurried gait of the old -horses.</p> - -<p>“No,” said the stranger. He plunged his hands -deep in his pockets, the merriment suddenly gone -from his face and eyes.</p> - -<p>“Ye look consid’ble older’n ye did,” observed Peg -mildly, “an’ the whiskers gives ye a diff’rent look; -but come t’ take notice, most anybody’d know ye, -though ye must hev knocked ’round consid’able. Hev -any luck minin’?”</p> - -<p>Whitcomb laughed, throwing back his head as if -the question afforded him a vast deal of amusement.</p> - -<p>“Luck?” he echoed. “Certainly; a man’s bound -to strike luck of one sort or another.”</p> - -<p>“That’s a fac’,” agreed Peg sententiously, “an’ -you can’t most always sometimes tell one sort f’om -the other. What passes fer the worst sort o’ luck ’ll -frequent turn out to be fust-rate. I knew a man -once——”</p> - -<p>He stopped short, his jaw dropping at sight of -the numerous vehicles congregated near the house -which they were approaching. “I swan!” he ejaculated. -“It sure does look like—— But Miss Barb’ry -never said nothin’ t’ me. She never tol’ me——”</p> - -<p>“I’m going in,” said David Whitcomb, scowling.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span></p> - -<p>Several women congregated near the door stared at -him with a resentful air as he made his way masterfully -among them.</p> - -<p>At one end of the long, low room, his back to the -open windows, stood Thomas Bellows, a small bare -table in front of him, on which he rested the flat -of his outspread hands while haranguing the company -ranged on either side, the women for the most part -comfortably seated, the men standing in the rear, as -if half ashamed to be present.</p> - -<p>“Eight hunderd, do I hear?” inquired the auctioneer -in a tone of passionate protest, “it bein’ -understood there’ll be a five years’ lease on the prop’ty -in question? Ladies an’ gents, that ain’t right! -Eight hunderd ain’t a patch on what she’s worth. -I’ve told you what sort of goods you’re biddin’ on -an’ you’ve had the opportunity to see fer yourselves. -Eight hunderd ten, do I hear? Who’ll make it a -fifty? Eight hunderd fifty; who’ll make it nine hunderd? -Come! let me hear some good lively biddin’ -on the part of the lady in the green dress. This lady -is lookin’ fer an honest, permanent hired girl; she -told me so b’fore the biddin’ begun. She’s had a -terrible time with hired help; she’s paid ’em high -wages, an’ they break her china dishes, steal her -clo’es, an——</p> - -<p>“That’s right! eight hunderd sixty-five from the -young man in the comer. That gentleman knows -what’s what; an’ he’s lookin’ fer an A number one -helper t’ take west t’ help his wife do the cookin’.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> -W’y, this is the opportunity of a lifetime, an’ if you -let it pass—eight hunderd seventy dollars I’m offered, -who’ll make it nine hunderd? I’ll tell ye, straight, -ladies, this perfec’ly healthy, honest, willin’, agreeable, -faithful young woman ain’t goin’t’ be knocked -down t’ any of ye at nine hunderd dollars. Don’t -think it fer a minute! She’s goin’ to git her price, an’ -I know what it is.”</p> - -<p>“For God’s sake, what’s going on here?” asked -Whitcomb of a man in a fashionable light suit, with -a diamond in his shirt-front. “What is the man -selling?”</p> - -<p>By way of answer the man held up his two hands, -the fingers outstretched.</p> - -<p>“There you are, ten hunderd dollars I’m offered; -one thousand dollars! Who’ll make it eleven? A -thousand dollars may sound like a pretty good sum -t’ slap down all at once, ladies; but do a little figurin’, -if you please! You pay eighteen, twenty, twenty-five -dollars a month for a raw, untrained foreigner; can’t -speak English, can’t cook, can’t do nothin’, an’ once -you get her trained off she goes’s lively’s a flea. Five -years of domestic peace in yer home! Five years of -perfec’ happiness! Ain’t it worth more’n a measly -thousand dollars? The gentleman in the comer says -it is; he bids ten hunderd fifty. Ten hunderd fifty, -ten hunderd sixty! Oh, come, let’s run ’er up faster! -I can’t stan’ here all day foolin’. The gentleman in -the corner again. Yes, sir, eleven hunderd! Who’ll -make it twelve?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Stop long enough to tell me what you’re selling, -man,” called the latest comer, in a loud, clear voice. -“I didn’t get here in time to find out, and no one will -tell me.”</p> - -<p>A general murmur of protest arose all over the -room. A tall woman, with a high-peaked nose set -midway in a large expanse of purplish-red face, -arose.</p> - -<p>“I’m through!” she announced acidly. “Let me -out of here.”</p> - -<p>“No, you ain’t, ma’am. Kindly set down in that -nice comf’table cheer you’ve been occupyin’ fer about -ten minutes longer. I’ll answer this gentleman quick -an’t’ the p’int an’ we’ll go on with the biddin’. I’m -auctionin’ off five years o’ faithful work an’ service; -I’m auctionin’ peace an’ happiness in the home; I’m -auctionin’ the educated brains an’ han’s an’ feet of -the smartest young lady in this ’ere United States of -Ameriky! An’ that’s Miss Barbara Preston. Do -you want to bid? Eleven hunderd dollars I’m offered; -who’ll make it twelve?”</p> - -<p>“It’s an outrage on civilization!” cried the man -who had interrupted. “I protest against the sale!”</p> - -<p>“Put him out! Put him out!” shouted a dozen -voices.</p> - -<p>In the midst of the tumult some one signalled twelve -hundred, and Thomas Bellows caught the figures. -Pounding on the table with his mallet, he commanded -order.</p> - -<p>“The sale will be continued, and I’m offered twelve<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> -hunderd dollars; remember, gentlemen; remember, -ladies, your bids will be cancelled if you do not live -up to your part of the previous agreement. Spot -cash before you leave the room, and a guarantee of -honorable service and kind treatment. Gentlemen! -Ladies! Your attention, please! Twelve hunderd -dollars I’m offered! Twelve hunderd, going! Twelve -hunderd dollars! Twelve hunderd, fifty? Yes, sir! -Twelve hunderd, sixty! Thirteen hunderd dollars I’m -bid by the gentleman by the door. Come down front -where we can all see you, sir. Thirteen hunderd, -going!—Fourteen hunderd! Now this is something -like! Isn’t there any lady present who’ll make it -fifteen?”</p> - -<p>The woman in the green dress rose in her place.</p> - -<p>“This is preposterous!” she cried. “No servant -is worth——”</p> - -<p>“Be quiet, madam,” commanded the auctioneer. -“I’m runnin’ this sale. Fourteen hunderd dollars. -Is there any lady or gent in the room who’ll raise it? -Fourteen hunderd fifty. Fifteen hunderd!”</p> - -<p>“Sixteen hundred!”</p> - -<p>The young man in the travel-stained tweeds shook -his fist in the face of the small, seedy man, who -drawled out his bids in a hoarse, scarcely audible -voice.</p> - -<p>“Sixteen hunderd I’m offered by the gentleman who -has just arrived. Sixteen hunderd, going!”</p> - -<p>“Two thousand!” piped the little man in the -creased checked suit.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Twenty-one hundred!” shouted the latest comer, -his eyes blazing.</p> - -<p>“Twenty-three hundred!” said the engineer in a -dogged monotone.</p> - -<p>“Twenty-five hundred!” wheezed the man in -checks, squinting through his glasses at the paper -on which he was setting down the bids with painstaking -neatness.</p> - -<p>“Twenty-five hunderd dollars I’m offered!” -shrilled the auctioneer. “Do you raise it?” He -turned to Whitcomb.</p> - -<p>“Twenty-six hundred!” cried the engineer excitedly.</p> - -<p>“Three thousand!” the hoarse voice of the shabby -little stranger interposed.</p> - -<p>“Three thousand, one hundred!” snapped Whitcomb.</p> - -<p>“Three thousand one hunderd! Who’ll make it -four thousand?” The old auctioneer’s voice trembled. -He leaned far out over the table, brandishing -his mallet wildly.</p> - -<p>The man in the checked suit nodded.</p> - -<p>“Four thousand dollars I’m bid; who’ll raise it to -five?”</p> - -<p>The young fellow who had tacitly acknowledged -himself to be David Whitcomb groaned aloud.</p> - -<p>“I can’t do it!” he said.</p> - -<p>There was a general stir and turning of heads as -Peg Morrison forced his way through the excited -crowd.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Hold on thar!” he cried, in a loud, tremulous -voice. “I’ve been up an’ got my money an’ counted -it. I’ll bid on Miss Barb’ry myself. She ain’t a-goin’ -t’ leave this ’ere farm t’ go with nobody, ’f I c’n help -it! I bid fifty-eight dollars an’ sixty-five cents on -Miss Barb’ry, an’ it’s all I’ve got in the world!”</p> - -<p>“Four thousand dollars I’m bid!” cried Mr. Bellows, -his professional tones easily dominating the -babel of voices. “Four thousand dollars, going! -Four thousand dollars, going! Four thousand dollars, -gone! And sold to this ’ere gentleman. Your -name, please!”</p> - -<p>The small man, in the checked clothes, cleared his -throat weakly and blinked, as he strapped the leathern -memorandum book.</p> - -<p>“My name’s Smith,” he said, in an apologetic -whisper.</p> - -<p>“Well, Mr. Smith, you c’n settle right here and -now, an’ I’ll give you a signed receipt.”</p> - -<p>“Hold on!” blustered Whitcomb, his face flushed -to a wrathful crimson. “Who is this fellow, and -what does he mean to do with—Barbara?” The -last word was a groan of rage and disappointment.</p> - -<p>“Excuse me, sir; I’ve got a bad cold an’ can’t -talk. I’ll explain to Mr. Bellows here in private. -Yes, sir; I’ve got the money all right.”</p> - -<p>The woman in the jetted turban and the tall lady -in green advanced in a determined way, backed up by -three women of the village, burning with neighborly -zeal; the countenances of all five expressed blended<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> -curiosity and disapproval. The small man in the -checked suit endeavored to shrink behind Mr. Bellows’ -portly person, but the lady in the jetted turban fixed -him with her glittering eye.</p> - -<p>“I command you to tell me at once why you bid -four thousand dollars for the services of the young -person in the other room,” said this person in a militant -voice. “I suspect your motives, sir! I doubt -your respectability.” She turned to the other -women. “Tell me,” she demanded, “does this man -look honest?”</p> - -<p>Mr. Smith blinked weakly at his inquisitors.</p> - -<p>“I’m all right, ma’am,” he said hoarsely, “an’ -puffec’ly honest. An’ I ain’t biddin’ for myself, but -for another party.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, indeed!” exclaimed the five women in unbelieving -chorus. “Who is your principal?” snapped -the indignant lady in green. “Of course we all know -the girl can’t be worth eight hundred dollars a year, -in any respectable employment.”</p> - -<p>The little man coughed apologetically.</p> - -<p>“She’s wanted,” he said, “by a responsible party -to look after a little boy—a very nice, respectable -little boy.”</p> - -<p>“Is he a widower?” shrieked the ladies in unison.</p> - -<p>“No, ma’am,” replied the little man, ducking his -head fearfully and edging away. “He ain’t old -enough to be married yet.”</p> - -<p>“Not old enough to be married? Oh! you mean -the boy?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Come on, sir, an’ we’ll settle,” put in the auctioneer, -taking Mr. Smith by the arm, as if he feared -he might be planning an escape.</p> - -<p>But Mr. Smith appeared entirely ready, even -anxious, to settle. In the privacy of the kitchen he -counted off from a sizable roll four thousand dollars -in bills of large denominations, repeating in a painstaking -manner what he had already told the women.</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir; the young woman’s wanted to look after -a child.”</p> - -<p>“Whereabouts?” inquired the auctioneer.</p> - -<p>“W’y, I don’t rightly know,” wheezed Mr. Smith. -“M’ asthma’s terrible bad this morning.”</p> - -<p>“So I see! so I see,” observed Mr. Bellows, rubbing -his chin dubiously. “An’ you can’t tell me——”</p> - -<p>“The young woman is to stay right here till she’s -called for,” repeated the gentleman in checks. “No, -sir; I couldn’t say when that ’ll be. She must be -ready to start most any day. But she’s to stay right -here till called for. You tell her. Yes, sir. I’ve got -references. Everythin’ O.K. Tell her that, will you? -An’, say, you’ll pass the money right over to her, will -you? To-day; yes.”</p> - -<p>“Less fi’ per cent,” said Mr. Bellows unctuously. -“Pretty good mornin’s work,” he added, rubbing -his hands. “I never thought o’ such a thing’s runnin’ -her up to such a figure. An’ you’d ’a’ bid more, I -take it, if you’d had to? As ’twas, you was kind of -reckless towards the last.”</p> - -<p>“Mebbe I did go a little higher’n I needed to,” acknowledged<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> -Mr. Smith mildly. “But I thought I -might as well.” He coughed and blinked weakly. -“It didn’t make no difference to me,” he said. “I -wuz prepared to secure the services of the young -woman at any figure. Yes, sir.”</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4">XII</h2> - -<p class="pn2"><span class="smcap">“I congratulate</span> ye, ma’am, on the success o’ your -idee,” Thomas Bellows said, when an hour later he -handed to Barbara the roll of bills from which he -had complacently peeled off his own tidy commission. -“This ’ere ’ll pay off the lien on your prop’ty, I take -it, an’ leave you a pretty good nest-egg besides.”</p> - -<p>“Who,” said Barbara, her face pale and troubled, -“bought—me?”</p> - -<p>“W’y, as t’ that,” confessed the auctioneer, “I -can’t tell you exactly. I was asked to hand you this -’ere letter. It contains further perticklers, I persoom.”</p> - -<p>He produced a thick square envelope bearing her -name and address in type-written characters.</p> - -<p>“You was to stay right here on call, I was asked -t’ inform you. No, ma’am; it wa’n’t any o’ them -folks that wrote t’ you beforehand. A man, name of -Smith; said he was the agent of the party as bid -you in. You’re to stay right here till called for.”</p> - -<p>Barbara had opened the envelope and was scanning -the few lines of type-writing in the middle of the -large square sheet.</p> - -<p class="pbq p1">“Miss Barbara Preston [she read] will hold herself in readiness -to enter upon the term of her service, previously understood to -be five years. It is impossible, at the present instant, for the -writer to state when the call will come; but the term of service<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> -will be reckoned from this eighteenth day of May, 19——. Miss -Preston’s duties will comprise the conduct of a home, and the -care and guardianship of a little child.”</p> - -<p class="p1">There was also enclosed a stamped and addressed -envelope, containing a paper drawn up in legal form, -binding one Barbara Preston, spinster, for and in -consideration of the sum of four thousand dollars -(herein acknowledged), to a term of continuous service, -beginning on the eighteenth day of May, 19— -and terminating on the same day of the month -in the year 19—. The document was duly witnessed -and bore, in lieu of signature, the imprint of a seal, -with a device of crossed battle-axes and the single -word <i>Invictus</i>.</p> - -<p>“You’re t’ sign right here,” said Mr. Bellows, indicating -with his blunt forefinger the space below the -seal. “Me an’ Peg Morrison ’ll witness the signature. -I told him to wait outside, in case the’ was -papers to sign. I’ll see to forwardin’ it for you. Le’ -me see that there envelope; likely it’ll shed a little -light on th’ identity o’ the party.”</p> - -<p>But the envelope bore merely the number of a -post-office box, in a distant city.</p> - -<p>Mr. Bellows scratched his head and squinted his -eyes into puzzled slits as he surveyed this unsatisfactory -bit of evidence from every possible -angle.</p> - -<p>“Wall, I don’t know,” he burst out at length, -“es I’d trust that proposition teetotally, if it wasn’t -fer the references. The man as bid ye in satisfied me<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> -the party he was representin’ was O.K. es t’ character -an’ intentions.”</p> - -<p>He glanced shrewdly at the girl; but Barbara -asked no questions. She was beginning to realize -that while the shackles which had bound her to Jarvis -were about to be loosed, this unknown master of her -future had forged a new and perhaps heavier fetter. -But her composed features betrayed nothing while -she wrote her name clearly—Barbara Allen Preston—below -the red seal, with its short but significant -motto.</p> - -<p>Thomas Bellows went away after a little, taking -with him the contract, duly signed, sealed, and ready -to deliver, and Barbara, left quite alone in the disordered -house, quietly locked the money away in a -drawer of her desk.</p> - -<p>She turned to find Peg Morrison staring at her -with eyes full of grief and consternation.</p> - -<p>“Miss Barb’ry,” he began, “why in creation -didn’t ye tell me what you was goin’ t’ do? Sellin’ -yourself—sellin’ your own flesh an’ blood, like you -was an Aferc’n slave! What d’you s’pose your folks -’d a said t’ what took place in this ’ere house t’-day—huh? -I’ll bet your grandmother Preston ’d think -you’d gone crazy. Where be you goin’? What you -goin’ t’ do with th’ Cap’n? Whar do I come in in this -’ere deal? Them’s questions ’at I want answered -right now. I’ve a notion,” he added darkly, “that -you be kind o’ cracked. ’N’ I don’t wonder at it -much.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span></p> - -<p>Barbara was putting the furniture in place, -straightening the rugs, and otherwise restoring to -its wonted order the scene of the recent auction. -Her cheeks and lips were bright with color; her eyes -sparkled as she faced the old man.</p> - -<p>“You are entirely mistaken, Peg,” she said impatiently. -“Just listen, will you? If I had waited -a few days longer we should have been sold out under -the hammer—farm, house, furniture, stock. Now we -shan’t be. Do you understand? This very day I’m -going to settle with the Honorable Stephen Jarvis -[her red lips curled a little over the words], and I’ll -pay Abe Hewett, too, and all the others. Oh! I’m -glad I did it—glad! Jimmy will have the farm, and -there’ll be plenty left to fix the fences, and buy the -fertilizers we need and mend the broken roof and -maybe paint the house. Don’t you see, Peg, what a -splendid thing it will be?”</p> - -<p>“But where are you goin’, Miss Barb-ry?” The -old man’s voice held the sound of tears. “An’ who’s -goin’ to take care o’ the Cap’n?”</p> - -<p>Barbara compressed her lips sternly.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know where I shall go,” she said, “but -wherever I am I can write to—to Jimmy; and Peg, -I want you to stay, just as you have; only I shall -pay you good wages. I shall pay up all that I owe -you, too, and——”</p> - -<p>“Will I hev charge o’ the Cap’n?” inquired -the old man anxiously. “Five years is a long -time, Miss Barb’ry, he’ll be—l’ me see. W’y,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> -the Cap’n ’ll be ’leven years old time you’re at -liberty.”</p> - -<p>Barbara drew her fine dark brows together.</p> - -<p>“I’ve engaged Martha Cottle to come here and -keep house and take care of Jimmy,” she said. -“She’s coming this afternoon.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Morrison’s jaw dropped.</p> - -<p>“Marthy Cottle!” he ejaculated. “W’y, that -female—she don’t know no more ’bout little boys -’an—’an a Holstein steer. She’s an old maid schoolmarm, -cut an’ dried.”</p> - -<p>“She can help Jimmy with his lessons,” Barbara -said doggedly. “She’s good and honest, and she’ll -do her best to——”</p> - -<p>“Gosh!” murmured the old man, shaking his head. -“She’ll do her best, mebbe, but—wall, I’ll do what -I kin fer the Cap’n t’—keep him f’om gittin’ too -awful lonesome an’ discouraged. Marthy Cottle! -Huh! We’ll hev t’ make out the best we kin after -you’re gone. Does—the Cap’n know—hev you tol’ -him you’re a-goin leave him?”</p> - -<p>“No,” said Barbara, in a harsh voice. “I haven’t, -and I don’t intend to, either. I—I’ll leave word. I—couldn’t, -Peg.”</p> - -<p>Her young voice broke in an irrepressible sob.</p> - -<p>“Don’t you feel bad, Miss Barb’ry,” the old man -essayed to comfort her. “You meant it fer the best, -I know you did, Miss Barb’ry. An’ mebbe it’ll turn -out all right. I wouldn’t cross no bridges till I got -to ’em, ef I was you. I s’pose,” he went on, his shrewd<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> -eyes on her face, “‘at you seen young Dave Whitcomb -this mornin’—him ’at used to teach school in -th’ village?”</p> - -<p>Barbara’s face whitened.</p> - -<p>“You don’t mean——” she faltered.</p> - -<p>“Dave was here t’ the auction,” pursued Mr. Morrison. -“I heerd him put in two or three big bids on -ye. He was ready to pass out his entire pile t’—save -ye f’om bein’ took away; I’ll say that much fer -Dave.”</p> - -<p>He turned, with his hand on the door.</p> - -<p>“I didn’t hev nothin’ when it come t’ biddin’,” he -groaned. “I might ’a’ saved m’ breath t’ cool m’ -porridge. But I’d ’a’ give the best fi’ years off’n -m’ life t’ ’a’ kep’ ye right here at home, where ye -b’long. I swan I would, Miss Barb’ry.”</p> - -<p>“I know you would, Peg,” Barbara said gently. -Her eyes, the beautiful clear eyes of her father in his -first unspoiled youth, were misty with tears, but she -smiled bravely. “Five years isn’t long,” she reminded -him. “It’ll soon be over. And you can raise -five crops of those wonderful onions while I’m gone.”</p> - -<p>Stephen Jarvis was at home and alone in his library -that afternoon when Barbara asked to see him. It -might even have been inferred that he expected her; -but if he did, he made no sign. His manner was cool -and calm, quite in keeping with the business of the -hour, as he took pains to explain to her a number -of details connected with the accumulated interest -upon interest, delinquent tax accounts, and other<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> -matters pertaining to the estate which Barbara, in -her poverty, had been forced to ignore.</p> - -<p>“I can pay it all,” she said to him, the fruit of -her triumph sweet upon her lips. “That is why I am -here—to pay—everything I owe.”</p> - -<p>He looked at her quietly.</p> - -<p>“You are doubtless to be congratulated upon the -success of your scheme,” he said. “I hear you realized -quite a handsome sum on the sale of——” he -hesitated for the fraction of a minute—“your -future.”</p> - -<p>“It will be only five years,” Barbara said defiantly. -“I shall be glad to work—hard, for Jimmy.”</p> - -<p>“When,” he asked, “do you expect to leave -town?”</p> - -<p>“To-day, to-morrow—I cannot tell. I am ready -to go now.”</p> - -<p>“To be gone five years,” he said thoughtfully. -“Very well; we will finish this business at once. Let -me advise you to attend to your taxes promptly hereafter; -and if——”</p> - -<p>“Thank you,” interrupted Barbara haughtily. “I -shall be able, I am sure, to meet all obligations in the -future. The farm may be worthless, worn out, but it -will pay for itself.”</p> - -<p>He did not appear to have heard her last words. -He was busily arranging various papers. And presently -he handed her the cancelled bond and mortgage, -and the receipted tax bills, all neatly arranged. In -return she counted out to him, with fingers which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> -trembled in spite of herself, the crisp bills for which -she had sold her youth.</p> - -<p>“There!” she said rather breathlessly. “Is that -all?”</p> - -<p>“All,” he repeated quietly. “And it is all quite -right. Thank you.”</p> - -<p>She looked at him uncertainly. His head was bent, -his eyes fixed upon the pile of rustling bank-notes -which she had just pushed toward him.</p> - -<p>A sudden unreasoning sense of dismay fell upon the -girl, shadowing the triumph in her face. She made -swift retreat toward the door, casting a half-frightened -backward look at the sombre figure behind the -desk.</p> - -<p>He did not lift his eyes from their unseeing contemplation -of the money, even when the jarring sound -of the hard-shut door told him she was gone.</p> - -<p>Left quite alone Stephen Jarvis slowly folded the -notes, sealed them securely in a stout envelope and -locked them in his safe.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4">XIII</h2> - -<p class="pn2"><span class="smcap">Young Whitcomb</span> sat quite at his ease in Donald -Preston’s big arm-chair, one leg flung carelessly over -the other, his handsome head thrown back, its riotous -curls shining in the lamp-light. His blue eyes, full of -laughter, were set upon Barbara.</p> - -<p>“So you thought I was dead, did you?” he asked, -in a bantering tone; “but it didn’t appear to bother -you much. You’re looking handsomer than ever, -Barbara. I had an idea I’d find you—changed.”</p> - -<p>He waited for some sort of reply; but Barbara -was trying hard to reconcile the ruddy, smiling man, -who sat so unconcernedly in her dead father’s place, -with the pallid, serious, large-eyed phantom of her -dreams. She had been looking at him in puzzled -silence, and now her glance disengaged itself from his -with an effort.</p> - -<p>“I’ll wager,” he said, “that you have been thinking -of me with ’a crown upon my forehead, a harp -within my hand,’ the way we used to sing in Sunday -school when we were kids. Now own up! And you’re -disappointed to find that I’m such a commonplace, -live-looking chap—eh, Barbara?”</p> - -<p>“I find you—changed,” she confessed, in a low -voice, “greatly changed.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span></p> - -<p>David Whitcomb laughed triumphantly.</p> - -<p>“Yes; I flatter myself that the pious pedagogue -has been pretty well knocked out of me in the last -five years. Good Lord! what a solemn, sentimental -ass I must have been in those days. It was a lucky -thing for me that you sent me about my business. -Still,—Barbara, I’d give a gold nugget to know just -what you thought when they told you I’d passed in -my checks. Did you picture poor David lying cold -and pale under some frozen cairn along the Yukon -trail? That’s the way they dispose of unlucky -prospectors up north; just dig a hole in the snow -and drop ’em in; then pile stones on top to keep off -the wolves. Ugh! I can hear ’em howl, if I stop to -to think, now. Did you drop a tear on that imaginary -grave of mine up in the Arctic; did you, Barbara?”</p> - -<p>Her eyes evaded his smiling blue gaze.</p> - -<p>“Why should you ask?” she hesitated. “It was -a great surprise—a great shock.”</p> - -<p>“You refer, of course, to the news of my death,” -he said. “But you survived the shock, as you call it, -and—you are far more beautiful than I remembered -you.”</p> - -<p>He leaned forward and rested his head on his -clasped hands, his eyes searching her face with smiling -boldness.</p> - -<p>“There are not many men,” he went on, “who -come back from the grave the way I did to find—everything -so unchanged.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span></p> - -<p>He sprang from his chair and paced the floor excitedly.</p> - -<p>“If I’d only come yesterday!” he cried. “I had -saved enough—I could have prevented that absurd -fiasco.”</p> - -<p>He stopped in front of her.</p> - -<p>“Why didn’t you answer my letter, Barbara?”</p> - -<p>“I couldn’t read it,” she murmured, a sudden vivid -color fluttering in her cheeks. “Jimmy lost it on -the way home from the office, and it lay out in the -rain a week. I knew, though, that you were not—dead.”</p> - -<p>“And that I had not forgotten you,” he urged. -“You must have wondered, though, why I had not -written before. But I couldn’t. I swore when I -went away that I would get money—somehow. That -I would get enough to save you out of the slavery -you were in then. I meant to hire a caretaker for -your father, a nurse for the boy. But I had the -devil’s own luck. Three times I won, only to lose. -Then I made a little pile—not enough; but still I -thought—I hoped—— Do you want me to tell you -what I hoped, Barbara?”</p> - -<p>“No,” she said faintly. “I—can’t listen.”</p> - -<p>“Why?” he urged. “Do you—love someone -else?”</p> - -<p>She looked at him imploringly.</p> - -<p>“You were here, and you know——”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” he said sharply. “I know what happened. -You must have been out of your mind with anxiety,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> -Barbara, to have thought of such a thing. Why -did you do it?”</p> - -<p>“I wanted to save the farm—for Jimmy.”</p> - -<p>He shrugged his shoulders, with a muttered exclamation.</p> - -<p>“You got the money?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“And so you’re sold into slavery for five years?”</p> - -<p>She made no reply.</p> - -<p>“Now, see here, Barbara. I won’t stand for -anything of the sort. It’s an outrage. I haven’t -enough—quite—to pay the other fellow out; but I’ll -arrange it with him—or her. Is it a man or a woman -slave-holder, Barbara?”</p> - -<p>She hesitated.</p> - -<p>“I—don’t know,” she said, “not yet.”</p> - -<p>“You don’t know?” he echoed. “Why, this is -more preposterous than the other. Of course you’ll -have to know.”</p> - -<p>“It is quite true,” she said quietly. “I only know -that I must be ready to leave home at a minute’s -notice.”</p> - -<p>He bent over her with sudden passion.</p> - -<p>“Marry me, Barbara,” he begged in a low, shaken -voice. “If you only will, I’ll manage it somehow.”</p> - -<p>“I—can’t,” she murmured. “I am in honor -bound. Don’t you see? I’ve accepted the money, -and paid a part of it for debts.”</p> - -<p>He threw himself down in his chair and pulled -it toward hers impatiently.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Let me think,” he said quickly. “You’ve paid -off your mortgage. How much was it?”</p> - -<p>She told him, and he set down the figures rapidly.</p> - -<p>“Who held your mortgage?” he wanted to know.</p> - -<p>“Stephen Jarvis,” she said, with a singular reluctance -at which she wondered, even while she perceived -it.</p> - -<p>“Miserly old crab; I remember him,” said David -Whitcomb.</p> - -<p>His face brightened suddenly.</p> - -<p>“Hurrah!” he cried. “I have it! With what -you’ve got left and my little pile we’ve more than -enough to buy you back. Don’t you see? Marry me, -dear, and we’ll call the sale off, pay back the money, -and——”</p> - -<p>He stopped short at sight of her unresponsive -face.</p> - -<p>“I’ve signed a contract,” she objected.</p> - -<p>“What if you have?” he urged. “The contract -can be quashed. You’ll give me the right to get you -out of it, Barbara?”</p> - -<p>She hesitated, her eyes averted from his anxious -face.</p> - -<p>“Do you mean that you don’t—that you can’t—? -Barbara, do you prefer slavery—to me?”</p> - -<p>“I mean,” she said slowly, “that I cannot—promise -you anything until——”</p> - -<p>“But don’t you see, dear, that it would be better, -safer that way? As your husband—even as your -promised husband—I could—Good Lord! what a preposterous<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> -situation! You must give me the right to -get you out of it.”</p> - -<p>She shook her head.</p> - -<p>“I did it voluntarily,” she said, “and I must -fulfil my agreement.”</p> - -<p>His face reddened with quick anger.</p> - -<p>“Then you will go peacefully away with this person—man -or woman—and stay five years, when the -matter might easily be arranged by paying back the -money, and by proving a prior claim. My claim is -prior, Barbara. I loved you five years ago. I love -you now. Give me the right to break this absurd -bond. Won’t you, Barbara?”</p> - -<p>His lips, his eyes, pleaded with his eloquent voice. -He dropped to his knees beside her chair; his arm -stole about her waist.</p> - -<p>“Barbara!” he murmured, his face close to hers.</p> - -<p>She broke from him with a little shuddering cry.</p> - -<p>“What is it? What have I done?”</p> - -<p>“Do you know—did you hear how my father—died?” -she asked, in a frightened voice.</p> - -<p>He sprang to his feet, his face crimson with shame -and fury.</p> - -<p>“I drank a glass of wine before I came here to-night—a -single glass,” he said. “Is it that you -mean?”</p> - -<p>His eyes demanded instant answer.</p> - -<p>“If you had suffered what I suffered——” she began; -then her voice broke. “I couldn’t help it, -David; I—remembered.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span></p> - -<p>It was the first time she had called him by his -name. He looked at her in silence for a minute.</p> - -<p>“I understand,” he said gently. “I won’t offend -again. I promise you.”</p> - -<p>“To-morrow,” she went on hurriedly, “I shall -hear; someone will call for me. I am all ready—to -go. But I will—try, I will explain——”</p> - -<p>She put out her hand to forestall his quick -protest.</p> - -<p>“No; please. I—cannot promise anything—yield -anything, until I have arranged the matter. If I -succeed——”</p> - -<p>He waited for her to go on.</p> - -<p>“I must have time to think,” she murmured. “I—am -not sure of myself.”</p> - -<p>He went away, bidding her a brief good-night, his -eyes hurt and angry.</p> - -<p>Barbara watched his straight, lithe figure, as he -strode away from the little circle of her lamp-light -into the dripping gloom of the spring night. So -had she sent him away from her long ago into the -rain and the darkness. Then, as now, she was in -honor bound to a lonely task.</p> - -<p>She turned to find her newly engaged housekeeper -standing behind her in the semi-obscurity of the -passage. Martha Cottle was a tall, angular woman -with a pallid, uncertain complexion, a long thin -nose, and an air of perpetual inquiry.</p> - -<p>“Was that the party you expect to work for?” -she demanded. “I thought,” she added, with a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> -slightly offended air, “that you’d call me in and introduce -me. I was waiting in the dining-room.”</p> - -<p>Barbara wondered if the spinster’s large, flat ears -had caught any of the conversation, carried on unguardedly -on the other side of the door.</p> - -<p>She shook her head. “That wasn’t the person,” -she said. “Perhaps to-morrow——” She hesitated. -“Of course it will be soon.”</p> - -<p>Miss Cottle pushed authoritatively into the room -where Barbara had been sitting.</p> - -<p>“I haven’t had a real good opportunity to talk -things over with you,” she said. “If you’re expecting -to be called away sudden, perhaps this will be as good -a time as any. I want to tell you what I think about -that child.”</p> - -<p>Barbara drew a deep breath.</p> - -<p>“Well?” she murmured interrogatively.</p> - -<p>“I see you’ve spoiled him pretty completely,” pursued -Miss Cottle. “But I’ll soon get him in -hand.”</p> - -<p>She compressed her thin lips.</p> - -<p>“He got into a regular tantrum to-night because -I took a book of his to look at. ‘Vallable Inf’mation,’ -he calls it. Nearly every word in it is spelled -wrong. I wonder at you for permitting anything of -the sort. I took the book away from him. Here it -is.”</p> - -<p>Barbara looked at the woman in a sudden panic -of apprehension.</p> - -<p>“Oh!” she protested, “you ought not to have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span> -done that. The book was a birthday present. It -is one of Jimmy’s dearest treasures.”</p> - -<p>“I believe you said you wanted I should look after -James’s education,” intoned the spinster. “If I am -to stay here, I shall do it con-sci-en-tiously.”</p> - -<p>She pronounced the last word with due regard to -every syllable, it being a favorite adverb modifying -every possible activity.</p> - -<p>Barbara was turning over the pages of the book, -several of which were quite covered with Jimmy’s -scrawling characters in red ink.</p> - -<p>“A Vallable Information ’bout getting mad [she -read]. Dont get mad Ezy. It dont Do enny Good, -an sum the tim it gets a fello in Trubble. Peg says -this is portant.”</p> - -<p>Barbara smiled as she shut the covers gently together.</p> - -<p>“I shall give this book to Jimmy,” she said quietly, -“and please, Miss Cottle, don’t take it away from -him again. Jimmy is such a little boy, and I—he has -always been loved. I hope you——”</p> - -<p>“I don’t believe in sozzling over a child,” interrupted -the woman severely. “I’ll see that the boy -gets plenty of good bread and butter, and that he -goes to school and Sabbath services regularly. By -the time you get back I guess you’ll see quite a change -in him. When do you expect to start, to-morrow?”</p> - -<p>Miss Cottle’s tone expressed a growing impatience.</p> - -<p>“I supposed you’d get off this afternoon. I see -your trunk is packed and all. There’s no use of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> -hanging back and procrastinating when there’s work -to do. That’s one thing I shall teach James.”</p> - -<p>She compressed her lips severely, as if anxious to -begin.</p> - -<p>“I am ready to go,” Barbara told her, with lips -which trembled in spite of herself. “I hope you won’t -be too severe with Jimmy—at first; he isn’t used to -it.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” agreed Miss Cottle, with an acid smile, -“it’s easy enough to see that you’ve spoiled the child -completely. But I’ll soon straighten him out. My -method with children has never been known to fail. -Their wills want breaking the first thing; after that -they’ll mind, I can tell you.”</p> - -<p>“But I don’t want Jimmy’s will broken,” protested -Barbara, “please don’t try to do that.”</p> - -<p>Miss Cottle tossed her head majestically.</p> - -<p>“I shall use my own judgment,” she said firmly, -“and I don’t expect no interference; and that reminds -me, I want to speak about that hired man of yours. -He’s brought more truck into that back bedroom, -where you said he was to sleep, than anybody could -keep track of. I told him I wouldn’t have it, and he -answered back in a way I’m not accustomed to hear. -You’ll have to speak to him. Once you’re out the -house, I’ll try to get things regulated. But if I -should be sick—and I may as well tell you that I’m -subject to bad spells of malaria—I shall have to send -for my sister from New Hampshire. She’s a widow -with one daughter; of course she’d have to bring Elvira<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> -along. I thought I’d tell you, because once -you’re gone you won’t be able to get back. I suppose -your idea is that I’ll do with everything the same -as if it was my own for the five years?”</p> - -<p>Miss Cottle’s voice held a rising inflection, and -Barbara murmured something vaguely acquiescent.</p> - -<p>“Of course I couldn’t do any other way,” pursued -the spinster; “having left my own nice home to come -here and do for you. The butter and egg money will -be mine, I suppose, and the young chickens? I -couldn’t think of doing any other way than what I’ve -been used to. There! I hear that boy calling you. -That sort of thing will have to be broken up, right in -the beginning—once you’re out of the house to stay. -A great big boy like that!”</p> - -<p>Barbara fled upstairs, the little red book in her -hand, to find Jimmy, in his white night-gown, standing -at the top of the stairs. She caught the child -in her strong young arms, cuddling his cold little -body against her breast.</p> - -<p>“I wanted you,” grieved the child, half strangling -her with his eager kisses. “Why do we have that -woman, Barb’ra? I don’t like her. She took my Vallable -Inf’mation book, ’n’—’n’—I scwatched her, ’n’ -she slapped me. Send her away, Barb’ra; we don’t -want her; do we?”</p> - -<p>The girl wrapped a blanket warmly about the child -and sat down with him in a chair by the window. The -iron of her new chain bade fair to eat into her very -soul as she soothed and rocked into forgetfulness of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span> -his troubles the beloved little cause of all her perplexities. -Why, after all, had she done this thing? -Was there not a heavier debt than could be paid in -money? And was she not bankrupt still in love and -peace?</p> - -<p>In that hour of darkness all the terrifying consequences -of her attempt to break away from Jarvis -crowded upon her mind. Unless the person who had -paid four thousand dollars for five years of her life -could be induced to release her, she must indeed pay -heavily for Jimmy’s inheritance. Her baffled thoughts -hovered about the unknown personality of this arbiter -of her future.</p> - -<p>“To-morrow,” she thought aloud, “I shall know.”</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4">XIV</h2> - -<p class="pn2"><span class="smcap">The</span> blossoms had fallen in showers of fragrant pink -and white petals from the wide-spreading boughs of -the Preston orchards and already Peg Morrison’s -dreams of a great harvest were beginning to show -faint promise of fulfilment in long lines of slender -green onion shoots; yet Barbara found herself still -waiting the summons of her unknown master. Her -little trunk, locked and strapped, stood in the closet -of her chamber; her shabby travelling cloak, hat, and -gloves lay ready for instant use. Each morning she -dressed Jimmy, brushed his yellow curls, and saw -him off to school with smiles and kisses, not knowing -whether he would find her upon his return; and each -evening she lavished upon the little boy the hungry -affection hoarded for a lonelier night in some distant -city.</p> - -<p>“You love me more’n you used to, don’t you, Barb’ra?” -the child asked, puzzled by the look in her -eyes. “You kiss me kind o’ hard.”</p> - -<p>“I always loved you with all my heart, Jimmy,” -she answered. “I couldn’t love you any more.”</p> - -<p>“An’ I love you, Barb’ra,” declared the little boy, -“I love you more’n anybody. But,” he added darkly, -“I ’spise that Miss Cottle wiv all my insides an’ all -my outsides. Make her go ’way, Barb’ra.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Miss Cottle is a good woman, Jimmy,” the girl -told him seriously. “She would take care of you -if—I should be obliged to go away.”</p> - -<p>The child flung himself upon her with an inarticulate -cry of protest.</p> - -<p>“You wouldn’t go away an’ leave me, would you, -Barb’ra?”</p> - -<p>“I shouldn’t want to, precious; but—something—might—happen. -You will be a good boy, won’t you, -Jimmy? I want you to try and—love Miss Cottle.”</p> - -<p>The child considered this difficult undertaking in -grieved silence for a minute. Then he manfully -swallowed something that arose in his throat and -threatened to choke him.</p> - -<p>“I—guess I’ll be pretty good, Barb’ra,” he -quavered, “if you want t’ go off an’ take a trip. She -said you wanted to take a trip; but I told her you -wouldn’t go anywhere an’ leave me. You wouldn’t, -would you, Barb’ra?”</p> - -<p>“Not unless I was forced to,” murmured Barbara, -“for your sake, Jimmy; for your sake!”</p> - -<p>She winked back the tears, smiling resolutely.</p> - -<p>“Anyway, we won’t cross any bridges till we get -to them, precious.”</p> - -<p>“That’s in my book of Vallable Inf’mation,” -Jimmy said proudly. “I copied it out o’ Peg’s. -You have to get to bridges b’fore you cross ’em; you -can’t get over any other way. I told that to Peg, -’n’ he said it was a Vallable Inf’mation, ’n’ he wrote -it down in his book in red ink. We tell each other<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span> -things to write down. I like Peg, an’ he likes me; but -we don’t love Miss Cottle. Peg says, in his opinion, -she’s an ornary female, even if she can spell. Peg -says spellin’ ain’t everythin’.”</p> - -<p>As the days passed, this particular bridge of -Barbara’s own building loomed large in the landscape -of her every day, always retreating mirage-like -into the misty horizon of her to-morrow.</p> - -<p>Martha Cottle was of the opinion that it was a -mighty queer performance; she discussed the subject -with Barbara with ever-recurring interest and poignancy -in the intervals of her work. Miss Cottle was -a woman bent upon an excruciating cleanliness and -order, and the immaculate back steps and the painfully -scoured kitchen floor uprose as altars upon -which she daily offered oblations and sacrifices of all -the gentler amenities of life.</p> - -<p>“That young one,” as she began to call Jimmy, -together with Peg Morrison, appeared to vie with one -another in wanton profanation of these hallowed precincts.</p> - -<p>“It’s enough,” the worthy spinster assured Barbara, -her nose and eyes reddened with animosity, “to -make a saint mad clear through. Once you’re out of -the house for good I’ll see to it that they wipe their -feet <i>before they eat</i>.”</p> - -<p>The veiled threat in the last words was not lost -on Mr. Morrison. “Me an’ the Cap’n hes et our -victuals together more’n once in the loft t’ the barn,” -he observed placidly. “‘N’ we kin do it ag’in on a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> -pinch. I kin cook ’s well ’s some others I c’d name, -an’ I will, if necessary.”</p> - -<p>Barbara, with one foot on her bridge of passage, -strove to reconcile these opposing forces.</p> - -<p>“Miss Cottle,” she assured Peg, “is really a very -conscientious woman. She’ll keep everything clean -and comfortable for you and Jimmy.”</p> - -<p>“You bet she’s conscientious, Miss Barb’ry,” acquiesced -the old man dryly. “So’s a skunk. Y’ -reelly can’t beat them animals fer a conscientious -pufformance of their duty, es they see it. But it -ain’t what you’d call reelly pleasant fer the dog.”</p> - -<p>“But you’ll try, won’t you, Peg, to get along with -Miss Cottle?” implored Barbara. “If she should -leave you after I’m gone, I can’t think what Jimmy -would do.”</p> - -<p>“Now, Miss Barb’ry, don’t you worry none. -Me an’ the Cap’n an’ Marthy Cottle ’ll git along like -three kittens in a basket. You bet we will. I’ll kind -o’ humor her, come muddy weather; an’ I’ll see t’ it -that she don’t aggravate the Cap’n beyond what he -can make out t’ bear. Mebbe it’ll stren’then his -char’cter t’ put up with her ways. Viewed in th’ -light of a Vallable Inf’mation I shouldn’t wonder if -both me an’ the Cap’n ’ud git consid’able profit out -o’ the experience, even ef we ain’t exac’ly hankerin’ -fer it. Meanwhile the onions is comin’ on famous, -likewise the apples. I never see a finer crop o’ young -fruit set.”</p> - -<p>To await the slow unfoldment of events, cultivating<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> -the while the cardinal virtues of tranquillity and -faith is the task set before each human being; but -there are times when the lesson becomes poignantly -difficult. As one who awaits the coming of a delayed -train endures the unfruitful minutes with scant -patience, so Barbara lingered on the verge of her -unknown experience, alternately dreading and longing -for the summons which would put an end to -the painful suspense. She found the days speeding -by, gathering themselves into weeks, and the weeks, in -their turn, rolling themselves up into months.</p> - -<p>“I guess you’ve said to me about all there is to be -said on the subject of this house and the care of that -child,” Miss Cottle observed in tones of exasperation. -“I’d never have come when I did if I hadn’t -supposed you were going right off. I didn’t bargain -to be your hired girl.”</p> - -<p>And David Whitcomb, who had taken up his quarters -in the village inn with the avowed intention of -“having it out” with the owner and arbiter of Barbara’s -future, expressed himself with still greater -frankness on the subject.</p> - -<p>“Has it occurred to you,” he asked Barbara, “that -perhaps you’ll not be sent for at all?”</p> - -<p>The two were sitting in the long, sweet twilight of -a June evening, on the narrow, old-fashioned porch. -The giant locusts in front of the house were in full -bloom and the clouds of fragrance from their pendant -white clusters mingled with the odorous breath of the -honeysuckles. There was a whir of humming-bird<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> -moths among the vines, and a song-sparrow intent -upon feeding her young ones while the daylight -lasted darted in and out with anxious glances of her -bright eyes.</p> - -<p>“Hush!” warned Barbara, wincing. “Don’t let -Jimmy hear you speak of my going.”</p> - -<p>“Pooh!” said David; “the little beggar knows -all about it. Did you suppose he didn’t?”</p> - -<p>Barbara looked at him indignantly.</p> - -<p>“Did you tell him?”</p> - -<p>“No; but I daresay the Cottle person has. Besides, -the auction is town talk. Everybody is wondering, -and some are saying—— Do you want me -to tell you what old Hewett asked me to-night?”</p> - -<p>Barbara’s face, burning with shamed crimson, was -turned away from his.</p> - -<p>“No,” she said frigidly. “I don’t want to hear -it.”</p> - -<p>David passed his fingers through his thick, curling -hair, with an impatient gesture.</p> - -<p>“I am sorry I spoke of it, Barbara,” he said seriously; -“but the fact is, whether you know it or not, -you’ve been placed in a very unpleasant position.”</p> - -<p>He waited for her to speak; but she was obstinately -silent, her eyes fixed on Jimmy, who was helping Peg -load a wheelbarrow with the dried grass left in the -wake of the lawnmower.</p> - -<p>“You are,”—pursued David, “—or think you are—unable -to move hand or foot for five years. Meanwhile -you are waiting, waiting for a summons which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span> -may never come. Barbara, is there anyone you know -who would be likely to—who might wish to help -you, and who has taken this singular way to do -it?”</p> - -<p>She flashed a look of startled inquiry at him.</p> - -<p>“The idea of the auction was your own—though -how you came by it, I can’t understand—and it succeeded -perfectly, as far as the price paid in money -was concerned; but you’re likely to pay it out in -something more valuable than money. You’ve grown -thin and pale, Barbara; you’re being worn out with -this infernal suspense. Now, I think it’s time we -tracked your purchaser to earth; or else—look at -me, Barbara! Why not marry me, and defy the fellow, -whoever he is?”</p> - -<p>“It wouldn’t be honorable,” she objected. “I’ve -accepted the money.”</p> - -<p>“But if we paid it back?” he urged.</p> - -<p>“How can I pay it back, if—I don’t know who -it is?”</p> - -<p>David tipped his chair against the house with an -impatient thud.</p> - -<p>“See here,” he said strongly, “I’m going to find -out who the person is, either with or without your -permission. You’d like to know, I suppose?”</p> - -<p>She hesitated, evading his eyes.</p> - -<p>“I think I’d rather wait,” she said reluctantly. -“Besides, you couldn’t find out.”</p> - -<p>He watched her steadily for a minute, while she -set half a dozen hasty stitches in the long ruffle she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span> -was hemming. Then he deliberately put his hand -over hers.</p> - -<p>“It’s too dark to sew,” he objected, “and I can’t -talk to you when your eyes are glued to that piece of -cloth.”</p> - -<p>Barbara folded up her work with quick motions -of her slim brown fingers. Then she raised her eyes -to his.</p> - -<p>“Well?” she said interrogatively.</p> - -<p>“It isn’t anything new, Barbara,” he said. “Just -the same old request. When will you marry me, -dear?”</p> - -<p>“I’ve told you, David, over and over. I can’t -make any promises till—till——”</p> - -<p>He frowned and shrugged his shoulders impatiently.</p> - -<p>“I know,” he interrupted quickly. “But why object -on the score of that absurd contract? Why, -Barbara, I’ll go with you and work for nothing. -Two slaves will be better than one. I’m a husky chap, -capable of trundling the lawnmower, shaking down the -furnace, shovelling snow, or any little job of the sort. -Don’t you think your widower would appreciate my -free services?”</p> - -<p>Barbara refused to smile.</p> - -<p>“Why,” she asked, “should you suppose it is a -man?”</p> - -<p>“A sad mixture of pronouns,” he objected. “‘It’ -might, as you suggest, as well be a widow or an old -maid. But why ’its’ waste of money and valuable<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span> -service? That is what I shall set myself to find out. -But we’ll be married first, and then I’ll be in a position -to defy him, her, or it, as the case may be. And if -no one ever shows up, as I half believe—— Barbara, -look at me!”</p> - -<p>She obeyed, a mutinous pucker between her fine -dark brows.</p> - -<p>“There is no use,” she murmured, “of your talking -that way. I consider myself bound; and I cannot——”</p> - -<p>His face softened as he looked at her.</p> - -<p>“Poor little girl,” he murmured, “it’s pretty -rough sledding for you, and has been all along. -But I’d like to ask you one thing. Has any other man -asked you to marry him since I went away?”</p> - -<p>Her eyes fled into the distance.</p> - -<p>“Will you tell me who it was?”</p> - -<p>Still she was dumb, struggling to escape the sudden -turmoil of her thoughts.</p> - -<p>“Why,” she stammered at last, “should you -ask?”</p> - -<p>“Is it a case of ’how happy could I be with either, -were the other fair charmer away?’” he demanded, -a wrathful crimson rising to his bronzed cheeks. -“You’ve played fast and loose with me always, Barbara, -first it was the brat and——”</p> - -<p>He checked himself with an effort.</p> - -<p>“Then you won’t tell me?” he said sulkily.</p> - -<p>“It—was nothing,” she stammered. “I didn’t——”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span></p> - -<p>“You didn’t accept him,” he finished for her. -“That’s evident. Well, we’ll call it square if you’ll -say to me, ‘David, I love you, and I’ll marry you as -soon as we can straighten out this—what shall we -call it?—this previous engagement.’ Will you say -that, Barbara? Will you?”</p> - -<p>She trembled, shrinking into herself under the fire -of his gaze.</p> - -<p>“I haven’t told you yet—what you asked.”</p> - -<p>“Never mind that. Come, don’t put me off -again!”</p> - -<p>She looked at him, her eyes clouded with doubt and -pain.</p> - -<p>“You don’t trust me, Barbara. I see that,” he -said bitterly.</p> - -<p>“You—must make me—trust you,” she murmured, -after a difficult silence. “I don’t know why—I can’t -say—yes. But—I can’t—yet.”</p> - -<p>“I know,” he said roughly. “You’re half in love -with the other man. Damn him!”</p> - -<p>He sprang to his feet, upsetting his chair.</p> - -<p>“No—no!” she denied breathlessly. “It isn’t -that. I refused him because”—her voice trailed off -in a whisper—“I remembered you, David.”</p> - -<p>He caught her in his arms with a triumphant laugh.</p> - -<p>“You can’t escape me now, after that admission,” -he told her. “You shall marry me, sweetheart; no -one shall prevent it.”</p> - -<p>She yielded to his eyes, his arms, his eager lips -with a sense of mingled relief and terror.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span></p> - -<p>“We must not speak of it, David,” she warned -him, “nor—take too much for granted, till after we -have found out about the contract. We may have -to wait till——”</p> - -<p>“Oh, damn the contract!” cried David exuberantly. -“I’ll find that fellow Smith and make him tell -me all he knows. I’ll fix it up, sweetheart; you’ll -see!”</p> - -<p>Jimmy’s rollicking laugh floated across the lawn. -Peg Morrison had stacked the last wheelbarrow with -the sweet lawn grass, topped it with the little boy, and -was trundling his load toward the house with great -pretence of exhaustion.</p> - -<p>“Now’t I’ve got you aboard, Cap’n,” Barbara -heard him saying, “it’s all I c’n make out. You’re -turrible big an’ hefty.”</p> - -<p>“You won’t ask me to leave him, David?” murmured -Barbara. “I couldn’t do that; unless—” -she added with quick remembrance—“I am forced -to.”</p> - -<p>“Little beggar!” quoth David good-humoredly; -“he’s always been a dangerous rival of mine. But -I’ll take him for a side partner this time, Barbara. -How’ll that suit you?”</p> - -<p>He turned and crushed her roughly in his arms.</p> - -<p>“I’ve waited long enough,” he said, “now let -everybody and everything get out of my way; I’m -going to marry you within the month,” and stopped -the words of protest on her lips with his kisses.</p> - -<p>That same evening Martha Cottle wandered forth<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span> -under the soft light of the rosy evening. She was -dressed in a full-skirted gown of lilac calico, sprigged -with white, and starched to rustling stiffness; over it -flowed the wide expanse of a freshly ironed white -apron. The labors of the day were concluded and -Miss Cottle felt herself attuned to the soft influences -of the hour. So when she chanced to come upon Peleg -Morrison reposing himself in a battered wooden chair -tipped against the barn door, she addressed him in -terms of surprising amity.</p> - -<p>“It’s a real pleasant evening,” observed Miss -Cottle, with an agreeable smile.</p> - -<p>“Yes, ma’am, it sure is,” replied Peg, in kind. -In deference to the lady he shook the ashes out of his -pipe, and rose from his chair.</p> - -<p>“I suppose you and I’ll soon be left in charge -here,” continued Miss Cottle, sighing. “For my -part, I dr-read the responsibility.”</p> - -<p>“Hes—Miss Barb’ry heard f’om——”</p> - -<p>“No; not that I know of. And I call it strange—very -str-range. Don’t you, Mr. Morrison?”</p> - -<p>Peg removed his hat and thoughtfully fumbled the -scanty locks behind his ears.</p> - -<p>“‘Tis kind o’ queer; that’s so,” he agreed.</p> - -<p>Miss Cottle bent forward, her lean features quivering -with emotion.</p> - -<p>“And to cap the climax,” she said, “the girl’s -gone and engaged herself to be married.”</p> - -<p>“Who? Not Miss Barb’ry?”</p> - -<p>Miss Cottle nodded confirmation.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span></p> - -<p>“To that young Whitcomb fellow,” she concluded -acidly.</p> - -<p>Mr. Morrison resumed his hat, pulling it low over -his eyes. From this familiar shelter he viewed his -informant cautiously.</p> - -<p>“Did she—did Miss Barb’ry tell you? Mebbe she -wouldn’t care to hev me know.”</p> - -<p>“She didn’t choose to make a confidant of me,” the -spinster said, tossing her head. “I chanced to be -passing through the hall, and I—overheard ’em—spooning.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Morrison coughed deprecatingly.</p> - -<p>“It’s a vallable idee,” he said slowly, “not t’ hear -what you ain’t meant t’ hear. Young Whitcomb—huh? -Wall! Wall!”</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4">XV</h2> - -<p class="pn2"><span class="smcap">David Whitcomb</span> sat in the dining-room of the Barford -Eagle. It was fifteen minutes of eleven by the -loud-ticking clock, with a calendar attachment proclaiming -a new day, which hung against the wall in -full view of the breakfaster, yet he appeared quite -unabashed by the lateness of the hour as he attacked -the platter of fried ham and eggs which the pink-cheeked -waitress set before him. She was a pretty -girl with curly light hair and wide open eyes of an -innocent babyish blue.</p> - -<p>“Here’s your toast, Mr. Whitcomb, nice an’ -hot—jus’ as you like it,” she said, reaching over his -shoulder to set a covered plate before him. “An’ I -tried the coffee m’self this morning. That ol’ cook, -she makes me good and tired! <i>She</i> don’t care -whether you like things or not.”</p> - -<p>David flashed a brilliant smile at the waitress.</p> - -<p>“You’re a nice little girl, Jennie,” he said, and -tasted the steaming cup which she handed him. -Then he made a wry face.</p> - -<p>“Isn’t it good?” asked the girl, with a grieved -droop of her full red lips. “I made it jus’s you -said, with the egg an’ all, an’ it jus’ boiled up good -once. I stood right over it for all o’ that nasty<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span> -Sarah. She swatted me with her dish-towel, ’cause I -wouldn’t——”</p> - -<p>“It’s made well enough,” interrupted David; “but -it’s a cheap brand of coffee, and—bring the coffee-pot -here; will you?”</p> - -<p>“The coffee-pot?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. Bring it here; the one you make my coffee -in.”</p> - -<p>The girl disappeared kitchenward with a hasty -rustling of her crisp blue gingham skirts. David -leaned back in his chair and thrust both hands in his -trousers pockets while he eyed the table service of -coarse crockery and cheap glass with a cynical -smile. Three or four flies hovered aimlessly about -the plate of buttered toast, and one crawled into the -half-filled cream jug where it buzzed helplessly, its -wings spattered with the liquid.</p> - -<p>“Damn!” muttered David, pushing back his chair -and yawning. There were shrill voices in loud altercation -in the not distant kitchen, the sound of a hard-shut -door, and the waitress reappeared, red-cheeked -and breathless, bearing a large black coffee-pot in -her two hands held far in front of her.</p> - -<p>“Here it is, Mr. Whitcomb,” she said. “That -nasty ol’ cook was bound I shouldn’t bring it in ’ere. -She threw dish-water on my clean apron. I could ’a’ -killed her!”</p> - -<p>She held the coffee-pot for his inspection and -David lifted the lid, peered in, and sniffed disgustedly.</p> - -<p>“Ugh!” he said. “I thought so. Now I like<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span> -decent coffee, and I’ll buy a coffee-pot just to make -my coffee in. Do you suppose you could keep it, so -that termagant in the kitchen wouldn’t annex it?”</p> - -<p>“You bet I can,” giggled the girl delightedly, “an’ -I’ll do it, too, jus’ to spite Sarah. An’ I’ll make your -coffee every morning. I’d love to, Mr. Whitcomb.”</p> - -<p>“Good girl,” drawled David. He waved his hand -toward the table. “You may as well take these -things away,” he said. “I’m—er—not hungry this -morning.”</p> - -<p>The girl’s face fell; her full lips quivered and -pouted like a child’s on the verge of sobbing.</p> - -<p>“I made the toast,” she said. “I made it jus’ like -you said. It—it’s good.”</p> - -<p>David uncovered the plate hastily.</p> - -<p>“It looks fine, Jennie; but you see it’s so near -dinner-time—see here, my girl, you buy the coffee-pot -for me; will you?—just a plain tin one, mind. And—er—keep -the change.”</p> - -<p>He threw a crisp bill on the table.</p> - -<p>The girl took up the money and folded it together -carefully. When she raised her blue eyes they were -swimming in tears.</p> - -<p>“I—I’ll do anythin’ you say,” she whimpered, -“anythin’ you want me to.”</p> - -<p>By way of answer, perhaps, David pushed back his -chair with a harsh, scraping sound that echoed dismally -through the empty room. Then he rose, -clapped his straw hat on the back of his curly head, -searched for his cigarette case and matches and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span> -stalked out to the piazza by way of the passage -which, in country fashion, afforded an easy mode of -transit between the bar and the dining-room. At -one side of the passage was set a high, ink-spattered -desk, and behind it a long-legged stool, upon which -perched a fattish, elderly man intent upon a ledger. -This individual appeared to feel the heat of the June -morning exceedingly, for he mopped his face from -time to time with a large handkerchief, in the intervals -of setting down laborious lines of figures. -He looked up as David Whitcomb approached, -and his large face creased itself into a dubious -smile.</p> - -<p>“Good-morning, Sutton,” remarked David blandly. -“Finding out how much the public owes you for your -astonishing good cheer—eh?”</p> - -<p>“Mornin’, Mr. Whitcomb,” mumbled the Boniface. -“Um—yes; I was sort of goin’ over m’ books. -Warm mornin’, ain’t it?”</p> - -<p>He eyed David closely, taking note apparently of -the heavy ring of virgin gold on the third finger of -his left hand and descending slyly to the polished -toes of his tan Oxfords.</p> - -<p>“How much do I owe you?” asked the young man -nonchalantly, allowing a thin wreath of smoke to -escape from his lips.</p> - -<p>“‘Twon’t break ye, I guess,” hazarded Mr. Sutton, -pushing a slip of pink paper across the desk with -alacrity. “The’s a few extrys on this week’s bill,” -he added, breathing heavily as he indicated with the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span> -handle of his pen various items annotated on the account.</p> - -<p>David flung his half-smoked cigarette out of the -open window and produced a roll of bills from his -pocket, from which he detached one.</p> - -<p>“Take it out of that,” he said carelessly. “I need -some change.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir; all right, sir. Thank you, sir,” said -Mr. Sutton effusively.</p> - -<p>He sucked in his lips in a windy whisper as he -counted out the change in bills of smaller denominations -and topped them with a little pile of silver.</p> - -<p>“Hope you find everythin’ t’ your likin’ at the -Eagle.”</p> - -<p>David shrugged his shoulders.</p> - -<p>“Oh, it’s all right,” he said. “I’m used to roughing -it.”</p> - -<p>The hotel-keeper signed his name to the receipted -bill with a heavy flourish.</p> - -<p>“Heh?” he ejaculated.</p> - -<p>Then he climbed hastily down from his perch.</p> - -<p>“Come across,” he said hospitably, “an’ have one -on me. Anythin’ you say, Mr. Whitcomb.”</p> - -<p>“Something cold, if you have it,” David directed -the bartender”—and bitter. No, no! not too much -of that. Fill it up with water.”</p> - -<p>He drank thirstily and set down the glass, lifting -his eyes to look out of the window at a passing -vehicle.</p> - -<p>“That’s the Hon’rable S. Jarvis, <i>Es</i>quire,” pronounced<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span> -his host, sucking his lips over the contents of -his own glass. “Warm man, Jarvis.”</p> - -<p>“By that you mean?” queried David, strolling -toward the door.</p> - -<p>“He’s got the rocks, Jarvis has; but my! ain’t he -the screechin’ limit? I’ll bet you——”</p> - -<p>Mr. Sutton waddled heavily after David, and -seated himself comfortably in one of the big splint-bottomed -chairs ranged along the piazza for the convenience -of patrons.</p> - -<p>“I’ll bet you,” he concluded, “he’s got half a million -salted down, if he’s got a penny.”</p> - -<p>“Is there a decent horse in the stable?” inquired -David, after a silence, which Mr. Sutton filled in with -various animal-like noises, expressive of his entire -physical comfort.</p> - -<p>“No; but I c’n git y’ one over to the livery stable. -I’ll send over for it, if you say so,” Mr. Sutton responded.</p> - -<p>“I want to find Bellows,” David said.</p> - -<p>“Who? The auctioneer? Wall, y’ don’t need no -livery hoss t’ locate Thomas. He’s over t’ Henry -Maclin’s this mornin’, sellin’ out the stock. Hank’s -concluded to go west. Thinks there’s more doin’ out -there. But I dunno ’bout that. You mus’ know -somethin’ ’bout the West?”</p> - -<p>David was smoking a second cigarette with short, -impatient puffs.</p> - -<p>“I’ve been there,” he admitted, with a transient -scowl.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span></p> - -<p>“How’d you like it?” asked Mr. Sutton, folding -his pudgy hands across his protuberant front. -“What sort of a place is it? Gamblers—heh? -Cowboys, shootin’ parties, sage brush, prairie fires, -etcetery—heh?”</p> - -<p>“You’ve named the principal features of the great -West,” drawled David. “It’s all there, more particularly -the et cetera. There’s lots of that roaming -about.”</p> - -<p>He pulled his hat over his eyes and stepped down -from the veranda.</p> - -<p>“I may not be back to dinner,” he said, “but I’d -like a decent steak for supper, if you can get it in this -centre of civilization.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Sutton watched the young man’s muscular -figure in its leisurely progress down the street. Then -he went back to the barroom, where his underling, a -slim, sallow young man, with oily black hair parted -very particularly in the middle of his narrow -head, was languidly arranging clean glasses on a -tray.</p> - -<p>“He’s hot stuff, ain’t he?” observed the bartender.</p> - -<p>“Who?—Whitcomb?”</p> - -<p>“Thinks he’s the whole thing, don’t he?”</p> - -<p>Mr. Sutton frowned. “I ain’t made up my mind -’bout that young feller,” he said ponderously. “But -I’m kind of watchin’ him. It strikes me he’ll bear—watchin’.”</p> - -<p>David Whitcomb, walking slowly down the village<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span> -street under the shade of the spreading maples, was -experiencing that vague dissatisfaction which in individuals -of his temperament is apt to follow the -attainment of some hotly pursued desire. Barbara -had long represented to his imagination the distant, -unsealed peak, the untrodden wild, the unstaked, unexplored -claim. He had come back from the West -with no very fixed intention of marrying her; but -with something of the languid curiosity the traveller -feels regarding scenes long unvisited.</p> - -<p>He had not felt at all sure that he would find -Barbara the lovely vision that he had pictured her, -in the infrequent intervals given to a vague remembrance -of past days. But he had lost sight of his indifference -in the excitement of the auction and his -subsequent impulsive endeavors to break down the -girl’s scruples. Now he had won her, fairly or unfairly, -and he was thinking with some irritation of -the future to which he had committed himself. The -dull vista of a married life, spent in hard work on a -farm, which in the end could not belong to him, appeared -more and more intolerable the longer he dwelt -upon it. He was in a thoroughly bad humor by the -time he had reached the scene of Thomas Bellows’ -latest activities.</p> - -<p>Henry Maclin’s hardware, flour, and feed store -was situated on the outskirts of the village. As -David approached it he could hear the loud voice of -the auctioneer upraised in the raucous monotone of -his calling, and the dull thud of his hammer, as he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span> -proclaimed the sale of the various articles an assistant -was rapidly passing up to him.</p> - -<p>David sauntered up to the edge of the crowd and -stood there, gloomily reviewing the events of the -previous month. He glanced up suddenly to find a -keen pair of eyes riveted upon him.</p> - -<p>“Mornin’, Mr. Whitcomb,” called Peg Morrison, -as if he feared the young man might attempt to -avoid him. “Thinkin’ o’ biddin’ in any o’ the stuff? -The best of it’s gone b’ now. I got a good cross-cut -saw, though. B’en wantin’ one fer quite a spell. -The’s quite a lot o’ dead timber standin’ on th’ farm -in diff’rent places ’at ought t’ come down.”</p> - -<p>David was plainly indifferent, and after cautiously -studying his unresponsive face Mr. Morrison went -on.</p> - -<p>“Miss Barb’ry, she leaves mos’ everythin’ t’ me; -but the’s times when I feel as ’o I’d like a man t’ go -over the place with me. Course she’s got her idees, an’ -some o’ ’em’s all right; but I d’clar’ I hate t’ see -her botherin’ with outdoor work. Females had ought -to keep house an’ sew an’ look after the cookin’, an’ -not be tryin’ t’ do men’s work b’sides. That’s what I -tell her, an’ I been thinkin’ ’at some day you’d go -’round with me, since you’re such a good friend o’ -Miss Barb’ry’s.”</p> - -<p>David frowned in an irritated fashion.</p> - -<p>“I don’t understand farming, my good fellow,” he -said coldly. “So I’m afraid my advice wouldn’t -prove very valuable.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span></p> - -<p>“That’s jus’ what I was thinkin’,” was Peg’s incautious -comment. “An’ mebbe fer that very reason, -you’d better——”</p> - -<p>He hesitated and stopped short under the steady -stare of Whitcomb’s blue eyes.</p> - -<p>“Y’—see,” he blundered on, “ef Miss Barb’ry -hes to go ’way fer five years, I was thinkin’——”</p> - -<p>“She won’t go away for five years, if I can help -it,” said David. “I’m going to try and get her out -of the mess she’s made of things.”</p> - -<p>His eyes wrinkled at the corners and he laughed -outright at the strange working of Peg’s untutored -features.</p> - -<p>“Don’t you bother your old head about Miss -Barbara’s affairs,” he said carelessly, “nor”—his -keen look threatened serious displeasure—“mine.”</p> - -<p>He turned decidedly and made his way towards -Bellows, who had just disposed of the last lot of -merchandise and stepped down from his perch among -the rapidly dispersing crowd.</p> - -<p>But the auctioneer could not, when questioned, -furnish the address of the small man in checked -clothes, who had paid four thousand dollars for a -hypothetical term of Barbara’s service. He shook -his head vigorously when urged to a further explanation -of what had immediately followed the event at -the Preston farm.</p> - -<p>“Nope,” he persisted. “I can’t help you none. I -done all I was paid t’ do an’——”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span></p> - -<p>David whipped out a yellow-backed bill from his -vest-pocket.</p> - -<p>“You had references,” he said in a cautious tone, -“for I heard you say so. Who figured as referee?”</p> - -<p>Mr. Bellows waved David’s hand aside.</p> - -<p>“It’d cost me more’n you’ve got t’ tell you,” he -said. “Nope. I ain’t a-goin’ t’ say nothin’ more. -Anyway, what business is it of yours?”</p> - -<p>David did not choose to acquaint the auctioneer -with the reasons for his anxiety, and presently he -found himself walking swiftly along the road leading -to the Preston farm. He was uncomfortably hungry -by this time, but with the unreason of the average -man attributed his gloomy feelings to a higher source -than his clamorous stomach.</p> - -<p>Barbara met him at the door with an agitated -face.</p> - -<p>“I have heard from—the person who—— Oh, -I was hoping you would come!”</p> - -<p>“Do you mean the fellow who bought you?” he -demanded sharply. Her apparent faith in himself -he passed over without notice. “Has he been here?”</p> - -<p>“No-o,” murmured Barbara. “But I had a -letter.”</p> - -<p>She put it into his hand, and watched him eagerly, -timidly, while he read it. She had lain awake half -the night, thinking of David, of his eyes, of the strong -pressure of his arms, of the touch of his lips upon -hers. Love had drawn near at last, and she bent her -head meekly to his accolade, almost forgetting her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> -chain in the rapture of the moment. But with the -morning had come the painful recurrence of all her -doubts and fears; and later, as if in answer to her -agitated questionings, the letter.</p> - -<p>David read it with frowning brows.</p> - -<p>“There’s nothing in this,” he said impatiently, -“to show you who the person is, nor when you’ll be -called for.”</p> - -<p>“No,” Barbara agreed faintly. “But you -see——”</p> - -<p>“It’s some mean dog-in-the-manger, who is watching -you in secret, and——”</p> - -<p>He stopped short.</p> - -<p>“The boy is coming,” he said, and got to his feet.</p> - -<p>“You’ll stay to dinner?” she begged him timidly. -“I made cherry pies this morning. I think”—humbly—“that -they’re that they’re very good.”</p> - -<p>David put his arm around her, with a sudden untraced -impulse of tenderness.</p> - -<p>“Don’t worry about the letter,” he said magnificently. -“I’ll—think it over.”</p> - -<p>It was a very happy meal they ate together, in -spite of the prying presence of Miss Cottle, who had -assumed control of the teapot. There was stewed -chicken, an abundance of fresh vegetables, strawberries -and yellow cream, and, to top off with, the -cherry pie of such unexampled excellence that David -forgot the unpleasant doubts which had assailed -him in the morning. As he sat, smoking a cigarette, -on the shaded porch at the conclusion of the meal, it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span> -occurred to him that the farm was not, after all, so -bad a place to live. His eyes wandered dreamily -across the broad fields to the blue distance, and lingered -there unseeingly.</p> - -<p>Barbara came out presently and sat down at his -side.</p> - -<p>“I should be so happy,” she sighed, “if——”</p> - -<p>“Eh—what?” he roused himself to say. He -reached out and patted her hand. “Why be unhappy -about anything—just now?” he murmured. -He smiled dreamily into her eyes. “The dinner was -perfect, sweetheart; as for the reminder from your -unknown, why not be thankful that ’it’ contents -itself with correspondence?”</p> - -<p>Barbara turned her eyes away. An aching lump -arose in her throat as if to choke her. When she -finally answered him it was in a low, controlled voice.</p> - -<p>“There will be other letters—other reminders; -you saw that.”</p> - -<p>David was at the moment languidly optimistic. It -occurred to him to silence her grieving lips with a -kiss; but he was too drowsily comfortable to move. -He contented himself by again caressing her fingertips.</p> - -<p>“Don’t poison our happiness by perpetual references -to something neither of us can possibly help,” -he murmured.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4">XVI</h2> - -<p class="pn2"><span class="smcap">There</span> is that which works secretly (call it what you -will), everywhere transmuting the ugly into the beautiful, -the seeming evil into acknowledged good, the -mean and worthless into the rare and precious; moving -upon the face of vasty deeps, upon inchoate -planets; toiling in unknowable abysses, whirling in -star-dust and nebulæ, and no less in the veiled darkness -of the holiest place—the soul of man. And -here, indeed, this pervasive life principle, this informing -Mind, this toiling servant of universes and men -(call it what you will), seeks chiefly to manifest its -supernal powers. Give it entrance in any fashion; -open to it the smallest crevice; entertain its mysterious -presence ever so briefly, and in that lodgment it -begins at once its wonder-working transmutations. -For observe: this unseen, and often unsuspected, -worker takes of the common things of life, of its base -and ignoble things and turns them into shapes of imperishable -beauty. And observe, also: this is accomplished -without tumult of manufacture; neither smoke -of his burning furnace, nor clang of hammer, nor noise -of breaking stone is heard, though one listen with the -fine ear of the magician in the fable. And observe -for a third time (for all of this has to do with the -tale that is told): that the blind desire of the one who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> -is thus wrought upon in some mysterious fashion relates -itself to the will of Him who works, so that they -are in a way one and indissoluble. For such is the -law of growth in all the universe, and such will it -ever be.</p> - -<p>To Stephen Jarvis, pursuing to all outward appearance -the even tenor of a way long trodden, came -slight intimation of the changes in himself—the self -deep submerged beneath the surface of everyday life. -He still loaned money on bond and mortgage, exacting, -as was his custom, the highest legal rate of interest. -As in the past, he looked sharply after his -investments, foreclosing when foreclosure had become -due and inevitable, and manipulating such conservative -purchases of stocks and bonds as his accumulating -capital appeared to require. He was conscious -of but one thing, and that was that these procedures -no longer afforded him pleasure. They were, -on the contrary, in the nature of labor. After a -little, the labor became grinding in its demands upon -him. Gradually, too, he found that the heavy looks -and sad faces of certain of his debtors had the power -to hurt him. One day he actually yielded to the -importunities of a poor widow, not openly, indeed, -but through a trusted agent of his, restoring to her -the home she had lost. Once indulged, this folly -(as he called it), grew upon him stealthily. More -and more frequently he found himself giving; still -secretly, because in his mind giving still appeared to -him a despicable weakness. Yet he continued to impart<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> -(where he must) with that keen discrimination -and sound judgment which had always distinguished -his operations in finance. As yet no one suspected -him. To have incurred a suspicion of benevolence -would have shamed him little less than a well-founded -conjecture of crime on the part of those who had always -known him.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, he who runs may read the legible -handwriting of God on the faces of men. The cold, -immobile features of the grasping money-getter -changed subtly, as was indeed inevitable, into something -more human; his eyes looked out from beneath -his sternly modelled brows as keenly as ever, yet in -their very penetration there was a veiled light not -visible before.</p> - -<p>Perhaps the creature who might have told the most -unbelievable story of the change in Stephen Jarvis -was his horse. He no longer drove under the lash -and with the cowardly curb-bit. He simply did not -care any longer for the sensation afforded by beating -down an inferior intelligence with his own brute force. -No other reason for this particular change in his -habits had as yet occurred to him. He still used -fast horses; but he ceased to abuse them.</p> - -<p>Nearly two months had elapsed since his last visit -to the Preston farm. On that occasion he had entreated -Barbara not to shame him before the crowd -assembled for the auction; and she had refused to -listen. Then he had gone away. Something of what -followed had been repeated to him. And since he had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span> -learned of the return of David Whitcomb from the -West; of his spectacular part in the bidding, and -of his subsequent visits to the farm.</p> - -<p>It was of David he was thinking as he drove along -the country roads on a day in early August. The -fields were yellowing to the harvest and a great -peace lay upon the face of Nature, veiled lightly -with the long continued heat. When, therefore, he -overtook the object of his thoughts walking along -the dusty road with every appearance of discomfort, -he drew up his horse and spoke to him.</p> - -<p>“I haven’t seen you to speak with you, since your -return, Mr. Whitcomb,” he said civilly. “Won’t -you get in and ride with me? I shall be glad to—talk -with you.”</p> - -<p>David stared with undisguised astonishment; then -a derisive gleam shone in his blue eyes.</p> - -<p>“Why—er—certainly, Mr. Jarvis,” he said, and -sprang in and seated himself with cool assurance. -“It wouldn’t have occurred to me to ask you for a -ride,” he went on, “but I’m not sorry you offered -to give me a lift. It’s deucedly unpleasant walking.”</p> - -<p>Jarvis met his inquiring look gravely.</p> - -<p>“You are making quite a stay in the East,” he -said. “Do you mean to settle here?”</p> - -<p>The quick blood rose in David’s face.</p> - -<p>“I haven’t made up my mind,” he said. “I’m—er—just -looking around a bit.”</p> - -<p>Jarvis was silent, casting about in his mind for a -suitable opening for what he wished to say.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span></p> - -<p>David spared him the trouble. With his usual -sensitiveness to the moods of his companions—a sensitiveness -which at times amounted almost to divination—he -looked sidewise at Jarvis, a smile wrinkling -the corners of his eyes.</p> - -<p>“I’ve been to see Miss Preston,” he said confidentially, -“at the farm.”</p> - -<p>“Yes?” Jarvis observed non-committally.</p> - -<p>“You know Miss Preston, I believe?” said David.</p> - -<p>Jarvis hesitated.</p> - -<p>“I have had business relations with Miss Preston,” -he said coolly. He was beginning to feel an exceeding -dislike of the well-dressed, smiling young man -at his side.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” agreed David, shrugging his shoulders. -“she’s mentioned the fact to me.”</p> - -<p>Jarvis tightened his grasp on the reins after his -old choleric fashion, and the mare leaped forward -as if expecting the cut of the ready lash.</p> - -<p>“I understand Miss Preston has been relieved of—her -anxieties somewhat,” he said evenly. “I—was -glad to know it.”</p> - -<p>David’s lip curled.</p> - -<p>“Indeed!” he syllabled with a touch of insolence. -“Well, I’ve no doubt Barbara—Miss Preston—will -be duly grateful, when—er—I mention the fact of -your interest in her affairs.”</p> - -<p>“You’ll not mention it, I hope,” Jarvis said. -After a brief silence he added, “You understand me, -of course.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Well, no,” drawled David. “I don’t believe I -do.”</p> - -<p>He looked whimsically at Jarvis, as if expecting -further elucidation.</p> - -<p>But the older man was paying strict attention to -his horse, his lips set in forbidding lines.</p> - -<p>David yielded to one of his sudden impulses.</p> - -<p>“Of course,” he burst out; “you won’t care; -you’ve got your money out of it; but Barbara is -deucedly unhappy.”</p> - -<p>“Ah?”</p> - -<p>Jarvis’s note of interrogation was barely audible.</p> - -<p>“You know, I suppose, for it’s become town-talk -long ago, that somebody bid her in—a thundering -shame I call it—and then failed to show up. She -considers herself bound, since she used the money—or -part of it. I’d like mighty well to get hold of -the person, male or female, who’s skulking behind -the contract—as she persists in regarding -it.”</p> - -<p>“Why? What’s wrong with the transaction?”</p> - -<p>Jarvis’s tone asked for information merely, but -David flashed a suspicious look at him.</p> - -<p>“Do you know anything about it?” he demanded.</p> - -<p>“Do I—know anything about Miss Preston’s affairs?” -echoed Jarvis. “Isn’t that a singular question -for you to put to me?”</p> - -<p>“It would be, if I hadn’t run every possible scent -to earth already. I want to find the fellow.”</p> - -<p>“For what purpose?” queried Jarvis, leaning<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span> -forward to watch the even play of his mare’s hoofs.</p> - -<p>“I want to pay him back and free the girl. It’s -a damned outrage to hold a woman bound in this -sneaking, secret fashion. It doesn’t give either of -us any show.”</p> - -<p>Jarvis appeared to ponder this statement in silence -for a while.</p> - -<p>“Perhaps you’re right,” he said, at last.</p> - -<p>“There’s no ‘perhaps’ about it,” said David excitedly. -“Of course I’m right! Here I’ve been -hanging about for months, waiting for the person—whoever -it is—to show up. I’m ready to settle the -business by paying back the money.”</p> - -<p>He met the other’s sharply inquiring look with a -boastful grimace.</p> - -<p>“I can do it; don’t make any mistake on that -score!”</p> - -<p>“And after you’ve made the transfer; what -then?”</p> - -<p>Jarvis’s tone was icy; his eyes searched the handsome, -flushed face at his side mercilessly.</p> - -<p>David met his gaze readily enough.</p> - -<p>“Why,” he blustered, “you may as well know: -I intend to marry Barbara. I’d do it, anyway; contract -or no contract, and let that damned dog in the -manger gnaw his bone till he’s tired of it; only -Barbara—Miss Preston—objects. She’s like all -women—sticks at a trifle, and yet is ready to swallow -the earth, if you give ’em a chance.”</p> - -<p>“Miss Preston doubtless supposes that her honor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span> -is involved. I can conceive that she might do so. -A trifle, I believe you called it. And if you——”</p> - -<p>“Oh, come; what’s the use of talking like that!” -David interrupted impatiently. “I’m sick of all that -sort of nonsense.” He pulled his hat over his eyes -and stared morosely at the landscape. “If I didn’t -care as much about the girl as I do, I’d cut the whole -thing and go west again. This is no place for a -man like me.”</p> - -<p>“I’m disposed to agree with you,” observed Jarvis -calmly. “Shall I set you down here?”</p> - -<p>David recognized his surroundings with a start. -They had reached the outskirts of the village, and -Jarvis had stopped his horse in front of his own -house.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I may as well get out here, I suppose,” he -said sullenly.</p> - -<p>He turned and lifted his hat to Jarvis, with a -sweeping bow.</p> - -<p>“Much obliged for the delightful ride,” he said, -with a sneering upward quirk of the mouth.</p> - -<p>Jarvis sat motionless in his carriage watching the -easy swing of the arrogantly youthful figure, as it -passed down the street. He saw David go in -at the front entrance of the Barford Eagle, yet -still he sat silent, his brows drawn over brooding -eyes.</p> - -<p>His man, lounging in front of the stables, caught -sight of the waiting equipage, and hurried down the -driveway.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Any orders, sir?” he asked. “Shall I take the -horse, sir?”</p> - -<p>Jarvis glanced at the man, something of his old -irritability flaring up in his look.</p> - -<p>“No,” he said shortly. “I’m not coming in now.”</p> - -<p>He spoke sharply to his horse, turned abruptly, -and drove rapidly away, past the pollarded willows, -over the echoing bridge, and on into the country -road beyond, muffled with the accumulated dust of -a rainless midsummer. Presently he reached and -passed the stone gateway of the Preston farm, and -its orchards laden with unripe fruit. He looked at -both with the sombre, unseeing intentness of a man -who is at war with his deeper instincts.</p> - -<p>He had been prepared, he supposed, to judge -Whitcomb fairly; but his late brief interview with his -successful rival had left him bitterly antagonistic -to the younger man. David’s very physical beauty -infuriated him. He recalled the level glances of his -blue eyes, the curve of his lips, the carriage of his -handsome head upon his broad shoulders, with a sense -of blind, barbaric anger. His frequent references to -Barbara, his cool assumption of triumph, his braggart -self-assertion, his open disdain of concealment—all -were abhorrent, intolerable to Jarvis. But none -the less, he fought with and subdued himself.</p> - -<p>“I am unjust,” he told himself flatly, “because I -am jealous.”</p> - -<p>And he despised himself the more, because recognizing -the patent fact he still hated David; still<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span> -longed to fling him out of his path as he had flung -many a stronger man in the past. For the first -time in all the years of his life he had become dimly -aware of the beauty of self-sacrifice, and of its relations -to a pure and true affection. Even while the -primal man within foamed under his iron grip, he -compelled himself to think tenderly of Barbara, of -her loveless youth, of her loneliness, of her heroism. -Then he remembered with shame his own persecutions -of her woman’s weakness; for so it had come to look -to him now. He recalled his brutal insistence, his -threats, his unrelenting hardness, sparing himself -in nothing, compelling his memory to flash before -him every picture which contained them both.</p> - -<p>He had travelled many miles before he roused to -a realization of the lateness of the hour. The long -summer twilight had fallen, like a roseate veil, over -the rich landscape; the shadows had disappeared -with the sun, and the great disk of a silver moon -swam in the rosy light reflected from the sunset, -which by now burned in crimson and amber splendors -behind the misty purple of the hills.</p> - -<p>His horse appeared jaded and weary, and Jarvis -recalled vaguely that he had been driving at his old -furious rate of speed. He leaned back against the -cushions with a sigh, conscious of his own exceeding -weariness, and allowed the mare to take her own -gait. Out of the seething alembic of his thoughts -had crystallized a single definite resolution. He -would deal with Whitcomb as that son of God who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span> -was called Satan was permitted to deal with Job, and -later with the recalcitrant apostle. He would sift -David as wheat in the close-meshed sieve of his own -love for Barbara. He would scrutinize his past, he -would examine his present; he would hold him under -the lens of purity, of probity, of honor. If Whitcomb -stood the test, Jarvis swore by all that he held -holy that he would stand back and allow him to -marry the woman both loved. If not,—his strong -fingers unconsciously tightened on the reins, and the -obedient mare quickened her pace.</p> - -<p>There was a light twinkling among the dark trees -when at last Jarvis again passed the big apple-farm. -He got down from his buggy, fastened the horse to -a tree, and walked quietly toward the house. The -long French windows stood open to the breeze, and -within the lamp-lighted room Jarvis caught sight of -Barbara. She was sitting close to the table reading -aloud; at her side, leaning his yellow head against -her knee, sat Jimmy, serious and intent. Barbara’s -pleasant voice rang out in the stillness:</p> - -<p class="pp6q p1">“Through all the pleasant meadow-side<br /> -The grass grew shoulder high,<br /> -Till the shining scythes went far and wide<br /> -And cut it down to dry.”</p> - -<p class="p1">“That’s haying,” observed Jimmy, with satisfaction. -“Ours is all in the barn now.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Barbara, “listen:</p> - -<p class="pp6q p1">“Those green and sweetly smelling crops<br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span>They led in wagons home;<br /> -And they piled them here in mountain tops<br /> -For mountaineers to roam.<br /> -O, what a joy to clamber there,<br /> -O, what a place for play,<br /> -With the sweet, the dim, the dusty air,<br /> -The happy hills of hay!”</p> - -<p class="p1">Jarvis stepped boldly to the piazza, and tapped -on the open sash.</p> - -<p>“I guess it’s David!” he heard the child say joyously. -And saw the quick blush that rose to Barbara’s -cheek.</p> - -<p>The blood sprang to his own temples and hammered -furiously there for an instant as he looked at -her in her diaphanous white dress. Then he entered -at her quiet bidding.</p> - -<p>“I was passing, and it occurred to me to stop, -and—see you,” he said awkwardly.</p> - -<p>Jimmy had retreated behind his sister’s chair and -was gazing at him with frowning intentness. Manifestly -the child was disappointed. Whitcomb would -fit into the scene far better than himself, Jarvis was -forced to acknowledge. He saw the wonderment in -Barbara’s eyes, and mingled with it he fancied he -could detect cold dislike and fear.</p> - -<p>“You were reading,” he said, his eyes lingering -on the hands which held the thin blue volume. -“Won’t you——” He hesitated; then went on -boldly: “Don’t stop because I am here.”</p> - -<p>She would have turned over the leaves and read -other pretty trifles if it had been David instead of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span> -himself, he thought bitterly. He waited for a cold -refusal.</p> - -<p>“You wouldn’t like ‘A Child’s Garden of Verses,’” -Jimmy said unexpectedly. He had not removed his -inquiring brown eyes from Jarvis’s face. Something -that he saw there emboldened him. “It’s for little -boys, littler than I am; but I like it.”</p> - -<p>Jarvis smiled, the singular smile new to his lips -and of which he was not at all aware, any more than -of the elemental changes in himself.</p> - -<p>“Perhaps I’d like it, too,” he said. “Nobody ever -reads out loud to me.”</p> - -<p>“Read the one about the wind, Barb’ra,” urged -Jimmy. “The wind and the kites. I like that.”</p> - -<p>Barbara turned over the pages slowly.</p> - -<p>“Shall I?” she asked Jarvis.</p> - -<p>Her eyes lingered irresolutely on his face for an -instant. It was evident that she was wondering at -the sight of him there, pale and grave, but with an -unfamiliar gentleness in his eyes and about his unsmiling -lips.</p> - -<p>“If you will,” he said.</p> - -<p>Read Barbara:</p> - -<p class="pp6q p1">“I saw you toss the kites on high<br /> -And blow the birds about the sky<br /> -And all around I heard you pass,<br /> -Like ladies’ skirts across the grass—<br /> -O wind, a-blowing all day long,<br /> -O wind, that sings so loud a song!<br /> -I saw the different things you did,<br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span>But always you yourself you hid,<br /> -I felt you push, I heard you call,<br /> -I could not see yourself at all—<br /> -O wind, a-blowing all day long,<br /> -O wind, that sings so loud a song!”</p> - -<p class="p1">Her voice, flowing on like a brook over pebbles, -fell to a sudden silence, as the wind of which she had -been reading entered with a sudden rush, veering the -yellow flame of the lamp to one side.</p> - -<p>Jimmy laughed joyously.</p> - -<p>“It’s come in here,” he said, turning a sleepily -roguish face upon Jarvis, “to hear what you’re -saying, Barb’ra.”</p> - -<p>She closed the book and laid it quietly upon the -table.</p> - -<p>“You must go to bed now, Jimmy,” she said.</p> - -<p>The little boy whispered in her ear, his hands -clasped about her neck. Her arm stole about his -small body as she bent her head to listen. Jarvis -watched the two hungrily—the child and the woman, -and the eternal, unfading beauty of the picture -smote him with almost intolerable poignancy. All -that was best in life he had missed, blunderingly, -blindly, and for what?</p> - -<p>“I go to bed all by myself now,” the little boy -said proudly.</p> - -<p>He walked toward the door; then turned, hesitated, -and flung himself upon Barbara.</p> - -<p>“I guess I’d better kiss you good-night, Barb’ra,” -he cried. “Just think, I pretty near forgot!”</p> - -<p>He beamed shyly upon Jarvis.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Shall I shake hands with you?” he inquired, -with a friendly little smile. “I b’lieve I’d like to.”</p> - -<p>Jarvis held out his hand and Jimmy laid his own -in it gravely. Barbara stirred uneasily in her chair.</p> - -<p>“Jimmy, dear!” she murmured softly, deprecatingly.</p> - -<p>“I never s’posed I’d be shakin’ hands wiv you,” -the child went on calmly. “Did you drive that short-tailed -horse?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Jarvis, something swelling strangely -within him as he looked down into the upturned face -of the child, with its candid brown eyes.</p> - -<p>“What made you cut his tail off?” demanded -Jimmy. “Peg says it’s a mean trick to cut off -horses’ tails, ’cause they need their tails to brush off -the flies.”</p> - -<p>“Jimmy!” called Barbara again, her face crimsoning.</p> - -<p>“I didn’t cut it off,” Jarvis replied, with every -evidence of sincerity. “I bought the horse just that -way. I don’t like it myself.”</p> - -<p>He glanced at Barbara with a quiet smile.</p> - -<p>“I’m afraid I’m very much in the way,” he said. -“But I wanted to talk with you—on a matter of -some importance.”</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4">XVII</h2> - -<p class="pn2"><span class="smcap">A silence</span>, difficult to break, settled upon the man -and the maid, as Jimmy’s plodding feet toiled up the -stairs.</p> - -<p>“Good-night, Barb’ra,” his wistful little voice -called from the top of the stairs.</p> - -<p>“Good-night, Jimmy dear,” she answered.</p> - -<p>Her eyes, clouded with pain, sought Jarvis’s face. -She had suddenly leaped to the conclusion that he -had come to tell her something concerning the contract; -perhaps to inform her that her prolonged -furlough was at an end.</p> - -<p>His next words confirmed this.</p> - -<p>“I believe,” he said slowly, “that you are under -bonds to leave your home for a considerable period. -Five years, or thereabouts, to be exact. Am I -right?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” faltered Barbara. She had grown very -pale. “That is why,” she said bravely, “I have -taught Jimmy to go upstairs alone. But he doesn’t -like it—yet.”</p> - -<p>Her eager eyes were fastened upon his face.</p> - -<p>“Did you come—to—tell me? Must I go—now?” -she asked.</p> - -<p>He waved his hand deprecatingly.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Oh, no,” he said. “It isn’t that—exactly. In -fact, I have nothing to do with the matter; only——”</p> - -<p>He paused, as if to choose his words with care.</p> - -<p>“I happen to know the person concerned in the -transaction, and——”</p> - -<p>“You know him?” breathed Barbara. She leaned -toward him eagerly, the color coming back to her -face in a swift flood. “Then won’t you tell me——”</p> - -<p>He shook his head.</p> - -<p>“I’m under bonds to preserve my client’s incognito,” -he said. “But——”</p> - -<p>He looked at her compassionately.</p> - -<p>“Are you finding the delay very hard to bear?” he -asked. “Is there——” Again he hesitated. “Is -there any particular reason why you should wish to -know more about the matter?—any reason why you -cannot wait my client’s pleasure?”</p> - -<p>She was silent.</p> - -<p>“It is that I should like you to tell me,” he went -on deliberately. “I am instructed, by my client—to -find out—to—er—ascertain, in short, if you are -in any way dissatisfied with the present status of the -affair. If you will be quite frank with me I shall -greatly appreciate your confidence, and so will—the -person I have the honor to represent. Of this I can -speak very positively.”</p> - -<p>“Why,” asked Barbara, her words coming with a -rush, “do I wait at all? If my time is worth—all -the money your client paid for it—why am I not -working? That is one thing I want to know.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span></p> - -<p>“As to that,” Jarvis said quietly, “I can assure -you that your time is worth all and more than you -receive for it. But——”</p> - -<p>He looked down and fingered his driving gloves -absent-mindedly.</p> - -<p>“There have been certain events, transpiring since -the date of your engagement—your agreement, I -should say better—with the person of whom we are -speaking, which would seem to indicate that possibly—mind -I say possibly, I cannot speak certainly -as yet—but possibly your services may not -be required at all.”</p> - -<p>“What must I do? Of course the money——”</p> - -<p>“Naturally, a part of it will be forfeited to you,” -said Jarvis coolly.</p> - -<p>To all outward appearance he was the hard-headed -man of affairs discussing a disputed contract.</p> - -<p>“I attended to that for you,” he went on. “It -is nothing more than fair, since you still hold -yourself in readiness to fill your part of the contract.”</p> - -<p>Barbara was gazing at him with parted lips.</p> - -<p>“I chanced to meet an acquaintance of yours this -afternoon,” Jarvis went on, his observant eyes on -her face. “A—er—Mr. Whitcomb.”</p> - -<p>Her look puzzled him.</p> - -<p>“He informed me that he wished to marry you.”</p> - -<p>The girl’s eyes sank in shamed confusion.</p> - -<p>“I—said I could not promise until—unless——” -she faltered.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span></p> - -<p>He arose, gripping his chair-back with tense -fingers.</p> - -<p>“It will be impossible to learn the ultimate intentions -of my client at present,” he said.</p> - -<p>He continued to look at her as she sat in the soft -radiance of the lamp-light, her head bowed, her slender -hands, browned and roughened by the labors of -sorrowful years, tightly clasped in her lap; and a -great compassion for her friendless youth, her -woman’s tenderness and weakness, swept over him like -a flood. He longed to take her in his arms, to comfort -her unforgotten griefs and forever to shield -her from the coldness of an unfriendly world. She -seemed so slight, so fragile a creature in her thin -dress of faded muslin, with the heavy masses of her -hair knotted low against her slender neck.</p> - -<p>“You say you cannot tell me who it is?” she murmured. -“It is so strange not to know—to wait, being -afraid every day. Why, any time Jimmy might -come home and find me gone.”</p> - -<p>Her voice trembled into silence.</p> - -<p>He bent toward her, his face transfigured with love -and pity.</p> - -<p>“Barbara!” he cried, in a low voice of yearning.</p> - -<p>She looked up at him, startled, afraid. He perceived -this, and the next instant his features had resumed -their expression of cold serenity.</p> - -<p>“I was about to tell you that any excessive -anxiety on your part is wholly unnecessary,” he said. -“You will certainly be notified at least a week in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span> -advance. And—as my client is situated at present—I -think I may predict with tolerable certainty that -the call will not come before—autumn.”</p> - -<p>Her face brightened.</p> - -<p>“In October,” she said, “we shall harvest the -orchards. Then I could pay back the money.”</p> - -<p>A swift shadow crossed his face.</p> - -<p>“Money; is it of that you must always be thinking?” -he asked.</p> - -<p>“You know that I must,” she said proudly. “I -could not rest under so heavy an obligation to—anyone.”</p> - -<p>“No,” he agreed. “I see that—I understand.”</p> - -<p>A melancholy smile touched his lips.</p> - -<p>“Do not be alarmed as to the obligation,” he said -quietly. “My client is a man who is accustomed, like -Shylock, to exact the last penny—even to the pound -of flesh. He will not let you off easily.”</p> - -<p>Barbara drew a quick breath.</p> - -<p>“It is a man, then?” she asked. “I—hoped——”</p> - -<p>“You were hoping it was a woman,” he said dryly. -“I have committed an indiscretion in telling you so -much. But—conceive, if you will, a man, well along -in years, the—guardian of a child, who requires——”</p> - -<p>“Is the child,” asked Barbara, “a boy or girl?”</p> - -<p>He hesitated.</p> - -<p>“Er—I cannot tell you as to that. Let us suppose -for the moment that it is a boy.”</p> - -<p>“Have you seen the child?”</p> - -<p>He looked at her with what she would have called<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span> -in another a bantering tenderness in his deep-set -eyes. In connection with Stephen Jarvis the suggestion -was untenable—absurd.</p> - -<p>“Do you know you are cross-examining me with -considerable adroitness?” he said. “I must be on -my guard, or you will force me to tell you the truth, -the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.”</p> - -<p>“And why should you not tell me the truth?” she -urged. “I think I have the right to know it.”</p> - -<p>“Not at present,” he said coolly. “I am in honor -bound to my client, you should remember. I may -lose my—er—commission, if I am not careful.”</p> - -<p>“I should be glad to know that the child is—that -he is not an imbecile.”</p> - -<p>She answered his amazed look with swift explanation.</p> - -<p>“A woman who saw my advertisement wanted me -to take charge of an imbecile child; that is why——”</p> - -<p>“And you would have done it, Barbara? You -were ready to commit yourself to such a future, just -because I——”</p> - -<p>He stopped short with a visible effort.</p> - -<p>“No; the child is—— He is a very dear and lovable -little fellow, I should say. And he needs—you. -He is—quite alone in the world.”</p> - -<p>“So,” she murmured, “is Jimmy. And when I -am gone there will be no one——”</p> - -<p>“You will not be obliged to leave your brother -right away, you know,” he suggested. “And—possibly -not at all.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span></p> - -<p>Her face became illuminated with a sudden inspiration.</p> - -<p>“Why shouldn’t the man—this client of yours—bring -the child here for me to take care of? I should -be so glad to have him right away. This is a healthy -spot. I could make him very comfortable.”</p> - -<p>Jarvis shook his head.</p> - -<p>“I shouldn’t like to suggest such a thing,” he said -slowly. “It might savor of impertinence——”</p> - -<p>Her face crimsoned with mortification.</p> - -<p>“I didn’t mean——” she stammered.</p> - -<p>“Not on your part,” he amended hastily; “understand -me, please. Your idea is—quite like you; quite -what I should expect, knowing you as I do. But—I -fear it wouldn’t do. My client——”</p> - -<p>“He must be a peculiar sort of person,” hazarded -Barbara.</p> - -<p>“He is,” agreed Jarvis. “So much so that—I -feel I ought to warn you in one particular.”</p> - -<p>Barbara waited in expectant silence.</p> - -<p>Jarvis hesitated, studying her downcast face.</p> - -<p>“I want you to promise me,” he said slowly, “that -you will not yield to the importunities of—of Whitcomb. -No; don’t interrupt me. Hear me out. He -will urge you to marry him—soon. He will tell -you—— But you must not listen—yet. Do you -hear me? You must—put him off. You must wait—till——”</p> - -<p>“I shall wait,” she said coldly, “till the man—your -client—is satisfied, or paid, in full.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Will you promise me this?”</p> - -<p>She looked him full in the eyes.</p> - -<p>“Why should I promise you?” she demanded -haughtily. “I have signed a contract. I am in -honor bound to stand by it. I shall keep my word—fulfil -the letter of my bond; but not because you -have asked me to do it.”</p> - -<p>He turned abruptly and took up his hat.</p> - -<p>“That is all I have to say to you,” he said in a -business-like tone.</p> - -<p>He stopped, hesitated.</p> - -<p>“If I do not see you again——”</p> - -<p>“But you will be obliged to see me,” she objected, “—to -tell me.”</p> - -<p>“No,” he said, and smiled slightly. “I shall not -need to see you again; and—I may not——”</p> - -<p>He held out his hand.</p> - -<p>“Will you forgive me, Barbara?” he asked -humbly.</p> - -<p>“Forgive you?” she echoed.</p> - -<p>“God knows I have need of your forgiveness. If -I do not see you again—and it is quite possible -that I may not. I am thinking of going away, of -closing my house here. I may never return. But -I want—I need to carry with me the certainty that -you will sometimes think kindly of me. Not that -I deserve it, but——”</p> - -<p>His eyes, dark with pain, searched her face.</p> - -<p>“I cannot bear to remember all that has passed -between us. I know now that I was less than a man<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span> -to threaten you—browbeat you, as I did. I hope -you will believe me when I tell you I am hoping for -your best—your truest, and most lasting happiness.”</p> - -<p>His voice, shaken with the solemn passion of renunciation, -died into silence.</p> - -<p>She put her hand into his.</p> - -<p>“I—am sorry,” she faltered.</p> - -<p>“For what, Barbara?” he asked.</p> - -<p>She drew a deep sigh that was half a sob.</p> - -<p>“For—everything,” she said.</p> - -<p>Her mouth quivered like a grieving child’s.</p> - -<p>“And you do forgive me, Barbara?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>He raised her fingers to his lips.</p> - -<p>“Good-bye,” he said.</p> - -<p>She heard his rapid step on the gravel without, and -later the whir of wheels, faint and fainter in the distance.</p> - -<p class="p2">Barbara did not tell David all that had passed -between Jarvis and herself, when on the following -day he unburdened himself of the multiplied conjecture -and complaints which had occurred to him -since his briefly renewed acquaintance with the lawyer. -In some uncomprehended way their past had acquired -a new significance in Barbara’s eyes, almost sacred -in the light of Jarvis’s difficult confession. As she -had, through some deep, delicate instinct, hidden her -early romance from Jarvis, she now shielded from -David’s scrutiny his rival’s unavailing passion and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span> -pain. David would not understand, she knew; he -would laugh and toss his handsome head, secure in -his own easily won triumph.</p> - -<p>“I suspected the old fox knew more than he owned -up to me, though when I taxed him with it he was -ready to lie out of it,” David said.</p> - -<p>He drew Barbara to him and kissed her carelessly -full on the mouth. Then when she would have withdrawn -herself from his arms, he laughed, and held her -strongly to him, looking deep into her eyes.</p> - -<p>“You don’t want to get away from me,” he said. -“You are mine; didn’t you know that?”</p> - -<p>He kissed her a dozen times, hotly, eagerly, holding -her breathless, crushed against his breast, releasing -her at last, flushed and tremulous, her heavy hair -loosened on her neck.</p> - -<p>David watched her with amused eyes, as she restored -the hairpins to place, following the curving -lines of her young figure appreciatively.</p> - -<p>“You need some handsome gowns, Barbara, to set -off your good looks,” he said. “You’ll have them, -too, when you’re my wife.”</p> - -<p>He took her hand.</p> - -<p>“I’ll wager you’ve been wondering why I didn’t -bring you a ring,” he went on exuberantly. “Girls -always like rings, and I see you don’t wear anything -but that plain one. Here, I’ll——”</p> - -<p>“Don’t take it off,” implored Barbara. “It was -my mother’s. It was her wedding ring.”</p> - -<p>“That’s all right, dear. But you must take it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span> -off, just the same. You can wear it on the other -hand, if you like—or put it away; a keepsake -like that is best locked up in some box. I’ll give -you all the rings you’ll need to wear from now -on.”</p> - -<p>He snapped open a tiny case of white velvet and -flashed its imbedded jewel in her averted eyes.</p> - -<p>“Do you like it, dear? Do you think it’s pretty? -I couldn’t get anything decent in this hole, of course, -so I sent to the city for it. It just came by express, -last night. I found it when I got back from my delightful -ride with that old crab, Jarvis.”</p> - -<p>“It—it’s beautiful, David, but——”</p> - -<p>“I hope it’ll fit; let me put it on, dearest.”</p> - -<p>“David—I—can’t; don’t you see—I am not free -to—to——”</p> - -<p>“What in Heaven’s name are you talking about? -Aren’t we engaged?”</p> - -<p>“I—don’t know,” the girl said slowly. “No,—not -till fall. You mustn’t——”</p> - -<p>“Damn old Jarvis, if he’s been putting any such -notions into your head!” cried David. “Why, Barbara, -you’re talking nonsense. Didn’t he tell you -you could get a release? I’ll buy the fellow off. I -told Jarvis I would.”</p> - -<p>“You told him?”</p> - -<p>“Why, of course, I did. And I mean to. We’ll be -married by that time. Now, don’t say <i>no</i>. Just give -me a show to prove what ought to need no urging on -my part to make you see. If we are married hard and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span> -fast there’ll be no back talk coming from Jarvis or -anybody else. Can’t you see that, dear? I dare say -the fellow is only waiting for a good excuse to demand -his money back, and we’ll give it to him. Come, -sweetheart, let me put this ring on your dear little -finger, and next month I’ll add another of a different -sort. Then I’ll be in a position to talk business with -old Jarvis, or his client, whoever he is. I’ll say, -‘Here’s your money, sir,’ short and sharp; ‘take -it or leave it, as suits you best. My wife doesn’t go -out to service with any man.’ That’s my sensible -girl!”</p> - -<p>He would have drawn her again into his arms. But -she resisted him tensely.</p> - -<p>“You don’t understand, David, and you must -understand,” she said slowly. “I—promised I -wouldn’t—till——”</p> - -<p>“You promised! Who in the devil did you promise? -You promised me, and I’m going to hold you -to it.”</p> - -<p>“No; not till after I was bound, and I—only -promised you conditionally. Don’t you remember, -David?”</p> - -<p>“I only remember what I choose to remember,” he -said superciliously. “And all I know, or care to -know, at the present moment, is that you’re mine—mine, -Barbara! Haven’t I waited for years and suffered—Barbara!”</p> - -<p>His voice vibrated with passion; he reached out -for her hungrily, irresistibly, and held her fast in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span> -the clasp of one powerful arm, while with the other -he sought for her elusive hand.</p> - -<p>“One finger is just as good as another for me,” he -laughed as he slipped the ring into place. “There! -Isn’t that handsome?”</p> - -<p>But she hid her troubled eyes against his shoulder.</p> - -<p>“Not on my ugly brown hand, David,” she murmured. -“And I cannot wear it—yet. I promised.”</p> - -<p>“That’s twice you’ve mentioned the fact that you -promised,” he said, scowling. “Did Jarvis have the -brazen nerve to come between you and me with any -of his cut and dried legal business?”</p> - -<p>“He—reminded me of my contract. He said——”</p> - -<p>“Well, I’ll fix that up with Jarvis. Say, do you -know he makes me tired? I told him we were engaged, -and if he had any such line of talk to pass out -he might have come to me. I’m the one for him to do -business with from now on, and I’ll let him know it, -too.”</p> - -<p>He released her, suddenly.</p> - -<p>“You can do as you like about the ring,” he said in -an offended tone. “Most girls would jump at the -chance to wear a two-hundred-dollar diamond. I’ll -chuck it into the waste-basket, if you say so.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, David!” breathed Barbara, “did you spend -all that money—just for me?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I did; and I supposed you’d be pleased. I -never dreamed you’d refuse to wear it.”</p> - -<p>“But—it isn’t that I don’t love you,” she faltered. -“Indeed I——”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Well, if you love me, you’ll do as I say,” interrupted -David, with an arrogant toss of his handsome -head. “Will you, Barbara?”</p> - -<p>“I will in everything but—you know, dear, I—I -can’t.”</p> - -<p>He stared at her in angry silence.</p> - -<p>“You appear a soft enough little thing,” he said -at last, “but you’re as infernally obstinate as—— Here, -give me the ring. I’ll not force it on you.”</p> - -<p>She slipped it from her finger in silence, and he -took it, restored it to its velvet nest, and dropped -the case in his pocket.</p> - -<p>“The next time I ask you to wear that ring,” he -said, “you’ll either do it, or——”</p> - -<p>“David!” cried Barbara faintly. “Please—please -don’t be angry. Try to—understand.”</p> - -<p>“Try to understand—eh? Well, I’m not so dull -as some; but you’ve got me stumped all right. Maybe -that’s what you’re trying to do.”</p> - -<p>She put out her hands to him pleadingly. But he -did not choose to see them.</p> - -<p>“I’ll talk with Jarvis,” he said roughly. “And -in the meantime you keep away from him. Just let me -manage for a while. A woman isn’t up to business, -anyway. Why, it makes me hot to think of his -coming here and talking you to a finish the way he -did. I wish I’d caught him at it, that’s all.”</p> - -<p>“David!” Barbara’s voice was low and urgent. -“I wish you wouldn’t——”</p> - -<p>“Wouldn’t what?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span></p> - -<p>She clung to his arm; but his look did not soften.</p> - -<p>“Please don’t—say anything to Mr. Jarvis. He—meant -to be kind. He——”</p> - -<p>David turned suddenly and caught her by the -shoulders.</p> - -<p>“See here,” he said. “I’m beginning to see a -glimmer of light through this particular millstone. -Is <i>Jarvis</i> the man who tried to get you to marry him -while I was away? Answer me!”</p> - -<p>“He asked—me—to marry him, and I——”</p> - -<p>David burst into a great laugh.</p> - -<p>“Well, well!” he cried, “that was a conquest. -Old Jarvis, of all men! Why, Barb, you’re a wonder. -Ha, ha!”</p> - -<p>She trembled before his loud laughter as she had -not beneath the weight of his displeasure.</p> - -<p>David suddenly became grave, his brows drawn in -thought.</p> - -<p>“That puts a different face on things,” he said.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4">XVIII</h2> - -<p class="pn2"><span class="smcap">Hewett’s</span> general store, with its official annex, the -post-office, occupied a prominent place in the social -as well as the economic system of Barford. Not -even the aisles, sheds, and steps of the Presbyterian -church afforded so convenient and popular an arena -for the interchange of items of general interest as did -“Hewett’s.” There appeared to be something suggestively -cheerful and enlivening in the sagging piles -of fruit and vegetables, something friendly and hospitable -in the boxes, barrels, and kegs open to public -inspection and exploring fingers. Even the curious -and all-pervasive odor compounded of prunes, pickles, -yellow soap, and tobacco, with an occasional aromatic -whiff of freshly ground coffee, seemed to lend itself -to a pleasantly open frame of mind, conducive -to an unreserved expression of opinion concerning -the church, the state, and the social whirl, as evidenced -in the varying currents and eddies of village -life.</p> - -<p>As in other similar emporiums devoted to the -display and sale of such commodities as were in general -demand “the store cat” might be seen guarding -inconspicuous rat-holes, or curled up in peaceful -slumber in the cracker barrel, or in close proximity -to the whity-brown loaves of bread destined for private<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span> -consumption and handled with easy familiarity -and a total lack of ceremonial cleanliness by the -driver of the baker’s cart, the Hewetts, father and -son, and by such tentative customers as elected to -test the freshness of the product with doubtful thumb -and finger.</p> - -<p>It was at Hewett’s, as might have been expected, -that the singular event of the auction at the Preston -farm had been discussed in all its different aspects. -The amount of the mortgage held by Stephen Jarvis, -the various expedients resorted to by the daughter -of Donald Preston, and the events leading up to her -desperate and successful coup had all been reviewed -circumstantially and in order. The continued presence -of David Whitcomb in the community furnished -a welcome variation to the subject; and inasmuch as -David was found not averse to talking of himself, -there was little mystery about his return to Barford -and its object.</p> - -<p>Opinions as to the personal appearance, probable -resources, and moral character of the ex-schoolmaster -were found to be as varied as the new and -somewhat showy raiment in which he appeared from -day to day.</p> - -<p>“Thinks he’s too good to walk now ’t he’s got -them shiny pointed shoes,” observed Hank Smith, -whose footgear was of the square-toed variety, presumably -inherited from a deceased relative. “I -seen him drivin’ a rig out t’ Preston’s to-day.”</p> - -<p>“Yas,” corroborated the local liveryman. “He’s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span> -took it b’ the week. Says he’s thinkin’ of buyin’ a -good horse.”</p> - -<p>“Huh! you don’t say,” drawled a farmer from the -hills, who had dropped in for his week’s supply of -groceries and his mail. “I s’pose he done pretty -well out west? Mebbe I c’d sell him that bay mare o’ -mine.”</p> - -<p>“He spen’s lots of money; I don’t know how much -he’s got,” was the unchallenged opinion put forth by -another.</p> - -<p>There followed a general oscillation of heads about -the empty stove, a round-bellied affair, capable of -fierce white heats in the winter time, but abandoned -to rust in summer and habitually diffusing a clammy -scent of chimney soot and damp ashes.</p> - -<p>“I guess the’ don’t anybody know ’s t’ that; I -heard him speak o’ minin’ prop’ties kind o’ careless -like. He sure does carry a big wad.”</p> - -<p>“The table board over t’ the Eagle’s called pretty -fair; but ’tain’t good enough fer Whitcomb. He -pays extry fer dinner at night.”</p> - -<p>“Jus’ so; an’ Sutton’s cook left after he’d been -thar a couple o’ weeks. She said she wa’n’t a-goin’ -t’ put up with Whitcomb.”</p> - -<p>“Wall, I’ll give that young feller about four -months t’ run through what he’s got,” the elder -Hewett observed, in the intervals of passing various -purchases of coffee through his grinder. “I’ll bet -I c’d carry all the minin’ prop’ty he owns in m’ -vest pocket, an’ hev room fer m’ han’kerchief.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span></p> - -<p>“‘Twon’t take him that long if he keeps on as he’s -goin’ now. I heerd”—and the speaker leaned forward, -bringing the legs of his chair to the floor with -a thump—“‘at he’s pretty fast; drinks consid’ble -an’ plays cards fer money. Wonder if she knows?”</p> - -<p>“Barb’ry’d ought t’ look out, if he’s that kind,” -observed another, wagging his pendulous chin-whiskers. -“Her pa’d ought t’ be a serious warnin’ -t’ her.”</p> - -<p>“Shaw! ’tain’t so,” put in a third. “Dave’s all -right. He ain’t so slow’s to be actually mossy; but -he’s all right. I’ll bet you——”</p> - -<p>What the speaker was about to wager on his charitable -opinion was lost to the public as Peg Morrison -stubbed noisily up the steps, and entered the door, -swung hospitably wide to dust, flies, and the travelling -public.</p> - -<p>“Hello, Peg; how’s your folks?” drawled Al -Hewett, presenting his round, solemn face at the -square aperture devoted to the delivery of mail. “Le’ -me see; here’s a paper fer you, an’ a circ’lar,—one -o’ them phosphate ads you’ve been gettin’ lately. -An’ a letter fer Miss Barb’ra. Do you want I should -forward it—eh?”</p> - -<p>“Forward it—no; give it t’ me.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Morrison’s voice held an exasperated note discouraging -to those in quest of information.</p> - -<p>“Then she ain’t left yet?” queried an individual, -comfortably seated over the cool recesses of the pickle -barrel. “Somebody was sayin’——”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span></p> - -<p>“No, sir,” said Peg, facing about and addressing -the inquiring circle of eyes as one man. “No, sir; -Miss Barb’ry ain’t gone, an’ as fer ’s I know, -she’ll be home, anyhow, till after the apples is -picked.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Morrison would have warmly disclaimed any -intention of discussing his mistress’s business with -outsiders; but he felt it incumbent upon himself, as -the surviving feudal representative, as it were, -of the Preston family, to correct erroneous public -opinion.</p> - -<p>“Goin’ t’ gether a pretty fair crop this year, I -see,” observed the village veterinary, who combined -the business of livery and sale stable with his more -learned profession.</p> - -<p>“You bet,” chuckled Peg. “W’y, them apples ’ll -beat anythin’ in the county. We’re goin’ t’ exhibit at -th’ fair, same ’s we ust to.”</p> - -<p>“Apples is goin’ t’ be so cheap y’ can’t git nothin’ -fer ’em,” said a farmer pessimistically. “Ef they -don’t all drop off the trees come September, it’s bein’ -s’ dry.”</p> - -<p>“Our apples won’t drop, I’ll bet you,” bragged -Peg. “We’ve kep’ th’ ground in our orchards -ploughed an’ cultivated all summer. Miss Barb’ry, -she kind o’ got that notion las’ spring f’om readin’ -some gov’ment report, an’ jus’ to humor her I done -’s she said.”</p> - -<p>“‘Tain’t no way to do,” put in another. “The -grass prevents th’ roots f’om heavin’; keeps ’em cool<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span> -in summer an’ warm in winter. Y’ don’t ketch me -payin’ any ’tention to them blamed gov’ment reports. -Now the Republicans is in, y’ can’t b’lieve a word ’at -comes f’om Washin’ton.”</p> - -<p>No one being immediately minded to disprove this -sweeping statement, there was brief silence for a -space. Then a new topic was introduced.</p> - -<p>“Say, Peleg, when’s the weddin’ comin’ off to your -place?”</p> - -<p>“The weddin’? what weddin’?” parried Peg cautiously. -“I ain’t heerd o’ no weddin’.”</p> - -<p>“You hain’t—heh? Well, you’re kind o’ behind -the times.”</p> - -<p>“I heerd the’ was to be two weddin’s out your way -come fall,” cackled the horse doctor. “How ’bout -Marthy an’ th’ onions?”</p> - -<p>Peg turned an angrily bewildered face upon the -speaker.</p> - -<p>“Th’ onions,” he said, “is O. K.; but I dunno -what you’re drivin’ at.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I’ll tell ye; Marthy Cottle told Elviry -Scott, an’ she tol’ my wife’s sister that you was -payin’ her marked attention. She said she hadn’t -made up her mind whether t’ marry ye or not. But -she thought mebbe she might, ef the onion crop turned -out all right. I sez t’ m’ wife——”</p> - -<p>A roar of laughter drowned the end of the sentence -and Peg’s indignant denial.</p> - -<p>“I ain’t done no more,” he averred, “than t’ wipe -m’ feet careful on th’ door-mat on the kitchen-stoop<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span> -when the’s mud on the groun’. An’ I only done that -t’ keep th’ peace.”</p> - -<p>“Wall, Peleg, ef you c’n make out t’ keep th’ -peace with Marthy Cottle, I reckon you’re the man -fer Marthy,” was the opinion of the senior Hewett, -delivered over the top of a tall bag of sugar which -he was weighing.</p> - -<p>A chorus of loud laughter greeted this sally; when -it had died away a late comer announced impersonally -that the county fair was going to be the -finest in years.</p> - -<p>“That’s so,” confirmed a visitor from the county -seat, distant some five miles. “The’ll be horses f’om -all over the state, ’n a b’lloon ascension, b’sides the -usual features.”</p> - -<p>“Any races?” inquired the farmer from the upper -hill road. “‘Cause I’ve got a colt, Black Hawk -blood, ’t c’n run like a streak o’ greased lightnin’.”</p> - -<p>“Races? Well, natu’ally. The’ll be races every -day after the fust, an’ on Sat’day, the closin’ day, -the stakes ’ll be a hunderd dollars fer two-year-olds, -an’ up fer hosses o’ all ages. I wouldn’t miss it fer -more’n I gen’ally carry in loose change. The’ll be -some tall bettin’, I persoom.”</p> - -<p>“They say that young Whitcomb feller’s quite a -sport when ’t comes t’ puttin’ money on any ol’ -thing,” drawled young Hewett, who had laid aside -his official gravity as he emerged from behind the -post-office.</p> - -<p>Mr. Morrison looked troubled.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I guess I’ll be goin’ ’long,” he said, and cast a -defiant look around the circle. “Ef I was you,” he -said, “I’d keep my mouth shet ’bout things I didn’t -know anythin’ ’bout.”</p> - -<p>No one answered; but there was a general laugh -as his heavy boots were heard to strike the sidewalk.</p> - -<p>“Poor old Peleg!” said one. “Them Prestons has -kep’ him pretty busy cookin’ up excuses. An’ ef she -marries Whitcomb I guess Peleg ’ll be up against it -a while longer.”</p> - -<p>“‘Twon’t be any time b’fore Jarvis gits another -mortgage; mebbe he’ll fetch it this time. ’Tain’t -often the ’onor’ble gent gits left. I hed t’ laugh when -I heerd she’d paid him off.”</p> - -<p>“The’s somethin’ mighty queer ’bout that business, -anyhow. Who d’ye suppose anted up with the -money?”</p> - -<p>“Some fool, like ’s not. A fool an’ his money’s -soon parted. Now like’s not it was Dave Whitcomb. -Mebbe he——”</p> - -<p>“Get out, man! What’d be the use o’ that, if -he’s goin’ t’ marry her?”</p> - -<p>“He wa’n’t engaged to her when he fust come -back; mebbe he thought——”</p> - -<p>“Thought nothin’! Dave wouldn’t pass over no -four thousand dollars b’fore he knew she’d have him, -would he? He’d be a bigger fool ’n he looks to do -that.”</p> - -<p>“Say, Hank,” drawled young Hewett, “which ’d<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span> -you druther be, a bigger fool ’n you look? or look a -bigger fool ’n you be?”</p> - -<p>“I dunno,” said Hank, thoughtfully expectorating -in the general direction of the rusty stove. “Guess -on the hull, I’d ruther look a bigger fool ’n I be, -b’cause——”</p> - -<p>“That’s impossible!” quoth the genial Al, with -a snigger of amusement.</p> - -<p>“Pooh! that’s a dried-up chestnut, Hank,” interposed -the liveryman, “f’om five years b’fore last; -don’t you let Al get a rise out o’ you that easy. He’d -’a’ said the same thing whichever way you’d answered.”</p> - -<p>“Darn!” vociferated Hank. Then he joined in -the general laugh.</p> - -<p>In the silence that followed the subsidence of mirth -a small, spare individual, wearing a gray linen duster, -buttoned to the throat, and carrying a suit-case and -tightly strapped umbrella, entered the store. He -gazed inquiringly at the assembled circle, his eyes -wrinkling pleasantly at the corners.</p> - -<p>“I just blew in,” he observed to nobody in particular, -“and I’m going to hang out for a few days at -the best hotel in town.”</p> - -<p>“The’ ain’t but one,” volunteered the voluble -Smith, stealthily moving his chair that he might get -a look at the stranger’s feet. They were neatly covered -with tan Oxfords, he satisfied himself; but the -toes were not pointed.</p> - -<p>“Where’ll I find it?” asked the stranger. “I’m<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span> -an inspector from the Phœnix Fire Insurance Company,” -he added, correctly interpreting the suspicious -glances levelled at him and his sparse belongings. -“Expect to be in town two or three days, -looking over our risks and correcting a map of the -town. I do a little life insurance business on the -side.”</p> - -<p>“Takin’ on any new risks in buildin’s?” inquired -the man on the pickle barrel.</p> - -<p>“W’y, yes; I ain’t a regular soliciting agent for -the Phœnix; but I’ll be mighty glad to write any -persons desiring insurance,” replied the stranger. -“My name,” he added pleasantly, “is Todd, Albert -Todd, at your service, gentlemen.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Todd bowed and smiled expansively.</p> - -<p>“Wall, ye want t’ cast yer eye over Hiram Plumb’s -prop’ty, fust thing you do,” advised the liveryman, -with a facetious grimace toward the individual on -the pickle barrel. “It’s in a fierce condition.”</p> - -<p>The gentleman in question slowly descended from -his perch, thoughtfully caressing the seat of his -trousers, as he replied in kind.</p> - -<p>“Y’ don’t hev to worry none ’bout me, Mister -Todd—if that’s your name—I don’t insure in the -Phœnix; but Bud Hawley, him that keeps the liv’ry-stable, -is a teetotally bad risk. He’s been takin’ -au-to-mo-beels t’ board lately, an’ they sure do kick -up a powerful smell o’ gasolene.”</p> - -<p>“I’ve got a permit,” hastily interposed Mr. Hawley. -“I c’n show it to you.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span></p> - -<p>The stranger waved his hand deprecatingly.</p> - -<p>“Oh, that’s all right,” he said gently. “I have -nothing to do with that class of business. But if -Mr. Hawley has a good horse and buggy to hire, I’ll -be glad to talk business. How about it, Mr. Hawley?”</p> - -<p>Mr. Hawley favored the stranger with a comprehensive -stare.</p> - -<p>“Guess I got a rig ’at ’ud suit,” he admitted. -“Fi’ dollars a day an’ up, ’cordin’ t’ the sort o’ rig -you’re lookin’ for.”</p> - -<p>“I want,” said Mr. Todd, “a good smart horse; -one that can cover considerable territory in a day, -and a buggy; nothing fancy, you know; but neat -and comfortable.”</p> - -<p>“All right,” said Mr. Hawley slowly. “I’m goin’ -along t’ my place now; ’tain’t fur from the -Eagle.”</p> - -<p>“Many folks stopping at the hotel?” inquired -Mr. Todd briskly, as the two men walked along the -village street under the heavy noonday shade of the -big maples.</p> - -<p>“Not s’ many,” replied the liveryman non-committally.</p> - -<p>He scowled as a smart, yellow-wheeled trap whizzed -past.</p> - -<p>“I dunno what sort of a driver you be,” he said. -“Most anybody wants t’ git over the ground these -days; but the’s some folks ’at thinks they c’n drive -a horse like it was an automobeel. That’s one o’ my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span> -rigs an’ one o’ my best horses,—or was till that chap -took t’ drivin’ it.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Todd stretched his long neck after the yellow-wheeled -trap, which had stopped in front of the Barford -Eagle a little further up the street.</p> - -<p>“You don’t say!” he observed mildly. “Kind of -a young feller, too. They say a merciful man is -merciful to his beast.”</p> - -<p>“Dave Whitcomb must be a hard case, ’cordin’ -to that,” was Mr. Hawley’s opinion. “Y’ seen -him get out an’ go in; did you? Wall, that young -chap used t’ teach school here. Fact; he was principal -of our union school, an’ considered a smart -enough chap, though quiet; didn’t cut much of a -swathe, even with the young folks. But all of a -sudden he up an’ went west! an’ we heard after a -spell he was dead. But he turned up a while ago, -live as ever, an’ consid’able changed. He’s quite a -heavy swell now; they say he owns a mine, or suthin’, -out west. He’s stayin’ t’ the Eagle; ’n’ say, if -you’re one of the sort ’at likes t’ put on style ’n’ eat -your dinner at night mebbe you c’d chum in with -Dave.”</p> - -<p>“What’s the young man’s line of business?” asked -Mr. Todd. “I’d like to interest him in a little -proposition——”</p> - -<p>“Business?” echoed Mr. Hawley, and he chuckled -as he drove his hands a little deeper into his trousers -pockets. “Dave’s principal business around these -parts is courtin’, I sh’d say. I guess he don’t do<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span> -much else these days. Girl out in the country; got -a big apple farm. If you git acquainted with Dave -he’ll tell you all about it.”</p> - -<p>To make the acquaintance of the ex-schoolmaster -appeared to be exactly what the energetic Mr. Todd -was seeking. He put up at the Eagle, where he -made a point of asking for a six o’clock dinner.</p> - -<p>“I am told,” he said to Sutton, the proprietor, -“that this is one of the few properly managed hotels -in this part of the country, with evening dinners, -breakfasts <i>à la carte</i>, and so forth!”</p> - -<p>Sutton silently shook his heavy body, his wide -mouth turning up at the comers, an exercise which -passed with him as a laugh.</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes,” he said, “we’re stylish an’ up t’ date -all right, when it comes t’ ’leven o’clock breakfasts -an’ six o’clock dinners. We’ve kind of changed our -day around here t’ ’commodate our patrons. We -calc’late t’ please.”</p> - -<p>And so it came about that young Whitcomb sat -down to dinner that night with Mr. Albert Todd. -The latter individual was quite the gentleman in his -manners at table, David observed. Little by little -the two fell into friendly conversation, and David, at -first irritable and silent, passed all at once into his -alternating mood, when he desired nothing so much as -to talk about himself. He had found few he cared -to talk to in Barford, except Barbara, and there -were things one could not mention to a woman.</p> - -<p>Not once did the tactful Mr. Todd allude to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span> -subject of life insurance, and he appeared wonderfully -interested in David’s account of his life in the -West; of his failures, few and far between, and of -his successes, social and otherwise which, according -to David, had been many and remarkable. Mr. -Todd was a man of the world, that much was clear, -with no foolish or fanatical prejudices. After dinner -the two in a state of post-prandial amity strolled -across to the barroom, where they partook of various -cooling drinks, compounded, under David’s direction, -by the alert young person behind the bar. And -when later they strolled out to the piazza and David -produced cigarettes, they had fallen into relations of -such exceeding friendliness that David reopened the -conversation in a more intimate tone than he had yet -taken.</p> - -<p>“This is the most confoundedly stupid hole a man -ever dropped into,” he observed through the fragrant -smoke wreaths.</p> - -<p>“It looks kind of peaceful and soothing,” agreed -Mr. Todd, with a chuckle; “I guess I can stand it -for a few days, though.”</p> - -<p>He looked away up the dusty street where an occasional -pedestrian enlivened the solitude. “Thinking -of settling here?” he asked.</p> - -<p>David scowled.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” he said. “Out in the country a mile or so.”</p> - -<p>“Then you’ll have hopes of striking the metropolis -here occasionally?” queried Mr. Todd facetiously. -“I wouldn’t want to get too far away.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span></p> - -<p>David’s eyes were still fixed and frowning.</p> - -<p>“What do you think of a man of my experience -settling down in a place like this to raise apples?” -he asked. “Sometimes I think I’m several kinds of -a fool for doing it.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Todd spat thoughtfully over the rail.</p> - -<p>“That depends,” he said tentatively, but with a -keen look at the other.</p> - -<p>David flicked the ash off his cigarette, then flung -it impatiently away and lighted a fresh one.</p> - -<p>“Yes, of course,” he said; “but take it anyway -you like, is the game worth the candle? Once I’m -tied up here, I suppose I’ll have to stand by the rest -of my life. Do I want to do it? Would you want -to do it? Honest now.”</p> - -<p>The small spare gentleman who had introduced -himself to Barford society under the name of Albert -Todd smiled thoughtfully.</p> - -<p>“Well, it strikes me as a bit slow for my taste. -What do you say to a game of cards to pass away -the time?”</p> - -<p>David shook his head.</p> - -<p>“I don’t take much to cards,” he said. “The other -chap generally wins, and I like to be on the winning -side.”</p> - -<p>He tramped up and down the piazza a few times; -impatiently kicking at the railings as he paused to -turn.</p> - -<p>“There’s a man in this town I’ve got to see on -rather disagreeable business,” he said at last. “I’ve<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span> -been putting it off for several days; but I believe I’ll -do it now. So long. See you in the morning.”</p> - -<p>Left to himself Mr. Todd elevated his feet to the -railing, as if to indulge in a prolonged period of post-prandial -meditation. In the gathering twilight he -watched David’s muscular figure swinging along the -street. He was walking like a man with a purpose. -After a minute or two of keen-eyed watchfulness Mr. -Todd quietly arose, clapped his hat on his head, and -strolled toward the steps.</p> - -<p>“Goin’ out t’ take in the town?” inquired a voice -from the rear.</p> - -<p>The insurance man glanced at the slim youth in the -rather untidy white apron who stood in the doorway.</p> - -<p>“W’y, yes,” he replied, very pleasantly indeed. -“I thought I might as well.”</p> - -<p>“I’d advise you not to have much to do with that -fellow you was talkin’ to,” pursued the youth sulkily. -“He’s one of our customers, but I don’t care. Talk -’bout cards; he cleaned me out of a month’s wages one -night last week; then laughed at me for bein’ mad. -I ain’t got no use fer him.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know about that,” Mr. Todd said pacifically. -“He seems like a nice sort. Nothing really -vicious, or——”</p> - -<p>“He’s a durned, good-fer-nothin’ blowhard; that’s -what he is,” said the bartender rancorously. “An’ -that’s what I tell Jennie. But she—— I’d like t’ -punch his head; that’s all!”</p> - -<p>“Who’s Jennie?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span></p> - -<p>“She waited on your table t’ supper. She’s the -prettiest girl in this town.”</p> - -<p>“Oh,” said Mr. Todd understandingly.</p> - -<p>“She’s prettier ’n that Preston girl ever thought -of bein’—that’s his girl. He’s engaged t’ her. But -some folks want the earth.”</p> - -<p>“That’s so,” observed Mr. Todd smilingly. “And -sometimes,” he added, with a wink, “they get it, -too!”</p> - -<p>This speech appeared to irritate the youth exceedingly. -“Huh!” he exploded violently. “Well, -I’d like to punch his head; that’s all.”</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4">XIX</h2> - -<p class="pn2"><span class="smcap">David’s</span> suddenly formed resolution carried him -swiftly to the one big house of the village, where he -rang the bell. The night being warm the outer door -stood open and he could look through the screen into -the dimly lighted hall. To the left of the passage was -Jarvis’s library, and David, waiting impatiently before -the outer door, perceived that the master of the -house was within, quietly reading by a shaded lamp. -Somehow the sight stirred the unreasoning anger -within him to a hotter glow. His unanswered summons -appeared in the guise of a deliberate insult. -Raising his walking-stick he smote the door. He -saw the man within raise his eyes from his book, -as if to listen, and repeated his knock smartly; then -as Jarvis rose and came hastily toward the door, he -spoke:</p> - -<p>“Good-evening, Mr. Jarvis,” he said, mumbling -the prefix so that it was little more than an inarticulate -sound. “Guess your door-bell isn’t in working -order.”</p> - -<p>Jarvis recognized his visitor with an involuntary -start, which David perceived with ill-disguised -triumph.</p> - -<p>“The fellow’s afraid of me,” he told himself, and -hung up his hat on the rack as if quite at his ease.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span></p> - -<p>He followed Jarvis into the library and sat down, -looking about him with cool curiosity.</p> - -<p>“You’ve been expecting to see me, I dare say,” he -began, his eyes returning from their tour of inspection -to the other man’s face.</p> - -<p>Jarvis returned the look doubtfully.</p> - -<p>“It occurred to me that you might wish——”</p> - -<p>“Yes; I do,” interrupted David. “You’re entirely -right, sir.”</p> - -<p>Having said this much in a loud, aggressive tone, -David stopped short. He had become suddenly aware -that Jarvis was looking at—or rather, through—him, -in a way which made him irritably conscious of his -hands, his feet, the set of his collar, and the material -of his light summer clothes. Then those strange eyes -went deeper; they were busying themselves with his -thoughts, his motives, they even saw his fears, which -crowded forward, a cloud of gibbering shapes, out of -his past.</p> - -<p>He spoke again, hurriedly, and backed up his words -with a laugh, which sounded foolishly loud in the quiet -room.</p> - -<p>“Well,” he said, “now that you’ve had time to -look me over, how d’ you like me? Think I’ll do—eh?”</p> - -<p>“No,” Jarvis said quietly, almost sadly. “I’m -afraid not. But I don’t intend to trust my own judgment—entirely.”</p> - -<p>He sighed deeply and looked down, as if there was -nothing more to be seen or said.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span></p> - -<p>David straightened himself in his chair with a jerk.</p> - -<p>“See here,” he said truculently. “I was joking, -you know; you were staring at me as if you’d never -seen a human being before. But now I’d like you to -answer me straight. What d’you mean by saying I -‘won’t do’? What business is it of yours what -I——”</p> - -<p>He choked a little with the rage that was consuming -him.</p> - -<p>“Why, confound your impudence!” he cried, his -face flaming with anger.</p> - -<p>“I owe you an apology, sir,” said Jarvis, with -stately composure. “I ought not to have spoken as -I did. But there is much at stake.”</p> - -<p>“Not for you,” said David insolently.</p> - -<p>He fell to staring at Jarvis, striving to imitate the -other’s disconcerting look.</p> - -<p>“She loves me, you know.”</p> - -<p>He had not intended to taunt his rival, but the -words slipped out without volition. He was glad of -it, in view of the blighting change that swept over -the other’s face.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” Jarvis said dully, “I know that.”</p> - -<p>He was realizing all at once that the blow that -felled Whitcomb must reach her tender breast also.</p> - -<p>“There’s no use of beating about the bush,” David -went on. “She told me about your visit to her the -other night. At first I didn’t catch on about that -remarkable client of yours and the care of the interesting -child and all that. But when I got out of her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span> -the fact that you had been courting her while I was -away, of course I was on to your little game.”</p> - -<p>He paused to allow his words their full weight, -exulting in the look of quiet despair that appeared to -have settled upon Jarvis’s face.</p> - -<p>“You thought if you couldn’t catch and hold her -one way you would another. You planned to keep -her from me! Deny it if you dare!”</p> - -<p>Jarvis looked up, opened his lips as if minded to -reply; then his head drooped, and again he sighed -deeply. He was striving to master himself; that self -which even now struggled like a leashed hound under -his iron hand.</p> - -<p>“I must be fair,” he groaned half aloud. “I -must—I must, for her sake.”</p> - -<p>“What’s that?” inquired David smartly. “We -may as well have it out first as last, you know.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” agreed Jarvis, rousing himself. “I didn’t -mean to—yet. But——”</p> - -<p>He looked calmly at David.</p> - -<p>“Can we not talk this over in a reasonable way?” -he asked. “There is really no need of anger or——”</p> - -<p>“Oh, come, man; let’s get down to business!” cried -David, vastly pleased with himself and his own -acumen.</p> - -<p>He had not been at all certain as to the money, -which he was now convinced Jarvis had given Barbara -out of his own pocket. That he had surprised, -compelled, browbeaten Jarvis, in what he was pleased -to call “the fellow’s own game,” was a matter for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span> -pride, exultation. Who was Jarvis, anyway, that a -whole countryside should stand in awe of him and -his achievements? He, Whitcomb, had met the man -and conquered him on his own ground. He even -began to feel a sort of complacent pity for his -abased rival, as his spirits rose from the depths of -the humiliation falsely put upon him by Jarvis.</p> - -<p>“‘You can fool some of the people all of the -time,’ you know,” he quoted, with a confident laugh; -“and you did succeed in fooling Barbara nicely; but -the minute I heard you were in love with her, of -course I——”</p> - -<p>“One thing first,” interrupted Jarvis; “did she -tell you—what had passed between us of her own -free will?”</p> - -<p>David burst into a laugh.</p> - -<p>“Oh, that’s where the shoe pinches, is it?” he said -good-humoredly. “Well, I don’t mind informing -you that Barbara didn’t tell me a single thing about -you—not at first. She’s a good little scout, Barbie -is, and she saved your pride all right for you. She’d -never have told me, I guess; but I taxed her with it, -and, of course, she couldn’t deny it. Some girls would -have snapped you up quick, with all your money and -everything, and with me supposedly buried up in the -Klondyke. But not Barbara. She’s worth while, -that girl.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” mused Jarvis, “she is—worth while.”</p> - -<p>“You wouldn’t catch me loafing around this dead -and alive hole for many women,” David went on,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span> -drumming with his fingers on the edge of his chair. -“As it is, I’ve had about all I can stand of it; and she -won’t give in and marry me—won’t even wear my -ring, till that client of yours—that peculiar, hard-to-get-along-with -individual you’re representing—can -be either bought off, or disposed of in some way. -Naturally, neither of us want to be under obligations -to—<i>you</i>!” he finished dramatically.</p> - -<p>“Does she—suppose that I——”</p> - -<p>David laughed again.</p> - -<p>“No,” he said. “Oh, no! Barbie isn’t gifted -with a very keen imagination. She swallowed all you -told her about that singular, out-of-town client of -yours. She seems to have implicit faith in you.”</p> - -<p>A subtle lightning flash leaped from Jarvis’s eyes.</p> - -<p>“She’s quite right to trust me,” he said calmly. -“I’ll be glad if you can do the same.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, come now, it’s too late for any more joking -between us!” cried David roughly. “You can’t -pull the wool over my eyes. You gave her that -money, Jarvis, you know you did. And you did it -just so as to tie her down. It’s a damned shame!”</p> - -<p>Jarvis had risen, and David sprang eagerly from -his chair to face him. The two men were of equal -height, and for an instant David’s boyish blue eyes -strove to master Jarvis, glance to glance. Then he -drew back, baffled, furious.</p> - -<p>“You aren’t going to stick to that cock-and-bull -story a minute longer with me,” he blustered. “You -know very well where the money came from!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span></p> - -<p>Jarvis bowed ceremoniously.</p> - -<p>“Certainly I know,” he acknowledged.</p> - -<p>“Didn’t you give it to her?”</p> - -<p>“I shall not answer you.”</p> - -<p>“Well, you did, and I can prove it.”</p> - -<p>“How?”</p> - -<p>David sprang forward with a triumphant laugh -and snatched a small object from the desk.</p> - -<p>“I have been sitting where I could look at your -writing traps,” he exulted. “And I saw—this!”</p> - -<p>Jarvis appeared quite unmoved.</p> - -<p>“That is my seal,” he observed, “with my family -crest. What of it?”</p> - -<p>“What of it?” shouted David. “Why, it’s the -thing that was used to sign that damned contract. -It’s proof positive. That’s what it is!”</p> - -<p>“My client,” said Jarvis coolly, “did not wish to -use his own name. I suggested the seal. He used it—at -my request.”</p> - -<p>“Well, you’re the man, anyway,” David retorted -violently. “I insist that you release her—at once. -Do you hear? At once!”</p> - -<p>“So that she can be free to marry you?” Jarvis -asked. His eyes were fixed and glittered strangely.</p> - -<p>“Yes! Why not? She’s my promised wife.”</p> - -<p>Jarvis stood silent for a long minute, as if considering -David’s words. Then he looked up, moving -a little toward the door with the manifest intention of -bringing the unfruitful interview to an end.</p> - -<p>“I cannot say more at present than that I will endeavor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span> -to so arrange matters with my client as to -meet Miss Preston’s wishes,” he said.</p> - -<p>He looked calmly, dispassionately at David, and -again the young man felt himself vaguely humiliated. -He had meant to say more, much more; but quite -unexpectedly he found himself bidding Jarvis good-night. -The door closed quietly upon his wrath and -discomfiture.</p> - -<p>Stephen Jarvis did not at once resume the reading -of the thin blue volume which lay face down in the -bright circle of lamp-light. Instead he walked slowly -up and down the room, his brows knit, his sinewy -hands locked behind him. He was trying as conscientiously -as possible to look at the situation from -the view-point of the young man; to find, if possible, -in his own conduct some valid excuse for the (to -him) intolerable behavior of Whitcomb. While he -yet strove with himself a second visitor was announced.</p> - -<p>Jarvis received this person with visible reluctance, -bade him be seated, and sat down himself, before he -opened the conversation with a tentative, “Well!” -rather impatiently uttered.</p> - -<p>“I arrived this afternoon, Mr. Jarvis, and quite -fortunately fell in at once with the person in question,” -the newcomer said.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Jarvis dryly.</p> - -<p>“As I understand my commission,” pursued Mr. -Todd, “I am to inform myself as to the person’s past, -his present occupation and habits, and——”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span></p> - -<p>Jarvis made an impatient gesture of assent.</p> - -<p>“I want to know all about him,” he said. “It is -important that I should be informed as to whether -he is fitted for a position of trust.”</p> - -<p>The other man nodded.</p> - -<p>“I understand,” he said.</p> - -<p>“I want to know,” pursued Jarvis in a harsh -voice, “if the man is truthful, honest, temperate. -If, in short, he is the man to be implicitly trusted -with—interests of the highest value and importance.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Todd again assented, his sharp ferret eyes -taking in the details of his employer’s face and person -with professional acumen.</p> - -<p>“Mercantile?” he asked briskly, “or professional? -There’s a difference, you know. Now a man might be -something of a braggart, addicted to cigarette smoking, -not averse to a temperate use of intoxicants, an -occasional—er——”</p> - -<p>“Do you see all this in him already?” demanded -Jarvis.</p> - -<p>Mr. Todd considered.</p> - -<p>“I dined with the young man,” he said slowly, -“and acquired certain information which may or -may not have a bearing on your case.”</p> - -<p>Jarvis leaned forward, glistening drops of moisture -starting out on his forehead.</p> - -<p>“Is the man merely a weak fool—weak because untried -by any of the deeper experiences of life, and -foolish only because he is young? or is he—worse?” -he asked, in a low voice; “that is what I want to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span> -know. Temperamentally the person in question is at -odds with myself. I—don’t like him. But, understand, -I must not rely on my likes and dislikes in this -matter. I—am obliged to be—fair to him, at all -costs.”</p> - -<p>“I understand, Mr. Jarvis,” assented the detective. -“And I will tell you frankly that my own -initial impressions—and I have learned to rely somewhat -on first impressions as being in the main correct—are -that the person referred to is somewhat inconstant, -easily led, excitable, with all the faults of -youth and—quite possibly”—he paused to again -study the face before him, “—many of its virtues. -He is, on his own testimony, selfish, extravagant, -passionate.” He shook his head slowly. “I should -not,” he went on, “care to trust such a man with -interests calling for a high degree of business sagacity -or—er—let us say sober industry. I believe it was -something of the sort you questioned.”</p> - -<p>Jarvis threw himself back in his chair. His haggard -eyes met the detective’s squarely.</p> - -<p>“Is the fellow fit to marry a good and pure -woman?” he asked. “Could he command her respect -and hold her affection? That’s test enough for -me.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Todd moved uneasily in his chair.</p> - -<p>“Oh, as to that,” he hesitated, “there are all sorts -of women, you know. Some of ’em like a man all -the better—or appear to—if he—well; if he isn’t too -good, you know. I’ve known a woman,” he went on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span> -strongly, “to marry a man who’d drink and abuse -her, and yet she’d love him and stick to him to the -last. There’s something queer about women, when -it comes to loving a man. His character doesn’t seem -to count for so much as you’d suppose.”</p> - -<p>Jarvis assented dryly.</p> - -<p>“You think the person in question would be likely -to—do as you suggested?”</p> - -<p>“It would be a toss-up,” said Mr. Todd thoughtfully, -“as to whether he’d settle down into a steady, -respectable sort of a citizen, or—” he paused to button -his coat painstakingly “—the opposite. I’ll follow -him up a while longer,” he went on, “and report -from day to day. In a case like this, where you don’t -feel like trusting your own judgment, it’s best to let -facts talk.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Todd looked searchingly into the depths of his -hat.</p> - -<p>“Facts will talk, you know,” he said confidently. -“They’re bound to. Sooner or later, something -comes along that tells the story. I’ve shadowed many -a person in the past as could tell you that, sir, from -behind prison bars.”</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="pn2">XX</h2> - -<p class="pn2"><span class="smcap">Peg Morrison</span> emulating (through the long summer -months) the shining examples reported in the agricultural -papers, found himself half-owner of a prodigious -yield of onions in the early autumn. Day -after day he had toiled amid the long lines of odorous -shoots; weeding, when weeding was a back-breaking -task under pitiless summer suns, and early and late -stirring the baked soil—for the onion specialists laid -great stress on intensive cultivation. Viewing the -great heaps of shining bulbs, red, yellow, and silver-hued, -spread out in the various barns to dry, Mr. -Morrison felt inclined to break forth into singing, -moved by something of the same exultant spirit -which has prompted successful agriculturists from the -days of the first harvests, reaped from the bosom of -the virgin earth.</p> - -<p class="pp6q p1">“Let everlastin’ thanks be thine,<br /> -Fer sech a bright displa-a-y [he chanted]<br /> -Es makes a world o’ darkness shine<br /> -With beams o’ heavenly da-a-y!”</p> - -<p class="p1">Martha Cottle, her maiden countenance coyly -shaded by a ruffled pink sun-bonnet, and bearing the -egg-basket ostentatiously in one hand, paused on the -threshold of the barn.</p> - -<p>“Why, Mis-ter Morrison,” she exclaimed, “what<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span> -a wonderful harvest of onions! I never saw anything -like it.”</p> - -<p>“This ain’t all of ’em, either,” quoth Peg, pausing -long enough in his labors to wipe the beaded perspiration -from his forehead. “The only thing that gits -me is what to do with ’em, now ’t I’ve got ’em. The’ -ain’t a quarter of ’em out the ground yit.”</p> - -<p>“You should have thought of that before,” Miss -Cottle said wisely. “If you keep them too long -they’ll rot or freeze out here.”</p> - -<p>“They sure will,” agreed Peg, with some anxiety. -“I’ve got to do somethin’ with ’em quick. I’ll bet,” -he added, “that I’ve got nigh onto three thousand -bushels—two, anyhow. The’d ’a’ b’en more, only -part of ’em didn’t come up, an’ some was spoiled b’ -the dry weather. I didn’t put in more’n half I intended -to, neither. I d’clar I don’t see how that thar -John Closner of Hidalgo, Texas, made out to plant -an’ cultivate thirty-two acres of onions; an’ what in -creation he done with twenty-eight thousan’ eight -hunderd bushels when he got ’em raised beats me. -The’s an awful lot o’ onions in a hunderd bushels, -seems t’ me.”</p> - -<p>Miss Cottle reflected, her eyes on Mr. Morrison’s -heated countenance.</p> - -<p>“I don’t suppose,” she said, “that you’d care to -take any advice from <i>me;</i> but I know what <i>I’d</i> do, -if I’d raised all those onions.”</p> - -<p>“I ain’t proud,” Mr. Morrison confessed handsomely. -“I’d take advice f’om a Leghorn hen, ef<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span> -it p’intedly hit the nail on the head. Fire away, -ma’am. Ef you’ve got any good idees, it’s reelly -wrong t’ keep ’em to yourself, they’re kind o’ scurse -these days.”</p> - -<p>He looked whimsically at the lady, whose earnest -attention appeared to be divided pretty evenly between -the shining heaps of vegetables and himself.</p> - -<p>“I don’t believe I shall ever smell onions again -without thinking of you, Peleg,” Miss Cottle observed -sentimentally.</p> - -<p>“‘’Tis sweet to be remembered,’” quoted Peg gallantly.</p> - -<p>Miss Cottle sighed deeply; then started as if suddenly -frightened by her own thoughts.</p> - -<p>“What,” she demanded, dropping her basket, -which was fortunately empty, “did I say?”</p> - -<p>“W’y, nothin’ in pertic’lar, ma’am,” replied Peg. -“You was speakin’ o’ disposin’ o’ th’ onions, -an’——”</p> - -<p>“Yes; but I called you by your Christian name. I -called you—<i>Peleg!</i> What <i>must</i> you think of me?”</p> - -<p>“Ev’rybody mostly calls me Peleg, er Peg. I -ain’t pertic’lar es t’ that. But how ’bout them -onions? You was sayin’——”</p> - -<p>“I was about to inform you that my brother-in-law’s -nephew is connected with the Washington Market -in New York City,” said Miss Cottle, with a -long, quivering sigh. “I had thought of writing to -him, if you cared to have me. I should be <i>glad</i> to do<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span> -<i>something</i>—for you, Peleg. There! I’ve said it -again.”</p> - -<p>“It’s mighty kind of you to write t’ your relation. -I’m bleeged t’ you, ma’am. Washin’ton Market, Noo -York City, soun’s good t’ me. But d’ye s’pose the’s -folks enough thar t’ eat all them onions?”</p> - -<p>He shook his head doubtfully.</p> - -<p>“The loft t’ the kerridge house is full of ’em, an’ -the hay barn floor’s covered, an’ the’s a lot more in -the ground, es I was sayin’.”</p> - -<p>Miss Cottle seated herself on an upturned bushel-basket -and gazed earnestly at the successful grower -of onions.</p> - -<p>“I wish to talk to you <i>seriously</i>, Mr. Morrison, on -a subject <i>very near my heart</i>,” she said. “Will you -not sit down on this box”—indicating a place at her -side—“and listen?”</p> - -<p>“I’d ought t’ be gittin’ them onions out th’ -groun’,” protested Peg, with a wary glint in his eye. -But he sat down gingerly on the edge of the box.</p> - -<p>“I’ve been thinking <i>deeply</i> on the situation here -on the farm,” pursued Miss Cottle. “I do not feel -that I am doing <i>right</i> to remain here longer, <i>under -the circumstances</i>.”</p> - -<p>Peg fumbled the rampant locks behind his left ear, -in a fashion he had when perplexed.</p> - -<p>“Under the circumstances,” he repeated dubiously. -“The circumstances is all right; ain’t they?”</p> - -<p>“I appear to have dropped into the position of -hired girl to Barbara Preston,” pursued the spinster<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span> -acidly. “She did her own work previous to my coming; -now I do most of it. But that isn’t all; I was -engaged as housekeeper and caretaker for that boy. -She was to go away and <i>stay</i> for five years.”</p> - -<p>“Mebbe she’ll go soon now,” hazarded Peg. He -shook his head slowly. “Kind o’ funny ’bout that -business,” he murmured. “I dunno who in creation -bid her in.”</p> - -<p>“I shouldn’t mind that so much,” pursued Miss -Cottle, “but——”</p> - -<p>She paused dramatically to allow the full force of -her remark to fall on the unsuspecting man.</p> - -<p>“There’s been considerable talk in the village -lately—<i>about you and me</i>. It’s come to me straight.”</p> - -<p>“No!” exclaimed Peg, hastily gaining his legs and -feeling for his pipe in his rear breeches pocket with -agitated haste.</p> - -<p>“Don’t you believe it, ma’am.”</p> - -<p>“Can you deny,” intoned Miss Cottle strongly, -“that the subject of your attentions to me was -brought up and discussed in Hewett’s grocery store -less than a week ago?”</p> - -<p>“I said it wa’n’t so, ma’am; I told ’em the’ wa’n’t -nothin’ in it.”</p> - -<p>“<i>You</i> told them, Peleg Morrison? <i>You</i> denied -that you intended to marry me? How could you?”</p> - -<p>“W’y, ma’am, you know——”</p> - -<p>“You should, at least, have afforded <i>me</i> the opportunity -of denying the report—if it was to be denied.”</p> - -<p>Miss Cottle buried her face in her hands.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I supposed,” she went on, in a smothered voice, -“that you had more regard for the sacred feelings -of a good woman. I thought, Peleg, you—cared—a -little—for me.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, my! Gosh—goll—durn—what—in—thunder——”</p> - -<p>Miss Cottle’s strong, determined hand shot out and -fastened tentacle-like upon the unfortunate Peleg’s -sleeve.</p> - -<p>“I shall leave this very day—<i>never</i> to return,” she -said, in a hollow voice, “unless you and I come to an -understanding. I cannot endure it longer.”</p> - -<p>“O Lord!” exclaimed Peg prayerfully.</p> - -<p>“I <i>love</i> that <i>dear</i> little boy as if he was my <i>own</i>,” -pursued Miss Cottle sentimentally, “and I <i>feel</i> that -my <i>duty</i> calls me to remain and care for him; -but——”</p> - -<p>“I reelly hope you won’t go on my ’count, ma’am,” -faltered Peg, moved by these protestations and once -more mindful of Barbara’s exhortations.</p> - -<p>“<i>Peleg!</i>” exclaimed Miss Cottle beatifically, and -instantly relaxed upon his shoulder.</p> - -<p>“Say, ma’am! You know—reelly, I——”</p> - -<p>“I am <i>so</i> happy, Peleg!” gurgled the spinster.</p> - -<p>“Wall, I ain’t; I——”</p> - -<p>“I knew you would understand my feelings.”</p> - -<p>“But I don’t, ma’am. Kindly set down, an’——”</p> - -<p>“I shall remain <i>now</i> and do my duty with a <i>light -heart</i>. I feel that the arrangement will be <i>much better</i> -for <i>all</i> concerned, and I can make you <i>so</i> comfortable,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span> -Peleg. You need half a dozen new shirts, -and shall I confess it? I have them nearly completed -already.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Morrison, looking wildly about for a means -of escape, caught sight of Jimmy running past the -door, a brace of puppies frolicking at his heels.</p> - -<p>“Hello, thar, Cap’n!” he called, “don’t you want -t’ step in here an’——”</p> - -<p>“The <i>dear</i> child,” murmured Miss Cottle, wiping -her eyes on her apron. “He shall be the first to -share our happiness. I am going to be married to -your kind old friend here, James; aren’t you <i>glad</i>, -my boy?”</p> - -<p>Jimmy gazed doubtfully at the pair from under -puckered brows.</p> - -<p>“Married?” he echoed. “What for?”</p> - -<p>“Say, Cap’n, you’ve struck the nail on the head, -es usual!” cried Peg, regaining his composure with -an effort. “I guess the lady don’t altogether know -her own mind. She was kind o’ calc’latin’ on bein’ -married t’ me. But she’s thought better of it b’ now, -an’ I’m bearin’ up es well es I kin under the circumstances. -The’ ain’t goin’t’ be no weddin’. No, sir! -She’s changed her mind sence she come in here. -D’ye hear, ma’am? You couldn’t put up with ol’ -Peg Morrison. Y’ tried to, f’om a strict sense o’ -duty; but y’ reelly couldn’t do it.”</p> - -<p>“<i>Peleg!</i>” exclaimed Miss Cottle sharply. “You -must have taken leave of your senses!”</p> - -<p>“No, ma’am, I ain’t. The Cap’n here’ll bear witness<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span> -that I said you’d give me up. That’ll put a -stop t’ the talk—ef the’ is any. You c’n tell ’em that. -I won’t deny it. I c’n stan’ it.”</p> - -<p>A light as of tardy victory dawned in Miss Cottle’s -eyes.</p> - -<p>“You won’t deny that we’ve been engaged to be -married?” she said slowly.</p> - -<p>“No, ma’am; you c’n say anythin’ you’ve a mind -to. It’s all the same t’ me, now ’t you’ve give me up. -I feel turrible bad—all broke up; but I’m a-goin’ t’ -stan’ it the best I kin. Religion ’ll help some, I -guess. It gene’lly does. I’ll try it, anyhow.”</p> - -<p>“I might reconsider,” observed Miss Cottle, “before”—she -added darkly—“the affair becomes public. -I fear the notoriety will be very hard for you to -bear, Peleg.”</p> - -<p>“It will, ma’am,” replied Peg with alacrity; “but -I’m goin’ t’ try an’ endure it.”</p> - -<p>Miss Cottle meditatively stirred the onions with -one foot clad substantially in rusty leather.</p> - -<p>“I shall hold you to the engagement which you -have acknowledged,” she said firmly, “unless——”</p> - -<p>“What? Fer goodness sake don’t keep me on -tenter-hooks, ma’am! W’y, say, you don’t want me! -I ain’t fit t’ wipe m’ feet on your door-mat; you’ve -said so lots o’ times; ain’t she, Cap’n? I’m an ornary -cuss; more ornary ’n you hev any idee of; an’ I’m -humbly’s a hedge-fence, ’n’—’n’ bad-tempered; m’ -disposition’s somethin’ fierce. The Cap’n here c’n -tell you that. W’y, land, I dunno but what I’d<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span> -be drove to drink, ef I was t’ git married! I’ll bet I -would. An’ what with my t’bacco—y’ know y’ hate -that like pison, an’ m’——”</p> - -<p>“If my brother-in-law’s nephew should make you -an offer for these onions, I feel that I ought to have a -share in the proceeds,” said Miss Cottle, suddenly -abandoning sentiment for business. “If we were to -carry out our engagement of marriage, of course I -should reasonably expect to profit by the arrangement.”</p> - -<p>“No, ma’am; you wouldn’t, not whilst I was alive. -I’m downright stingy. That’s another thing I fergot -t’ mention. Stingy? W’y, I’m closter ’n the -bark t’ a tree. ’Nough sight closter, ’cause the -bark’ll give when the tree grows. But not Peleg Morrison; -no, ma’am! I’ll bet you wouldn’t git ’nough -t’ eat, with me fer a pervider. An’ I’ve made up my -mind long ago to leave ev’rythin’ I’ve got t’ the -Cap’n here. M’ will’s all made. But I’ll tell you -what I’ll do. I’ll give you—a hunderd dollars cash, -ef I sell the onions, ’n ef you——”</p> - -<p>“Make it two hundred, and I’ll agree to let you off. -You couldn’t do me out of my widow’s third, anyway -you’d fix it.”</p> - -<p>Peg stared at the determined spinster in silence -for a long minute. Then with a muttered exclamation, -he dashed out of the barn and disappeared.</p> - -<p>Miss Cottle’s eyes sparkled with animosity.</p> - -<p>“If I was to sue him for breach of promise, and I -could do it, too, I guess he——”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span></p> - -<p>She paused in her meditations to stare wrathfully -at the spectacle of the recalcitrant Peleg returning -at full speed, a small, yellow-leaved book in his hand.</p> - -<p>“Here we be, ma’am!” he exclaimed. “Now we’ll -see whar we’re at. I gene’lly find somethin’ t’ fit -the ’casion, an’ I’ll bet I kin this time.”</p> - -<p>He rapidly turned the pages with a moistened -thumb and fingers.</p> - -<p>“‘Receipt fer horse linament.’ No; that won’t -do. ‘Foot an’ mouth disease,’ ‘How t’ git fat; an’ -how not t’ git fat,’ ‘Blind staggers, ‘n’ how t’ -pervent,’ ‘Jell-cake—— ’”</p> - -<p>“What,” demanded Miss Cottle sharply, “is that -book? And what possible connection does it have -with our affairs?”</p> - -<p>Mr. Morrison paused, his thumb in his mouth.</p> - -<p>“W’y, this,” he explained, “is my book of vallable -inf’mation. It’s got ev’rythin’ to do with ’em, ma’am. -I ain’t never be’n exactly in this ’ere fix b’fore; but -I’ll bet the’s inf’mation in this ’ere book ’at’ll fit the -case all right. You jus’ set down, ma’am, an’ make -yourself comf’table, while——”</p> - -<p>“This is outrageous!” snapped Miss Cottle.</p> - -<p>“Maybe I’d better run and get my book, too,” -volunteered Jimmy, who had been an interested but -sadly puzzled spectator of the scene. “P’raps -there’ll be somethin’ vallable in mine.”</p> - -<p>“All right, Cap’n; run ’long,” said Peg briskly. -“Now, listen t’ this, ma’am. ‘The sleepin’ fox -ketches no poultry.’ That’s good; but the trouble is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span> -you ’pear to be wide-awake. Hold on; don’t git -’xcited. Here’s a little inf’mation on the subjec’ o’ -fools. I copied it out the almanac nigh onto twenty -years ago, an’ it can’t be beat. ‘’Xperience keeps a -dear school, but fools will learn in no other.’ An’ -this, ’t I got out o’ a story book, ‘The’ ain’t nothin’ -so becomin’ t’ a fool es a shet mouth.’ An’ mebbe -this here has some bearin’s on the case: ‘Don’t meddle -with these three things: a buzz-saw, a kickin’ mule, -an’ a woman’s ’at’s mad clear through.’ They’re all -alike in one pertic’lar——”</p> - -<p>“I shall certainly sue for breach of promise!” announced -Miss Cottle, treading recklessly among the -onions on her way to the door.</p> - -<p>“No, ma’am; you won’t,” quoth Peg placidly. -“‘Whar the’s be’n no promise thar c’n be no breach.’ -I wrote that down ’bout the year fifty-nine. I wa’n’t -’s old’s I be now; but I’ve kep’ it in mind pretty constant. -You fix it so ’t I’ll sell them onions at a fair -profit ’n’ I’ll give ye a hunderd dollars. ’N’ you c’n -tell your lady friends that ol’ Peg Morrison’s sech a -scalawag ’at you couldn’t hear t’ marryin’ him, -not ef he was the las’ man on earth. An’ that’s the -truth. You couldn’t hear t’ it, an’ you c’n bet I -wouldn’t.”</p> - -<p>“I shall leave this house to-day.—<i>To-day</i>, Peleg -Morrison; do you <i>hear</i>?”</p> - -<p>Peg glanced up from his anxious scrutiny of the -pages of accumulated lore with a look of deep thankfulness.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Sho! you don’t say so?” he exclaimed. “Wall, -take this ’long with you t’ med’tate over: ‘A blue-bottle -fly makes a turrible sight of loud buzzin’, but -take notice ’at it don’t git anywhar.’ An’ this: ‘Run -your head into a stone wall, ef you feel like doin’ it; -but don’t blame the wall none fer what happens.”</p> - -<p>Jimmy running blithely toward the barn with his -book of Vallable Inf’mation in one hand and his -cherished bottle of red ink in the other, met the irate -Miss Cottle on the way.</p> - -<p>“I’m a-going to do <i>once</i> what I’ve been simply -<i>achin’</i> to do ever since I set foot onto this place!” -she cried shrilly; and seizing the child by the shoulder -she gave him a violent shaking, concluding with a -hard-handed slap or two over the ear.</p> - -<p>“Take <i>that</i>, you little tyke, you! If I’d ’a’ had -you in hand for five years steady, with her gone, I’d -’a’ taken some of the laugh and smartness out of you! -But now I wash my hands of you and her and him!”</p> - -<p>The child, too astonished to cry out, writhed out of -the spinster’s bony grip.</p> - -<p>“I ’spise you,” he sputtered, “you ol’—ol’—Cottle -woman! ’n’—’n’—I’ll put it in my Vallable -Inf’mation book ’at you—slapped me when I was -good!”</p> - -<p>Miss Cottle made another dive at him, and was met -by a copious shower of red ink from the loosely -corked bottle, which Jimmy discharged at his assailant -with the practised aim of the small boy. Then -he took to his heels, to be received into asylum by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span> -Peg Morrison, who was watching the proceedings -from the barn-door.</p> - -<p>“Wall, Cap’n,” he said, “you sure did put that -red ink to good use. Don’t you cry, son; I’ll git ye -another bottle twict es big b’fore sun-down.”</p> - -<p>He chuckled deep within his capacious chest as he -smoothed the little boy’s ruffled curls with his big, -horny hand.</p> - -<p>“You an’ me’ll hev to write out a little vallable -inf’mation on the subjec’ o’ females,” he said slowly. -“The’s all kinds an’ varieties of wimmin-folks; ’n’ -t’ git ’em all sorted an’ labelled, so ’t ye won’t git -teetotally fooled ’ll take the better part of a lifetime.”</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4">XXI</h2> - -<p class="pn2"><span class="smcap">Barbara</span> was shut into her chamber looking over her -wardrobe with a view to approaching winter. In the -autumn the call would come, Jarvis had told her. -Already the ripening apples glowed like live coals -along the laden orchard boughs, and the brisk September -winds scattered drifts of yellowing leaves -about the feet of the early dying locusts below her -windows. Martha Cottle was gone, after a stormy -scene in which she had exacted redress and largesse -of the most lavish description. Barbara had drawn -a long breath of relief when the last echo of the spinster’s -strident voice and the last militant thump of -her flat-heeled shoes had died away.</p> - -<p>Peg and Jimmy had openly exulted in the final retreat -of the enemy; and Peg took occasion to exhort -his dearly beloved mistress anew concerning the inscrutable -yet invariably benevolent workings of -Providence, as signally evidenced in the hasty departure -of Martha Cottle.</p> - -<p>“Ef it hadn’t be’n fer them onions,” he declared, -“she’d never have took a fancy t’ me. ’N’ ef I hadn’t -’a’ heard o’ John Closner of Hidalgo, Texas, ’s like’s -not I’d ’a’ never took t’ raisin’ ’em. Them onions -kinder drored Marthy’s ’tention t’ me—she thinkin’ -’at mebbe I’d git a heap o’ money fer ’em, ’n’ then<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span> -be accommodatin’ ’nough t’ die an’ go t’ heaven immediate. -Yes, ma’am, she’d got it all worked out in -her own mind, even t’ widow’s thirds. Then, y’ see, -the Cap’n’s red ink fitted right in t’ the scheme o’ -salvation; an’ here we be. I figger it this way: the -Lord hes be’n ’quainted with Marthy Cottle fer a -spell longer’n we hev, an’ <i>He</i> knew she wa’n’t fit t’ -b’ left in charge o’ the Cap’n, t’ say nothin’ o’ things -in general.”</p> - -<p>“But what shall I do with Jimmy?” murmured -Barbara, wrinkling her forehead perplexedly. “It -won’t be long now before I shall be obliged to leave -him.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t you worry none ’bout that,” advised Peg. -“Everythin’s a-comin’ out all right. I’ll bet a dollar’n -a half,” he went on, raising his voice to a high -argumentative pitch, “that the Lord hes got his -plans all made a’ready. W’y, Miss Barb’ry, it’ll do -you a heap o’ good t’ jus’ take notice o’ the way the -Lord kind o’ fetches things ’round in this ’ere world. -I’ve got so ’t I don’t put in a minute worryin’. -Daytimes I’m too blamed busy, an’ nights I’m too -sleepy ’n’ tired; ’n’ I’ve learned f’om a long life of -experience ’at worryin’ ain’t no kind o’ use, anyhow. -Things is bein’ worked ’round fer you, nigh an’ fur, -an’ the fust thing you know you’re gittin’ ’long all -hunky-dory. Mebbe doin’ the very thing you wanted -to do all the while, but thought you couldn’t, nohow -you’d fix it.”</p> - -<p>“I wish I could believe it,” sighed Barbara.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span></p> - -<p>“All you’ve got t’ do is t’ begin t’ take notice,” -urged Peg. “You don’t have t’ make no speshul -effort. Keep yer eyes peeled an’ watch out. I -ain’t worryin’ none ’bout the Cap’n. You bet I -ain’t.”</p> - -<p>Barbara was thinking about Peg’s homely and -comfortable philosophy as she laid the last neatly -folded garment into the till of her trunk; and mingled -with her dubious musings on the scope and nature of -that mysteriously active power, known in current -phrase as “Providence,” and as commonly reckoned -hostile, in the world’s judgment, were thoughts of -David. Not altogether happy were these uppermost -reflections in Barbara’s mind, as evidenced by her -brooding eyes and the downward droop of her red -mouth. She loved David (she assured herself) yet -she could not but be conscious of inward reserves, -tremors, even resentments. She constantly caught -herself explaining, excusing, defending him before the -bar of that clear-eyed self which had never yet -yielded to his hot kisses and close embraces. She -loved him (she was sure) but she also pitied him, for -his evident weaknesses, his frequent deflections from -her own high ideals of manhood, for his multiplied offenses -against her maiden modesty. Almost insensibly -she had been forced into an attitude of watchfulness, -guarding herself against his too ardent and -careless approaches, soothing the gloom and irritation -which alternated with not infrequent periods of -coldness and neglect, when he chanced to be feeling<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span> -sorry for himself, in view of what he was pleased to -regard as the sacrifice of his future.</p> - -<p>David had not acquainted Barbara with the result -of his latest interview with Jarvis. He hated -Jarvis, and he took small pains to conceal the fact; -but he jealously hid his unshaken conviction with -regard to the money, which he had made up his mind -Jarvis had given to Barbara. After a little he even -concluded that it need not be repaid.</p> - -<p>“Miserly old crab,” he told himself. “It won’t -hurt him to let Barbara have that much out of his -pile.”</p> - -<p>Something of this thought colored his words when -he discussed the question with Barbara.</p> - -<p>“You’ll marry me in November, won’t you?” he -pleaded, “if the fellow doesn’t show up before then? -We can pay him all right—if we have to.”</p> - -<p>“If we have to?” echoed Barbara, with a straight -look at him. “Why do you say that?”</p> - -<p>“It’s a good bit of money—four thousand dollars. -Perhaps some—er—philanthropical jay gave -it to you outright, Barbie. I shouldn’t be so very -much surprised.”</p> - -<p>He laughed at the proud curl of her lips.</p> - -<p>“You wouldn’t care, would you?” he persisted, -“if some old duffer had taken it into his noddle to -do a good deed? Once we are married, I shan’t -bother to unearth him, you’d better believe. I’m in -favor of letting sleeping philanthropists lie—eh, -Barbie?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span></p> - -<p>“We’ll not be married,” Barbara said, in a low -voice, “till——”</p> - -<p>He caught her suddenly about the waist and -stopped her words with one of his close kisses.</p> - -<p>“You shan’t say it,” he murmured, his lips still on -hers.</p> - -<p>She twisted sharply out of his grasp, her face -crimsoning slowly.</p> - -<p>“I wish—you wouldn’t, David.”</p> - -<p>“Wouldn’t what, little wife?” he drawled, reaching -for her lazily from his comfortable seat in the -corner of the sofa.</p> - -<p>“I am not your wife,” she said coldly.</p> - -<p>“Pretty near,” he laughed; “too near for such -little exhibitions of prudery.”</p> - -<p>His eyes, vividly blue and sparkling under their -long curling lashes, met hers with a look which she -silently resented.</p> - -<p>“I have sold the apples on the trees,” she said -presently, seating herself near the window, under -pretence of getting a better light on her sewing.</p> - -<p>David yawned audibly, and thrust his hands into -his trousers pockets.</p> - -<p>“You have—eh?”</p> - -<p>“Yes; and for a good price, as prices go, Peg -says.”</p> - -<p>“How much?” he wanted to know.</p> - -<p>She told him, and he shook his head.</p> - -<p>“Do y’ know, that old Morrison is a fool. I -mean to get rid of him, when I take charge here.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span></p> - -<p>Barbara was silent.</p> - -<p>“The old chap doesn’t know enough to last him -over night,” pursued David. “I don’t believe you’d -ever have gotten into such a hole financially, if it -hadn’t been for his running things into the ground. -What you want is a couple of capable young men -about the place. Of course we’ll keep some decent -horses. I’ve bought one already, a beauty! Come -out and look at him, Barbie. Or, say, put on your -hat and I’ll take you for a spin. We’ll take in the -county fair, if you say so. It’s in full blast to-day.”</p> - -<p>She arose and folded her work.</p> - -<p>“Not to-day, David; I’ve bread to bake. But I’ll -come out and look at your horse.”</p> - -<p>“You’re getting so confoundedly difficult, Barbara. -I never know how to take you,” complained -David, as they walked, a little apart, along the -gravel path.</p> - -<p>He turned to look at her and was struck afresh by -her beauty. During the long days of the summer that -was past, she seemed to have bloomed into a new and -more vivid loveliness. He drew his breath sharply -as his eyes lingered on the rich red of her mouth, -the full column of her round white throat, and the -soft undulations of her figure as she moved slowly -under the dazzling light of the September sky.</p> - -<p>“If you weren’t such a tearing beauty,” he said, -under his breath, “I don’t know as I could stand for -it long. You’re forever treading on a fellow’s toes;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span> -did you know it, Barbie? Now, I like a woman to be -sweet and—er—yielding.”</p> - -<p>He smiled at the vision of Jennie, the pink-cheeked -waitress at the Barford Eagle, which chose to obtrude -itself at the moment. The humble, almost suppliant -look of adoration in her childish blue eyes had lately, -afforded David a vast amount of indolent amusement.</p> - -<p>“A woman,” he went on, didactically, “ought not -to be always thinking of herself.”</p> - -<p>“I know that, David,” Barbara said meekly. “I -try not to. But——”</p> - -<p>“That’s just it!” he broke in quickly; “there’s -always a ‘but’ in your mind and in your attitude -towards me, and always has been. You needn’t deny -it,” he added, openly complacent, in view of his own -cleverness. “I know women.”</p> - -<p>The girl looked at him in silence, a mutinous question -behind her closed lips.</p> - -<p>David smiled down at her brilliantly, his eyes, his -tawny hair, his white teeth, and his ruddy color -suggesting the magnificent youth and virility of a -pagan deity, newly alighted on the common earth.</p> - -<p>“The fact is, Barbara,” he went on confidently, -“you’ve lived here so long practically alone that -you’re a bit spoiled. What you need is to give up -trying to control everything and everybody and just -be a sweet little wife. Didn’t you know that?”</p> - -<p>Her eyes drooped under the blue fire of his gaze. -David laughed aloud.</p> - -<p>“I’ll make you happy,” he said, possessing himself<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span> -of her hand. “You won’t know yourself a year -from now, little girl. All this worry will be over; -and I’m never going to allow you to bother your -dear little head again over farm-products and such -things as cows, pigs, and chickens. I mean to give -up a lot of that sort of farming. It doesn’t pay, and -it’s a whole lot of useless bother and expense. There! -what do you think of my horse? Isn’t he a beauty? -Look at his head and eyes, will you? and the build and -color of him? There’s blood for you, and I tell you -he’s a hummer on the road!”</p> - -<p>Barbara passed a knowing little hand over the -satin neck, and the horse turned his large, full, intelligent -eyes upon her with a whinny of welcome.</p> - -<p>“He likes you, Barbie; first thing. Perhaps you -can drive him after a while. But just now he’s like -a certain little woman I know, a bit restive and -needing a strong hand to guide and control. You -don’t mind my seeing it so clearly, do you, -dear?”</p> - -<p>Barbara threw back her head and looked at him -from under lowered lashes.</p> - -<p>“I mind your saying it,” she said. “And I may -as well tell you—now—that I don’t intend to discharge -Peg; and I must always have a voice in the -management of the farm. It is Jimmy’s farm, you -know.”</p> - -<p>“I’ve heard you say so before,” he said sulkily. -“But why isn’t half of it yours, I’d like to know?”</p> - -<p>“Because Jimmy is the last Preston, and father<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span> -wanted it so. I shall have all that comes off of it -till Jimmy is of age. We——”</p> - -<p>She hesitated, with a doubtful look at him. -“There is other good land near. We shall, perhaps, -be able to acquire it; start fresh orchards, and——”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps—perhaps!” he echoed irritably. “I’ll -tell you straight it’s all nonsense. Under the law -you’re entitled to half. Ask old Jarvis, if you don’t -believe me.”</p> - -<p>He watched the quick color rise in Barbara’s face, -with a low laugh of arrogant amusement.</p> - -<p>“Jarvis is a curious old duffer,” he added, lazily -stroking the smooth shoulder of his horse. “But he -knows rather better than to tackle me on certain subjects.”</p> - -<p>His eyes were fastened on Barbara, narrowly -watching her.</p> - -<p>“He’s tried it once or twice; but I called his bluff -each time. He hasn’t been here lately, has he?”</p> - -<p>“No,” said Barbara faintly.</p> - -<p>“Well, he’d best keep his distance; that’s all.”</p> - -<p>He turned quickly at sound of a boyish whoop -from behind.</p> - -<p>“Oh, hello, Jimmy!” he said carelessly. “How’s -your majesty’s highness to-day?”</p> - -<p>“I’m pretty well, ’xcept that bof my front teef are -loose,” replied the little boy seriously. “I can’t eat -corn or apples, ’cept wiv my side teef.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t you think it’s about time you taught that -boy to speak the English language, Barbara?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span> -It’s <i>teeth</i> and <i>with</i>, my boy. Don’t let me hear you -make that babyish blunder again.”</p> - -<p>The child hung his head, his face flushing to a -shamed scarlet under his thatch of yellow hair.</p> - -<p>“I’m going to try,” he said manfully.</p> - -<p>“Want to take a ride with me, old man?” asked -David. “Your sister says she can’t.”</p> - -<p>Jimmy looked up eagerly into Barbara’s face for -the coveted permission.</p> - -<p>“I’m going to drive over to the fair,” pursued -David. “I’d like to take my best girl along pretty -well; but you’ll do, Jimmy.”</p> - -<p>Barbara hesitated, her eyes averted.</p> - -<p>“Of course, if you’re afraid to trust him with -me——” mocked David. “I’ve a tolerably fast horse -here, and I’m supposed to be a reckless——”</p> - -<p>“It isn’t that,” she interrupted hurriedly. “He -may go, if he’d like to.”</p> - -<p>Jimmy burst into a shout of joy.</p> - -<p>“I guess I’d better brush my hair,” he exulted, -“and put on my best clo’es! Shall I, Barbara?”</p> - -<p>“You’re well enough as you are,” David said -peremptorily. “Jump in, boy, and we’ll be off!”</p> - -<p>She stood watching them as they drove away, the -little boy’s yellow hair blowing about his rosy face.</p> - -<p>“Good-bye, Barbara!” he shouted. “We’re going -awful fast!”</p> - -<p>David’s attention seemed centred upon his horse. -He did not once look at the girl, as she waved her -hand in token of a cheerful good-bye.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4">XXII</h2> - -<p class="pn2"><span class="smcap">David</span> was quite his expansive, good-humored self -again by the time he and Jimmy reached the fair-grounds. -He joked with the little boy about his -capacity for pink lemonade and peanuts as he drove -his spirited young horse carefully into the crowded -enclosure; and Jimmy, all eager and glowing with -joyous anticipation, gazed with round eyes at the -stirring scene. Everywhere flags fluttered merrily -in the wind, and the crash and blare of band-music -mingled with the shouts of vendors, the trampling of -feet, and the hum of many voices.</p> - -<p>“Hello, Dave! Goin’ t’ trot that nag o’ yourn?” -called a voice from among the crowd of men and boys -lined up along the race-track.</p> - -<p>“Oh, hello, Bud Hawley! That you?” responded -Dave, pulling in his horse. “Why, no; I hadn’t -thought of it. It’s too late to enter; isn’t it?”</p> - -<p>The Barford liveryman, tipping a solemn wink at -the men near him, slowly advanced and stood, his -hat pulled low over his eyes, examining David’s horse. -He passed an experienced hand over his withers, -felt his hock-joints, lifted his feet, and stared critically -at the frogs and the setting of his shoes. Then -he sauntered around in front and looked the animal -full in the face, his cautious hand still feeling, caressing,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span> -sliding from neck to powerful shoulder, from -shoulder to slender foreleg.</p> - -<p>“Say, Dave,” he drawled at length, “that ain’t a -half bad horse. ’F I was you, I’d enter him. Like -’s not you’d pull off some money; mebbe enough t’ -buy a new buggy. The’s a free-fer-all comin’ off -’bout four-thirty. I’ll see t’ enterin’ him fer you, if -you say so. ’N’ I dunno but what I’d back him t’ -the extent of a few dollars. What d’ you say t’ lettin’ -me drive him, ’n’ go shares on possible winnin’s?”</p> - -<p>David laughed arrogantly.</p> - -<p>“I’d say ’no’ to that last,” he said. “I’ll drive -him myself, if I enter him at all. Where’s the -office?”</p> - -<p>Mr. Hawley thrust his hands deep into his trousers -pockets, where he thoughtfully jingled some -loose silver.</p> - -<p>“Better let me handle the ribbons,” he advised. -“I c’n git the paces out o’ him without ha’f killin’ -him, ’n’ that’s more’n some folks c’n do. I ain’t -anxious, though, ’s fur’s that’s concerned. But you’d -have the fun o’ lookin’ on from the grand stand.”</p> - -<p>“There’s something in that,” admitted David.</p> - -<p>“If y’ never drove in a race,” pursued Mr. Hawley, -“y’ don’t want t’ begin t’-day. There’ll sure -be a ruck o’ horses in that free-fer-all.”</p> - -<p>David glanced over the rail at the spectacle of half -a dozen horses hitched to light sulkies and driven -at a furious rate of speed, which at that moment -dashed past.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Them’s the two-year-olds,” vouchsafed Mr. -Hawley. “I ain’t speshully int’rested in seein’ ’em -go it. Don’t b’lieve in racin’ colts m’self. It’s too -much like givin’ a man’s work t’ a boy. Breaks ’em -down, like es not, b’fore they’ve had a fair chance.”</p> - -<p>He glanced kindly at Jimmy.</p> - -<p>“Well, son,” he went on, “how d’ you like the -fair?”</p> - -<p>“I like it,” Jimmy said shyly. “I like the music -an’ the horses an’ the flags ’n’—’n’ everythin’.”</p> - -<p>“Want to get out, old man, and take in the side-shows?” -asked David.</p> - -<p>“What are side-shows?” Jimmy demanded guilelessly.</p> - -<p>Mr. Hawley laughed heartily.</p> - -<p>“A little bit of everythin’,” he answered. “The’s -the agercult’ral exhibit—I seen some o’ your apples -an’ a pile o’ them onions Peg Morrison’s be’n -raisin’ in there. An’ there’s the woman’s tent, with -the bigges’ lot o’ patchwork an’ jell’-cake an’ canned -fruit y’ ever saw. I jus’ come f’om there. Y’ c’n -hitch over yonder, if y’ wan’ to, Dave.”</p> - -<p>David’s eyes had been roaming somewhat impatiently -over the gay scene. He thrust his hand into -his pocket.</p> - -<p>“See here, boy,” he said to Jimmy, “you take -this small change and go around to suit yourself. I -don’t care anything about all that sort of thing. -But you can take it in as long as you’ve a mind to.”</p> - -<p>“What! All b’ my lone?” asked Jimmy, a frightened<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span> -look in his brown eyes. “I guess I’d rather -stay wiv you, David.”</p> - -<p>“Nonsense!” said David sternly. “You’re not a -baby, are you? Can’t you walk around and look at -pigs and chickens and patchwork quilts without a -guardian? You’ve got to quit being such a molly-coddle, -my boy, and we’ll begin right now. Come! -jump out, and I’ll look you up after a while. You -couldn’t get lost, if you tried. Run along now and -have a good time.”</p> - -<p>“Her brother, ain’t it?” inquired Mr. Hawley, as -David lifted the child to the ground.</p> - -<p>“Get in, won’t you?” David said, ignoring the -question. “We’ll look into that race proposition. -I don’t know but what I’ll go in for it. I wouldn’t -mind making a little money on the side.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Hawley accepted the invitation with a backward -glance at Jimmy, who stood watching them -forlornly, his rosy mouth half open, the silver pieces -tightly clutched in one moist little hand.</p> - -<p>“Kind o’ small, ain’t he, to be goin’ ’round by himself -in a place like this?” he ventured. “I’ll bet his -sister wouldn’t like it over an’ ’bove.”</p> - -<p>“He’s been pretty well spoiled,” David said -sharply. “I intend to make a man of him, and this -is as good a way to begin as any. There’s nothing -to hurt him around here.”</p> - -<p>“You may ’xperience some trouble in locatin’ him -after a spell,” opined Mr. Hawley, shaking his head. -“I remember m’ wife let me bring one o’ our boys t’<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span> -the fair once, a number o’ years ago, when Lansing, -our oldest boy, was ’bout five. I was lookin’ at the -live-stock, an’ Lance, he got kind o’ tuckered out, an’ -I sez to him——”</p> - -<p>“Oh, cut out the details,” David interrupted. -“You didn’t lose the kid for good, did you?”</p> - -<p>“No; I got him after a while; but it pretty near -scared the life out o’ me an’ him both, I remember; ’n’ -m’ wife——”</p> - -<p>“Come,” said David, with some impatience, “and -we’ll enter the horse.”</p> - -<p>He turned and stared sharply at the other man.</p> - -<p>“You ought to know what you’re talking about, -Hawley, when you say my horse stands a good show -to win. Suppose I change my mind and allow you -to drive him, and you let him be beaten. What -then?”</p> - -<p>The liveryman shrugged his shoulders.</p> - -<p>“You ain’t no sport, Dave; it’s easy t’ see that,” -he drawled. “If I drive your horse, I’ll do my -best, o’ course. I dunno what sort o’ horses ’ll be -entered in that free-fer-all. But judgin’ from past -seasons and what I seen outside in the way o’ horseflesh, -I sh’d say——”</p> - -<p>He paused and winked solemnly at David.</p> - -<p>“Try me an’ see,” he advised. “‘F I lose, I won’t -sen’ you no bill fer las’ month’s liv’ry. An’ it ’u’d -naturally be a stiff one.”</p> - -<p>“All right,” said David. “Done! and we’ll have a -drink on it.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Lemonade fer mine, ’f I’m a-goin’ t’ drive,” said -Mr. Hawley.</p> - -<p>But David drank something stronger. He felt the -need of it, he said.</p> - -<p>Later, having settled the preliminaries of the race, -David sauntered forth with a hazy notion of looking -up Jimmy and taking him up to the grand stand. To -this end he walked slowly through the agricultural -“pavilion,” with its exhibits of mammoth vegetables -and pyramids of red, green, and russet fruit; but -nowhere did he catch a glimpse of Jimmy’s yellow -head topped with its scarlet tam. There was a -crowd of women in the next place of exhibition, where -the pine and canvas walls were covered with quilts -of wonderful and complicated design, varied with -areas of painted tapestries, home-made lace, worsted -and crochet work; while the narrow shelves below -were occupied with brown loaves, raised biscuit, and -frosted cakes, interspersed with jellies of brilliant -hues and luscious fruits preserved in lucent syrups. -There were many children here, clinging to maternal -hands and skirts; but no Jimmy.</p> - -<p>“Little nuisance,” muttered David irritably. -“He ought to have stayed where I told him to.”</p> - -<p>He was elbowing his way through a group of -women engaged in an excited discussion concerning -the merits of two rival lace counterpanes, when a -small figure placed itself directly in his path.</p> - -<p>He stopped short and looked down into the babyish -blue eyes uplifted timidly to his.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Why, hello, Jennie!” he said, smiling. “Where -did you come from?”</p> - -<p>The girl was very becomingly dressed in dark-blue -serge, the jacket thrown jauntily wide, revealing a -waist of cheap white lace, which in its turn permitted -glimpses of the pink skin and rounded contours -beneath. A hat of dark-blue straw, wreathed with -small pink roses, rested coquettishly on her light-brown -curly hair. At the moment of meeting David -thus unexpectedly, the light of youth and love shone -vividly over the girl’s insignificant face and figure, -irradiating them into a beauty almost noble.</p> - -<p>David could hardly help noticing the half infantile, -wholly adorable curve of her young brows and the -clear blue light of the eyes beneath. Then his curious -eyes slowly swept the soft oval of pink cheek and the -rosy mouth, parted a little to ease the tumultuous -heart-beats which shook the transparent stuff at her -throat.</p> - -<p>“I didn’t know as you’d want to speak to me, Mr. -Whitcomb,” murmured the girl.</p> - -<p>Her eyes wandered uncertainly past him into the -crowd.</p> - -<p>“I s’pose,” she added, thrusting out her pink lips -in a pout, “that <i>she’s</i> here somewheres.”</p> - -<p>“No,” laughed David. “‘She’ doesn’t happen to -be along to-day.”</p> - -<p>A wayward impulse prompted his next words.</p> - -<p>“What do you think, Jennie? I asked her and she -wouldn’t come with me.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Wouldn’t come—with you?”</p> - -<p>The girl’s voice held wonder, incredulity, longing. -Her eyes said more.</p> - -<p>“You wouldn’t treat me that way, would you, -Jennie?”</p> - -<p>The girl looked down, an unsuspected delicacy -sealing her lips.</p> - -<p>David looked at the pretty shadowy circle of the -long lashes on the smooth pink cheek.</p> - -<p>“You wouldn’t; now, would you, Jennie?” he persisted.</p> - -<p>The girl glanced at him sidewise, and tossed her -head.</p> - -<p>“What do you want t’ know for?” she demanded. -“If you don’t like the way she treats you, you c’n -tell her so, can’t you?”</p> - -<p>David bit his lip.</p> - -<p>“Don’t you want some ice cream, Jennie?” he -asked.</p> - -<p>The girl hesitated.</p> - -<p>“I came t’ the fair with Gus Bamber,” she said. -“An’ what do you think, we hadn’t no more’n got -here when Sutton got after Gus t’ help him in the -refreshment booth. Said the other fellow he’d hired -wasn’t no good at mixin’ drinks; an’ so nothin’ would -do but he must have Gus t’ help. Both of us was -awful mad; but we didn’t das’ say so to old Sutton. -He’s somethin’ fierce if you don’t do ’xactly as he -says.”</p> - -<p>“Who’s Gus?” asked David.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Well, that’s pretty good!” giggled the girl. “I -guess you’d ought t’ know Gus Bamber b’ this time. -He waits on you often enough at the Eagle.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, you mean Sutton’s barkeep—Gus; yes, -that’s so. I didn’t know his name was Bamber, -though.”</p> - -<p>“It is,” the girl said. “Augustus Bamber. I -think it’s a real nice name, too. But I don’t like it -’s well’s I do yours.”</p> - -<p>“That’s kind of you,” drawled David. “<i>Mrs.</i> -Augustus Bamber sounds pretty well, though—eh, -Jennie?”</p> - -<p>The girl moved her shoulders gently.</p> - -<p>“Not on your life!” she said positively. “‘N’ -I’ve told him so more’n fifty times already, I guess.”</p> - -<p>She lifted her eyes to David’s with innocent -coquetry.</p> - -<p>“I don’t b’lieve in gettin’ married t’ anybody ’nless -you’re awfully in love with ’em. That’s what I keep -tellin’ Gus, but he says——”</p> - -<p>“Are you coming with me to get that ice cream?” -asked David, stifling a yawn.</p> - -<p>“I dunno whether I’ve got the nerve,” murmured -the girl. “The ice cream’s in the same booth where -Gus is; it’s right acrost from where Sutton’s got his -concession. ’F he should see me—with you——”</p> - -<p>“What do you suppose he’d do about it?” inquired -David. “Gus—er—went off and left you, -didn’t he?”</p> - -<p>He paused to laugh sourly; then added, “And<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span> -my girl wouldn’t come with me; so I guess it’s -up to us to do the best we can to have a good time, -Jennie. If you’ll come along with me, we’ll take in -the whole darned show.”</p> - -<p>“If you think it would be all right, Mr. Whitcomb.”</p> - -<p>“Why shouldn’t it be all right, I’d like to -know?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know, only——”</p> - -<p>“Only what? Out with it, little girl.”</p> - -<p>“I—I’m kind of scared of you, Mr. Whitcomb,” -faltered the girl. “You—you’re so—tall—’n’—’n’ -handsome, ’n’ you——”</p> - -<p>David laughed outright. The girl’s eyes and voice -conveyed so delicious a flattery that he could not -help the tenderness that crept into his words.</p> - -<p>“Why, you dear little goose, you,” he said in her -ear, “I won’t hurt you, and nobody else shall, either, -when I’m around. Come, we’ll go and eat that ice -cream, right where Augustus Bamber, Esquire, can -see us; then we’ll take in the other attractions. Have -you seen anything yet?”</p> - -<p>“Only the cake an’ jell’ an’ canned peaches an’ -stuff, an’ those stupid ol’ quilts an’ things,” said the -girl, with spirit. “Those women are all ’s mad as -wet hens because the quilt with red stars got the blue -ribbon over the one with yellow moons on it, an’ they -pretty near come to a scrap over those two big fruitcakes. -One of ’em’s got white roses made out o’ -tissue paper round the edge, an’ the other’s got a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span> -bride on top made out o’ sugar, with a real veil an’ -bouquet. It’s awful cute.”</p> - -<p>“A bride made out of sugar must be pretty sweet,” -said David, smacking his lips and smiling down into -the pretty, foolish face at his side. “But I know -somebody that’ll be a heap sweeter—when she’s a -bride.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Mis-ter Whitcomb!” breathed the girl, the -pink brightening in her round cheeks. “But, of -course, you meant—her. She’s awful good-lookin’.”</p> - -<p>“No; I didn’t mean—her,” said David, laughing -outright. “I meant you, Jennie.”</p> - -<p>The girl looked down and bit her lips in pretty confusion. -Then she sighed.</p> - -<p>“I shan’t never be a bride, I guess,” she said -mournfully.</p> - -<p>“Why not? I’d like to know.”</p> - -<p>“Because—I—— If we’re goin’ out o’ here, I -guess we’d better be movin’. Folks is lookin’ at us.”</p> - -<p>“I have no objections,” David said coolly. “Let -’em look.”</p> - -<p>“It was that insurance man that’s stayin’ t’ the -Eagle,” whispered the girl. “I don’t like him a bit. -He was right behind us; but he’s over there now, -lookin’ at those sofa-pillows.”</p> - -<p>“You mean Todd? Oh, Todd’s all right. He’s a -good fellow.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t like him snoopin’ ’round, just the same. -He’s got eyes like a gimblet; ’n’ he looks at you like -he was tryin’ t’ find out what you had fer breakfas’.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span> -Gus says he’s a tight-wad, too. He don’t spen’ -nothin’ at the bar, ’xcept you or somebody treats -him.”</p> - -<p>“He’s welcome to all he gets out of me,” drawled -David. “Do you like your ice cream mixed or -straight, Jennie?”</p> - -<p>“I guess maybe you’ll think I’m kind o’ funny, -but I like those little round pancakes, folded around -like a cornucopia with v’nilla ice cream inside. -They’re awful good.”</p> - -<p>“All right; we’ll partake of cornucopias, to begin -with. Perhaps we’ll work around to the other kinds -after the races.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, are there goin’ to be races?” asked Jennie, -nibbling prettily at the edges of the cone sparsely -filled with vanilla ice cream, which the scarlet-faced -man who presided over the gasoline stove and its -adjacent can of cold stuff, handed her with a wipe of -his sticky fingers on a long-suffering apron-front.</p> - -<p>“Get onto Gus, will you?” she whispered, as she -bridled, laughed, blushed, and giggled by turns, under -the baleful light of Mr. Bamber’s pale-green eyes. -“I ’xpect he’ll kill me jus’ the minute he gets a -chance. Gus hates you; did you know it, Mr. Whitcomb?”</p> - -<p>“Hates me? Why should he? I’m sure I’ve given -the fellow tips enough,” David said arrogantly.</p> - -<p>All the light went out of the girl’s blue eyes.</p> - -<p>“You’ve given me ‘tips,’ as you call them, too,” -she said soberly. “Do you want to know what I’ve<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span> -done with ’em? I jus’ hated to take money from -you; but I didn’t know what else t’ do; so I——”</p> - -<p>“Well, what did you do with the munificent sums -I’ve bestowed on you from time to time?” inquired -David good-humoredly. “I’d really like to know.”</p> - -<p>The girl had finished her ice cream, leathery receptacle -and all. She began pulling on her white -cotton gloves.</p> - -<p>“Let’s go outside, where Gus can’t see us, an’ I’ll -show you,” she whispered.</p> - -<p>“We’ll go up to the grand stand,” David proposed. -“One of my horses is going to race,” he added magnificently, -“and you shall bet on him. Would you -like to? I’ll pay, of course, if you lose.”</p> - -<p>“Isn’t betting kind o’ wicked?” asked the girl -innocently. “The Meth’dist minister said it was. -Me an’ Gus went t’ church an’ heard a sermon las’ -Sunday night.”</p> - -<p>“Nothing would be wicked for you,” decided -David, “except to throw yourself away on that -greasy little cad, Bamber. Promise me you won’t, -Jennie. You’re about ten times too pretty and good -for such a chap.”</p> - -<p>“I told you I wasn’t goin’ t’ marry him b’fore,” -murmured the girl. “I—I couldn’t.”</p> - -<p>She pulled off her white cotton glove and spread -her short-fingered, blunt little hand for his inspection.</p> - -<p>“There!” she whispered. “I didn’t never ’xpect -you’d see it. But that’s what I’ve bought with all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span> -the money you’ve give me for makin’ your toast the -way you like it an’ your coffee an’ all. I’m goin’ t’ -keep it always, t’ remember you by.”</p> - -<p>David glanced carelessly at the pink little hand, -with its close-clipped, shallow nails and stubbed -fingertips.</p> - -<p>“Do you mean—that?” he asked, touching the -trumpery little ring with its circle of blue stones, -which glittered speciously on the third finger.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” breathed the girl. “You—you ain’t—mad, -are you? I—wanted somethin’ t’ keep always, -t’ put me in mind o’ you, when—I can’t do things f’r -you no more; I love t’ do things f’r you, an’ I don’t -s’pose I’ll always have the chance, after—after -she——”</p> - -<p>David felt a sudden moisture in his eyes. There -was something touching, lovely, pathetic about this -innocent, unasking love. He felt a little proud of his -own understanding of it. Almost unavoidably, too, -there came to his remembrance Barbara’s proud refusal -to wear the costly ring he had urged upon her -acceptance.</p> - -<p>“I am not angry, dear little girl,” he said gently, -“But I wish the keepsake was better, more worth -while.”</p> - -<p>“One of the stones did come out,” confessed the -girl; “but I had it put back in, ’n’ I’m only goin’ t’ -wear it f’r best.”</p> - -<p>David’s hand was fumbling in his pocket.</p> - -<p>“I bought a ring for—a certain young lady,” he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span> -said bitterly, “and she didn’t like it—or me—well -enough to wear it. I wonder what you’d think of a -ring like that?”</p> - -<p>He thrust the white velvet case into her hands with -a carelessly magnificent gesture of disdain.</p> - -<p>“Do you mean for me to—to look at it?” asked -the girl uncertainly.</p> - -<p>“Yes, of course; look at it and tell me what you -think about it.”</p> - -<p>The girl’s face was a study as the sunshine leaped -in a burst of dazzling colors from the imbedded gem.</p> - -<p>“Oh!” she cried passionately. “<i>Oh—my!</i>”</p> - -<p>“Do you like it?” asked David morosely. “Do -you think it’s pretty enough for a girl to wear?”</p> - -<p>“Pretty enough? Oh—I——”</p> - -<p>She snapped the case shut.</p> - -<p>“Take it, please. I—I’m sorry you showed it to -me.”</p> - -<p>“Why?”</p> - -<p>“Because—I shan’t like this—this cheap thing -any more. It—isn’t fit to remember you by. It—isn’t -like you, the same’s this one is.”</p> - -<p>His face flushed. He bent toward her eagerly.</p> - -<p>“Give me the little blue ring, Jennie; I’d like to -keep it—just to remind me that there is a woman in -the world who loved to do things for me—— That’s -what you said, and I shan’t forget it in a hurry.”</p> - -<p>She pulled the ring from her hand with a listless -gesture.</p> - -<p>“You c’n have it, if you want it,” she said.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span></p> - -<p>She swallowed hard, her childish lips trembling -piteously.</p> - -<p>“I shan’t care ’bout it no more.”</p> - -<p>“Try the other one on and see if it fits,” said -David. “I’ve been carrying it about in my pocket -for a couple of months. She wouldn’t have it, and -I swore I wouldn’t offer it to her again. Take it, -and wear it—or sell it; I don’t care what you do -with it.”</p> - -<p>The girl trembled, her round blue eyes on his face.</p> - -<p>“Honest and truly, do you mean it?” she whispered. -“I’m almost afraid; it—it’s so—lovely!”</p> - -<p>“Put it on,” ordered David, frowning.</p> - -<p>He was thinking confusedly of Barbara, of her -coldness, her capriciousness, her bad temper, as he -chose to term her rather pitiful attempts to curb his -own lawlessness. It suddenly appeared to David that -he had been abused, made light of, almost insulted, -of late. What other construction could be put upon -Barbara’s behavior that very afternoon? He still -loved her, of course; but her treatment of him certainly -merited this tardy reprisal.</p> - -<p>“You ain’t had a scrap with her, have you?” -Jennie asked timidly, “an’—broke off th’ engagement?”</p> - -<p>“Well, not exactly,” he muttered, with a frown.</p> - -<p>“Anyway, don’t—show her that ring o’ mine, -please. I’m ’fraid—she’d laugh.”</p> - -<p>“She won’t see it, ever. Don’t worry about -that. And she won’t set eyes on that diamond again<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span> -in a hurry. Take good care of it, little girl. It’s -good for a house and lot—that ring.”</p> - -<p>“Is it a real di’mon’?”</p> - -<p>“Of course, goosie; you didn’t suppose I’d buy -an imitation, did you? I guess not. It’s yours to -do what you like with. But——”</p> - -<p>He stared dubiously into her pretty, flushed face. -“Keep it to yourself that I gave it to you, will -you?”</p> - -<p>“I—won’t tell,” she faltered. “I’ll do jus’ as you -say, Mr. Whitcomb.”</p> - -<p>“All right. Now you sit down here, and I’ll be -back in a few minutes. I’ve got to look around a bit, -and put some money on my horse. I’ll buy some -candy, too, while I’m gone.”</p> - -<p>The girl sat, where he had left her, in a daze of -happiness. All about her the seats of the grand -stand were filling with people for the afternoon races; -but she did not see them, nor the arid stretch of the -race-course, around which were circling various experimental -trotters under the guidance of hunched -men in two-wheeled vehicles. The subdued light of -the shaded place brought out new and more vivid -flashes of color in the marvellous white stone on her -little pink hand—scarlet and green and blue. Jennie -twisted it slowly on her finger, her eyes riveted -upon its alien splendors.</p> - -<p>“To think she didn’t like it!” she whispered to -herself.</p> - -<p>“Good-afternoon, Miss Jennie,” murmured a carefully<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span> -modulated voice at her side. She turned with -a start to gaze into Mr. Todd’s smiling face.</p> - -<p>“Goodness!” exclaimed the girl petulantly. -“How you made me jump!”</p> - -<p>“You were thinking about that new ring of yours, -I suppose,” said Mr. Todd, blinking pleasantly.</p> - -<p>“Who told you I had a new ring, I’d like to -know?” the girl demanded coldly.</p> - -<p>“I don’t have to be told,” Mr. Todd said facetiously. -“Say, but it’s handsome! I shouldn’t -wonder if it cost as much as two hundred and -fifty.”</p> - -<p>“Not dollars?” exclaimed the girl, in an awestruck -voice.</p> - -<p>“Sure! He must have thought a lot of you to -give you that—eh, Miss Jennie?”</p> - -<p>The girl did not answer. She was putting on her -gloves with an air of offended dignity.</p> - -<p>“I guess it ain’t any of your affairs,” she said, -her lips trembling, “if I’ve got a friend or two.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t sit on me too hard,” begged Mr. Todd. -“I didn’t mean anything out of the way. I couldn’t -help noticing the sparkler on your hand. Most anybody -would. Get it to-day?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I did,” admitted the girl. “But you don’t -need t’ ask me who give it t’ me, for I shan’t tell; -so there!”</p> - -<p>“I wasn’t going to ask,” asserted Mr. Todd truthfully. -“I—er—congratulate you, though. You’ll -let me do that, won’t you?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span></p> - -<p>The girl hunched the shoulder nearest him and -eyed him sulkily over its slender defence.</p> - -<p>“I ain’t engaged; if that’s what you mean.”</p> - -<p>“Not engaged—with that ring? Come, you’re -fooling!”</p> - -<p>“It does look some like an engagement ring,” said -the girl, stealthily feeling her new treasure, “but -it—it’s only an offerin’ o’ friendship. He—he’s got -another girl. But I guess he don’t care s’ awful -much ’bout her. She’s good-lookin’; but she don’t -treat him right, an’ that makes him mad. I don’t -blame him, neither.”</p> - -<p>“Do I know the party?” inquired Mr. Todd, -affecting a consuming curiosity.</p> - -<p>“I ain’t a-goin’ t’ say, whether you do, er don’t,” -and the girl tossed her head. “I wisht you’d let me -alone.”</p> - -<p>“W’y, I ain’t sayin’ anything out the way. -What’s your hurry to get rid of me, I’d like to -know?”</p> - -<p>The girl moistened her red lips, with an anxious -glance at the stair.</p> - -<p>“The’s a party bought that seat you’re in. I got -t’ save it fer him.”</p> - -<p>“That’s all right, too,” said Mr. Todd affably. -“I’ll get up an’ vamoose the minute you tell me he’s -coming.”</p> - -<p>“He’s cornin’ now,” said the girl anxiously. -“He won’t like it, if he sees me talkin’ with -you.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span></p> - -<p>Mr. Todd arose.</p> - -<p>“He must be a great chap,” he said carelessly. -“Well, so long. Hope you’ll treat him better’n -you have me.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Todd did not turn around to glimpse David -seating himself in the vacant place at the girl’s side. -He was whistling softly to himself as he wandered -idly about the enclosure below where the last bets -were being registered. The interest in the free-for-all -race appeared to be rather languid; but he looked -over the entries carefully; then fell into a desultory -conversation regarding the event with the gate-keeper.</p> - -<p>“‘Tain’t a-goin’ to be much of a race; never is,” -opined that individual sagely. “The’s a lot o’ Rubes -that like to speed their horses ’round the course; but -it’s gen’ally a walkover fer one hoss. Bud Hawley’s -drivin’ the winner t’-day.”</p> - -<p>“No, he ain’t,” interrupted a raucous voice from -the rear. “Bud Hawley’s a-goin’ t’ git left this -time.”</p> - -<p>“That so?” queried Mr. Todd. “Who’s goin’ to -win?”</p> - -<p>“I be,” said the owner of the voice. “Say, I’ve -seen you somewheres b’fore, ain’t I?”</p> - -<p>“W’y, yes,” agreed Mr. Todd cordially. “But -your name’s gone from me just now. Let me -see——”</p> - -<p>“I know now who you be,” put in the farmer. -“You’re the fellow ’at come int’ Hewett’s grocery<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span> -a spell back one day when I was there. My name’s -Plumb—Hiram Plumb.”</p> - -<p>“And your horse is going to win—eh, Mr. -Plumb?”</p> - -<p>“Yas, sir. He’ll win, hands down. You’ll see!”</p> - -<p>“Pretty tough on Whitcomb, if he does,” laughed -the gateman. “He’s put quite a wad on his own -horse.”</p> - -<p>“He’s goin’ t’ part with his wad all right,” said -the farmer, wagging his head. “I ain’t a bettin’ -man m’self; but I’m willin’ t’ put down fi’ dollars on -it.”</p> - -<p>“I take you,” said Mr. Todd, with an agreeable -smile.</p> - -<p>This small matter being adjusted, the genial insurance -man walked quietly away through the crowd, -humming a little tune to himself. Among the -vehicles drawn up inside the enclosure roped off for -teams, he caught sight of Jarvis, sitting alone, in -his usual red-wheeled sidebar. Mr. Todd made his -way among the crowd and presently paused at Jarvis’s -side.</p> - -<p>“Our young friend is here to-day,” he observed, in -a low voice.</p> - -<p>“Yes, I saw him come in with the boy,” Jarvis -replied.</p> - -<p>“Since then he appears to have got rid of the boy -and acquired a girl.”</p> - -<p>“Where is the boy?” demanded Jarvis sharply.</p> - -<p>Mr. Todd shook his head.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I wasn’t looking after the boy,” he reminded his -patron.</p> - -<p>“What’s Whitcomb up to?” asked Jarvis after -a silence.</p> - -<p>His face was gray and set and his weary eyes wandered -impatiently over the dusty race-track.</p> - -<p>“Horse-racing, for one thing,” replied the detective. -“He’s backing his own horse heavily; but -there’s more doing than that. Do you want to hear it -now?”</p> - -<p>“No,” said Jarvis, “not here.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Todd gathered his lips into a noiseless whistle.</p> - -<p>“Our young friend,” he said slowly, “has appropriated -about all the rope he needs. All you’ve got -to do now is to let him alone.”</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4">XXIII</h2> - -<p class="pn2"><span class="smcap">It</span> was well on toward evening before Barbara found -herself watching with strained attention for the return -of David. Late in the afternoon she had been -visited with tardy contrition, which concerned itself -more particularly with the coldness of her refusal -to accompany him. For the moment she refused to -go deeper, and consoled herself with careful preparation -for supper. She would urge David to stay, she -told herself; he would be hungry after the long drive. -But at twilight the delicate biscuit and boiled ham, -that David loved, and the yellow squares of sponge -cake and the rich home-made preserves, which he had -approved, were all ready. The small round table -was set daintily for three, with shining silver and -napery and the long-cherished pink china.</p> - -<p>The sun had set cold and still after a brilliant -day of high winds and flying clouds, and the big yellow -moon slowly shouldering itself from behind the -dark woods looked in at her festal preparations like -an inquisitive face. Barbara shivered a little in her -loneliness; then thinking still of the belated merry-makers, -she fetched firewood and kindled a blaze on -the hearth. The leaping light flickered over the -waiting table and cast warm, life-like reflections on -the dim old portraits on the wall.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</a></span></p> - -<p>They would surely come soon, she concluded, with -a glance at the tall clock in the corner. But this -faithful monitor of dead and gone generations of -Prestons presently became quite intolerable, so loudly -did it proclaim the lagging minutes. There seemed -to be vague stirrings, too, in the shadows, like whispers -sunk below the rim of sound. The painted eyes -of father and grandfather, preternaturally wise in -their perpetual mute observance, appeared to be -pitying her young ignorance. They drove her forth -at length into the chill of the autumn moonlight. -Down by the stone gateway she could see the empty -road winding away into obscurity on either hand, -like a gray ribbon unbound and flung carelessly -across the valley. A faint wind shook gusts of -fragrance from the cone-laden pines, and away off -among the orchards a little brown owl gurgled a -mocking defiance to the moon.</p> - -<p>She would have said, perhaps, that she was worried -because David had not brought Jimmy home -early, as he had promised. The child would be cold, -hungry, tired; his little jacket was too thin; his -limbs unprotected; but beneath these quasi-maternal -misgivings lurked a keener anxiety, a more consuming -fear. This it was that held her there, listening, -listening—her whole being an insistent question, -which would not be denied. This clamorous doubt -had long been slowly growing in the mind which lies -directly beneath consciousness, stirring now and -again, like a child unborn, to lapse once more into<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span> -quiescence. To-night, grown big and lusty, it thrust -itself upon her, a full-grown conviction.</p> - -<p>She could have told no one, least of all herself, how -long she remained alone in the wan darkness, fighting -her losing battle; but her hair and clothing were wet -with frosty dew when at last she heard in the far -distance the unbroken beat of hoofs. It was a fast -horse, driven at furious speed; yet long before the -vehicle drew up with a muttered exclamation from its -occupant, at sight of her standing there in the moonlight, -she knew it was not David.</p> - -<p>“I’ve got the boy here, and he’s all right,” Jarvis -said. “Get in and I’ll—explain.”</p> - -<p>But he said nothing further in the brief interval -that elapsed before they reached the house. Barbara -had drawn the sleeping child into her arms, and -held him jealously close to her numbed breast. She -felt strangely still, unnaturally composed, as Jarvis -took the child from her and helped her to alight.</p> - -<p>“I’m coming in,” he said. “I want to tell you -how it happened that I am bringing him home.”</p> - -<p>“Is David——?” she managed to articulate.</p> - -<p>“Oh, nothing has happened to Whitcomb—no accident, -I mean. Go in; you’re chilled through.”</p> - -<p>She had taken off Jimmy’s coat and cap, and -the child, half awake, was nestled in her arms, when -Jarvis followed her into the lighted room, with its -table daintily set for three, and its cheer of burning -logs, which Barbara had stirred to a blaze.</p> - -<p>She looked at him in piteous silence as he stood,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span> -a tall, sombre figure at her fireside, looking down at -her with eyes full of a brooding tenderness of which -he was only half aware. He was anxiously searching -for words which would hurt least; for a balm of -comfort which, he knew, did not exist.</p> - -<p>Jimmy, rubbing the sleep out of his brown eyes, -sat up suddenly in Barbara’s lap.</p> - -<p>“David didn’t let me stay wiv him,” he quavered. -“He—he made me det out ’n’—’n’ he dave me some -money; ’n’ a big boy pushed me over and took it -away. I ran after David ’n’ called him loud; but he -didn’t hear me. ’Nen I got lost.”</p> - -<p>“I found him,” said Jarvis, “asleep on some straw -in the comer of an empty stall.”</p> - -<p>He smiled reassuringly at Barbara.</p> - -<p>“The boy appears to need a general washing and -putting to rights, I should say; but he isn’t hungry.”</p> - -<p>“Where,” asked Barbara, in a stifled voice, “is -David?”</p> - -<p>“He’s gone wiv the pretty lady, I guess,” said -Jimmy sleepily. “She had roses in her hat. Why -don’t you have roses in your hat, Barbara? I like -roses.”</p> - -<p>The little boy suddenly opened his eyes very wide; -his mouth followed suit.</p> - -<p>“Look, Barb’ra,” he shrilled excitedly. “A man -dave me a sausage in the middle of a biscuit, ’n’ I -was awful hungry an’ I fordot—I mean I forgot—t’ -bite wiv my side teef—’n’—’n’—’n’ one o’ my front -teef came right out. I lost it on the ground.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span></p> - -<p>Barbara’s questioning eyes were on Jarvis’s face. -He turned abruptly as if unable to bear them.</p> - -<p>“I called loud to David; but he was drinkin’ -somethin’ brown out of a tumbler ’n’ he didn’t turn -around,” chattered Jimmy, “but the lady, she looked -at me, ’n’ she said——”</p> - -<p>He broke into a nervous laugh.</p> - -<p>“It feels funny in my mouf,” he complained. -“Will my new toof come in right away? Will it, -Barbara?”</p> - -<p>Jarvis drew a deep breath.</p> - -<p>“If you’ll put the boy to bed,” he said, “I’ll—wait.”</p> - -<p>He sat down by the fire, a grim look of patient -endurance on his face. In the room above he -could hear the light tread of Barbara’s feet, and -Jimmy’s high, childish treble upraised in excited -speech.</p> - -<p>“He’s telling her all he knows,” muttered Jarvis, a -sick distaste for his own hateful task coming over -him.</p> - -<p>It was long before Barbara returned. Jarvis had -decided that she wished him to go away without -speaking, when he heard her re-enter the room.</p> - -<p>He sprang to his feet.</p> - -<p>“Sit down, won’t you? And let me—explain.”</p> - -<p>Barbara lifted her head proudly.</p> - -<p>“I think I—understand,” she said.</p> - -<p>He gazed steadily at her, a frown of pain between -his brows.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I have known for a long time,” she went on, -“that it was all a dreadful mistake; that he—did not -love me.”</p> - -<p>“And you?” leaped from his guarded lips.</p> - -<p>She looked away, a slow crimson staining her white -cheeks.</p> - -<p>“I could not bear it, if——” she murmured, and -was silent.</p> - -<p>“I hope you will believe me,” Jarvis said gravely, -“when I tell you that what took place was not intentional -on Whitcomb’s part. I know him, perhaps, -better than you think.”</p> - -<p>A shadowy smile touched Barbara’s tense mouth.</p> - -<p>“Nothing—was ever—intentional with David,” -she said.</p> - -<p>After a long silence she looked up at him, her -eyes dry and bright.</p> - -<p>“Will you tell me,” she asked, “just what happened?”</p> - -<p>He drew a hardly controlled breath.</p> - -<p>“I will tell you what I know,” he said reluctantly. -But he seemed unable to go on with his shameful story -in the light of her proud eyes.</p> - -<p>“I already know,” she said quietly, “that he -abandoned Jimmy early in the afternoon, and that -later he was seen with——”</p> - -<p>“The woman was a waitress at the Barford Eagle,” -Jarvis admitted reluctantly. “She has attended -Whitcomb at table during his stay there; and so, -of course——”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I know who the girl is,” Barbara told him, in a -low, hurried voice.</p> - -<p>“He met the young woman on the fair grounds -quite by accident,” Jarvis went on quickly. “You -ought to believe that; and what followed was also, -I am convinced, wholly unpremeditated.”</p> - -<p>“Well?” urged Barbara steadily.</p> - -<p>Jarvis clenched his strong hands on his knees and -bent forward to stare frowningly into the fire.</p> - -<p>“Whitcomb backed his own horse heavily and -won,” he said slowly. “Shortly afterward an altercation -arose between himself and—a young man, -who had previously been interested in the girl, Jennie -Sawyer. This person Bamber, became very -abusive, and——”</p> - -<p>Jarvis’s voice, which had been dry and caustic, as -if he were reviewing unsavory circumstantial evidence, -suddenly broke.</p> - -<p>“Barbara!” he cried. “My poor girl, must you -hear it all?”</p> - -<p>She was looking at him, her eyes burning beneath -her long curved lashes, the red of her under-lip -caught in her white teeth.</p> - -<p>“Go on,” she said quietly. “Someone will have -to tell me. I—would rather hear it from—you.”</p> - -<p>The sweat of agony glistened on Jarvis’s forehead.</p> - -<p>“If I must,” he said hoarsely. “It was an accident, -Barbara. It would never have happened if -David had not been excited, wild with success; Bamber<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</a></span> -attacked him first, without due provocation, it -would seem, and Whitcomb retaliated—struck him, in -self-defence.”</p> - -<p>Barbara heard his voice as if from a great distance. -She seemed to herself to be drifting away on a sea -of strange dreams. Then she roused suddenly to find -herself supported by Jarvis’s arm. He was holding -a cup of water to her lips. She sat up, her face -white and wan, her hands clutching the arms of her -chair.</p> - -<p>“You were saying——” she murmured.</p> - -<p>“I ought to have told you in the beginning,” he -reproached himself, “Bamber was not killed by the -blow; but he fell and—struck his head against the -edge of a stall.”</p> - -<p>“And David?” she breathed.</p> - -<p>“The girl dragged him away from the scene of -the accident, and he—escaped. You know he had a -fast horse.”</p> - -<p>She was looking at him dizzily through a mist of -pain.</p> - -<p>“The girl went with him,” he said, reading aright -the question in her eyes. “There was talk of a pursuit, -of an arrest. But unless Bamber should—— I -think I may assure you that David will not be -molested.”</p> - -<p>He did not tell her that he had used all the official -power at his command to shield the fugitives from -the fury of the crowd, and further that the injured -man had already received the best medical attention<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</a></span> -procurable in the county. Barbara learned these -things long, long afterward, when the pain of that -hour had been assuaged.</p> - -<p class="p2">It was more than three months afterward, and the -first snow was flying past the windows in big, feathery -flakes, when a letter came to Barbara from a town in -the Far West. It was from David, she saw, with a -painful throb of surprise, and postponed the reading -of it for a difficult hour, during which she reviewed -once more and for the last time all the futile anguish -and passion of a love that had bruised and hurt her -from its beginning. Then she opened the letter with -fingers that trembled not at all.</p> - -<div class="pbq"> - -<p class="p1">“Dear Barbara [he wrote]: I suppose by this time you have set -me down as a poor skate of a fellow. It probably hasn’t occurred -to you that it is entirely your own fault that you will never see -me again. If you had gone with me to the fair that day, as I -wanted you to do, I should not have met Jennie, nor gotten into -a squabble with that unutterable cad, Bamber. I hear he got off -with nothing worse than a crack in his foolish skull to remind -him what it is like to try conclusions with a gentleman.</p> - -<p>“I want to tell you, Barbara, that I’ve married Jennie, and -so far, neither of us is sorry. She is a dear little wife, sweet-tempered, -and entirely devoted to your humble servant. And I -don’t find myself so deucedly uncomfortable in her company as -you used to make me feel sometimes. Let me tell you, Barbara, -that you’ll never succeed in making any man happy till you get -off that high horse of yours and stop trying to run the universe. -But I don’t suppose you’ll care for what I say, any more than you -cared for me, and I don’t flatter myself that was a little bit.</p> - -<p>“Just one thing more before I say good-bye for always. If -you want to know who your master is, I’ll tell you. <i>It is old -Jarvis.</i> I knew it all along. But I let you go on deceiving yourself,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</a></span> -since you seemed to prefer doing it. You can settle it with -him any way you see fit and I shall be satisfied.</p> - -<p>“With best wishes for your future happiness, I am, my dear -Barbara,</p> - -<p class="pi10">Yours faithfully.</p> -<p class="pr4">“<span class="smcap">David Whitcomb.</span>”</p></div> - -<p class="p1">Barbara read this letter once; then she thrust it -deep down among the burning logs and watched it -blaze and shrivel into a black and scarlet shred, which -flitted stealthily up the chimney and out of sight, like -a wicked wraith.</p> - -<p>She was still thinking soberly rather than sorrowfully -of David, when Jimmy dashed into the room, -his yellow hair standing up around his rosy face like -a halo as he pulled off his warm cap and threw his -books and mittens on the table.</p> - -<p>“What d’ you think, Barb’ra,” he exulted. “I -had a reg’lar zamination in my ’rithm’tic to-day, ’n’ -I passed it a hunderd and fifty. My teacher said I -did. I did a whole lot o’ zamples an’ wrote out all -the sevens an’ eights an’ nines, an’ didn’ mix up -seven times nine and eight times eight, or anyfing—I -mean any-th-ing.”</p> - -<p>“You’re home early, aren’t you, precious?” asked -Barbara, glancing at the clock.</p> - -<p>“Yes, ’course I am; I met Mr. Jarvis, Barb’ra. -He was drivin’ that horse wiv a short tail, ’n’—’n’ -he asked me did I want to get in and drive him, ’n’—’n’ -he let me, Barb’ra; ’n’ I don’t believe that horse -cares if his tail is short. He’s comin’ in the house -now.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[301]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Who—the horse?” asked Barbara, in pretended -alarm.</p> - -<p>“‘Course not!” shouted Jimmy, in fine scorn. -“Mr. Jarvis is. He said he was bringin’ you a book -to read. I like Mr. Jarvis, don’t you, Barb’ra? -<i>Don’t</i> you?”</p> - -<p>Jarvis himself, entering at the moment, heard the -little boy’s insistent question. He stood before the -fire, tall and grave, drawing off his gloves and looking -keenly at Barbara. She had grown only more -beautiful in his eyes, since the day when he had first -noticed her youthful loveliness, like a wind-blown -spray of blossoms against a dark sky. Now he perceived -that something untoward had happened to disturb -the quiet friendship which had been slowly -growing up between them in the peace of the past -months. Her candid eyes avoided his, and a fluttering -color came and went in her soft cheeks.</p> - -<p>“What is it, Barbara?” he asked, when Jimmy -had gone exultantly forth to boast to Peg of -his initial victory in the difficult warfare of -education.</p> - -<p>“I have just been reading a letter—from David,” -she said, without attempt at postponement or evasion. -“He is married.”</p> - -<p>“Well?” said Jarvis gravely.</p> - -<p>“I was glad to know that,” she went on. “I have -been afraid—for that poor girl.”</p> - -<p>She was silent for a long minute, while the logs -purred comfortably together in the fireplace.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[302]</a></span></p> - -<p>Then she met his questioning eyes, her own filled -with a deep, mysterious light.</p> - -<p>“He told me what I had sometimes—thought -might be true,” she hesitated; “that you—were the -unknown person, who—— that I really—belong to -you.”</p> - -<p>Then the significance of her words flashed over -her, and her face glowed with lovely shamed color.</p> - -<p>“I am quite rich now,” she went on hurriedly, -“and you must let me give you—pay you——”</p> - -<p>“I will, Barbara,” he said, with a quiet smile. -“If you will only give me—what you have acknowledged -really belongs to me. Will you, Barbara?”</p> - -<p>She turned to him, all her woman’s soul in her -sweet eyes.</p> - -<p>“To the highest bidder,” she murmured, and laid -her hand in his.</p> - -<p class="pc4 mid">THE END</p> -</div> - - -</div> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's To the Highest Bidder, by Florence Morse Kingsley - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TO THE HIGHEST BIDDER *** - -***** This file should be named 51797-h.htm or 51797-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/7/9/51797/ - -Produced by Giovanni Fini, David Edwards and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - -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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